ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 1906

THE YEAR IS 1906

This is 1 year after my father, Leonard La Flamme, was born and 3 years before my mother, Anne Ballard La Flamme, was born. This will boggle your mind, I know it did mine! The year is 1906. One hundred years ago. What a difference a century makes! Here are some of the U.S. statistics for the Year 1906:

The AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY in the U.S. was 47 years old.

Only 14% of the HOMES in the U.S. had a BATHTUB.

Only 8% of the HOMES had a TELEPHONE.

A 3-min. call from DENVER-NEW YORK CITY cost $11.

There were ONLY 8,000 CARS in the U.S…and ONLY 144 mi. of PAVED ROADS.

The MAX. SPEED LIMIT in most cities was 10 MPH.

Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each MORE HEAVILY POPULATED THAN CALIFORNIA.

With a mere 1.4 million people, California was only the 21st most populous state in the Union

The TALLEST structure in the WORLD was the EIFFEL TOWER!

The AVERAGE WAGE in the U.S. was 22 CENTS/ HR.

The AVERAGE U.S.WORKER made between $200 - $400 / YR.

A competent ACCOUNTENT could expect to earn $2000/ YR., a DENTIST $2,500 / YR., a VETERINARIAN $1,500/ YR., and a MECHANICAL ENGINEER about $5,000/ YR.

More than 95 % of all BIRTHS in the U.S. took place at HOME.

90% of all U.S. DOCTORS had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION! Instead, they attended so-called MEDICAL SCHOOLS, many of which were CONDEMNED in the press and the government as "SUBSTANDARD."

SUGAR cost 4-cents/lb. EGGS 14cents/doz. COFFEE 15 cents/lb.

Most WOMEN only WASHED their HAIR once/month, and used BOROX or EGG YOLKS for shampoo.

CANADA passed a law that PROHIBITED POOR PEOPLE from ENTERING into their COUNTRY for any reason.

5 LEADING CAUSES OF DEATH in the U.S. were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza

2. Tuberculosis

3. Diarrhea

4. Heart disease

5. Stroke

The American FLAG had 45 stars.

Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska HADN'T BEEN ADMITTED to the Union yet.
The POPULATION of LAS VEGAS, NEVADA, was ONLY 30!!!

CROSSWORD PUZZLES, CANNED BEER, AND ICE TEA HADN'T BEEN INVENTED YET.

There was NO MOTHER'S DAY or FATHER'S DAY.

2 OUT OF EVERY 10 U.S. ADULTS COULDN'T READ OR WRITE.

ONLY 6% of all Americans had GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL.

MARIJUANA, HEROIN, AND MORPHINE WERE ALL AVAILABLE OVER THE COUNTER AT LOCAL CORNER DRUGSTORES. Back then pharmacists said, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health." (Shocking? DUH! )

There were about 230 reported MURDERS in the ENTIRE U.S.A.!

Now I forwarded this from someone else without typing it myself, and sent it to you and others all over the United States, possibly the world, in a matter of just Seconds!!!

Just TRY TO IMAGINE ... what it may BE LIKE IN ANOTHER 100 YEARS!!!

IT STAGGERS THE MIND!!!

STORY

THE GRAVY LADLE

John invited his mother over for dinner. During the meal, his mother couldn't help noticing how beautiful John's roommate,
Julie, was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between John and his roommate and this only made her more
curious.

Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between John
and the roommate than met the eye. Reading his mom's thoughts, John volunteered, "I know what you must be thinking, but I
assure you, Julie and I are just roommates."

About a week later, Julie came to John and said, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't suppose she took it, do you?"

John said, "Well, I doubt it, but I'll write her a letter just to be sure." So he sat down and wrote,

Dear Mother,
I'm not saying you "did" take a gravy ladle from my house, and I'm not saying you "did not" take a gravy ladle. But the fact
remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love,
John

Several days later, John received a letter from his mother, which read:

Dear Son,
I'm not saying that you 'do' sleep with Julie, and I'm not saying that you 'do not' sleep with Julie. But the fact remains that if she were sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now.
Love,
Mom

THE WADDODLES OF HOLLOW LAKE OVERVIEW

The Waddodles of Hollow Lake

A series of books about a widowed raccoon mother who courageously raises her family alone on a lake in The Great Northern Wood.

“Harriet cradled her twin sons in her arms, thinking of her husband, Theodore, battling the blizzard cold and alone. Petrified, they waited for him to return, praying he could find enough food to keep them among the ‘Survival of the Fittest’…for one more day.”

The death of a parent can devastate a child. I know. My four children (ages two-eleven years) experienced this devastation when they lost their father in December of 1968.

We were stranded in a blizzard, the day after Christmas, in an unfinished house with little money when my husband died. Anxious how we would manage without him, too young to understand, the children asked, “Why my daddy?”

Feeling lost and alone, our hopes and dreams shattered, I struggled to find a way to explain his death to them. How could I make them understand? Comfort them? Make them realize he was gone forever? How would I reassure them life would go on; that we would find the courage to live without him…that they would be happy again? I searched for books to help them adjust, and found few. So I began writing one…for them …for me…for the countless suffering children who lost a parent.

Children need help to understand their sorrow. When they read the series The Waddodles of Hollow Lake and understand how well the Waddodles cope with Theodore’s death, they will feel encouraged and know they are not alone. With faith restored, hope renewed, they will know they can endure their devastating sorrow; that they will feel happy again.

We spent the summer following my husband’s death at my brother’s humble cabin on Hubbard Lake in the Michigan Great Northern Wood. Every night we watched a young raccoon mother and her babies feeding at our stump. My children related to the fatherless raccoon family; watching them cope made it easier for them to accept their own loss. This inspired me to write my series through the eyes of animals instead of humans, thus The Waddodles of Hollow Lake was born.

In many ways Harriet Waddodle is me; my children are her children. Through the series of books the Waddodle children learn to adjust to their loss, relocate to a faraway home, change their lifestyle, make new friends and cope with family problems as many children experience, even welcoming a new father and more babies into their lives.

“Cradled in Harriet’s arms during the blizzard, Theodore Waddodle gave up his earthly life and passed into eternity. Before he died he made Harriet promise to, ‘Always look forward, Never behind.’”

Over the years, after working as a registered professional nurse and raising six children, the Waddodle stories evolved into a series. Because death is a depressing subject and difficult for children to deal with, I felt the need to address this subject knowing many children face this problem daily.

Though The Waddodles of Hollow Lake: Law of the Woodland may stimulate feelings of sorrow when a parent dies, humor is interwoven throughout the series. The stories are upbeat, warm, amusing, moral, adventurous …even mysterious. Many characters have endearing, humorous personalities.

The Waddodles and their friends are real to me. They behave like animals but reason like humans. Children will laugh and cry along with the Waddodles sharing the family’s good times and bad.

I hope all who read these books will enjoy them as
much as I enjoyed writing them. Thank you…and ‘Always look forward, Never behind.’

Carole La Flamme Beighey February 2002

FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS

POSTED BY LARRY BEIGHEY FROM HIS BOOK, "A DROP IN THE BUCKET."

Follow Your Dreams

My wife is a remarkable person. What she has accomplished at this point in her life makes any of my accomplishments pale in comparison.

Her first husband died the day after Christmas, leaving her with four children, ages two to nine. She was 30! Besides her own grief, she still had to cope with explaining the loss of their father to these four small children. They just couldn’t understand what had happened to their father. When was he coming back?

While vacationing at her brother’s lake cabin in Michigan’s northern woods, she watched a mother raccoon and her babies feeding nightly at the stump outside the kitchen window. The idea came to write her stories through the eyes of animals, believing it would be less painful for children to relate to their loss.

Carole had a dream about writing but could never imagine how she would find the time, especially after marrying me and having two more children … six children under the age of 11.

It was a great idea, but when would she ever find the time?

One Saturday afternoon, I told her that I was going to take the six kids out for about three or four hours and that she should do whatever she wanted.

When I returned home, I found that she had sat down at a typewriter (there were few personal computers in those days) and had written 30 pages of her book, The Waddodles of Hollow Lake. That was 31 years ago.

By sneaking a few minutes here or there – or staying up half the night after everyone had gone to bed – she typed away.

In 1986, we bought a personal computer and after a few quick lessons, Carole learned how to use a simple word processor. Soon, she was proficient in using the computer and had moved up to the most advanced word processors.

That was 1500 type-written pages ago.

She has now had three books published in the series, The Waddodles of Hollow Lake, and has written enough draft material for 5 or 6 books. (http://www.waddodles.com/)

What started out as a dream has turned into a reality! It just proves the point that if you set your mind to something, you can find a way to get it accomplished, despite difficult odds and situations.

Remember to “follow your dreams” and as Theodore Waddodle, one of the raccoons in Carole’s books says, “Always look forward, never behind.”

WADDODLES LAW OF THE WOODLAND SYNOPSIS

A blizzard is raging. Trapped in their rock den, overlooking Hollow Lake, The Waddodle Raccoon Family is freezing and starving. Harriet is pregnant, expecting babies in the spring. Her husband, Theodore, struggles daily to locate enough food to keep them alive. After several near-death failures to locate food, Theodore must compromise his principles and raid Old Mr. Grump’s garbage cans.

Infuriated, Old Mr. Grump lays a trap for Theodore, tempting him with fresh meat. After tasting a few morsels, Theodore trudges homeward, toting the rest of the tainted meat for his family. When almost home, he collapses near his favorite pine.

Near the rock den, The Ruffin Twins are howling and whining, tormenting the Waddodle family. When Theodore is late, Harriet prepares her sons, in case their father does not return, teaching them about "The Law Of The Woodland" and "Survival Of The Fittest."

After much soul searching, sensing Theodore needed her, Harriet decides to look for him. Leaving strict instructions for her frightened sons to stay covered and not to leave the den under any circumstances, she gathers her courage, and in spite of her advanced pregnancy, trudges forth through the blizzard in search of Theodore, with the starving Ruffins howling and prowling nearby.

Harriet encounters many harrowing experiences as she battles the blizzard during her search before finally discovering Theodore buried deep beneath the snow beside his favorite pine. Heroically, he struggled to stay alive to warn his family about the poisoned meat. Until he dies, Harriet cradles him in her arms to comfort him.

But where can she bury him with the ground frozen? She chose a temporary grave in the stump where Theodore had her bury the poisoned meat. With help from her "strength," Harriet finds the courage to tell her sons the devastating news of their father's death and reveal to them Theodore's parting words and his dying wish was for them to be happy.

Harriet promises her sons that through faith, courage, and love for each other, they will survive if they follow Theodore's wise advice, to "always look forward, never behind."

Lonely and pregnant, Harriet and her devastated sons struggle to survive the winter and endure frequent encounters with their enemies, Jake and Rudy Ruffin and Old Mr. Grump, his double-barreled shotgun and blood-thirsty hounds, Rufus and Brutus.

At long last, spring arrives. Harriet's devoted neighbor, Scitter Chipmunk, visits daily along with Clara and Zoe, who offer the Waddodle Family their undying love and support, helping them to adjust to their tragic loss.

Slowly, the ground thaws. It is time to bury Theodore safely in the earth. Teddie and Freddie search for the perfect burial spot. Clara, Zoe, Teddie and Freddie dig Theodore's grave. Harriet and Scitter gather adornments to decorate it as a memorial in his honor. Reluctantly, shovel-shy Percy Chipmunk tries to help dig, but proves useless, getting in the way of the doe's sharp hoofs, and ends up injured by Clara’s flying clumps of dirt. All the women, except Percy’s wife, are aware Percy is not sick but "hung over" from a night of carousing with "floozies" and sucking on beer caps in The Dump.

Scitter pampers Percy, which annoys the doe. Clara and Zoe vow to intervene with Scitter, on Percy’s behalf, to help guide her alcoholic husband back to health and encourage him to mend his 'wandering ways'... or else. Clara and Zoe send The Waddodles to the brook, while they prepare the grave for burial and transport Theodore's body from the stump to his earth grave. Clara and Zoe bury Theodore, beneath his favorite pine.

Everyone returns to the gravesite. Harriet is too overwhelmed to speak. Clara takes charge of conducting the funeral service. Prayers are said and eulogies delivered. Percy shocks everyone by delivering the best speech they have ever heard. He leads them in song, singing The Woodland Anthem.

After the boys fall asleep, Harriet visits Theodore's grave, and buries the poisoned meat in the earth. Unexpectedly, her labor begins. Luckily, Clara and Zoe, sensing Harriet needed them, returned and stayed to help with the delivery of the babies. Scitter came to baby-sit.

Freddie helps Clara construct the birthing bed. Teddie rubs Harriet's back and times her contractions. Both boys pace nervously, waiting in the rock den for news of the births.

As Harriet’s delivery approaches, Clara grows frantic. Aware she overstated her birthing skills, she now worries whether she can measure up to the task. Her nerves get the best of her and she throws a 'conniption fit', issuing orders fast and furious to everyone, upsetting Zoe and Scitter and the boys, especially Freddie. Zoe suggests that Clara go off alone to compose herself.

Finally composed, Clara returns to apologize to Freddie. She shocks him when she reveals her secret to him, that she feels inadequate. Freddie thinks Clara can do anything. He calms and encourages her, helping to restore her confidence. They patch up their differences and become each other's "Rocks."

The babies are delivered safely. Harriet expected two babies but, to everyone’s surprised delight, delivered triplets. The third delivery is a difficult breach delivery. Finally, when all the healthy triplet girls arrive safely, everyone rejoices, except Freddie, who wanted brothers.

When Harriet reveals to Freddie that his father had two fine sons and wanted baby girls, Freddie quickly adjusted to the idea and struts proudly, showing off his sisters to Scitter.

Harriet named the triplets Adalaide Clara, Bithia Zoe, and Cecelia Scitter, after her dear friends, which delights them. The girls will be called Addie, Bitzi and Cissy, until older. Now that Teddie and Freddie are big brothers with more responsibility, they decide they want more mature names and ask to be known as Ted and Fred instead of Teddie and Freddie.

The boys pick violets for their mother, knowing Theodore would bring her violets if he were here. They lay violets on his grave, and present Clara, Zoe and Scitter with bouquets, bringing them to tears. Harriet believes Theodore's spirit is near, guiding her sons to bring her violets.

After watching their sisters nurse and asking many questions, Scitter hustles the happy brothers inside so Harriet can rest. Clara and Zoe take turns standing guard day and night over 'their family'.

Grateful for her healthy children, Harriet, though missing her husband, reminds her friends that life is good. She falls asleep smiling, holding Theodore's violets in one arm, nestling his babies in the other, looking forward to a promising future, vowing to follow Theodore's wise advice, to 'always look forward, never behind'.

For the time being, all is quiet and peaceful at East Bay, on the shores of Hollow Lake.

LIFE IN LINWOOD

We lived in the small village of Linwood, Michigan, on a corner lot on Center Street, right next to the Linwood Recreation. My father was a barber and had his shop kiddy-cornered across the street next to the Linwood Hotel.

It was the early 1940's. My sister, Nancy, was born and WW II was in progress. The United States entered the war when the Japanese surprisingly bombed Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands where we had bases and ships in port. Many people died there. Back home, times were hard. People were enlisting and off to war. The town emptied of its young men who used to frequent The Linwood Recreation next door. When a relative decided to sell The Recreation, my father purchased it and began adding on an addition for a home. The Recreation was not the run-of-the-mill pool room, it was family oriented with a juke box, pin ball machines, ice cream, a popcorn machine ... pop and lots of fun and laughter. The older kids hung out there and many adults came, both men and women. Business slowed down some now that many of the boys left to join the military and fight our war.

Before the addition was completed, we moved into our new home. It was a humble home as building materials were not readily available while the war was on. We had an outdoor privy while we waited for our toilet and sink to be installed. Wood was at a premium and we had only light lavender paper stretched across the walls dividing the 6 small rooms ... a kitchen, living room, 2 bedrooms, laundry room, bathroom. [Later, the rooms were plastered by a good friend, Johnny Pelky, but that was a long time coming.] By the time the men came to plaster, the paper walls were torn and uglier than before from poking our fingers through it and making the holes larger and larger. I was eager to be rid of all the torn paper.

We did have a room attached to our house that separated our home from The Recreation. We called it the Middle Room. It is where my father stored the supplies for the store. It did have a public restroom. Our upright piano was in this room, my mother's push treadle sewing machine, a coal stove, an antlered deer head hung over the piano, later my mother had a dryer tucked behind the door going into the kitchen ... but that, too, was years and years later. The Middle Room gave us a little extra room and we used it a lot to play. The only telephone for the house and store was located here. The room was furnished with a few comfortable chairs and a few wicker pieces my mother loved ... and atop the wicker table stood a colorful Tiffany's style Victorian lamp with tassels hanging from the light switch. In an alcove off the main room was a section used for stacking soda pop bottles for the store. We also kept our dog blanket and Trixie's dog dish next to the stove. The room was filled with memorabilia and interesting bric-a-brac artifacts that Mom collected and had no place in our small home to store them. Everything we had no room for seemed to end up stashed in the Middle Room.

The Middle Room was painted a light pea green ... not too cheerful, but Mom said it was a relaxing color. She loved the colors green and yellow. Our kitchen was bright yellow with dark green counter tops, the living room pale green, the bathroom was tinted pink, the folks bedroom a restful pale green and all us kids, three of us at the time, my brother, Rich, who had a daybed and my sister, Nancy and I slept together in a double brown iron bed in the blue bedroom. There wasn't enough room to install a bedroom door so for years we slept in a bedroom with no door, which was fine as we could get more heat from our oil burner in the living room with the door open. [Years later, when my little sister, Joey, was born, she took my place when I went off to nursing school ... until then, it was necessary for her to sleep on a cot in my parents bedroom ... not an ideal situation, but it was the best my folks could afford. Also, while I was away at school, my folks built an addition to their living quarters, adding on a good size living room with a fireplace, another bedroom, and a lovely screened-in porch.] Many mornings I woke up so cold I would run into the living room and Dad would help us dress with the clothes he placed across our stove to warm them. One of the nicest memories I have is my father sitting me on his lap and rubbing my feet to warm them before he put on my socks.

Mom would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast, either oatmeal, cream of wheat, scrambled eggs and toast or pancakes, if she had time. Ovaltine, a chocolate crystals we stirred into our milk was a regular, as was hot cocoa when it was cold outside. We all had the daily dose of cod liver oil and a multiple vitamin. On the radio we heard Squeaky and Sputters, Eddie Arnold singing, news reports, or Happy Hank singing his birthday song, "I know a girl who has a birthday today, I know a boy who has one, too ...". Mom would braid my hair in pigtails, always neatly pulled tight ... shiny clean. Mom rinsed our hair with vinegar to get all the soap out and make it shine. We got teased by the other kids that our pigtails were pulled so tight, we looked Chinese ... and that we smelled of vinegar ... at least until we had our hair washed again. We didn't care what they said, we knew we looked fresh and clean. Mom would always tie colorful ribbons on the end of our braids. She kept us all neat and clean ... taught us table manners, insisted we respect all adults, and reminded us that The Blessed Virgin was watching over us which encouraged us to always behave ... and of course we all knew our Guardian Angels were right with us to protect us at all times.

We were a proud family, well behaved, and deeply loved. We put on our winter coats and galoshes, mittens and scarves and we walked to school along the sidewalks that followed Center Street. It seemed a long way then but in reality it was only about 1/4 of a mile. We only got driven to school if it was raining.

When school was out for summer, Mom would always have a hired girl to help out with the housework so she could work in the store while Dad barbered in the shop that he had built in connection with The Recreation. My parents worked long hours. Later, after selling the pool tables, juke box and pin ball machines ... they converted The Recreation into a dairy bar/lunch counter ... sold greeting cards, newspapers and magazines, ice cream and some clothing ... and carried a line of Feather's baked goods brought in from Bay City. It was more like a General Store. Later, my folks bought out the local drug store from Jenny Yakel and moved it into our building ... now selling patent medicines, all sorts of drug store fare except prescriptions. We had no pharmacist. My brother, Richard, began his college studying pharmacy, intending to return to our store when he graduated but he ended up teaching elementary school when he received a full scholarship from the Ford Foundation with the understanding that he would have to study teaching. So our Drug Store never did have a pharmacist ... but we had everything else ... and still ran the dairy/lunch counter. We had many coffee guzzlers daily, sometimes coming in twice a day, morning and afternoons sort of their social life. During the big smelt runs, hundreds of smelt fishermen descended on the whereabouts of Linwood and my folks would keep the lunch counter open all night ... and I worked all night. [One night I was so exhausted I dropped a bowl of hot chili in the lap of one of the sportmen. It was embarrassing but he was a gentleman about it and of course my folks did not charge him for his late night snack ... and my father helped clean him up, heard the smelt were running good and sent him back on his way fishing with a smile on his face.]

Linwood Beach was the place to go at one time. Many lovely cottages lined the shore. Years ago well-to-do families would come, by train, for the summers and return to the city for the school and winter season. The Beach had a pavilion with big bands playing where dances were held and people came in by boat and train from Bay City, Saginaw, and Midland. It still is a lovely beach and many of the original cottages remain with their original families. Many have remodeled them, restored to their original condition and some are just the same as they were in the beginning ... well tended and loved, and Linwood Beach still remains a lovely place to own a second home ... although more and more people are making Linwood Beach their permanent residence.

One Christmas in the 40's when we still owned The Linwood Recreation

I was about eight years old when we had a December with no snow. It was nearly Christmas. Every kid in town was worried how Santa would get to us. The village streets were bare ... the grass bare ... not a snowflake fell the whole month of December. I was not only worried, but I was sad. Here it was Christmastime and it didn't feel a bit like Christmas. Dad and Mom were late picking out our Christmas tree. When it came, it seemed ages before it was fit to decorate. Dad, a Christmas tree perfectionist, was busy cutting holes in the trunk and redistributing branches to cover the bare spots. The Christmas tree was a big deal at our house. Mom loved the tree, as did we all. After Dad was satisfied he'd covered all the bare spots, he covered one or our pool tables with a tarp, set the tree in a stand ... put it atop the pool table and lifted each of us kids up on the table to help trim the tree.

My father was fussy about the decorations and we all liked the icicles, taking great pains to hang them one by one so they hung gracefully from the branches. Dad was bigger on stretching cotton over the branches to make it look like snow. The ornaments were special and each had a story. My favorite was the soft little brown teddy bear that was one of the first ornaments they bought for the tree when my brother was a baby. There were beautiful hand blown glass violet and aquamarine bells that had been on every tree that I remembered. I wanted to put some of them on ... and when I picked one up, it fell and broke and I was devestated and cried forever it seemed. Initially, Dad gave me a sour look, but later, hugged me and said that maybe I had better stick with the ornaments that weren't so fragile. I never forgot that incident. Every time I decorate a tree I think of that broken bell.

Anyway, there was still no snow on Christmas Eve. As usual, a bunch of us went Christmas caroling in the neighborhood and returned home for hot chocolate and Christmas cookies. It was time to prepare for midnight mass. Our house was unusually quiet. Mom and Dad had closed the store and were resting up before going to church. It had been a busy week and up until I left for caroling, Mom was still wrapping gifts.

We all went to Midnight Mass together, leaving early about 11:00 as Midnight Mass was always well attended at St. Anne's and although our church was large for a small town, it would be crowded ... by the time mass started, there would be standing room only. As we approached the church steps, Mother saw how sad I looked and asked me what was wrong. "It's Christmas, Carole. You should be happy."
"I know, Mom. I am happy, but I am disappointed that it is not snowing. All the little kids are worried about Santa arriving."
"Not only the little kids," Richard said. "You look a bit concerned yourself."
"I am concerned as to how he'll get here but, like always, I'm more concerned about how he will get into our house. We don't have a big enough chimney for him to crawl down. How does he get in?"
"We don't really have a chimney at all, just pipes from the oil burner," Richard said.
"Santa has all kinds of transportation, kids ... airplanes ... trucks ... not only reindeer and a sled," Dad reminded them "Remember, just the other night Santa was checking and left his big red truck on our lawn."
"Yah, right, Dad," Richard said.
"That was Gene Sauve's Gasoline Truck, Dad. He was filling our oil tank. We knew that even though he tried to scare us by tapping on our windows and pretending he was Santa Claus." Claus."
Dad smiled. "Just pray for snow then, kids."
"I'm praying hard," I said. "I've been praying for snow all week."
Christmas Mass, as always was beautiful. The Adult Choir sang and the Children's Choir, which Nancy and I belonged to. It was hot in church with our winter coats on and by the time the long line of communicants finished, they were hot, tired and ready to go home.
All I could think about was seeing our Christmas tree, and sitting curled up on the couch in front of it and just watching it. When we opened the doors to leave church, I gasped! Looking up, I cried, "Look Everybody! It's snowing! It's a miracle!"
"See, kids. Your prayers were answered," Mom said, smiling. "Now Santa will get here for sure."
Happily they headed for home where Dad and Rich would eat oyster stew and the rest of us would have a piece of Mom's famous meat pie with cranberry sauce. They laid out a snack for Santa ... Christmas cookies and milk with a little bowl of sugar for the reindeer. Then it was time for bed and sweet dreams of Santa flying through the air while the snow fell paving his way to deliver his toys to all the boys and girls. It would be hard to sleep tonight as we listened for the reindeer to land on our roof and hoping Santa would find his way in.

PARENTING

THE TORCH

Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, "It's their life," and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop worrying?" The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident stage." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.My friends said that when my kids got married, I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's warm smile and her occasional, "You look pale." "Are you all right?" "Call me the minute you get home." "Drive carefully!"

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life? One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, "Where are you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried." I smiled a warm smile. The torch has been passed. Pass it on to other parents ... and also to your children. That's the fun part.

Mothers

I love you Mom!!! You are so wonderful and special and I'm so glad your MY Mom! Love, Annie


BEFORE I WAS A MOM



I made and ate hot meals. I had unstained clothing. I had quiet conversations on the phone.

Before I was a Mom, I slept as late as I wantedand never worried about how late I got into bed. I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday. Before I was a Mom, I cleaned my house each day. I never tripped over toys or forgot words to lullabies. Before I was a Mom, I didn't worry whether my plants were poisonous. I never thought about immunizations. Before I was a Mom, I had never been puked on, Pooped on, Spit on, Chewed on, Peed on, Or pinched by tiny fingers. Before I was a Mom, I had complete control of my mind, My thoughts, My body, I slept all night. Before I was a Mom, I never held down a screaming child so that doctors could do tests or give shots. I never looked into teary eyes and cried. I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin. I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep. Before I was a Mom, I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down. I never felt my heart break into a million pieces When I couldn't stop the hurt. I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much. I never knew that I could love someone so much. I never knew I would love being a Mom. Before I was a Mom, I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body. I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby. I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child. I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important. Before I was a Mom, I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay. I had never known the warmth, The joy, The love, The heartache, The wonderment, Or the satisfaction of being a Mom. I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much before I was a Mom. Send this to someone who you think is a special Mom.