Random post about Books and Families

I picked up a book at the DI.  It was a book I hadn't read since I was in first or second grade, but I remembered liking it so much I bought it so my kids could read it.
I don't know how many of you are familiar with The Boxcar Children, but it was a chapter book originally written back in 1924 for young readers.  There are actually over a hundred books under the Boxcar Children name, only 19 of which were written by the original author.  I never got into those subsequent books though, I didn't really care for them, all I cared for was the original.
So upon bringing the book home, I opened it up to be reminded of what it was like, and suddenly I was whisked back in time. I didn't realize how much this book affected and shaped my childhood play.  I ended up reading it from cover to cover over the last two days, not just because the story was so engrossing, but because the feelings and memories associated with it were so strong.

In a nutshell, it is about 4 orphaned siblings who run away and set up house in an abandoned rail car.  Their ages range from 14-6, the oldest and youngest being boys. 

I loved the idea of surviving simply upon one's resourcefulness and wits on the periphery of civilization yet beyond the conventions of modern society. And I'm afraid that being an orphan, or at least a runaway, was highly romanticized in my youth (nothing personal Mom). :)

Thinking back on some of my favorite books as a young person, I realize that this was a popular theme even as I grew older:

My Side of the Mountain, --NY runaway who lives in the forest

Island of the Blue Dolphins, --Orphan who lives on deserted island

The Cay, --shipwreck survivors who live on an island

Call it Courage, --storm tossed boy who is lost and left to survive on a island

Julie of the Wolves, -- Eskimo runaway who lives on the tundra

Wolves of Willoughby Chase --runaway orphans (although they don't do it all on their own, they have help.  I just liked the secret passageways in their house).

Hatchet --plane crash survivor

Just to name a few.*


I recall all sorts of games my younger sister and I played which involved us being somehow lost or orphaned and having to survive on our own.  Most often our yard became an island, with the wheat fields around us easily imagined as the vast expanse of ocean which we occasionally checked for ships. If my mother or any other member of the family showed up on our island, they were explained away as the native cannibals that inhabited the island --generally to be avoided-- and my cat, the ferocious man-eating tiger (which we eventually tamed and befriended because we were sick of running away screaming each time she came near).  On the other hand, if we were runaway orphans, my mother was either the evil headmistress, or the kind cook who smuggled us food unbeknownst to the evil Master of the house ...depending on the mood of the day.

My sister and I even went so far as to start writing our own book based on our pretend games. We were in 2nd and 3rd grade I believe, and the the basic premise of the story was that of two girls --the sole survivors of a plane crash, who washed up on a tropical island and had to survive on their own for an indeterminate time. The story is really laughable.

Ah yes, those were the good old days.

Anyway, back to this book which sparked so much reverie, The Boxcar Children.
I believe it was one of the first chapter books I ever read.  It is written simply and is easy for young readers to understand.  It glosses over any distressful things such as any details of how their parents died, and simply leaves out mundane details that kids might not think to ask but made me curious as I read, such as where do they go to the bathroom?  (Okay, so maybe kids these days would think of that, along with my immature self, but back in 1924 it wasn't something anybody talked about.) Barring the fact that the story is super simplified and everything works out so conveniently (it is a children's book after all), I was actually really impressed with the undercurrent of cheerfulness, selfless concern, maturity, and the skill and industry that the children exhibit.
They build a fireplace, and a makeshift refrigerator of sorts behind a waterfall, glean useful items from a nearby dump, even manufacturing their own tools and such out of bits and pieces of stuff they find there. The girls cook, sew, do laundry by hand, gather blueberries, and care for their younger brother as well as an injured stray dog. The oldest boy, exhibiting responsibility and independence, earns money by offering to do odd jobs at the home of an elderly Dr. as well as procuring leftovers from thinning the vegetable garden, some bent nails to be straightened and reused and an extra hammer he finds while organizing the garage which the old man is happy to give him. With his money he purchases milk and bread and ingredients for the girls to cook with. With the nails he builds a cart to haul rocks and together they build a dam across the stream to make a pool to bathe in.
The girls are motherly and skilled, the oldest boy is hard working and resourceful.  How many things in our popular culture today actually promote such ideals?  I'm coming up blank. I know this is only fiction, and in real life those kids would most likely have come to very unfortunate circumstances, but why stop promoting those kinds of attitudes?

Another book that I loved growing up was not on the list because the kids weren't necessarily on their own, and also because it's not really fiction, although it is written for kids, is that of the Laura Ingall's Wilder series.  Now there's a lesson in self-sufficiency and hard work.  Even within those stories, not everyone was cut out to make it on their own, but the whole series celebrates the freedom and independence and joy --yes joy of a job well done and living upon the fruits of one's labor and knowing how to provide and survive on the basic necessities of life.  In fact, the only antagonist, if you can call her that, I can think of is Nellie Oleson --the little girl in town who has everything and never has to work a day for any of it and who is so spoiled and mean that she really isn't very happy.
I'm afraid that the world today is filled with Nellie Olesons.

I mean, what happened? When did work become our enemy? When did comfort and ease become so important?  When did complaining cease to be considered ill-manners? In fact, what happened to manners at all? I mean, I know it wasn't all rosy, and that things weren't always ideal --I suppose I can be grateful that the "children should be seen and not heard" was left behind, although there are times when I wish I could apply it in my home... but honestly, sometimes I'd like to go back to the good old days, when hard work was the rule not the exception, people -even kids were empowered and taught how to survive and to rely on their own knowledge and industry rather than to wait for hand-outs from parents or the government.

I wouldn't give up modern medicine though, or transportation  ...or laundry machines...or flushing toilets...

Okay, so I'm not quite as idealistic as I sound, but at the very least, I can strive to foster these principles in my own home as much as possible.



Speaking of nurturing good principles through books, the annual Celebration of the Family Proclamation is going on right now through the 28th (you may have noticed the button in the side bar of my blog, see how I participated last year by clicking here).  Today's post was inspired by another great post about books for children that exemplify happy family relationships with a wonderful list of books that I think everyone should read.  (Probably more uplifting than my measly list of orphan and survivor stories, although you may notice my comment includes another book about an orphan). Anyway, check out all their other posts by clicking on the sidebar button and scrolling back through posts of the past week (there's been some really great ones), and following links to the other two blogs that are hosting this celebration. (When it's over I'll try to have a link to the main index page that lists all the posts and articles of past years --they're really all so great.)

Anyway, those are my random thoughts for the day.  Kinda random for being MIA for a few weeks I know, but hey it's better than nothing right?



(*Disclaimer: depending on your views, some of the books I listed are more appropriate for older children because the serious nature of surviving on one's own could be distressing to young children, and some parts could be a bit graphic.  Reviewing this list and googling certain titles, I am actually surprised at how many of them had been pulled from the shelves of libraries at one time or another, and equally surprised at what age I remember reading them.  Kids are so sheltered these days when it comes to human suffering, yet so exposed when it comes to sinful behavior.)

The Fruits of Our Labors

March came in like a lamb and went out like a lamb.  In fact, we have been enjoying the weather so much we keep forgetting to get out the camera.

Spring is officially here though. The work we put in last Fall to plant some bulbs has come to full fruition and I have had a happy little garden of daffodils to greet me this spring.  They're so cheery, it makes me happy to look at them! 

Although we missed most of the month, we did however record the end of it.  We had a great Spring Break and Easter at home with my parents.  I don't know if they considered it much of a break though since we put them to work on a few major projects while they were here. 

You might have noticed that I'm not much of a seamstress, I don't even own a machine, however our trampoline badly needed some new pads.  My mom brought some material they had lying around and some heavy duty nylon thread, plus my friend let me borrow her sewing machine. So while my mom was here we made new pads together!  Okay, so my mom did almost all of the sewing because every time I sat down at the machine it had a conniption and the bobbin knotted up and we had to un-pick it all (I don't own a sewing machine, so I obviously don't have a seam ripper and it was very irritating, so it was better for us both if she did most of the sewing). They actually turned out great and I'm so pleased. Now the baby can jump on it safely without fear of his leg going through the springs.

Before

After

Before

After

My Dad wasn't left out of the fun of course.  I found a perfect project for him and my husband.  My husband isn't much of a mechanic, although he does own a very basic set of tools. I sent them to a salvage yard (my husband's first time) to find a new door for our car since when we bought it it had a huge dent in the side.  They successfully found one that matched, took off the old one, and put the new one on (despite the many "helpers" they had around) and voila!  It looks so much better! 

We definitely capitalized on their visit, I hope they don't feel too used.  I made sure to take care of them well though, feeding them good food and taking them to some of our favorite places.  

Mmmm... Crepes.

They were here for our Easter Bunny Saturday celebrations (we celebrate the true meaning of Easter on Sunday and try not to mix the two).  Since it was good weather, the Easter bunny decided to be tricky and hide the baskets outside.  The kids had fun finding them.  

 Bubble swords were a big hit.

We went for a walk by the fishing ponds and lo and behold they were having a free fishing event.  They gave us rods and bait and the place had been recently stocked.  Well, that still didn't mean we had any luck (we've talked about how it's called fishing, not catching for a reason right?).  I didn't mind that much since it was such a beautiful day.

We also had a picnic later at a park near the lake.  We ate in peril of the fuzzy worm things falling from the trees and into our dinner every time the wind blew.  Quite the adventure.  At least the kids had fun climbing the trees.

It was a good weekend.  (...Until I had to sing a solo in church as part of our Easter program, but that's for another post.)

Here and Gone

I haven't posted for a while.  

I skipped over Thanksgiving, overwhelmed by all the things I'm thankful for.

I was too busy for Christmas.  Too busy having fun to pick up the camera.

We traveled South for New Years, and found there was more snow and colder temperatures there.  More fun and family too though.

We came back, bringing the cold with us (and the colds that inevitably come when large groups assemble for the holidays).

Then, my grandma died.

I wasn't going to go at first.  I don't care for funerals, and it's a long trip to L.A.. How could I leave my little family for a weekend while the kids are sick?

But that night I sat down at the piano, and I knew I needed to go.  I needed to play at my grandma's funeral.  I could feel that she wanted me to.

We used to play duets.  She would send me music. I made copies of my music for her.  It was a special bond we shared. To my knowledge, I was the only grandchild who stuck with the piano. It pleased me to see how happy it made her.  Often, she would cry.

What should have only taken 6 hours to drive, took me eleven.  It was a bad storm.  Roads closed, and I had to take an alternate route, often going half the speed limit.  For most of the trip, no lines on the roads were visible, just white and grey.

I think my mother-in-law felt I was throwing my life away. "If you stop now, I will pay for a hotel... You've got people who count on you... those sweet babies need their momma!"

Despite the fear, I felt peace that I would make it ...eventually.

And I did.  First to my parent's home, then another 11 hours to CA in a van with a few of my siblings.

We stayed at her place, sleeping on couches and uncomfortable hide-a-beds.

Except for a little cleaning my aunt did, it was just as she left it.
I wandered around my grandmother's house, noticing things I had never noticed before, remembering things long forgotten.

I think she planned to live to 100 considering all her plans and projects.  Her body betrayed her in the end.

The funeral was well attended, mostly by her numerous posterity.  Not all were there, but she had 6 children, 34 grandchildren, and 85 great grandchildren!  What a legacy. 

My mom and others spoke.  We all cried, but laughed a little too.  I played, although the music notes got a bit bleary at times.

They laid her body to rest on a hill under a majestic oak.

I am so glad we visited my grandparents earlier this Spring so that my kids could meet her.

It was no coincidence that we went this year.  I didn't think the sense of urgency was for her though.  I kind of thought it would be our last chance to see my grandpa.  He's still kickin' -although in an assisted living center.
Now I wish I had spent more time talking to her.

But life's too short for regrets.

The morning before we left, I went out back and looked at her forlorn patio flowers. From the outside I took in the view of her glass bottle-lined windowsills and lacy curtains for the last time. I hadn't realized I was humming but suddenly the words to match the melody came into my head and I choked.  "Wishing you were somehow here again..."

She wouldn't want me to be sad.

I doubt she is. She is free from physical pain and suffering.
Not to mention that with previously departed family members and all the genealogy she did, I bet she had quite the welcome on the other side.

I took home a bucket containing a several bulbs of beautiful Amaryllis plants.  A silly thing to do, but I couldn't see why it had to die, just because she did.

Things like that, should be enjoyed and appreciated while you have it.

Like life.

Or a delicate frost that's here and gone.