I remember Daddy laughing:
My Dad died in 1959, when I was 14 years old. Daddy was only 45. It is a defining event in our family life, and it is amazing that memories of him are so vivid after the passage of so much time. The most significant thing about my Dad (Henry Stanley Abbott, known as "Stanley") was his always sunny personality. Daddy worked hard at a physical job (plumbing, pipe fitting, steam fitting) and was on call on the weekends. He devoted a lot of time to the church as well. There were Wednesday night prayer meetings. Friday night missionary meetings (outreach to the slums and dives of San Francisco). Church board meetings (he always served in some capacity), and of course Sunday was a full day too: Sunday School, then Morning Service and evening service. How he managed to accomplish all of this in addition to home upkeep and being a good husband and Dad is beyond my understanding. I do remember him stretched out sound asleep on the couch :-).
With all of these responsibilities, Daddy enjoyed life. I remember him laughing, telling jokes, teasing and playing with us, but have no memory at all of him angry, sad, bullying or mean. Daddy told the corniest jokes in the world and laughed every time he told each old time worn story. "Why don't people go AWOL in Kansas?". "Because they can see you for three days" Kansas was his birthplace and is famously flat. The classic family joke was "what hangs on the wall and sings?" Answer = "custard pie". Of course this doesn't make any sense at all and isn't even funny. Which is what is funny about it. The blank look of bewilderment that resulted was what was funny. Ok, you don't get it, but Larry, Joy and I can be counted on to laugh hilariously whenever we tell this "joke"

When we children were sick, in the middle of the night, blowing chow everywhere, he could be counted on to sing "hasten Jason, bring the basin, oops too late, bring the mop" as he comforted, cleaned and helped put us back in bed.
If I give the impression that he was silly, that isn't correct at all. He had a deep spiritual life, and took his responsibilities seriously. Daddy just faced life without complaining, and loved the events and people of every single ordinary day. I was fortunate in many ways in my early childhood, but I think this was the best gift of all: I remember Daddy laughing.
I still miss him. This is one of the wedding photos of Mom and Dad.

Educating the professor
When I was in college at San Francisco State University, Jim and Jonathon were quite young. Child care time was precious, and not always available to me, so when I had an afternoon meeting with my Mineralogy teacher, both of the boys went with me. I'm not sure of the date, but they were probably 5 or 6 years old at the time. My professor, Dr. Kirk, was an extremely odd individual, with many personality and physical quirks. However, he was a kind man and when I showed up with two small children, he showed them around the lab and displayed some of the mineral specimens. Thinking to edify and entertain them, he handed them both display samples of Halite, which is the rock salt we use at table. He showed them how they could be identified by crystal shape and taste; rubbing a wet finger on the sample and then inserting finger in mouth. We then proceeded with our discussion while both boys were quiet and occupied. When we concluded, we turned back to the children and Dr. Kirk asked for the rock samples back. Jim and Jonathon both looked at him in blank dismay; they thought the rock samples were gifts and had eaten them entirely. Dr. Kirk was absolutely nonplussed, who would have thought it? Since there was no retrieving the samples, they were written off as a learning experience for the professor, and I kept a close eye on the boys for a day or so to see if they would have any ill effects. They didn't seem to suffer from the experience, and after that could instantly identify Halite.

Early connoisseur
When Lisa and Scott were in the age range of 9 to say 12 or so, Ken and I were on a wine tasting and appreciation kick. We would let the kids taste small amounts of the wine, to make it not too much of a forbidden mystery, make sure they knew something about wine when they grew up and also because a little bit is quite good for you. We enjoyed a particular vineyard - Joseph Phelps, which at that time was reasonable in price. Move on to a wedding reception, crowded, everyone in the buffet line. In one of those eerie moments of absolute quiet that occur during these gatherings, I hear my daughter's clear, carrying, bell like voice saying "mother, do they have any Gewurztraminer?" She must have been 10 or 11, and every head in the room turned in wonder to look. Hilarious.

Ugly babies
Oh I know there aren't supposed to be any ugly babies, and it is true that they are all charming in their own way. Frankly, I've seen some mighty odd looking little ones, but they seem to be quite charming and lovely to their parents. I've wondered if my parenting skills would have stood up to the test of one of these funny looking kids, but thankfully, I've never been put to the test. All of my children (and grandchildren) have been absolutely beautiful. Now this is not just a fond parent's blind evaluation....every single one of them has been a "strangers stop you on the street to tell you how beautiful your baby is" type of kid. Jim had big dreamy blue eyes, straight blond hair, and the same charming sunny personality that Jack has today. Jonathon had curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, and the most winning smile in the world. Lisa, who grew into her wavy blond hair, started with curly dark brown hair. Her little round face with the green/hazel eyes just like her Daddy's, and luminous skin coloring, looked like a little russian princess. Adorable. Scott's amazing eyes were open when he was born and the Dr. said "you have a blue eyed boy". The other three children had the milky grey blue eyes typical of newborns that develop into their final color in the first couple of months. Scott's were electric blue from the beginning. You all know how beautiful Alexander, Kiva and Jack were as babies, and still are today. So, it's not just short sighted bragging to claim a family trait of lovely children. I'll rummage around for some baby pictures to post, the most critical observer will then have to concede that I am right.

Learning how to share
Speaking of sharing, this is how my parents conquered that age old problem of "who gets the bigger piece" of whatever. With Larry and I, whatever item we were supposed to divide would be handed to us, with the instructions "one person cuts it in half, the other person picks first". Oh what an effective device that was. With slow, meticulous, eagle eyed precision, the treat would be divided in half by one of us, with the other watching breathlessly. Would their hand slip? Would their eye be out of whack so they couldn't judge correctly? Although we always hoped the other one would slip up, it never happened. I would wager that you could have measured the two pieces on an atomic scale and there would have been no significant difference in weight.

The big softie and the little con artist
My brother Larry has had an unusually soft heart all his life. He is only 17 months older than I, but always has been protective and generous to me. I learned to exploit this valuable resource very early according to my Mom. We were often given treats, and they were always carefully in equal amounts for each of us. I was a greedy little girl, and ate mine down very quickly; I would then turn sad eyes on my brother, who was slowly savoring his snack. It worked every time. Larry would look at me, look away, look back, and just couldn't stand it. He would carefully break whatever he had in half and offer it to me. I, of course, selfishly took advantage of this benefit and ate every bit of mine and half of his. Larry hasn't changed in all these years, he still has a loving and giving heart, that's why we all love him, especially me.

Water baby
Scott has been a water person from the beginning. When he was still crawling, we were at the river enjoying the sunshine. There was a very gradually sloping rounded gravel beach, which extended quite a way out into the water. Scott began crawling into the water as we watched, and knowing that as soon as the water began to get a little deep he would turn back, we didn't intervene. To our consternation, he just kept going, deeper, deeper, deeper, until he actually was beginning to float on down the river. At this point we were lunging for him, panicked that he might get swept away, even though the river was flowing quite slowly. Scott however, never did seem to mind or get frightened, water has always been a friendly environment for him. Cold water has never been an issue either; no matter what time of year it was, if we took him near an open body of water, he was swimming. We used to have an annual trip to Folsom Lake on New Years Day so he could go swimming.....brrrrr.

Fashionista
One more, about Lisa. Lisa worked part time at Macy's (Serramonte) in their professional business women's wear dept when she was in high school. One day she called me at work and told me she had put aside some clothes for me to try on. I went to the store, and found a dressing room reserved for me, with a group of suits and dresses for me to try on. I had the loveliest time, trying on the clothes that my daughter had thoughtfully picked out for me. I put each one on and came out for her inspection. Lisa was very serious and businesslike, evaluating each ensemble critically, eyes narrowed, and giving me her verdict. Hmmm no, no, oh no that won't do!, and finally yes!, now THAT looks good. Her judgment was excellent, and I went away with a lovely green suit that I would not have even tried on without her intervention. It was the first of many role reversals to come as she changed from a little girl into a grown woman. I remembered vividly picking out clothes for her when she was little and being the one doing the evaluation. It was funny, exciting and a little sad to see her so grown up and moving on in her life.

Easter baskets
Just a quick memory to get the day started. I asked Jim yesterday if he remembered any easter bunny events when he was a kid. Jim said the one he remembers is from when we were living in Washougal Washington in the trailer. He and Jonathon knew it was easter and were quite disappointed when they woke up and there were no easter eggs to be seen. We told them they had forgotten to clean out the chicken house, and they dejectedly went down the trail to do their chores. When they arrived at the chicken house, they found that the chickens had laid colored eggs, and there were additional baskets with the candy they were hoping for. This would have been in 1974

Do you remember our pet tarantula "Harry" that we kept for a while in San Luis Obispo (1980)? We had no idea before living there that they were endemic to the area. We found one in the wild, not too far from our home. So, being the curious people that we are, we went back home, got a glass gallon pickle jug, and went back to capture the critter. He (arbitrary sex determination) was easily caught, and we triumphantly brought him home. We tried various items to make him comfortable...dried leaves, some twigs, a few rocks, and then began the search for what he would eat. We tried lettuce, rice, hard boiled eggs, various bugs the kids could find in the yard, but nothing really seemed to float his boat. Then we put a small piece of cantaloupe into his glass home, and the effect was startling. Harry's eyes seemed to bug out, he ran across the ground (they are surprisingly fast), arched his head back and then buried his whole face in the succulent ripe melon. We took that as a yes, and kept him well supplied. Harry was a fascinating bug, and in the gallon jar we could get a really close look at him in complete safety. All the kids were very interested, but none of us were much inclined to take him out and get better acquainted. They brought their friends in for viewings and were the toast of the neighborhood for the time. After a week or so, we took the gallon jar back to where we had found him and "set Harry free". He slowly walked away, seemingly unperturbed by his alien abduction experience, but I'm afraid he had a sad life after that, fruitlessly trying to get the other tarantulas to believe his otherworldly experience.

Another memory, circa probably 1961 or so. Remember we did not have hand held blow dryers at that time. We put our hair up into rollers and then put a plastic sack over our rollers and connected a hair dryer hose to the sack and sat and waited for the hair to dry. So one day when I was in a big hurry to go somewhere, the hair dryer quit when I had a head full of wet hair on rollers. What to do??? I had read somewhere, one of those helpful hints published in women's magazines, that your could hook up your canister vacuum cleaner in reverse to dry your hair. So, I managed to connect the hair dryer hose to the outlet of the vacuum cleaner, and sat down smug at my resourcefulness. My hair did dry, vacuum cleaner howling away, but when I took off the bag and rollers, I found to my dismay that the entire contents of the vacuum bag had also been blown into my hair. Lint was plastered to every strand of my hair making it stand out stiff and filthy from my head. What a mess! I brushed, and brushed, and brushed some more, dislodging huge piles of debris, and I'm sorry to say I eventually got enough out that I thought I was presentable enough to go out! No one said anything to me, but what can they have been thinking?

Kiva was here for her Grammie and Grandpa weekly play day. She is such a loving little heart, it is clear she is cherished by her parents and shown daily examples of family affection. Ken and I harvest the benefit of this training; for example, when I was dressing this morning, Kiva looked at me and said earnestly, "you are so pretty Grammie". And when I looked into those sweet eyes, I could see that I was to my small admirer. Later when we were walking into the hamburger joint for lunch, Kiva was riding on Ken's hip. She looked over his shoulder to me and sighed "I just love my Grandpa" as she tightened her grip around his neck. The young man walking adjacent to us flashed me a huge appreciative grin. We tell her often that she is our best girl, and that we love her just like she is. Kiva also is very sweet with Dancer, cuddles, pets and plays with her along with giving Dancer regular treats. Today Kiva discovered that every time she touched Dancer's nose, Dancer's tongue came out. For some reason, this was utterly hilarious, and was repeated endlessly to huge belly laughs.
Today was one of those days when I felt like we were doing the world a favor by bringing Kiva out. Most people we passed either looked at her and smiled, or smiled and spoke kindly to her. Kiva also tried on her new pink poncho from Auntie Joy, and just loved it. She looked so cute in it, and said that she liked it especially because it had a "princess hood". I think the big purple heart buttons helped too. Kiva told us she liked being four years old, but that Jack didn't like being one; he wants to be four too.
Tomorrow is our Flash Jack day, so I'm getting to sleep early.

I haven't been blogging regularly at all, so to get myself inspired, I've decided to change the focus of Grammiejay blog to memories. I've got lots of them, like most people, and many of them involve my darling children....so to make sure future generations do not miss out on these fascinating recollections, I will add them to this blog as the spirit moves. Also will try to persuade my sister Joy to guest blog, since she is the deep data bank of family memories.

First recollection....
Jim, my first born, was a lovely baby, and pretty undemanding as far as babies go. Jim slept reasonably well, and had good digestion most of the time. I had done a lot of babysitting, since from an early age I was fascinated and charmed by these little ones, but had not much experience with the little tiny ones. I got a lot of advice from my Mom, and when Jim got very constipated at around 2 months of age, I called on her for help. Jim's little belly was tight, and he was clearly not feeling his usual good tempered self. When the usual remedies; more water, a little bit of prune juice, gentle belly rubbing, warm washcloth applied to belly, failed to work, my Mom advised more aggressive measures. Remember that she came from a time period when pharmacies didn't offer much more than aspirin, and folk remedies were very common. So mom told me to make a soap stick (a small match stick carving of plain bar soap) and shove it up his tiny butt and hold it there till it worked. I placed Jim face down on my lap, removed diaper, gently inserted soap stick and waited. Jim squirmed a bit, but didn't seem particularly uncomfortable and eventually it worked spectacularly. I remember the soap stick being shot clear across the room with a resounding long and loud fart, copious poop, and grateful sigh from both child and parent. Another one of those things that kid owes me for...sitting with my finger holding his tiny rectum shut for 10 minutes with him bent over my lap. Oh, and then the clean up too. I used this remedy at least once on each of the subsequent infants, and it remains one of those tried and true solutions to a common infant problem. One can buy glycerine suppositories in pharmacies that carry old fashioned stuff, but if you can't find these, well now you know what to do.