I really like my new blogging plan. A place for happy blogs like this one on this site and a place for complicated things on my other blog: mybeautifullymessycomplicatedstory.blogspot.com
Meanwhile--sisters! My parents didn't see fit to give me any. Also, I don't have a middle name. Those two omissions along with no pony in the back yard are the only things I hold against them. Well, and that they died too soon. Sigh. Pamela Rose Hunter. That's my imaginary middle name.
My brothers, who rock, gave my my first real sisters when they got married. Excellent choices--Iris and Sage are just like real sisters without the childhood fights. I'm lucky my brothers were careful and clever in choosing wives. Sage lives too far away, but Iris is close enough to quilt with, golf with and generally fulfill my extreme neediness to have an older sister.
But it was obvious that I was going to need a lot of sisters to keep me happy. I started in high school with Jeannine. Great start. Then I went to college and found Sandra. We were born 3 days apart, in Idaho, and each came home to two older brothers as youngest children forever. I think we could have been twins, but our parents each wanted one of us. We're awesome. And I still see her as often as I can.
*******Alert!!!!!!! I'm going to miss listing some very amazing women on this highlight reel. They know who they are even if I neglect naming them. Hawaii semester sisters Jacqui, Martha, Karla and Diane, I'm talking to you. Or would be if I had the slightest idea where you are! **************
So eventually, I graduated from college, got a job and moved on. I even got married and found out that is when you really need women in your life! Ah, Valley Forge/Yorktown. 10 newly married couples? More? All I really remember is that 30 babies were born in our ward in 1980. This is where I added Debbie and Karren to my list of sisters. A couple of years later, Janna and I met while holding our 8 month old babies who were born on the same day. No, I didn't name Jana after Janna but I would have if I'd met Janna a year earlier. We eventually made up 2/5 ths of a writing group with Theresa, Ann and Jill. What a rare privilege being part of that group was. I made lots of friends during pregnancy and child rearing years. Those I call sisters are the ones I still see as often as we can make schedules match. Gloria is the obvious one. Her family thinks I'm part of the family on her husband's side and his family thinks the opposite. That's how many family events I show up at. Her Kaysville ward knows me by name. The year after I graduated, I subbed for Lyn and we became traveling sisters--a kinder and gentler Thelma and Louise. I hope there's one more trip together. Judy and I clicked like fellow teachers often do, and when I started teaching in Nampa, Leslie became a little sister. Younger sister? She's in Montana now. Teachers make good sisters--both have qualities of love and nurturing. Add Alyce to the list, which reminds me--we are overdue for lunch.
Some of the woman I grew to love moved and I didn't do the work needed to stay close, but when I see them, the warmth and sisterhood is still there--Jeanette and Mary come to mind. Lora Dawn and Anne-Marie as well. Bonnie and her mom made it into scrapbooks and Bonnie is still my favorite driving partner to Utah and generous to a fault. She also makes really good candy!
I moved to Nampa and mourned the loss of sisters. Thirty minutes away might as well be three hundred I feared. And where would I find sisters in Nampa? No one in Nampa could possible like me or be kindred. I didn't even know if Nampa would allow me to live there. And in many ways those fears have been borne out. Thank heavens, literally, for Pamela and Sheila. I probably would have found a way to move back to Boise and live in a hut if I hadn't met these two. I'm serious as a heart attack here.
And now I come to my latest sister. Working at the Temple brought me dozens of women who I refer to as Sister Adams and Sister Howell, etc. Wahoo! Best part of the Church I love is the knowledge of a Heavenly Father and Mother and a whole earth full of brothers and sisters.
When I met Beate Cook, I was immediately impressed with her gentleness, graciousness and beauty. She's self-conscious about her accent, but President Uchtdorf has made having a German accent pretty darn cool. Not to mention she speaks perfect English. I've studied a fair amount about the history around World War II, the Holocaust, and many aspects of American and European events of the thirties and forties. I started asking Beate, who married an American serviceman in 1959, years before either one joined our Church, about her family's experiences in Germany. Had she written her history? Had she written about her parents and grandparents experiences? I was pretty nosy. She was very kind. But no, she hadn't. I asked her if I could. Write her history. Not a question I ask people on a regular basis. In fact, she is the only person I have ever had the desire to ask that question to. It wasn't until later that I realized that if she had wanted to write her history, she would have written it in German. Not a lot of use to her children and grandchildren. Or to me! I mean, I wouldn't want to write my memoirs in a second language, even if I had one. (What do you call someone who speaks two languages? Bi-lingual. What do you call someone who speaks three languages? Tri-lingual. What do you call someone who speaks one language? American.)
Beate agreed and it took us two years to make the time together happen. I think there were reasons for that, but finally, this July, I spent almost a week at their ranch in Riggins, Idaho. It was heaven. A very warm heaven due to Riggins being in a canyon, not cooler like the mountains in nearby McCall, but heaven just the same. Her house is beautiful and full of those characteristics of the British houses I came to love a few years ago. Lace curtains, lovely table linens, pretty dishes and so clean. Gloria lived in Germany and has told me about a work ethic she observed there. Beate is a little older than I am and works circles around me in every possible way. She irons her slip and her husband's levis. I iron . . . hmmm. Quilt blocks once every ten years when I start a quilt never to be finished? We worked on family histories a bit and I interviewed her about everything I could think of. I'm not done. I haven't written her history yet, but I'm getting ready as soon as I have another visit to firm details up. She thanked me for coming; I thanked her for letting me. Believe me, I got the best of the deal. I better write a very good history. She had an interesting childhood--there are details that should definitely be recorded.
She called last week and we talked about October for my next visit. I'll be there! I mean, I already love her like a sister!
