Storytelling

The other night as I was finishing up reading Eliza her bedtime stories, I started to tell her some stories from my childhood and some stories about my dad. Although we do talk about my dad and David’s dad quite a bit with her, I had yet to tell her an actual STORY. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what to say, I just knew I wanted to tell her a story from my childhood about my dad. I had a hard time thinking of something actually. I wondered, is my memory that horrible?? So I started to ramble about how my dad walked me to my bus stop at Hubbard Elementary School each morning and how he would hold my hand and then later, in middle school, he drove us to a different bus stop, in the parking lot between Thompson Recreation Center and what is now Fifth Ave School and we would wait in the car for the bus to come. I reenacted how there were a couple of nasty speed bumps (or were they potholes?) and we bounced in the recliner together. Then I rambled about how my dad would often get us lost on road trips and tell us he was taking the scenic route although I could not remember any particular trip or details.

Finally I started to remember how there was this time when I was about 13 or 14 and I went to the car wash with my dad. I don’t remember which car wash we went to or any other details like that, but this time as we were pulling out to leave, the horn started going off by itself. Maybe water go into the horn, who knows, but it wouldn’t stop. I mean it was BLARING and people were staring at us. We ended up driving home south down High St. right through OSU campus. I doubt this really bothered my dad much, but I was a teenager and completely mortified! I remember I ducked down in the passenger seat so no one would see me, I was so embarrassed!! We drove all the way home with the horn screeching. It stopped right before we parked in front of our house.

I guess if you ramble long enough you do remember something.

There I was telling Eliza a story, not just a detail. When I stopped, Eliza said: “More.” It was as if we had just finished one of her favorite books. It felt really good. I also almost cried of course.

I told her the story three more times. We eventually pretended to duck down ‘embarrassed’ when I got to that part. We scrunched down in the recliner and covered our heads. At the second or third telling she asked, “You washed the car? In the bathtub?” She was nodding to me like she really only asked this to confirm that this was the correct answer.

I really love the way toddler brains work sometimes. “No,” I told her. “We went to a car wash.” I went on to explain a car wash with minimal details and told her we would go to a car wash next week so she could see one.

Fast forward to this week. Finally, after two days of asking, I told her we would go to the car wash. I told the story a couple more times and then she asks me,

“Is Papa Carl gonna be there?”

And there it was, the first time where I had to in some way explain his absence. I wasn’t expecting it. I cried a little. I hugged Eliza and explained that no, he wouldn’t be there and we could take a picture along with us. We copied a picture (above) of my dad standing in front of a train engine and Eliza carried it with her most of the day. It was a little heart breaking and sweet and it is just how it is. But as hard as it is sometimes, it feels good to talk about him and remember...and above all else just tell some stories about him.

One Year

Today, one whole year has passed since my dad died. I've been thinking about a lot of things...about who my dad was, about how he influenced so much in my life, about that horrible day spent at the hospital one year ago yesterday and I really just don't know where to start or if I should write anything at all. How can I even sum him up in a few paragraphs on my blog? It is impossible. There is too much to say, yet I can't help but try to describe him and remember him.

Here are a few facts: He still carried his keys on a 25 year old key chain which said "Dad's Keys." One of my favorite times with him was when he tried to haggle at the thrift store for a $5.00 suit case. He used the term "twofers." If you haven't guessed from his love of the term twofers or the haggling at a thrift store, he was cheap. He always took advantage of senior discounts once he was eligible. He once tried to fill up two cars with his Fuel Perks discount at Giant Eagle and tried to use me as his accomplice. He got busted by a very sassy attendant. He drank a lot of coffee and he always drank it black. He didn't like to waste. After he died I found about 20 (I'm not exaggerating) Styrofoam coffee cups in the kitchen which he was 'reusing.' He was genuine and kind and patient and he really listened and I mean really. He was hilarious. He had a magnificent hearty laugh. He couldn't stand George W Bush. He had a mustache for most of my life. Two of his favorite shows were Scrubs and that Funniest Home Video Show. He remembered things about you most people forgot. One of my favorite things in the world was having lunch with him. I miss his voice and I wish words could properly describe the sound of it. I wish I had a recording of him saying something, even if it were just a voicemail message. I loved his handwriting. He loved Ohio State Football, but he wasn't one of those annoying fans that goes overboard. Two days before he died he took my 10 yr old nephew to his very first Ohio State game. He always bought his cars used. He loved cookies and ate too many of them, especially after he quit smoking. He smoked for 40 years. He was humble and even though he accomplished much in his career, he would still describe himself simply as a social worker. Anyone who knew him knew he was so much more than that. If Carl Brauner was the one helping you pick yourself up off your feet...you had landed in the right place. He was more selfless than anyone else I have ever known. He died way too soon.

I know I have blogged a lot about my dad this past year...and I appreciate that you have stuck around as I wander through and make sense out of grief. It helps me to write here. I can't help but write about him and I doubt this will be the last time. He is a part of what makes up this blog now and what makes up me.

This morning I went to the cemetery for the very first time. I decided to take snickerdoodles instead of flowers to set at dad's grave. At the grocery store, the sign above the cookies read: "Life's Short. Eat Cookies." I couldn't have said it any better.

I wish there was more to say...

Ever since I started back to work, (4 weeks ago now) I have struggled to find a free moment to really accomplish something. There hasn't been much to say here, unless you want to hear about how I pretty much keep up with the chores or about the book I am reading here and there. That's about all that gets done these days and when I say done, I mean barely done or almost done...and when I say I am reading a book, I mean 2 pages at a time before I head off to bed, too exhausted to read. I know I'll figure out how to find time to create again, but right now it feels like it is all I can do to make it to work each day without forgetting my lunch or my breast pump.

Since there hasn't been time for a crafty project, I started sorting through some old photographs. Friday, I went through an old suitcase of my dad's full of old slides and negatives from the late 1960s and early 1970s. I found this suitcase right after my dad died last fall and it has been sitting at the top of my stairs for months and months. I am just now brave enough to really look through it. These old photographs fascinate me and I'd like to make prints from many of the slides. My dad was an amateur photographer and there are many gorgeous ones from his time in Thailand when he was in the Air Force. There are are also some really beautiful pictures of my mom too, from when my parents were engaged and first married. I hope she gives me the go ahead to post a few of the photos of her here. I really want to share them. I'd honestly like to digitize all these slides and negatives, but I am unsure of the best way to do that. I am thinking of getting a film scanner, but it looks like that might be expensive...Have any of you digitized old slides or negatives? I'd love to hear more about it if you have.

My Dad's Egg McMuffins

My dad did not really cook, but there were a few things he made that my mom never did so I always think of him when I make them. French Toast was one of those things and Egg McMuffins are the other. I have fond memories of my dad making me Egg McMuffins when I moved back home for a brief time when I was 24 and also anytime we went to the airport in the early morning, whether I was taking him and my mom or they were taking me.

My dad's Egg McMuffins are probably similar to most others, but there are a few added touches.

To make a "Carl" Egg McMuffin:

:: Fry an egg, sprinkle with salt and pepper. Try your best to shape into a square or rectangle.

:: While egg is frying toast an English muffin.

:: When egg is done frying, turn off heat and put half a piece of American cheese on the egg so it melts a little.

:: When the English muffin is done toasting, spread a little bit of mayo on the bottom half (if you don't like mayo, use butter or margarine, but I was leery of the mayo at first too and it really tastes good!)

:: Add your egg.

:: Add sausage or bacon if desired (I like mine without).

Serve with black coffee and eat OR for the "To Go" version, wrap in foil and take your coffee in a travel mug.

The story behind her name...

Eliza was one month yesterday! In the hustle and bustle of becoming a new parent, I haven't yet told the story of how I came to pick out her name: Eliza Josephine. Might as well try and do that here and now, in the shadow of Father's Day, while she naps...even if she is stretching like she is going to wake up.

Eliza we picked simply because we liked it. It was pretty and simple...not much of a story there.

The middle name however, took a little more work. If we had been having a boy, we would've picked the middle name Carl, for my dad. Since we were having a girl however, I had to pick something different. My dad passed away when I was 8 weeks pregnant and so my pregnancy was very connected to his passing away. I thought often of the impact he had on my life. I wanted a middle name for our girl that was symbolic of my dad. Girl versions of Carl didn't work...so I started looking at the meanings of names and then turned to the Saints. My dad was a very inspirational Catholic for me, someone who walked the talk in his daily life and was quietly devout. One of my favorite stories about him is one his cousin told me about how he used to mow their lawn as a teenager and sing songs in Latin while he did. As I looked through the patron saints, I settled on two St Josephs, which Eliza's middle name, Josephine, is symbolic of. There is the Joseph, everyone knows, the Father of Jesus, and thus patron saint of Fathers. What I didn't know is that Joseph is also the patron saint of Social Justice. This is fitting as well since my dad worked for Catholic Social Services for more than 20 years. The work he did was very much in the name of social justice and it inspires me each day in my own work as a librarian. I also discovered a St Joseph of Cupertino who is the patron saint of pilots and air passengers. My dad was in the Air Force and loved planes from the time he was a boy. Throughout my childhood he took my brother and I to air museums and air shows and he could always identify the type of planes flying overhead. When he took me to the airport as I got older and started traveling places by myself he would often wait for my plane to take off before departing, pulling over to the McDonalds and waiting in the parking lot, drinking a cup of black coffee. Sometimes he would even call my cell phone to let me know he saw my plane take off. He is the reason I love airports and flying. I love that we live so close to the airport now and I think of him each time I see a plane overhead.

It is kind of a roundabout tribute to my dad, but fitting nonetheless and a story I cannot wait to tell Eliza someday

Bittersweet Father's Day

Today is my husband's first Father's Day. Already he is proving to be an amazing dad, as I knew he would be. We have always been a very 50/50 couple in terms of workload (somehow I lucked out and go a husband who does all the bills and laundry) and I think we are already this way as parents. He has saved me numerous times already with Eliza, jumping right in after a long day at work when I needed a break. It is weird though to celebrate Father's Day so soon after Eliza's arrival as we are such rookies. We are so clueless really and although we are getting more and more clued in as time goes by, I don't think either of us feels quite like a Father or Mother yet, but we are, and Eliza has a pretty awesome dad. I can't wait to watch their relationship unfold. The next few years are sure to be quite a fun adventure with David at our sides!

Today is also my first Father's Day without my dad and I cannot really celebrate Father's Day without mentioning him. It is a weird thing to not have a dad anymore. I feel entirely too young for that. I never got my dad gifts on Father's Day, but I always took a moment to write something in a card about what a great father he was or one of my favorite memories from childhood. If I were to write him something today, I would tell him I hope to be at least half the parent he was...that his example is guiding me as I fumble my way through this new adventure called parenthood and even though he isn't here to go with us, we plan on taking Eliza to air shows, and on train rides and if we ever get lost we will of course tell her we were just taking the scenic route. I miss you Dad...I know you are doing just fine up there...but I sure do wish you were still here and that you could meet Eliza.

Daddy's Girl Pillow

Technically this is the Farmgirl Photo Pillow from Stitched in Time by Alicia Paulson, but I've renamed it the Daddy's Girl Pillow. I squeezed this little project in yesterday...somewhere in between sorting through 2 closets, a dresser and 4 boxes of clothing, moving furniture from one room to another, packing up Christmas decorations, rearranging two closets, tidying the kitchen, living room and dining room, posting on my blog and running errands. Can I just say, I was unstoppable yesterday??? It was awesome.

But back to my original topic...I made this pillow for our baby girl, my way of letting her know I'm okay with her being a daddy's girl. Afterall, I was one. I have always loved this photo of my dad holding me...there is something about the way he is looking at me. Since my dad's passing this photo has become even more special. To me, it looks as if he is in awe of his new role as dad. His eyes are gentle; he looks amazed and content. I have no idea what he was thinking of course, but to me, this picture captures my dad's personality in a way my words cannot. Working on this was also very healing for me. So many of the projects in Stitched in Time are perfect for family storytelling. This book arrived in my life at just the right time.

Also, printing on photo fabric turned out to be so flippin cool! My mind is racing with ideas for B&W pictures of my grandma in the 1940s, baby pictures of my mom and what I could turn them into. The brand of photo fabric I used was Printed Treasures and it's available at JoAnns (but kinda pricey so use a coupon). Stitched in Time has a ton more ideas for cool projects (check out the flickr group to get an idea). You could easily use a whole pack of the printable fabric as you work your way through the book.

Post Christmas Wishes

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas...I meant to post a little blog hello on Christmas Eve but I was baking these cookies, pretty much all day long. They were worth the time I spent. My dad would've been happy...I think his spirit guided me because this years cookies turned out more colorful and flavorful than any other year ever. My dad could throw back some serious cookies, especially after he stopped smoking seven years ago. We called him the Cookie Monster and I loved baking cookies for him at Christmas. I missed my dad a lot yesterday, but we kept distracted and it wasn't until the evening, once David and I were home, that I just had this empty feeling and couldn't quite figure it out...it was then it hit me: I miss dad.

My dad was always hard to buy for at Christmas because he was content with what he had. Figuring out the perfect present for him was hard work. But a couple of years ago, I bought him something he actually loved and used: zip-up beer bottle cozies. Until then, every time my dad offered us beers when we'd visit, he would deliver them to us with a paper towel and a rubber band wrapped around them, his own homemade variety of a beer cozy. My dad was thrifty and was always coming up with contraptions to avoid having to buy something new. After that Christmas he always drank his beer with the zip up cozies I bought him and I teased him about his old paper towel ones. We had some good laughs about those. Funny that the same things that can make you laugh can make you cry later. Nevertheless, I love remembering that Christmas and if I could, I would kick back with a bottle of Sierra and a paper towel beer cozy wrapped around it with a rubber band, just to hold that memory a little closer. But since beer and pregnancy don't go together, I encourage all of you to have one for me and maybe I'll have to track down a 6-pack of IBC this holiday season instead!

**Cookies are (clockwise from top): red velvet whoopie pies, chewy cherry almond bars, chocolate hazelnut coins and peanut butter bites (which have a Reese's cup inside!)

***Also, all cookie recipes except the whoopie pies can be found in the 2007 Better Homes and Gardens October publication "Christmas Cookies" which comes out every year, usually you see it at the checkout at grocery stores. It is available at CML for local peeps. The Red Velvet Whoopie pies are from the December 2008 issue of Better Homes and Gardens. I did also find it on the BHG website just now, but had to sign up for a free membership to their site to get it which leads me to believe all the recipes can be found their if you just join their free club.

Thankful

When I was growing up, my dad worked on Thanksgiving. As a director of a community center, he put on a gigantic community meal every year that served hundreds of people. Sometimes my mom and brother and I went too and helped out in small ways. Often we just went to be around my dad when he was busy working, doing something he loved. The community center was in a former Catholic school building and I vividly remember playing behind the curtains on a stage in the gym, curiously exploring while things were being set up. Looking back now, I see what a strong example his work was for me and I am so thankful for that. Sharing a meal is such a special event and Thanksgiving is a time to celebrate community as well as family. So if you haven't yet, please remember to give a little something to your community this holiday season as well. I think now more than ever this is so important.

An Old Suitcase

We spent most of today helping my mom with some things around the house. At some point I went down in the basement for something and I discovered this suitcase. It's my dad's from when he was in the Air Force and I had never seen it before today. If you look closely enough, you can read his childhood address: 486 Berkeley Rd. The suitcase was heavy enough that I knew something was inside. I of course opened it immediately, on the concrete basement floor.

Before I tell you what is inside, I want to tell you that in my grief over my dad's death, I am taking such comfort in remembering -even if it makes me cry my eyeballs out. I love remembering and I can tell I am going to be one of those moms someday who tells my children story after story about their Grandpa they'll never get to know. My hope is that these stories will have at least some of the influence on my future children's lives as my dad's presence had on my own life. I am also taking great comfort in all the tangible things I have that remind me of my dad, especially photos and some childhood letters. I may share some of those things here eventually.

When I opened the suitcase, I found several cartons of slides, about 10 boxes or so and some papers. There were also several typed copies of an egg roll recipe from Thailand, held together with a rusty paper clip:

Each of the slide boxes were marked as to what they contained, most were taken while my dad was in the Air Force, many when he was stationed in Thailand. I've always known these slides existed, but never discovered or seen them until today. My dad dabbled in photography when he was younger and I am excited to see these slides for the first time and maybe make some prints from them. Although it does sadden me I cannot ask my dad about them. That to me is the hardest thing so far about losing my dad: knowing I cannot speak with him anymore. Despite being close with my dad, I think when someone important dies, there is always a feeling of things left unsaid. In this case, especially since my dad died so suddenly, I feel there were many conversations we hadn't even had yet. It is then that I turn back to my memories. I have so many memories to be thankful for and it is important to remember that.

So I suppose this post means this blog is back. It may not be very crafty for a while, and I may get a tad melancholy, but this blog has never been entirely craft-focused. I am much too scatter-brained for that. So it's official: I'm back...and I am definitely trying out that egg roll recipe here, just bear with me it may be a while on that one.

My Dad

So I lost my dad suddenly yesterday. After a horrible 24 hours at the hospital Monday he finally passed yesterday morning about 1 AM. This was a complete surprise to our family. It is probably way too early for me to even type this, but here I am anyway. I try not to get too personal on my blog but I've never been through anything this big and awful. I'm sure I am reacting impulsively writing this. I miss him so much already, he was the best listener. My parent's friend Carol said at the hospital "they just don't get much better than your dad." So true and simple. My mind is a mush of dad thoughts right now, but I don't think I can get them out in a coherent way just yet...be back in a few weeks or so.