One of the Wichita Falls television stations begins the evening news coverage with the question, “It’s ten o’clock, do you know where your children are?”
The questions I would ask you today are: Do you know what’s in your house, is it useful, if not, why is it still there?
For several weeks now, I’ve been searching for a certain bank statement. I put it somewhere so I would know exactly where it would be when I needed it, but I have come up short every place I’ve looked.
This is similar to my hiding Band-aids when my children were all little and then not being able to locate them when I needed one. If I left them in the medicine cabinet in plain sight, they soon disappeared. I often told Ray that we would be rich if we had invested in Johnson and Johnson.
But, losing the bank statement has not been all bad. In looking for this document, I’ve been forced to go through my file cabinet and toss out many old and unimportant papers. I’ve been on a roll, shredding some of the paperwork of long ago.
It’s surprising how fast things pile up in a house. I do not refer solely to paperwork, but to many other items. As a young mother, I sewed some for my children and could not resist buying fabric any time I came across some in a store.
Several years ago, I needed some storage space, so I went through all the materials that were still unused and moved them to a large plastic storage box. If Gayle still had time to sew, I would give them to her, but she is too busy for that right now
One of the drawbacks of going through all these records is that each one has to be read or examined in order not to dispose of something that is important. This, my friends, takes time.
Every so often, I find it necessary to go through my little basket where I keep my snail mail. This is a tedious job, because as sure as I throw away an envelope, I need that return address.
There are some things that I cannot part with; things such as baby clothes that my children wore and greeting cards I’ve received over many years. These are such cherished keepsakes, I simply can’t throw them out.
I have passed along to some of my children and grandchildren mother’s and grandma’s pieces of beautiful handwork, even though most of them are showing signs of age.
In her latter years, Mother would say, “I feel sorry for you all when I am gone—there is so much to go through.” She was exactly right. But we made it.
In reference to last week’s column regarding the overload of emails on my computer, maybe it did help some people. Two of my email friends sent me messages that they were going through and deleting large numbers of emails. It is so easy to read a message and leave it on the computer.
As of last night, I had eight unread messages on my computer and only about fifty all together. Sure beats that 17,000 I had on there earlier.
6-17-2009
#439
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Battling an E-mail Overload
I guess it’s confession time for me. For several weeks recently I’ve been having problems with my computer. When I turned on the Outlook Express to receive my emails, the download would begin and sometimes go about halfway. Suddenly, I would get a message that my server had interrupted service for an unknown reason.
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
The really odd part was that I could still access my Internet Explorer successfully and my Facebook. This was so frustrating and I felt isolated, because I do use my computer to constantly stay in touch with friends and family.
Gayle had some instructions from AT&T that she thought might solve this problem. She stopped by briefly one afternoon and tried this method, but it did not help any. Finally, she came by another day and was checking out my programs when she looked at me and said, “Mother, did you know you have over 17,000 emails stored on here?”
I thought she was joking, but when I looked, there was the BIG number. She began deleting those messages and eventually got them all off. She said, “I bet everyone in Waurika who has the same server as you, will see remarkably better service now.”
Last week after all this had happened, we met several members of our family from the Dallas area for lunch and visiting. We met in Decatur, Texas. Of the nine who were there, I was the oldest. Everyone there, well most of them, was much younger than I am, and when Gayle told these computer-savvy persons what I had done, they could not believe it.
In addition to the large number of stored messages, more than 1900 of them were shown as “unread.” I knew I was far behind with checking my emails, but had no idea that I was so buried in unread messages. Since that time, I have been diligent about reading the new emails and deleting the ones I no longer need to keep.
When we had walked into the restaurant, people looked around and saw four women who had totally gray or white hair. I bet they probably thought it was “happy hour” for seniors. Of course, the younger ones did balance the group somewhat.
A niece in another town teaches computer to elementary grade children. A job she really enjoys. This summer she is teaching some kindergarten children to use the computer. She said one of the little boys in that class, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, “ I really wike computers.”
When Ray worked in Woodward, I volunteered in a transitional class. These were children who had already been through kindergarten, but were not mature enough to go on to first grade. One little boy who was somewhat of a behavioral problem, would really straighten up and change his behavior when the teacher would tell him, “Now Hoover, when you finish your assignment and if you obey the rules, then you can work at the computer.”
He was a fast learner because he was doing what he enjoyed doing. Wish I could learn as fast as these young ones do.
6-10-2009
#438
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Mother was One of a Kind
“She (or he) was one of a kind.” Have you ever said this about someone you knew? All of us are different in many ways, but some are different in such unique ways that they stand apart from the rest.
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
As I have aged, I’ve come to recognize the uniqueness of my mother. She
had such a rare sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes. Her parents rented bedrooms to travelers coming through Boyd. I remember Mother telling of some members of a baseball team staying overnight in their hotel/home. Mother and one of her girl friends went in the boys’ rooms while they were out and stitched the bottoms of their uniform pants. The boys came back in a big hurry to change into their uniforms to begin playing and found this complication.
My sister and I thought Mother was way too strict when we were teens. If we asked to go some place or do something and she refused, we would tell her that “everyone else is going.” Her reply, “If everyone else broke a leg, would you want a broken leg?”
It was comical the way she would shift our ages. If she asked us to do
something we thought was too hard, she would say, “You mean to tell me a big
sixteen year old can’t do that?” However, the next hour when we asked for some special privilege, she came back with, “Do you think I’m going to let a twelve year old go out alone.”
As most mothers, I suppose, she was the travel agent for guilt trips. If she learned that we had mistreated someone or been unkind, she would say, “How would you like to be treated that way?” I always preferred a switching to a verbal dressing down.
And, she was a charter member of the Mothers’ Worry Club. Mother worried about us if we were home or away, about the big things and the little things.
The really amazing thing about all this is that I find myself more like my mother every day. I catch myself saying some of her favorite things, and I even have some of the same opinions she had.
As Erma Bombeck said, “I put my arm in my sweater and out comes my
mother’s arm.” I don’t know if boys and their fathers have this same connection or not, but I hope I have inherited some of my mother’s best traits and characteristics.
I trust that she forgave me for my ungrateful and rebellious years.
6-03-2009
#437
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