My original column collection, made into a book, was a selection from the first four years of my column. My late friend, Colleen Sutherland, helped me choose from my scrapbook. She affixed stars to the one she liked–the more stars the more she liked the column.
Today, I’m going through the complete first two years to make it into a book on its own. I’ll be adding a few extras and some photos–we never put photos in the early years of my column, which is too bad. Now I have to search for some that are appropriate to go into my book collections.
These first columns were in the Farmer’s Friend out of Denmark, WI. It wasn’t until 1982 that the Wisconsin State Farmer added my column to their newspaper, the Seymour Times-Press came later.
At this same time, I was also a local reporter for the Green Bay Press-Gazette and the Compass.
Setting up another book is slow going, but at least I’m moving forward. It’s something to keep me busy.
The birdfeeders Bob made years ago are right outside our kitchen window. Having feathered visitors is a blessing in winter. I hope the seeds I put out are also a blessing for the birds.
nuthatchcloseupchickadeebluejay
It’s a good thing our barn cats are so well fed. They don’t bother the birds at all.
I thought I’d go back in time to the year I began writing my weekly newspaper column. This column shows me as a harried mother of three young children. Hope you enjoy this memory.
September 4, 1980
He put on his
jacket as he turned away from me. Heartlessly, he ignored the tears in my eyes
as he went out without a backward glance.
Without pride, I followed a few steps behind
him. He was leaving me today and there was nothing I could do to keep him by my
side. Robby was going to kindergarten.
Many a day this
past summer, as I pulled at my hair thinking of answers to his never-ending
line of questions, I looked forward to this day. Someone else would now have a
chance to try to answer his questions. I would have a breather, if only for a
few hours a day. (No one told me that in
a few years, the baby in my arms, Russell, would have even more questions.)
But now he is
actually leaving and I’m not rejoicing as planned.
Robby is not like
my impression of the usual first-timer. He is not clinging to his mother,
crying as if he is being abandoned. No, he is raring to go. He’s grown up … too
grown up. He doesn’t need me anymore!
Today, I again give
him into the hands of strangers. A short time ago, the stranger was the
dentist. That was for all of a half-hour with me fidgeting in the outer office.
He survived that experience better than his overly nervous mother.
This time I won’t
be in the next room. I’ll be miles away from my little boy.
I won’t be there even
if he cried. I’m sure he won’t—that is, if he doesn’t trip over his own feet
and fall down.
I won’t be near if
a big kid picks on my innocent 5-year-old. He’ll just have to learn to stick up
for himself. He has to grow up sometime. BUT IF ANY HOODLUM EVER DID TOUCH A
HAIR ON HIS HEAD…
I also won’t be
around when Robby accomplishes a learning feat. I’ll just have to wait until he
runs through the front door, waving his paper proudly.
I watched him climb
on the bus and I sniffle. “I’m alone…” There’s a tug on my arm. Becky looks
sad, too.
I pat her head and
say, “You’ll get to go to school when you’re five, Honey.”
“I know that. But
Mommy, when will Baby Russell quit eating my coloring book? Will he get a
bellyache if he eats a crayon? Can I help you clean up the kitchen floor?
Russell made me spill my milk. Does the baby like milk on his head?…”
What am I thinking
about? I’m not alone. It’s two long years before Becky marches off to
kindergarten (730 days to go) and five years before Russell follows (1,825 days
for him).
I don’t have time
for tears. I have to hurry to get something done before Robby gets home. He’ll
only be gone a few hours.
Robby, Becky, and Russell 1980 Rob, Rebecca, and Russ
