Category Archives: Home and Family

Good, Nice, ‘n Kind

July 9, 2012 Rebecca Nolen 2 Comments

“Be nice!” is always the catch phrase around the playground as your child is interacting with other children, right? I used to say it. I think kids do understand what it might mean but if asked to put what it means into words? Impossible.

Being nice is a crazy, illogical concept to try to teach a child. “Nice” is a nonsense word. There is no real-life model of “nice.” Not unless your child overhears a teen talking about someone of the opposite sex. At that point the word is drawn out and emphasized and one hopes the infant doesn’t understand the nuance.

When I was in middle school (we called it junior high during the ice ages), some boys at the back of the bus asked me if I was a nice girl or a good girl. I was puzzled at their curiosity. I thought about it for all of one second and replied that I was “nice”. Their response was laughter. It wasn’t until I was much older and wiser (possibly high school) that I got it. I would have explained the question’s answer of “nice” as in being virtuous, but that wasn’t part of their definition.

Do you understand what those nasty, back-of-the-bus boys meant?

Here it is: A “nice” girl gives in to a boy’s demand for sex, and a “good” girl is good at it. So there was no correct answer to their question. The clue was their ages. I mean, what else do boys of that age think about?

All of which leads me back to the question of – what actual real-life model do we have for the definition of being nice that has to do with inner qualities instead of looks?

Good is easier to understand. We know that in doing positive things for others we are doing good, such as in doing “good works.” Good might even mean correct. “Good” is never the answer to “How are you?” Good attached to other words gives them a positive spin – words such as: night, bye, egg, book, enough, and lots of other words.

Anything with positive qualities, and moral excellence is a good thing. Thank you, Martha Stewart. But how to explain it to a child? Ummmm.

Nice is that much more difficult to define for a child.

Face it, people. “Nice” doesn’t cut it on the playground.

The only way to explain nice, or being nice, is to turn the concept on the negative. For example: When Tim shoves Sam – it is highly probable that someone will tell Tim he wasn’t playing “nice.”

As a grandparent of a nine-month old these are things I think about. What I mean to say is that we need to re-evaluate our language and perhaps use the word – “kind” more often.

I’m not a revolutionary. People are writing and blogging on this at this moment. There is the “kindness counts” movement afoot. Big Bird has a kindness counter where kids can write in and tell what they did for someone else. (Usually moms tell it, which is highly appropriate.) Big Bird adds another point to the big counter thingy. There is a section on the Sprout morning show where kids are acknowledged for their acts of kindness, especially to baby brothers and sisters. It’s so cute! I applaud these programs for their emphasis on this. Kindness should be acknowledged and rewarded.

How many terrible things could be averted by small acts of kindness?

Kind when used to demonstrate a behavior can be defined as showing tenderness, being helpful, thinking about the other person first as in being considerate. Kindness is a good thing. Kindness can be agreeable. Kindness can offer comfort. Kindness can be tolerant and forgiving during a dispute. Kindness can be gentle, can offer sympathy, and be generous when sharing.

Kindness is something that can be taught to children in a way that they can understand and implement in every aspect of their young lives. A child naturally is attracted to agreement in a group in order to fit in. Practicing kindness will speed them on their way.

The Biblical admonition “Be ye kind to one another…” is not out of place here. You see, kindness engenders kindness. In Proverbs it is written, “A gentle answer turns away wrath”. Can we teach that? How many fights would finish before they were begun?

So …

Be kind, always. Do good everywhere.

And remember … Nice is for suckers.

Home and Family

The Carrot Lobby

May 7, 2012 Rebecca Nolen 2 Comments

I was feeding the Grand-Girl something called Chicken and Rice, which should have been tan. It was orange. Should have been called chicken and carrots. But what baby would eat that, right? I tasted it. Yes. Predominate flavor – Baby carrots.Baby food carrots taste different compared to any other type of cooked carrot. They aren’t too awful. I hate cooked carrots. In fact, I detest cooked carrots but baby carrots are acceptable. It’s really in the carrot-plan.

The carrot plan. Have you noticed? Carrots are everywhere. They show up in every dish, every frozen food box, pot pie, or chinese take-out. Carrots must have one heck of a strong lobby in Washington. Can you picture it? Lobbyist whispers sweet nothings into congressman’s ear – something like -“I will grant your every wish if you tax every vegetable known to mankind except carrots!”Must be it. Else why are they everywhere???

Carrots are good for you. Really? What proof is there that carrots make your eyes healthier? On real people. Seriously, have the old folks been asked? My mother’s eyes are pretty good for an 86-year-old. She doesn’t like carrots either. Last week I was at my mother’s nursing home for lunch and the plate had fish, macaroni and cheese, and carrots. It’s like a punishment. If I live to be 80+ I want jelly beans in place of those carrots, people!

Years ago I was at a children’s book conference and ended up sitting near literary agent Erin Murphy. Carrots were on the menu. A long discussion ensued about out mutual disdain for carrots. I don’t remember anything else about the conference. See what I mean? Carrots – 1. Conference – 0.

I pick them out. Eat around them.

I’m very discreet.

But the baby food carrots taste okay. Here is the CARROT PLAN. First: Make babies love carrots. If carrots are added to everything, they will grow up liking carrots. Carrots! Carrots! All your life, carrots! Heh! Heh! Second: Children will learn how important carrots are in their diet in Elementary School. Important! Healthy! Heh! Heh!

I like baby food carrots and don’t like grown-up real food carrots. The plan failed with me. But then I think – wait – I cook with them. They give a certain sweet edge to a beef stew that can’t be created any other way. Aurrgh! You win, carrot! This time.

Spoiler alert: Ground carrots gives cheese soup its orange coloration.

Carrots DON’T Have Kids (fedupfood.com)

Home and Family

The Printer Had Reached It’s Time

April 28, 2012 Rebecca Nolen Leave a comment

Finally got rid of the million dollar printer. I bought it about ten years ago when wide-format printers were really expensive and there was only one available. I didn’t know ten years ago that a printer like that would not only go down in price but there would be a lot more to choose from, all with better features.

When one ink cartridge would run out of ink the printer wouldn’t print. So if the magenta cartridge was empty, I couldn’t print a thing, not even with black ink. And the cartridges were tiny. The amount of ink inside them had to be minuscule. So I was forever running to Office Depot for more ink cartridges. And while there would inevitably decide that “while I’m there I should stock up on the ink cartridges.” The bill would top $100. For ink.

Today I was going to a birthday party for a friend who just turned 80. She was a neighbor in the old “hood”. A few childhood friends would be there. I scrambled through some old photo albums and came up with a great print that I knew one of my friends would love to have. It was a picture of my family standing next to her grandfather, in Pennsylvania, in 1970. We were neighbors here in Texas. So the photo is a little unusual. I scanned it. Printed it. Ink smears all over the paper. Globs of ink smears. So I cleaned the cartridge heads, and ran a cartridge check, etc. Everything looked good. I printed again. White lines through the faces. This time the printer sends me a message that there are parts that need to be services inside the machine. That’s nice, I thought, and proceeded to go through the head-cleaning process again. This time all the lights were blinking and it was frozen. Nothing.

That was it. I will not spend another dime on this printer. However, it was full of cartridges (there are nine) that if I return them to Office Depot, they will credit my account two dollars a piece. The machine was frozen. I couldn’t get to the cartridges. So I tossed it off the balcony.

No really. I did.

The neighbor took pictures.

Printer Ink – Why Does It Cost So Much? (12345dotcom1.wordpress.com)

Home and Family, The Writing Life

Bad Boys Are Never Good

February 5, 2012 Rebecca Nolen 3 Comments

My daughter is a brilliant microbiologist. But she was reminding me the other day that she blames Disney for her bad taste in men.

Three movies in particular, she pointed out, make bad boys look good to get. She said it seemed reasonable when seen from a very early age. For instance, take Lady and the Tramp, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin.

In each one, the good guy is a wreck.

In Lady and the Tramp the male dog is a not only a tramp (bum, ne’er-do-well, street-person) but he thinks he’s God’s gift to the female of the species. Look out, Lady. She sets out to change him so he can be her beau. In Beauty and the Beast you have a guy who is a mess both physically and emotionally. The Beauty sets out to change him, and voila – you’ve got a brilliant dance with the talking dishes. In Aladdin you have a handsome guy who is a thief and a liar.

Even West Side Story plays this up with the bad guy trying to get the good girl. It is supposed to be patterned after Romeo and Juliet but really the guy is a switch-blade carrying, grease-ball. The Pirates of Penzance was one of my children’s favorite musicals when they were very small. It’s about a pirate who wants to change and the girl who tries to change him.

These days the big rage in children’s lit and movies is often about the vacuous gorgeous girl finding a handsome vampire to marry and have little vamplets…i.e. “Breaking Dawn.” I suppose a whole race of blood-sucking super babies will engender another round of novels.

Perhaps we have never broken free of Victorian ideals of what a woman is. Women, the fragile species, can’t think. Can’t plan. Can’t make important decisions about the future. And for goodness sakes aren’t they hopeless with money?

Having spent the years my children attended public school (14 years) as a paraprofessional working with special education or as an inclusion teacher, I know firsthand the “self-esteem thing” was drilled into all students from preschool onward. Especially aimed at girls. No good came of it. Not a bit of difference did “education” make in how a child felt about themselves. If anything it made children aware of their own shortcomings.

Let us reflect on the many classic examples of the weak woman and the strong, yet heartless man. Take Charles Dickens‘s portrayals of the heroine – she is a weak, almost brainless, classic beauty with no personal or future expectations save to worship some man and reflect in his glory. (Exception note: In Great Expectations the heroine struggles out of her brainwashing by Ms. Haversham and discovers a few thought of her own. This was an anti-heroine for Mr. Dickens.)

Girls. Bad boys don’t change. You can’t make them change. They like their unchangeableness. Don’t waste your breath. It won’t work.

Parents beware. There are wonderful movies out there that have nothing to do with gender classification.

Here are a few examples: “The Sandlot“. “Beethoven Lives Upstairs“, wow, if you haven’t seen this movie you must do so. “Shrek” turns the tables on the good girl meets bad boy when we discover at the end that the good girl is a troll, too. “Toy Story” – and of the three, “Toy Story 3” is the best. There are so many good movies for kids that don’t make a big deal of THE STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER but instead have a simple story – the brilliance is often in the simplicity of reason.

And by the way, I have stumbled upon a wonderful heroine (Thursday Next) who upsets the apple cart of reason as she stumbles through her story as a litera-tec who works for Spec Ops 27. She “fixes” the ending of Jane Eyre. Loved this book – it’s called The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde. Good read.

Steer your child, boy or girl, away from movies that depict a character who thinks they have to change the person they love to make the world a better place. Or a character who decides to change their life to capture the one they think they love (see the movie “Zookeeper” cute – okay for older children like me).

No one can change another person. We can influence other people. We can lead by example. Children know without being told that – Actions speak louder than words.

When my daughter was a child I accepted the popular view that Disney movies were child-tested and parent approved. Silly me.

Home and Family

Cultural Differences: The Vietnamese Wedding Reception

January 9, 2012 Rebecca Nolen 2 Comments

Please forgive me.

While getting a pedicure the other day I found out I have made a grave mistake.

About fifteen years ago my family was honored to be invited to our neighbor’s daughter’s wedding and reception. Our Vietnamese neighbors were quiet, and neighborly but we did not really get to be close friends until our children were in their teens. Their children were a little older than ours, which when your child is a toddler and their child is in grade school seems a lot more than a little older.

I like to be neighborly – you know – take a casserole over when someone is sick, etc. But I decided early in the relationship that no one could “outnice” the Nguyens. I would offer a solution to a garden pest problem, I would get cookies, I would take cake, I would get chocolates (the kind filled with liquor, YUM!) and so on. One Chinese New Year I received a banana wrapped steamed rice dish (a Vietnamese specialty that takes a lot of work to make) for no other reason than sheer niceness.

The Nguyens were simply wonderful neighbors. We went through sickness and health and several joyous times together. Especially memorable was being invited to their daughter’s wedding.

The Nguyens were Buddhists. Their daughter converted to Catholicism and married in the Catholic church. We went to the wedding and sat on the bride’s “side”. Besides her immediate family and a few other neighbors, we were practically the only ones sitting on that side of the church. The groom’s “side” was full. We were sad for her.

We went to the reception which was held at a large Vietnamese restaurant downtown. When we walked into the banquet room I was astounded. It was huge. there were probably fifty round table all set for eight. There was a stage, and lights, and no people. The Nguyens were there, a few neighbors, the groom’s parents, the band, and no one else.

Now we were really sad for them.

Wow, throw a big party and no one comes. The small group of us from the neighborhood quickly gathered at one table and sat awkwardly staring at each other.

For two hours.

Exactly two hours later someone must have yelled “go!” because the doors opened and people flooded in. Apparently, we hadn’t read that invitation very well. There was a time printed clear as clear that the reception began at 7 P.M. The wedding had been at 4. Needless to say, we were starved. As our children were young we were used to eating early. (We still do – only now we call it the AARP eating schedule.)

Soon the music started and so did the arrival 0f the food. Course after course. I’ll never forget the lobster dish with the giant “lobster” made of vegetables sitting in the center. So much food. So many people. A DJ and entertainment. It was a grand party. And we ate like royalty.

I was relating this story to the Vietnamese man who was working on my toes.

I don’t recall how we got on the subject. I was with my mother. She loves getting a pedicure so I take her every four or five weeks for one. It does not fail that she asks each person what country they are from. I want to slip under the big massage chair, because my generation assumes that a lot of young Asians are second or third generation American, but I just concentrated on the suds around my ankles.They didn’t get offended. I’m always amazed that they don’t get offended. I think because my mother looks so old and sweet.

So on this day the conversation got around to Vietnamese food – We could smell wonderful things cooking at the noodle house next door – of course we’re going to talk about food. I remembered the delightful show and flavor of the nine-course meal at the wedding reception so many years earlier.

The conversation turned to how much such a thing would cost and the pedicurist said, “you helped pay for it.”

“I don’t think so. How could I?”

“You put money in bucket. It was passed to your table.”

“Bucket? No, I don’t remember a bucket.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“You were supposed to put money in bucket. That is how the reception is afforded. If you only an acquaintance you put fifty dollar. If you good friend, you put two hundred or so in bucket.”

“What!??” I’m horrified. “I didn’t know.”

Why doesn’t anyone tell about these things. I remember early on the day of the wedding the procession of costumed bride and groom marching from the end of the street to the Nguyen’s house. They told us it was a custom to formally introduce the bride to her in-laws. No one said anything about contributing toward the wedding reception, that it was a cultural thing. Vietnamese wedding receptions are always elaborate – just to different degrees, and the one we were at was big-deal-elaborate. I’m sick. I asked the pedicurist what should I do? and he said that it would be embarrassing to bring it up now.

So I ask you.

After all these years what do I do? Any suggestions? I have not lived near the my former neighbors for about ten years but am still in contact.

Home and Family

All the Bang

January 3, 2012 Rebecca Nolen 1 Comment

Fireworks #1 — Image by Camera Slayer via Flickr

New Year’s Eve I listened to the pop of fireworks in the parking lot across from my mother-in-law’s abode. I was in bed but awake. It’s hard to sleep in a strange bed. I think it must have been my fault because I forgot my pillow. No matter what bed you sleep in if you take your own pillow you will sleep. It’s true. I’m the world’s worst sleeper, so I think I have a vote in this.

Speaking of votes, I am NOT listening to the play-by-play of the Iowa Caucus. I’ll see the news tomorrow. No amount of nail-biting will change what will be.

There will be very little bang for the buck here.

We took the itty grandchild to Arkansas with us. I believe my mother-in-law’s face actually had a healthier hue when we left. I’m praying she and my father-in-law soon move to Texas where they will be closer to their children (and great-grandchild) – and better medical care.

Can you believe that baby slept all the way up there (six hours)? What a pleasant and wonderful and brilliant baby during the entire time we spent there. It can not possibly be on account of all those arms wanting to hold her . . . Well maybe it could be. She sure has a lot of fans in southern Arkansas at the moment.

Looking back at the past year all I can say is “good riddance”. In 2012 I think we are a little wiser. There will be no more house purchases. We will be a little less crowded – if and when the garage apartment is completed. And I will learn to be thankful again, get my mo-Jo back, lose the apathy.

I did say goodbye to the twenty pounds I needed to and only gained back three during the holidays.

Already thankful.

Happy New Year!

Home and Family

Christmas 2011

December 22, 2011 Rebecca Nolen Leave a comment

This year Christmas came early in the form of a perfect grand baby. Her birthday in September felt like summer – weather wise. Here it is December and the leaves have turned color. So we have a lovely Fall for Christmas. And grand baby has doubled her birth weight into a dimpled little round thing with great lungs.

Thankfully this old house has extra thick walls. This doesn’t help my daughter to sleep because baby sleeps in her room.

Christmas brought activity that didn’t involve a tree or lights. Amongst many calamities, serving a hot meal, making sure the dog got outside occasionally, or staying calm took priority rather than a trip to the attic, decorating, un-decorating, and then re-stocking the attic. Call me Scrooge. Seems we are spending the important holiday moments at someone else’s house with someone else’s decorations anyway.

Besides, I am feeling Scroogish.

Perhaps I feel this way because we didn’t drive around looking at lights in the neighborhood, or because I didn’t turn up the volume to endless holiday songs whilst wrapping gifts, or the fact that we visited Santa at the mall with the baby before Thanksgiving. Christmas just snuck up and walked past while I was looking the other way. I suddenly realized it while singing carols in church last Sunday. Whoa! It’s Christmas.

When I was very young and living in South Houston, Christmas was a big affair. Huge. My parents went all out with the decor. Lights, the tree touched the ceiling, streamers from corner to corner of the living room like a used car lot. We had a cardboard fireplace taped to the wall with a tin electric fire. It didn’t put off any heat. The nearby gas heater did and that was enough. Some Christmases the warm weather outside made even the fake fire warmish. That’s weather in Houston.

We didn’t receive gifts or toys during the year, ever. Instead my mother bought what she bought all year long and saved them, wrapped, in some t0-this-day-secret place until Christmas morning. What good, I ask you, were three brothers if none of them could discover the secret hiding place? Was there not a curious bone in any other them? Humpf!

I learned years later from my older brother that we were poor! I never knew. I thought we were kings and queens living as we did in our yellow asbestos shingle home with the white rock roof. I was inordinately proud of that canary yellow house. Even if the rock rained off the roof when the wind blew and the tar would drip when the weather got really hot. There was a pot of tar in the back yard that I would play in when it was soft. I grew up happy in my world of dolls, lizards, mud pies and climbin’ trees. My brother Jon and I went fishing in the summer, caught crawfish in the flooded ditches in the spring with a string and a piece of bacon, (it was the novelty capturing these alien bug-like creatures – we didn’t discover eating them until we were grown), and we rode our bikes to grandma’s house every season of the year for more trees to climb and her chocolate chip cookies. Life was good. Poor? No way!

Maybe that’s why my mother used the same tinsel every year (and scraping it off the tree after Christmas was tedious) and she cut napkins in half throughout the year (also tedious).

There is something about being appreciative of things when you are small, something about seeing value in everything outside of the presents under the tree. Like enjoying the box more than what was in the box.

Maybe my parents had the right idea about not giving us anything (new) all year. Maybe the anticipation was the really special thing about Christmas. These days it is all too easy to give and get all of the time. What else are those shelves of items along the check out lines for? For you to suddenly realize what you needed. Or for the kids to scream and throw tantrums for. (The only time I ever shop-lifted was a package of Chiclets from the line. My grandmother caught me chewing the gum and made me take a hard-earned nickel to pay the store manager. I seriously never stole a thing ever again.)

Our grand baby doesn’t care about Christmas presents, decorations, or tinsel. Though she does love shiny things – her eyes get huge and she has that way of smiling that melts me. This year she doesn’t even care about the box. All she wants for Christmas is us – those who love her.

And that’s what she is getting.

Merry Christmas Y’all!

Home and Family

Not So Important Baby Equipment

November 30, 2011 Rebecca Nolen 4 Comments

As the grandchild’s arrival grew near we got busy with equipping the house with what we thought would be important. Two showers of wonderful gifts left not many holes in the list. For every new gadget and every improved gadget I remain amazed. How had we survived all these generations without?

Here are some things as grand baby’s caregiver I’ve discovered were unnecessary. And also some things that can’t be done without.

Number one unnecessary: The co-sleeper. As my mother-in-law told me take out a sock drawer and line it with a waterproof pad, it works just as well. The idea is that you put this little container in the bed next to you (the new mother) because, well if you’re a new mother you know the because. The co-sleeper we bought was awkward and the baby never got comfortable enough to sleep in it. It’s in the closet now.

Number one necessary: Besides diapers, waterproof pads, light-weight blankets for swaddling, and onesies, a swing is essential. Back in the dark ages I had one for my children, too, a clunky wind-up thing. The ones now are so far superior with mobiles, and music, and a really comfortable-looking seat that baby can and WILL sleep in for hours (thank you baby-swing inventor wherever you are!)

Bassinets are just pretty. Enough said.

One surprising new piece of equipment (wish I could find one in an adult size) that looks like a lounger and is made of memory (ahhh) foam. It is called a Nap-Nanny and has the child sleeping in a slight recline so that burp and spit up doesn’t do any harm. Spit-up is really scary with a newborn. It comes out of mouth and nose so that the baby is choking if she is flat on her back. How horrible is that? A baby flat on his/her back is the recommended position these days to prevent SIDS. But what about drowning? Yuck.

Baby clothes in sizes 0 to 3 months are nice, but not necessary by the truckload, this coming from the grandma who couldn’t resist.

Baby gyms are cute and seem to make sense except to the baby. What needs to be invented is a “tummy-time” blanket. Something water-proof that has bright colored textured geometric shapes for when baby is on her tummy practicing holding up her head.

An important piece of equipment to purchase if you have a dog is a play-pen. The baby bouncer, Nap-Nanny, etc fit inside and baby can nap or bounce without the dog licking her face. Note: Bouncers are great but newborns look really uncomfortable sleeping in them.

And my daughter points out that the Boppy pillow is an essential for nursing moms.

There are a lot more essentials like diapers and formula (a tricky road paved only by trial and error) and the car seat. We went with a Chicco because of its simplicity. All of them are awkward to get into the middle of the backseat with a sleeping baby nestled within. This is back twisting stuff so exercise to strengthen lower back muscles beforehand.

A lot of available things aren’t necessary but many are so by trying out different things and reading reviews you may be able to come up with the best options for your baby without breaking the bank. And it helps to have friends with older babies willing to lend their advice, tips and that baby swing (Thank you, Emily!).

Tummy Time and Infant Development (webmd.com)
New Mom Sleep Tips (enfamil.com)

Home and Family

The Curious Case

November 27, 2011 Rebecca Nolen Leave a comment

Upon reflection of the movie “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” I think the story is brilliant.

Here’s why: I oversee the care of my 86-year-old mother and the care of my nine week old grand child. The two are similar in that they don’t have a lot of choices about life. So I can see where the storyline comes from. The writer asked “what if?” and there it was.

My mother sees life closing in on her. Her movements are more tentative, frailer, smaller every day. She is less and less sure of walking across the room. She can’t make the television change away from one channel. I’ve explained it a dozen times and written it down. But no, she’s decided the television doesn’t work. Her values, beliefs, and determination remain strong but the world she maneuvers within has become tighter, tougher. It must be scary for her. She refuses to admit defeat, which is good for her but quite worrisome for those who care about her.

On the other hand, my grand child’s life unfolds within a growing world every day. She can see better. At birth her eyesight was only as well-defined as her mother’s face. Every week her distance vision grows sharper. She’s now sitting up and watching the football game with her grandfather. Her bright smile and obvious excitement at every turn has me believing that she’s a bundle of possibilities and not just a little bundle of flesh and bone with arms and legs that seem to sneak up and surprise her with their wild movements.

The baby’s movements are changing and growing more precise every day as her muscles grow stronger. My mother has lost most of her muscle mass. She holds up her arm and I can see each bone with the flesh sagging around it. She struggles to get out of a chair. She has never cared much for any physical activity and forget exercise, though she did go through a Jack LaLanne phase. At this point, she is a poster child for “if you don’t use it, you lose it.” If I remind her that she needs to walk to gain strength, she gives me that thin-lipped look, with an ever so slight shrug. No, she doesn’t want to, so it isn’t going to happen. She tells her helper that I make her tired.

So the writer for “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” must have experienced or seen the connection of opposites with the very old and very young and asked “what if a person was born old, grew younger, and died a baby?” What kind of difficulties would this present? What kind of difficulties would this present for everyone else? Especially those who loved that person?

While my grand child increases joy in our home, worry over my mother grows. I try not to think about it but then if I don’t think about it, here comes the guilt. Worry-guilt all for love. It’s a curious case of not really knowing what to do, nor how to do it.

Home and Family, Nature

For the Love of Rocks

November 9, 2011 Rebecca Nolen 1 Comment

My parents took my three brothers and me to just about every state or national park from Texas up to Minnesota and across the entire eastern map of the U.S. As I recall forty three state stickers were plastered to the back of the old pop-up camper. Purchasing the stickers at Stuckey’s became integral to the race to compile more stickers than any other camper. This was before “Survivor” type reality TV. No one was going to vote us off the campsite if we didn’t reach yet another far-off place during our usual two-week summer vacation. But my parents were fiercely competitive in their camping mode. Some states we visited multiple times, of course, because we had to get from here to there, and we usually took a different route from there to here.

This isn’t a travel blog.

Every other year our destination was Iowa, to visit the relatives, and every OTHER year it was North Carolina. Cherokee, North Carolina to be specific. We all loved the Smoky Mountains National Park. Something for everyone there. Fishing, hiking, swimming, wading across slimy rocks in swift, freezing water, drinking same water and coming down with the terrible heebie-jeebies, and watching Native American dances in town.

From each park I took, okay, I stole a rock or two. Once I stole a frog. It was a huge green bull frog. The only reason I got that frog from Tennessee to Texas was because my mother never knew I had it in the car’s backseat until we arrived home. I was not allowed to keep him in my bedroom.

The frog got away.

The rocks from all over the US, I kept. I rearrange nature.

Weirdly, I was born loving rocks. Or dirt. Maybe mud. Definitely bugs. And usually snakes. Perhaps from watching my older brother. He was a digger. I am a digger. He went into landscape architecture. I am a master gardener. At least that is a good cover. The truth is I believe in hidden treasure. So I keep digging.

Anyways, I grew up watching him, and wanting to be like him and have his stuff. He had a chemistry set. I wasn’t to touch it. Did you know chemistry sets have gum arabic? Did you know that gum arabic doesn’t have any flavor? He had a rock collection. One that he carefully compiled over years of saving to buy the bits glued to cardboard squares with their proper names in stiff typeset. I wasn’t to touch it. I especially liked the fool’s gold. I think I still have that one.

My personal assemblage of stone amounted to some weight as we visited a lot of parks and this collection process spanned many years. I kept them at my parents home hidden-in-plain-sight in the “rock” garden until I had a house and room for them. Much to my husbands despair I carted them around move after move. I used the rocks as decoration or as garden borders. About seven years ago we sold our house so quickly – it was such a shock because houses weren’t selling then either – that I wasn’t prepared. I forgot the rocks. The majority of them are still there in Sugar Land, Texas.

So this is much ablog about nothing.

But as an aside. I still have a large beach pebble from Maine (a gift from a friend), a lightening-glass chunk in turquoise (see movie: Sweet Home Alabama), an illegal stalactite (no, really, I took it before the laws), slate pebbles from the beaches of West Cornwall, England, some sandstone from West Texas, and I even took a stone from the mountain top where Ronald Reagan’s Presidential library sits. I’m really surprised that I got away with that. I did do a little surreptitious thing with my jacket and bending to “tie” my shoe. You see I had already been caught sitting on RR’s saddle and wearing his hat. (Wow. Stop! Within seconds we men in dark coats surrounded us. “The sign says ‘don’t touch’.”) I really had not seen the sign. I just wanted to pose for the pictures my mortified husband was taking. Unfortunately the camera was broken. Who knew? We took a lot of pictures we didn’t know we weren’t taking. I would never be able to show the pictures of me wearing the gipper’s hat and sitting on the worn-out saddle draped on the saw-horse? I do not lie. It happened.

This is the beginning of my new collection.

So for all of those who LOVE rocks as I do – rock on!