Recollections of the 4th

This 4^th of July I spent my holiday at a wedding of a friend from college. It was the only year I can remember being away from my Grandmother’s house in Washington. The 4^th in central Illinois is not what most would consider a wild and exciting event, but there is nowhere else I would rather have been. Grandma had friends and family over to this party for 37 years. Most of them were there every single year and watched me grow from a newborn into the person I am today.

Each year, I would go down July 2^nd or 3^rd to help Grandma get ready. She would have me wipe the cobwebs from the beams on the deck, wash the windows and organize the plates, napkins, and plastic silverware. She would lie out the decorations and tell me specifically where she wanted them hung and placed. My job in the kitchen was to make a gigantic fruit salad. She bought the fruit (meticulously picking out each fruit so it would be perfectly ripe by the 4^th) and I would cut it and mix it for her.  When my “jobs” were done, I would put on my bathing suit, blow up a raft and go swim in the lake. By the 4^th, the lake was typically very warm and covered with a stinky green moss. The earthy mossy smell would permeate my bathing suit and hair even after I washed it, but it smelled like summer and Grandma's house so I always secretly liked it.

Gram and I shared a love of flowers and gardening. All of June, she would work with the flowers in her yard, fertilizing, watering and pruning so they would be perfect for the 4^th. And sure enough, each year her gorgeous flowers bloomed brightly for all to see. From when I was very little to a few years ago, I would walk around the lake to forest area that was set back from the road about 100 feet. In this area, there were hundreds of tiger lilies that grew wild. For many years, I would traipse back there to pick a big beautiful bouquet for her. I would walk back triumphantly with my flowers sneezing and sniffling from smelling that sweet lily smell on my walk back home. She always graciously put the flowers in a vase and gave me a hug and wiped the pollen off my nose.

Gram put on this event every year, and no matter how much we begged her to “make it easy” just pick up pre-made food and not spend hours upon hours in the kitchen, she always refused. Even at 88, she cooked, baked and fed 15+ people. Each year, I observed that the preparation, organization and timing became more and more difficult for her. Tasks that had taken her 5 minutes in 1999 took her 30 minutes in 2009. At the time, it made me worried and sad and I didn’t want her to struggle. But now I look back with such pride! Each year she proved to herself and the rest of us that she could still do it. She could throw a festive, fun party with delicious food even into her advanced years.  That kind if determination is not something to be pitied but revered. I wish I would have understood that then.

Gram would make homemade BBQ, fudge, Special K bars, potato salad, a relish tray, dip, lemonade that she served in a big ceramic antique pickling container. She would put out snacks like chips, licorice and M&M’s (which I consumed unabashedly as a child). More recently, my cousin’s husband started making margaritas that the guests consumed not in cups but gallons. All the guests would sit at card tables, in the gazebo, or under large umbrellas in the back yard. Everyone would admire the lake and flowers, eat wonderful food, talk about the year, and tell dirty jokes and laugh.

At some point in the evening before dusk a neighbor would light huge roll of noisy popping fireworks that took 20 minutes to stop exploding. When it finally ended the neighbors would all join in clapping in celebration.   It would cover all of the backyards in a thick sulfur smelling smoke that did a good job of keeping the mosquitoes away. Everyone would walk down to the lake and set up their chairs for the fireworks at dusk. More years then not, I got the seat I wanted next to my Grandma. The fireworks were typically shot off one or two at a time. Everyone would clap when they saw one that they liked. When it was all over we would wander back up the hill still discussing our favorite explosive of the evening.  People would say their good-byes, hug and say, “I will see you next year”. When I said that I don't think I realized how different the world would be in 2010. 

 I missed everyone this year, especially Grandma and Grandpa but I still enjoy reminiscing about the past. I wont forget the invaluable life lesson of what determination actually is, and I will continue to make the recipes that taste like memories. That being said, I better get back to cutting up my watermelon for my fruit salad. 

“Strangers on this road we are on, We are not two we are one”

The first spring storm rolled in today. Big, thick, black clouds have come in blocking out the sun. Huge raindrops are falling splashing everyone passing by and the thunder cracks and rattles my windows. This weather makes me want to reflect about the day and in-turn eat an entire package of purple marshmallow Peeps. This year my Easter was even smaller than usual. My brother spent the day with his in-laws, my father was sick and in bed with a bad cold so this left my Mom and I to celebrate with church, a nap and a feast for two. Bright and early we went to church and listened traditional Easter sermon about the resurrection of Christ.  I always enjoy John 20: 15-18 when Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb looking for Jesus and cannot find his body. When she sees Jesus she assumes that he is a gardener and is shocked when she realizes it is her teacher.

Hearing these stories reminded me of an incident that happened 5 months ago when I was at my Grandma’s house. Gram was very ill and in bed. She first calmly said, “There are people waiting for me at the end of a hall”. She exclaimed “Dad!” and then “Mama!” The look of joy that came over her face when she saw her parents for the first time in 20 years was magical. Then she was quiet for a while, all of the sudden she announced, “I see Jesus!” She had a grin on her face and a look of absolute euphoria! She said “Isn’t it amazing?” It was amazing.

Lately, I have been struggling with many nightmares. Some are weird, some are scary but I do have one meaningful reoccurring dream.  In my dream, I am walking and I look over to see a small, young woman with dark hair and red lipstick walking next to me. I am walking fast and she is struggling to keep up and stay with me. She is staring into my eyes and standing very close at my side while we walk. In my dream, I wonder who is this lady and why is she so close to me? Then she smiles and I realize it’s my Gram. She is young and vibrant and the same age as me.  And then I wake up.

 I often remember this dream when I am rushing down the sidewalks of Chicago. Remembering this makes me slow down. It brings me peace to think that she is experiencing my new home.  I think she would love it too.   I hope that she is walking with me throughout my life and is always smiling. Now I am off for a rainy day walk to the store for some Peeps.  

"The Heart of Life is Good"

Sometimes I get so downtrodden becuase it seems like there is so much misery in the world it is hard to get out of bed. Today is a day when I was reminded that there is joy all around me and prayers are answered. For the first time in quite awhile my heart was filled with nothing more than gratitude.

 During my first year teaching a pre-K autism program I had a student named “Sammy”.  Sammy had a diagnosis of autism and was non-verbal but very bright. From day one, Sammy and I had a special bond. We both loved to dance and would start our school day hand in hand dancing with the rest of the class to the song “Wooly Bully”. I wore converse shoes to school nearly every day (because I could run fast to catch students in them).  Sammy went to the store with his mother and picked out his own that were exactly the same to match mine and he wore them everyday. Each story I read or lesson I taught Sammy loved. He sat on baited breath to soak up any knowledge that was being presented.

Unfortunately, Sammy’s time in my class was not always fun or easy. He was frustrated and angry that he couldn’t verbally communicate. This often was exhibited through self-mutilation such as head banging, hitting, or scratching skin until it bled. I spent many hours that first year restraining Sammy and trying to prevent him from hurting himself. After an episode, I would often be bruised and bleeding and Sammy would look at me with tears welling up in his eyes. He was full with such a deep remorse that it broke my heart.  He was a 4-year-old boy that carried such a terribly heavy burden. On more occasions then I would like to remember, I would sit at my desk after the kids left and cry wishing that he could just speak.

Sammy’s mother and I would talk daily trying to figure out how best to help him. I met with many specialists and we tried different adaptive tech devices, picture communication systems and sign language all which he learned easily but they didn’t assist him in communicating with the larger population in the way he wanted. Sammy was trapped. I taught Sammy in my class for two years and he made extensive progress in that time but he never produced any verbalizations.

I hadn’t seen Sammy in more than 6 months when I received the news that he had broken his leg during a sledding accident. I decided I needed to go to his house to wish him well. When his Mom answered the door and I walked in I heard a voice, “Hi Miss Heiser! How are you?”  I walked into the bedroom and I was flabbergasted.  Sammy was speaking in beautiful sentences. His language wasn’t completely clear, but it was understandable. He was calm and seemed completely joyful in spite of his condition. His Mom told me something finally just clicked and Sammy started verbally communicating. It began with just a few words and snowballed into beautiful complete sentences.  His Mom even described him as "easy going" and "happy-go-lucky". Never words I would have used to describe him in years past.

After an hour or so talking with Sammy and his family, I said my good-byes and left. When leaving his room, I looked on his desk and saw that he had a little framed picture of the two of us at an autism walk. As I drove home I wept. I was filled with such a sense of gratitude for this blessing. I am reminded that life can be such a heartbreaking struggle but underneath it all “the heart of life is good”.