To the Schelles!

Our Family Tree, designed and made by Ron Schelle.

On Saturday, September 5, 2026, the Schelle cousins gathered in Breda, Iowa, at the Legion Hall (post 607) on Main St. Extra bathrooms have been added over the years, still rustic as in my memory. I’ve been there often for weddings, funerals, and graduations, but it had been years since the last time.

The occasion was an annual reunion around the arrival of Ron and Pat Schelle’s family, visiting from North Carolina. It’s planned to be annual, although for the 2 years prior to 2026, it didn’t happen, for various reasons. Ron is the youngest brother of my mom, Jean Schelle.

The Schelle farm home is a couple of miles west of Breda, where the 8 children grew up. This day was a potluck, with catered in hamburgers and hotdogs from Red’s Place, a few doors away.

My contribution to the lunch was canned shoestring potatoes, the kind that I remember Grandma Schelle bringing to blanket picnics in the park.

Not the same brand as in my past, but they taste the same. Happy I could find them!

About 70 attendees came-first cousins, spouses, and their children. Organizers were thrilled with the turnout as only 3 first cousins could not come.

Here’s a synopsis of people there, in order of appearance, with my one word or short phrase impressions:

The 2 hour road trip getting there with my brother, Ed, (Eddie to everyone else that day, haha) and sis-in-law, Linda-entertaining!

Julie, dark haired and beautiful, greeting us outside.

Mark K., “Hi Shirley”, quietly.

Marilyn, BIG hug, “I’m OK.” she says. Oh Marilyn, you do have the stories: living in a haunted house, husband in hospice, saying “All I want to know is, am I going up, or am I going down?”, priest, cleaning, sins forgiven by personal wish.

Donnie (Madonna Goecke Koster, Mom’s cousin) looking not a day over 80, and acting as spry as ever, “Hi. Oh Shirley, I just had my 95th birthday and renewed my driver’s license for 2 years. I drove in from Carroll. Three of my children and my husband have passed away.”

Karen, my sister, co-planner, crowd feeder of lasagna, and giggler in the kitchen.

Jim P., “How’s Dan?”

Jim K., “Who am I?”, not with words, but coming right up to my face so I could look into his eyes, challenging me. I knew right away.

Jeanine, at the ID badge table, whispering in my ear, “Last time, you told me I was magical. I heard that.” I did?

GINIA!, major organizer of this event, saying with a giant smile, when I thanked her, “I had a lot of help”.

Charlie, “After retiring, I bought a pickup truck that I don’t need, or use.” Ha Ha, and he’s keeping it.

Uncle Ron, “People say I look like Merle and I sound like Wayne.” These are 2 of his older brothers. He is a retired metallurgist, educated at Iowa State, and a hobby genealogist for at least 50 years.

Pat, wife of Ron, with a soft smile, “Oh Jeanie, yes, I see her in you, Shirley. So much fun, and it’s all a lot. (traveling from North Carolina). Pat will forever be known as the family’s pastry chef extraordinare. She was employed as an EMT and nighttime ambulance driver for years.

Paul, son of Ron and Pat, “When I had to go the hospital, I asked if I could get a discount. Everyone there knew my mom, from her career and gifts of baked goods. They told me “No.”

Linda J., “I’m doing OK.” A recent widow, I offered my sympathy, and asked the usual question, “How are you?”. Later, she said “It used to be we, and now it’s just me.”

Joyce, “I’ve been better.” Cryptic, leaving me to wonder what was going on. Maybe she meant “I’ve been younger.” Haven’t we all?

Randy, (husband of Joyce), “We were married the same month and year as you and Dan.” August 1972.

Judy, in the kitchen, carrying a covered dish, “I’m just looking for a place to put this”, and later, “I want to go on a bus trip.”

Curt, “I brought sauerkraut for the hot dogs, and a can opener, and this little tupperware to put it in.”

Laurie, (my cousin, and wife of Curt), laughing, “I don’t want that tupperware back!”

Rob, my brother, “It’s hot, AND heavy.” in answer to my question, “Is it hot?”, as he fastwalks in the back door, with Russ Boes, both carrying big roasting pans. And later, Rob offers us pears from his backyard tree and jars of his bright green sweet pickles, and salsa (!) both made from his garden produce.

A large dish of these pickles was on the buffet table, by the ketchup and mustard.

Susie, Rob’s spouse, with a kind of subued, but happy , “Hi Shirley.” and a hug. We love Susie!

Linda T., “”That was nice.”, as a young girl gave her a random hug, making me want one also, and wonder who she was. Linda did not know. I found out later it was Charlie’s granddaughter.

Mike, whose name tag was upside down (so he could read it and know who he is, haha) with my favorite comment of the day, pleading with me, “Don’t ever stop writing! I read your blogs over and over.”

Gayle, with my second favorite comment, “My husband remembers your Miller Lite blog era.” Thanks, Rod, for reading it!

Ron again, standing by his genealogy chart, “Please update your family details with new births, and weddings. Write them on this notepad.”

Carol, Nice writing on that update list! (my comment, as I followed her, writing down some new information).

Doreen, “You have soft hands.” This surprised me!

Phyllis, “Psychology and music.”

Becky, “Bless us O Lord.”, and getting emotional, as did most of us.

Peter, Becky’s husband, Special Coffee Drinks! From their family’s Pennsylvania coffee shop.

Jim K., again, “I need a glass of milk.” as he’s eating a dessert. He and I plan a milk bar for the next time.

Diane, who brought Grandma Schelle’s round sugar cookies, and the recipe. When I asked her if she’s gotten to Midtown (my Omaha neighborhood), she said, “No. I avoid that area.” We laughed because I know why- street car construction and blocked streets.

Brenda, Diane’s daughter, standing next to her, “I have! We, my girlfriends and I, just went to the Cottonwood (restored historic hotel, former Blackstone, where the Rueben sandwich was invented).We like the pool and go every summer”. This made me happy!

Gerry, “Take a slice home to Dan, from this pie I brought.”, as he cut a large portion. Generous and thoughtful.

Well, that’s about it. I know I didn’t chat with each of you. But, you can be sure I saw you there- laughing, talking, eating, teasing and remembering and loving.

May God bless us all,

From Shirley, the shy one in the middle.

With my cousin, Joyce, Uncle Ron (Ronnie, back then), and unknown cat. Traveling with our parents and grandparents. Middle 1950’s.

The Sneaky Art of Selling Beer

Dad’s retirement cake, “America’s Classic Premium Beer Salesman”. Fudgy Chocolate recipe, found in my 1978 book, CREATIVE CAKES, by Stephanie Crookston.

My dad, Leny Thelen, enjoyed his life of selling beer very much. He retired in 1994, at age 62. I wonder if the heavy lifting of kegs and other duties came to be too much. He loved the social part, cracking a smile often, as he interacted with the bar owners on his route, and later, as he told us the stories.

He was a farmer, near Breda, Iowa, when the lure of a job in Carroll appeared. Farner-Bocken thought he would make an excellent beer salesman. The brand was Hamm’s, and only Hamm’s. No other brand was allowed to be brought into our house, or even spoken of. That loyalty and focus won him success.

My brother, Ed, remembers him saying, “There are only 2 beers: Hamm’s and Root Beer.”

Ed, getting to go to work at the Farner-Bocken warehouse.

My brothers, from left, Ed and Marty, wearing their own Hamm’s uniform shirts, made by Mom.

Of course, later on, beers such as Pabst Blue Ribbon and Millers Brewing Co. became part of Farner-Bocken’s sales offerings.

Undated photo. Early time of selling beer. Why the Falstaff? A joke, maybe?

A photo from early in his career, mid 1960’s I’d guess. When I look at this photo, I see a happy man. I also see the missing tooth that embarassed him (it was shot out from a BB gun fired by his older brother, Merlin, in childhood). I see the nametag, which appears to have Lenie Thelen embroidered on it, not Leny, as he went by later.

And, I see the strong hands (some would say chubby, ha ha) that took care of things, and us.

And what is this?! Clear as day, a Falstaff glass. When I showed this to my husband, Dan, he had an explanation. He knew from “egg runs” (drives to the country for fresh eggs, and a few stops along the way), that Dad liked to drink beer out of a glass, especially a Pilsner glass, pouring it from the bottle. (I didn’t know that. How genteel, haha). He thinks maybe it was the only glass that Whip had.

Just for fun, I googled Whip’s Place. It was a small local cafe and bar in Ricketts, IA (Crawford County), during the mid-20th Century, operated by Laura and “Whip” Langholdt.

This summer, I heard a story from my sister, Karen, that made us laugh! She and her husband, Jim, are active in the Merchants Baseball world in Carroll, IA, and even host ball players for the summer.

She found out that another baseball family host, Tom Goetzinger, (“Goldie”), had worked with Dad. Goldie said that Dad went into Don’s Place in Carroll to get Don (Gute) to order some of the new Miller Lite.

Don said, no, his patrons would never go for it. This was around 1975.

According to my research, Miller Lite premiered nationally in 1975. It was viewed as a women’s “diet” drink. In order for it to be a winner in the marketplace, that idea had to be eliminated. Women drank less beer. To boost sales, the campaign aimed at working class men and sports loving men.

Its tagline of “Tastes Great, Less Filling” would help customers see its value. Celebrity endorsements also made it popular (think Rodney Dangerfield’s hilarious ads).

When Don said, “No” to Lite beer, Dad had an idea. He went back to the warehouse and talked to the men there. He knew they all went out for a beer after work. He asked them to go to Don’s Place, and each order a Miller Lite.

When the time came, Dad was sitting at the bar. They all came in and sat at the round table. One by one, they ordered Miller Lite. Don just looked at Dad and shook his head. I’m sure a few choice words and laughter occurred!

He ended up ordering 5 cases to give it a go. So, with a little help from Dad, the launch was on!

Mid 1970’s delivery truck, found online.

Dad, after retirement (1994). Photo dated by my brother, Tony, who noticed the watch, and the suspenders.

Our family party tray, purchased in 2010, at an Okoboji antique store.

Now, go have a cold one, a Miller Lite, of course!

Shirley

On Talking to Claude

This puzzle was started on February 18, 2025, and hung around until Thanksgiving of the same year. I have never given up on a jigsaw puzzle, and with Claude’s help, I didn’t have to on this one.

Getting set up, ready to start. Feb. 18, 2025.

There are 1000 pieces, and only a 5″ by 7″ photo of this 1906 painting to go by. If I connect about 2 a day, I will be doing this for a year and a half. If I put in one piece a day, which is my current rate, it would take about 3 years.

I’m not even a big fan of “Water Lilies” or Claude Monet’s Impressionism. It just happens to be one of the puzzles I borrowed from my granddaughter Clara, and put off doing until now because of its complexity.

Still, it calms me to look at it and work on it, maybe like the water lilies scene calmed Monet. It’s an exercise in patience, and concentration, where you have to be “in the zone”, as you get into the painting/puzzle.

Sun and daylight are good to have. March 8, 2025.

As I study this, it’s almost like each piece is a brushstroke of color. I am helping to “paint” this cardboard replica of a large 35″ high by 37″ wide painting from 1906, which hangs in the Art Institute of Chicago. He was 66 years old when he painted this from his water garden in Giverny, France. He did approximately 250 oil paintings of water lilies in the last 30 years of his life.

As I look deeper, I see the structure the artist worked with. There is a repetition throughout the canvas and a chosen palette of varying hues-purples, blues, greens, with touches of yellow and pink.

I find myself talking to Claude, asking things like, “Now, where would that next color be?” and “What would you put here?”. The reference photo is very small, and not detailed at all, requiring a magnifying glass just to get a clue.

A little more progress. April 13, 2025, 11:13 AM.

Crazy, I know, it’s a jigsaw puzzle! But, I appreciate how this one item (among countless copies and printings on products) brings me up close to the painting.

And OH! What colors are in there! I think a piece is a purple and then I see blue purple and red purple, which makes me search for another section to place it in. Very slow going.

What does Claude care that I am having trouble matching the various hues? Sometimes, I feel that he does care, and is directing me to turn the piece, such as “make it horizontal, instead of vertical”.

And, sometimes, like magic, I walk by, pick up a piece, and place it down in the correct spot, barely looking. It seems to fly out of my fingers at those times.

Thank you, Claude, for the spots of pink that I was only able to see upon close examination. They were a hint to where pieces belonged.

On Sunday, April 27, I wrote this in my notes: Today I notice that I’m matching brush strokes as well as color, such as a swish of pale green or a dab of yellow.

Getting to know this puzzle! May 13, 2025. 3:48 PM. Omaha.

Claude, did you really just guide my hand to place this group of blue-green pieces near the top of the puzzle, and not the bottom where I had them?

Section that Monet told me to put here, near top of puzzle instead of bottom, where I had placed it. May 15, 2025. 10:01 AM.

The piecing is so difficult that I often think it fits. To be sure, I have to hold it up to the light and see if it’s snug, with no sunlight coming through. Because of my imperfect eyesight, even with reader glasses, I rarely know until that moment. This one works!

Holding a connection to the light to see if it’s the right fit (no light shining through). July 29, 2025, 11:00 AM.

In late October, the putting together becomes easier, as I work on it sporadically.

I’m astounded again at the colors! When the sun hits the piece I’m holding and lights up that purple-blue-turquoise, it makes me happy. As I work on this, I begin to see it as sky with stars instead of water with lilies.

To think that more than a century after it was painted, I can partake in the viewing of it through a puzzle on my dining room table with such enjoyment astounds me. Although, I like to imagine I’ll see it in person again someday.

On November 14th, Thanksgiving is 2 weeks away. While Dan is planning the menu and shopping, I am keeping at this, determined to finish, because we will need this table.

With Claude’s help, I did it!

Finished! November 26, at 1:13 PM. 22.5″ H by 17″W, The Fine Art Collection, 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle.
Claude Monet, Water Lilies, 1906.

Just for fun, an additional tidbit. I worked on a Van Gogh puzzle before this, but he didn’t talk to me.

Thanks for reading!

With appreciation for gifts and sharing of puzzles,

Shirley

A Boy and his Boat

As our boats move away to winter storage, my thoughts are moving to another time in our life pre-boats.

Our oldest son, Bryan, bought a fishing boat. It was the year 2000, he told me today when I asked about this picture. He remembered because it was before Clara, his first child, who was born in 2002.

He came to show us, pulling into our driveway.

His father had an opinion. It was too soon to splurge on a boat!

Now, Bryan was in his mid-20’s, out of high school, and college, recently married, with a full time job (both he and his spouse). They were buying a little house in midtown Omaha, and re-paying school loans. It almost made sense that this was not the right time.

However, fishing is a passion he inherited from his Grandpa Leny (my dad) and Thelen uncles.

Dan did not understand. He just didn’t grow up fishing. He enjoyed other recreational activities.

They had words, as fathers and sons do, but a father’s wisdom is no match for a fisherman’s zeal.

At one point, Bryan said, (half joking?), “Fine! Then I won’t give you a ride in it!”

That’s about the time I wanted a picture, and asked him to hop up into the boat. I was proud of him asserting his independence (as I am of all our children).

In a way, he was living out our family motto, “Don’t be a Scaredy Cat”.

Years later, Dan and I thought it appropriate to name our speedboat after it. It’s a gentle reminder to take it easy in the wild lake traffic. One family member (the only one to take an official course in driving a boat) ignores that-she likes to go FAST!

If you laughed at our motto, you might laugh harder at this photo, (taken by Amy Farha Neary): grandkids acting out with dismay at the marina’s misspelled paint job (it was re-done), or faking the role of true scaredy cats.

An update to this story: Amy told me that after she graduated from Pharmacy school, she told Bryan to get a different car. He was driving his dad’s old red Honda. Instead, he came back with this boat that could only be pulled by Amy’s car!

Boldly going forth,

Shirley

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Ahhh, the surprises of summer. Inside, I am wowed by my little water garden, in a sunny window, (above). It is re-growing romaine lettuces and celery, from grocery store produce end cuts. This is my 2nd growing. I ate the first salad, photo below:

I’m also attempting to root a cutting. After 1 week, it is not growing roots, (making me kind of sad), but this morning, VOILA! It’s giving me tiny blossoms bursting from the top. I had to look twice to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. So unexpected.

A little blue, emerging today. What will it look like tomorrow?

Plumeria? Across the street from 3 Sons, Milford. I pinched a couple of short branches, hoping to root them, and get a blue plant from it.

Outside, on a walk, rounding a corner near Tri-Boji, in Iowa, I am wowed by an extravagant garden, (Photo above, by Amy Farha Neary, who was with me on this walk, and equally wowed).

There are lots of surprises to explore just in viewing this one section. The differences in colors and textures are astonishing! I think the owner/gardener lives next door. It would be nice to share a few words with her/him.

In my own small garden, I have a Juliet tomato among a few others. I bought it because our daughter, Leigh, mentioned that she was looking for one to plant in her space. I knew nothing about it. So, it was a revelation to discover how it grows, and an education to learn that it is a cross between a roma and a cherry tomato.

The Juliet tomato. A cross between a Roma and a cherry tomato.

What is this? I didn’t know these grew like cherry tomatoes.

There is a green bean plant (from seeds that I stuck in the ground) that survived the rabbits’ and birds’ eating. It is growing up and into the Juliet. Its large leaves made me think of Jack and the Beanstalk. I was thrilled to see it!

The first two green beans surprised me today. I ate one right away, fresh. 😋Instant nostalgia for the gardens of my youth.

However, the most staggering thing to me was seeing my CA Bluebells! Ordering them late in spring, planting them in June, and waiting, waiting for a sprouting, I thought I had mis-timed them, and would have to wait until next year to get a beautiful true blue flower.

A joy to behold! First CA bluebell from an early June seeding. I thought the seeds had washed away.

I almost took out all of these “weeds” a few days before. Something stopped me as I considered these leaves. Were they coming from a previous year’s annual flower? Best to wait and see what happens. Oh my!

Today at 7:30 AM, more BLUE:

My vision is a whole ground cover of these CA Bluebells.

I hope you are gardening, big or small, and enjoying the surprises!

Plant the Earth,

Shirley

Walgreens; it’s a Walk in the Park

You may know that I like to walk. Many years ago in our first Omaha nighborhood, near 55th and Jackson, I met up with 2 other walkers for an hour long, 4 mile urban hike at 6 AM. We had an understanding that we would never give a wake up call to each other. We would just show up or sleep in. It remains one of my life’s happiest episodes. We called ourselves “The Walkie Talkies”, so named by our super creative member, Nancy.

I love a good walk. There is never a time that I regret getting outside for a walk, short or long. I especially like it when there is a purpose – to get groceries, a haircut, or go to a Dr.s appointment at the NE Med Center.

Lately, since our neighborhood grocery store (Wohlners) closed last September, I’ve enjoyed shopping at Walgreens. Yes, Walgreens! For me, it’s a 5 minute walk through Turner Park, and a couple of street crossings (with reliable and fast “Walk” lights, or more accurately, a walking figure).

Still, you must be wary. Some drivers are in their own world. Some may politely wait for you to cross, but an idiot behind them thinks they’re too slow, so lays on the horn. I apologize. I should not call them an idiot just because they somehow can not see the reason the car in front of them is not moving (me).

They SHOULD see me. I try to carry my little orange “Whispering Roots” (an Omaha aquaponic nonprofit) bag, or wear a brightly colored scarf that blows in the wind. Can you see me now? Ha ha!

I lose my cool sometimes too. When the honking is insistent, I throw my arms up in their general direction and pantomime a yell. I don’t want to create too much chaos.

Anyhow, it’s a joy to find certain necessities of food or drink at my neighborhood Walgreens.

Here are some of the items I found and carried home:

A dozen eggs, Greek yogurt, a can of Contadina chopped tomatoes, Jiff creamy peanut butter, Starbucks coffee, a pound of butter, a jar of roasted unsalted peanuts, OJ, and a Savignon Blanc (which required the worker to unlock the display refrigerator-no problem).

Walgreens had Quaker oats and M&M’s for this favorite recipe.

Another time, I bought security business envelopes and one heavy pack of printer paper in the office aisle.

The freezer case had ice cream and frozen blueberries for me. I love them on my homemade granola.

It also had tortellini, something I had never bought before. I was thrilled!

Another thing I was thrilled to find was a package of olives. That’s something we rarely have in the house because I’m the only one who eats them.

What more could you want? I suggested to a worker that a bowl of simple, fresh fruits (apples, oranges, bananas) would be fabulous. She said that corporate wouldn’t do that because of the items’ expiration date, which made me laugh. But she would ask.

Some people don’t like it that I walk to shop. They think it’s dangerous somehow, with traffic and maybe strangers asking for change. I work that out by going at less busy times of traffic, and by being watchful.

I like the new signs outside the store. They say something like “No loitering or panhandling. Cameras are on”.

One time, as I was leaving, there was a person who could not read the signs, or willfully ignored them. Hector, at the checkout, went out to explain that the police would be called if he continued to hang around and ask customers for a handout. I appreciated that.

This Walgreens is no longer open 24 hours. The workers told me that has helped to keep the riffraff away.

Before I started getting a few groceries at Walgreens, it was the only place in town for a certain man’s favorite hair product, Vitalis super hold hairspray. Then, it disappeared and could be found nowhere. The company stopped making it. Just for fun, I looked it up on ebay. Yikes!

Other times, I found little Christmas gifts and cards. When I hosted a lunch for my quilting friends at The Cottonwood Hotel, I requested that we be set up in the Orleans Room, at the poker table. We weren’t going to play cards, but I had fun setting a brand new deck at each place, purchased you know where!

There were interesting themes to choose from. This one alligns with my stargazing hobby.

That’s enough about walking and shopping in my neighborhood. I hope you can enjoy the satisfaction of getting a few items at a little store within a short walk, wherever you live.

Onward,

Shirley

I Left my Heart in Arizona

After sunup, a walk along Arcadia Dr., toward Camelback Mountain.

This morning, I woke up from a dream about throwing on some clothes and going for a pre-dawn walk around the Royal Palms Resort at the base of Camelback Mountain in Phoenix, like I did every morning last week.

The complimentary coffee was set up in the MixUp Bar. To get there, I enjoyed a path of sofly lit cobblestones, lined with fragrant rosemary, and adobe walls. Water fountains were quietly bubbling. A few orange trees shone in the darkness. Mellow accoustic music was wafting around me. I was happy. Even the moon was smiling, with Mars above it.

An item I noticed for the first time, at 6:15 AM on Feb. 11, 2025.

I brought my own ceramic mug because I knew that my to-go coffee was not going far. There is a cubby with a fireplace carved into a corner of this lounge. I have gone to it for many years now, maybe 15 to 20 years. I happily share it with other resort guests, but, by going very early, I most often am alone.

I sat and stared at the fire, at the rustic wood floor, and all other design aspects, like the copper tabletops, of this Spanish Mediteranean villa. Sometimes I read. I usually just enjoyed. This year, I saw the detail on the menu cover, and savored its spareness, which still got the message across: this is a place to get a drink.

Rustic floor of the MixUp Bar, Royal Palm.

MixUp Bar, Menu cover, Royal Palm, Phoenix.

Lit up Palms line the drive, 6:39 AM, Feb. 11, 2025. View to the Southeast.

My sleep brought me back to AZ until I woke up, when I realized that I was actually in the below zero winter of Nebraska. Sigh. There would be no warm walks today.

Content to live in both worlds, the dream and the reality!

Hope you are also,

Shirley

The Amaryllis

It wasn’t the right time. I may have been overwhelmed.

It was Christmas, 40 years ago. We had traveled to Carroll, IA, from Omaha as we often did, with four children, food, and presents packed in the minivan.

I had wrapped the gifts in brown kraft paper with red ribbons and handmade stamps applied (made from carving shapes into potatoes? or sponges?) and red paint. The shapes were simple and nature themed, like trees and pinecones, subtly adding color.

Natural colors were my favorite, and still are. Red is too flamboyant for me.

But, my dad, a generous gardener and experimenter was forcing amaryllis bulbs for the first time in pots all laid out on the table. Grandma Schelle raved over the few that had opened up.

He offered me one, expressing his joy in being able to prepare and present this gift.

But I refused it. And I feel guilty to this day, every time I see a red amaryllis.

However, I can say that I now appreciate them, thanks to Dad. Maybe that’s a message from him in heaven that he’s forgiven me.

Enjoy your gifts,

Shirley

On Newspapers

Call me Papergirl.

I love newspapers!

I love them so much that I’ve been gifted with a small town Iowa weekly, The Coon Rapids Enterprise, which I now get in the mail. It covers my hometown area of Carroll County. I also read the digital versions of The Carroll Times Herald, (covering Carroll, IA news), and the Omaha World Herald, but I prefer paper copies.

My favorite time to read those papers used to be in late afternoon, right after it got delivered to our home on 55th Street. I would slow down, stop everything, and sit on the front porch steps to read it. My neighbors did the same, bonding with me as I waved “hello” and read.

Summers in Okoboji (since 2010), I’m desperate for an actual physical paper. The Coon Rapids one, being forwarded, doesn’t always make it. Every Tuesday, The Lake News Shopper shows up in my mailbox. I spread it out on the kitchen table and peruse what it offers. It’s a surprise to me how entertained and informed I am by this free publication.

There used to be vending machines a short bike ride away from our lakehouse. One had the Des Moines Register, the other, The Omaha World Herald. Sometimes I’d splurge and spend all my quarters on both. One year, they just disappeared, leaving me nostalgic for the simple pleasure of biking to retrieve a paper, with the wind in my face, shady trees above, and often a grandchild by my side.

So, I went on a search, driving around, looking for a paper. Every gas station, grocery store and book store was checked. My familiar papers were nowhere to be found. I guess the business of delivering copies was no longer profitable.

The conscierge in our midtown Omaha condo building told me once that he thinks the paper is trying to steer everyone to digital by not making deliveries more efficient. He was in charge at that time of getting the newspapers to people’s doors. There were always problems, apparently.

Now that I’m a subscriber once again to hand held paper editions, I’m in charge (ha ha, not true). I’m only delivering to customers on our floor. I get a kick out of it, for now. When I tire of this volunteer job, I’ll give it up and let another person experience the joy.

I get up very early, always have. So, it makes sense for me to be the one to bring the rubber banded bundle inside, and check off what I’m taking.

Outer lobby, drop off site. Not many papers here!

Organizing my floor. I go behind the conscierge desk to get a pen. On this day, a Wall Street was missing! Not my problem.

My concern (a minor one) is what to do with the rubber bands? They’re a little ink smudged. I think I’ll keep them, and give them back to the delivery person, if I ever figure out how to meet that person. Wonder what time he/she gets here? I am NOT going down in the middle of the night for the zero waste sake of a few rubber bands.

Our son, Brandon, and daughter, Leigh, each had paper routes. They earned a ton of their own spending cash, and relished those rewards. One of Brandon’s customers saved all of the rubber bands (a red color then) and gave them back to him so he wouldn’t have to buy any. He thought that was ridiculous, if I remember correctly. Paper carriers bought their own cloth delivery bag, clear plastic sacks, and rubber bands to get the job done.

1990, Brandon, and Wed. PM papers. Quite a big job! The World Herald had 2 editions each day.

When Mom and Dad visited, Brandon was helped by Dad, who really enjoyed giving him a lift, driving around his route. We only did that with him in bad weather, and maybe on Sundays.

Years later, there was only one daily, delivered in the morning, to our mailbox on the curb. Dad was the first one out there (often barefooted, even in snow- he had sturdy feet, EEE wide). I’d get up at the same time to go walking. I thought we could visit a little, but he seemed happy reading the paper. I understood. We both liked the alone time; his at the table, mine along the path outside.

Newspapers have provided me with lots of entertainment. Artist friends suggested I read The Wall Street Journal. They liked it for thoughtful subject ideas, based on the news, as well as arts and culture coverage. So did I, and still do.

Dan’s job took us to Long Island, NY for almost a year (our big adventure). Conor and Leigh went to high school at Cold Spring Harbor High. We all explored the area, and I explored the newspapers, becoming a fan of Newsday, which I now follow on Social Media.

I enjoy the stories and photos in any newspaper. Besides the headlines in news and sports, I read the Opinion and Obituary pages. Opinions help me feel connected to our community, and the world. I’ve written a few letters to the editor, and saw them published. One was somewhat controversial. It was brought to Dan’s attention by his superior at work (the president of the company) who did not appreciate my comments in the letter. The company had taken the opposite position (which I had no knowledge of). It had to do with downtown development. Dan knew nothing about my letter.

We can laugh about it now.

Once, I wrote an essay, “How to Build a Cupcake Shop”. I wanted to highlight our small business and my partners there. The World Herald printed it, and changed the title to “Recipe for Success”. I was not happy. It was too generic, I thought. I learned firsthand the power of an editor.

It took me awhile to think that obits were worth my time. My friend, Liz, told me she always reads them. We were in our 30’s at the time. It didn’t seem that a young person (how I saw myself) would read those. I now like a well written obituary, especially if it’s concise with a few individual characteristics of the person. Some are quite humorous, making the reader happy to be alive.

Newspapers are a luxury to me. When we stay at a hotel, the papers in the lobby are such a treat. It’s even better if it’s dropped outside your door. Local news right from the city we’re visiting!

One time I was tempted to steal a neighbor’s paper in a hotel hallway. It was right next to our room. Then, I discovered that we had a “back door” into our suite, and this paper was actually ours. Yippee!

Another luxury for me, once a year, was breakfast in bed, on Mother’s Day. The Sunday paper was all mine to look through first, and leisurely, delivered with the breakfast.

Call me Happy (or Papergirl:),

Shirley

On a Walk Through a Cemetery

Voices came to me as soon as I stepped out of the car. Looking around, I saw that mine was the only car parked on the pathway. Scary. I also saw that I was the only person standing in the area.

It was a windy afternoon. The talking I heard must have been people’s voices carrying on the wind from the nearby businesses’ parking lots.

This was last Sunday, September 15. I had been looking for something to do and realized I now had time to go do what I always wanted to do-walk through a cemetery and read the tombstones. I thought while the weather was nice, I’d get a little exercise and entertainment combined, plus a history lesson.

Where I chose to go, in Spirit Lake, Iowa.

I went there for those above reasons, but also to try out an aluminum foil technique that I had read about in the Coon Rapids Enterprise newspaper. With a damp sponge or a small flat brush, it is possible to emboss tombstone engravings on to a thin sheet of aluminum foil.

This looked interesting, so I saved the clipping.

As I walked (with sunscreen, hat, and my sunglass readers), I searched for good candidates. The heat became sweltering, so I aimed for the trees and the shade.

The ground was hard and uneven, but still well kept up and mowed. It looked like a lush green lawn in the distance. Not wanting to risk a stumble, I had to watch my step because of indented areas and little hills. It was another opportunity to keep me sharp, paying attention to my surroundings. Vigilance keeps me on my toes!

A few familiar names caught my eye, but no connections that I knew of.
Then I saw a last name of a person who is now very sick.

Was this a premonition of what I was fearing?

Or a prediction of the near future?

I tried not to think about that and moved on.

I focused on what I came here to do. I experimented with a foil casting. The wind made it difficult to hold the foil flat, so I tried a very small section. It worked! However, I hadn’t planned a way to transport the foil sheet and keep it from wrinkling up, which would erase some of the transfer.

Next time, I’ll bring a cardboard portfolio (2 sheets of large cardboard, duct taped together at the top and one side so I can slide the foil into it).

My eyes saw new things here, so it was a success. I’ll go back and try the foil casting again. A brother-in-law’s grandparents are buried here (his mother grew up in Spirit Lake). I can search for that grave.

I’m sure to see a few more that touch my heart.

Here are some from this excursion: