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.

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

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

On Newspapers

Shirley, favorite position, reading the Omaha World Herald, early 1980’s. I wonder who took this pic, maybe Brandon, for a school project on what his mother does all day?

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

Oh No, Vertigo!

“Spin Cycle”, Studio Art Quilt, Cotton, by Miriam Nathan-Roberts, 1998.

Last night, I told our daughter that we are all vulnerable, thinking about how a health episode can change plans.

I didn’t tell her then that I woke up at 5AM with a severe episode of vertigo, while still in bed. This changed my plans for the day. What I had planned was to go in early for a fasting blood draw for my annual physical next week.

Instead, I stayed home because I wasn’t sure I could use the elevator (we live in a condo); would it make me dizzy?

Also, could I drive safely? I decided it was better to wait for another day this week.

So, I moved gingerly throughout our home, doing laundry and dishes, baking bread, making a small painting, napping and showering. It happened a few more times that day. I tried to do knee exercises laying flat on my bed. Oh no, Vertigo! I grabbed the covers and held on as the room spun around me, waiting for it to pass.

The point is, we have to keep moving if we can. We might not like how we have to adapt, but we accept it, and hope it will be temporary.

It had been about a year since I last experienced this. It comes on suddenly, and makes me mildly nauseous until I talk myself out of that. Inner ear crystals are the culprit, moving away from their usual position keeping us balanced.

I do have a certain way of dealing with the dizzyness; I look straight ahead, with no sudden head or eye movements up or down.

During the next night, it happened twice, as I changed positions. Apparantly, I don’t have to be on a ladder or tower, as in this 1958 thriller film (below). Lucky me, it comes on when my eyes are closed and I’m safe in bed.

The next day, I did get in for that lab work. Dan wanted to take me. I suspect that was because of the breakfast out possibility, as well as him being a very good caretaker.

The NE Med Center is an exciting place. It’s a huge inner city facility, with new buildings, walkways, busy traffic (cars and pedestrians). We went very early, 7:00 AM. Dan stayed in the car in the parking garage, enjoying his coffee and cell phone news in there.

I went inside and took in that whole experience, observing:

The active hallway, with patients, medical staff, and cleaning crews, walking in 2 directions.

The line in the waiting room, checking in, where a sign tells us, “Please don’t line up in the hallway, come on in.”

The person checking me in, not smiling, all business, until I thanked her by name as I left (her nameplate was on the counter). She gave me a big smile.

The old man who smiled at me as I came out of the blood draw room-maybe it was because I smiled at him first? Or perhaps it was simply acknowledging the camaraderie of our shared experience.

New signs lined up along a wall, “Wheelchairs Park Here”, one sign above each space. This reminded me of the new signs in an Okoboji neighborhood: “Golf Carts Park Here”. Both places are organizing transport vehicles.

A patient and I started a conversation as we were leaving. She was very turned around on her directions. I said, “Don’t ask me, I have vertigo”. Ha ha, I didn’t really say that, but I was on hyper alert for it to occur and grateful that it didn’t.

It was a rainy dark morning. We thought going home for breakfast would be best, until Dan said, “It would be nice to have someone else make our pancakes.” I agreed.

The place he had in mind was The Saddle Creek Breakfast Club (still at its original location along Saddle Creek Road, since 2017, and planning a move soon).

Everything made me happy there.

SCBC, 1540 N. Saddle Creek Road, Omaha, NE.

What I especially liked:

Being in a neighborhood where you park your car a block or two away, and step out onto grass because no sidewalk is there (normally I love sidewalks).

The packed interior-we got the last table for 2 in the back corner, my favorite spot anywhere.

The music. I recognized a Sublime song and Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl”. Both brought back pleasant thoughts. The first, driving Conor in the car pool, and the second, when Brandon was born in 1976, I saw that music video on the hospital TV.

The food, the coffee, our friendly server, and the view out the window, it was all perfect.

When we got the receipt, I saw their slogan at the bottom, “Good morning, Honey Bunny”, with an outlined bunny drawing. Delightful.

Sign at soon to be new location for SCBC, in Countryside Village.

Is my vertigo cured? Probably not, but it left me for a few glorious hours this morning. Who would have thought that this ordinary day in Omaha would elicit such happy feelings?

Yours till Niagra Falls,

Shirley

An Okoboji Goodbye

The Marina at Village West had boats, jetskis, paddleboards and Maui Mats for rent. Enjoying it here are cousins from our group. Photo by Heidi Johnson.

When our niece, Wendy, titled her farewell e-mail, “An Okoboji Goodbye”, I thought it was so poetic. We had missed her family’s departure from the Neary Clan 2023 Reunion, where 130 people arrived and departed at all hours. It was a 10 day get-together at Village West Resort in NW Iowa’s glacial lake region, specifically at West Lake Okoboji.

Happy Wendy, Carlos and some of their family, Village West Convention Hall, June 25, 2023.

Wendy and Carlos. There’s a lot to tell about them, (too much for this blog post). They have always wowed us! It was really astonishing to have them attend from AZ, along with 5 of their 6 boys, and 1 daughter-in-law. You see, an illness has invaded their lives for more than a year. It is near miraculous that the afflicted person is still with us, here on earth, partying and talking and dancing. A true reward of intense faith and spiritual practices.

Every person who came was celebrated. Those who could not were remembered and thought about often. This is where the Neary reunion was held almost 40 years ago, in 1984. It (and we) looked a lot different then. Attendees this year remarked on how fabulous it was to have their 10 year old kids experience this place that they remember so fondly as a 10 year old.

Matriarch Betty Neary, with her 12 children, 1984, at what was then called Vacation Village.

Great pic of the cabins (now gone) and Peg with Kendra, 1984.

For this reunion, people stayed in timeshare buildings, where the owners had given up their week. It was all co-ordinated by Marne, at the resort, and our daughter-in-law, Amy. A super feat of organization.

Oh what a week it was! Highlights and special memories for me were :

Taking 5 year old Liam down the steps to the dock, where he hadn’t been for a year, and having him say, “I remember the spider webs.” Funny! I thought he’d say the water, the fish, the swimming. Spiderwebs are everywhere near the lake. Gus got a “face plant” as he entered the fishing boat early one morning, and Jess had to do a “limbo” move to get under a horizontal web over the steps.

The broom we use constantly to clear out webs.

Meals were catered in for most nights, as the resort’s restaurant has not re-opened since 2020. Wednesday night was Texas BBQ. We received an appreciative note from one of the kids, which I passed on to Back Alley Texas BBQ.

Standing in line for dinner one evening, I found myself behind a teen from AZ. I asked him if he went out at night to see the stars. He said, “Yes! We went into the cornfield, chasing the fireflies.” It was the first time he had seen them, in person! Before, he had only seen them in cartoons, ha ha. Note: we call them lightening bugs in the midwest.

No fireflies in this photo of family enjoying an Iowa corn field, near Village West. I’m tempted to draw them in!
Photo by Amanda Stoft, June 2023.

Seeing the young kids and adults enjoy the music of @DJNateT (our nephew on my side of the family, a Thelen). So much splendid dancing!!!

Heavenly. I now think of “Shout” as a Gospel tune.

Having a Catholic priest friend attend for special blessings. We need them.

Meeting a young reader from Oklahoma. We became instant friends on Goodreads.

Spilling the tea, the coffee, the wine, the beer, the water, and wiping it all up with old beach towels. Everyone helped. Speaking of clean up time, it was fun to see this crew dancing through the job!

Brandon, Bryan and Dan, serving Brats and Bob’s Dogs (sloppy joes over a hot dog) to Tammy and Charlotte. Dan bought this roaster pan especially for this.

Conor, Gus and Sam.

Trash. No industrial composting site is available in the area, and we couldn’t send it all back with Leigh (she composts everything-for herself and her customers-through@hillsidesolutions). We tried not to have too much waste, using a set of metal eatingware for some of the utensils, and steel cups, which were all put in the dishwasher at home each night. For plates, we used disposable ones made from palm leaves (said to decompose in 2 months). Forks were made from birch trees. Bryan said that using these was like eating with chopsticks, ha! He is so funny.

In our quest for non-plastic, we found these online. Made from palm leaves and birch trees.

Steel cups from @exist_green in Omaha. Planning chart by Shirley.

Mistaking Jason for the Hy-Vee breakfast delivery guy, saying, “Just put it over there”. He looked at me quizzically, and said, “No, I’m Jason, your nephew”. Ha ha. Oh well, it was early, and he did have a hat on, somewhat hiding his identity. Still, how embarrassing.

Solving the online NYTimes Sunday Crossword with Leigh and her husband, Brandon, on the dock, and getting an answer from a boat filled with Nearys passing by. “Try HOWDY DO” Jane yelled in answer to the clue “Old time country greeting”. It fit!

An Okoboji trip is not complete without a stop at Arnold’s Park for rides and amusements.

Kids loved the arcade at the resort, earning these tickets for prizes.

On another day, we had an impromptu Lemonade Stand at the end of our dock, calling over the pontoon carrying our relatives. Actually, Amy zipped out on the speed boat to make sure they heard our invitation. Conor quickly made and served 2 pitchers of freshly sqeezed lemonade.

Peg and Jean hosted an ice cream social, with the works-a good idea! They bought so many toppings and so much ice cream that it went on for 2 nights.

Jean even made a batch of hot fudge sauce in the crock pot, which went fast.

From the oldest to the youngest, we bonded.

Here I am (not quite the oldest) with the youngest attendee. Photo by Shannon Meyer.

So, to paraphrase the Irish writer, James Joyce, they came “and laughed and loved and left”, leaving us with shadows of their heartwarming presence.

And, leftovers, in our freezer and pantry still. And, many, many photos, YAY!

Enjoy your family. Here’s a photo of some of ours:

By The Des Moines Photo Booth Co., (owned and operated by another nephew, this one married to a Thelen), set up the same night as our DJ.

Shirley