Tom Kepler's Blog, page 19

A Day Out with Mom: Mom and Dad's Honeymoon

"We traveled around in Lake County on our honeymoon, and my dad stayed at our place to make sure nothing was stolen," Mom says. Before age set in, before the Alzheimer's/dementia, before the stroke, Dad drove some sweet rigs down the highway, Mom sitting beside him. Some of those rides we kids also rode along on trips to the ocean or trips to the Sierra Nevadas.

The photo above was the rig Dad pulled on Mom and Dad's honeymoon. Looks like a great set-up! I believe Mom said there was a cooking station in the back and a bed before it, but it took some arranging to get it all set.

Mom had lived some in Lake County as a little girl. I later lived in the area at Cobb Mountain in my early 20's. Mom and Dad were married in August, so it must have been hot for camping, but the mountains must have provided some coolness from the elevation.

I love the convertible Dad was driving. Anybody know the make and model? Remember that Mom never drove because of her poor eyesight.

This was in 1946. I have this picture in my mind: Mom and Dad newly married, their family waving them off from their new home, the top down, the sun bright and hopeful. 

I'll ask Mom about it, though. It's a wonderful story--not much money, so that's why they camped. The whole world ahead of them.

We shouldn't just count our blessings; we should savor them, savor our moments of glory. 

It's like the words of the Navaho Night Chant:

May it be beautiful before me.
May it be beautiful behind me.
May it be beautiful below me.
May it be beautiful above me.
May it be beautiful all around me.
In beauty it is finished.
In beauty it is finished.

May every day of our life be a beautiful honeymoon, the highway open before us and calling.

This blog post was inspired by Mom's narration from A Day Out with Mom , from the chapter entitled "Engagement and Marriage."

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

 

Another Day Out with Mom #1: Were My Mom's Parents Gangsters?

1944-45: Earl Sanders (Mom's uncle), Mom (18 years old), my Uncle Harry and his first wife, Mary LouMy mom was adopted when she was first born, and she has always said that the people who raise you are your parents, your family. There are a few things I've been thinking about, considering the stories Mom has told me about her parents.

First and foremost, my grandparents on my mother's side met in Kansas City, where my grandma ran a dance hall and my grandpa was in charge or the bar. Now, Prohibition began in 1920 and ended in 1933. My first question is this: Did my grandparents move to California because Prohibition made them shut down their business, or did they move to California because the law Kansas City was closing in on them? Did they own a speakeasy?

Second, I'm watching Ken Burns' jazz documentary right now, and even though I know my grandparents met in Kansas City, I also know that my grandma was from New Orleans and part French and part Cherokee. I imagine, then, that she could have considered herself a Creole. She was a good cook and ran a restaurant in California and also cooked for a private girls' school somewhere in the Coast Ranges of California. According to the Ken Burns documentary, New Orleans was a pretty diverse city with lots of loose living but also lots of conservative, church-going folks. It appears that there were a number of folks living in New Orleans who enjoyed both a robust night life and going to church. I'll have to ask my mom more about her mother's early life.

My grandfather was born in Arizona, partly of Hispanic descent. During his life, as many workers during the Great Depression, he had many jobs. I know he was a cowboy and had been raised on a ranch. He worked in the lumber industry, in an underground mine in Oroville (the Lucky 7), worked on a gold dredger, and evidently had run a bar. He and my grandmother had been unable to have a child, adopted my mom, and then were happily surprised when Harry, my uncle, came along. Grandma was always very protective of my mother because my mother had been blind as a little girl and even though Mom regained most of her sight, she never really had good vision.

My grandma had another cook in her family. I'm not certain who. He retired and was feted by the US Forest Service as being a great camp cook, working up at Angels Camp in the Sierra Nevadas for a long time. Before that he worked at two night clubs in California in the Oroville area--The Palms and The Crystal Palace. These night clubs must have also existed during the Prohibition era, so they could very well have been pretty rowdy places. Mom said they both burned down, and that's probably why her uncle (or great uncle) moved on to cooking for the forest service. I once asked her if it was her uncle's fault as the cook that the night clubs burned down. "Oh, no," she said, laughing.

My grandparents' restaurant in Oroville was called the Gilmore Inn. I believe Mom said it was on Feather River Blvd. I think Mom said it also burned down. It seems like a lot of restaurants burned down in the 1930's, especially ones connected with my mom's family.

I have a lot of questions for my mom the next time I see her. It will be fun to keep her engaged, to sit on the sofa on her left side (next to her "good" ear, the one with 12.5 % hearing without her hearing aid), and listen as she tells me the story of her youth.

When I get some more specifics on my gangster grandparents, I'll pass them on to you. In the meantime, you might want to read my first book,  A Day Out with Mom , to find out what I've discovered about my parents so far.

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

Days Away from My Computer Were Days Out with Mom

Finally my blog is functioning properly again, after about two months of my URL not connecting properly. It was not time lost, though, because I spent those days out with my mom. I spent those days finishing my book A Day Out with Mom, now available online.

Yes, I compiled the book, polished and established continuity and unity, received feedback from beta readers, and fixed formatting and editing errors. I even asked Mom for feedback and was given a few clarifications and additions. That was fun--reading chapters to her and having her comment on them!

Now the book is available at the CreateSpace store, on Amazon, and Kindle. (It may take a day or two for the Kindle version to be ready.) Of these stores, The CreateSpace store (as printer) provides the best royalties for me, so please consider that first if buying a paper copy.
Buy CreateSpaceBuy AmazonBuy KindleI recently had a local artist and his wife say this about my book:

"There are many, many Baby Boomers out there with elderly parents. Your book will speak to them."

It was a funny thing living with my parents as an adult for over seven months. Yes, I had the priceless opportunity to get to know them again. In a strange but real way, though, I also got to see myself in them. That was a little strange and a little wonderful. seeing those powerful beginnings of who I am today.

I hope you choose to spend a day out with Mom, too. She's quite a character.

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

What I'm Learning from Writing Daily Press Releases for Maharishi School

The writing isn't much different than what I've been doing for five years on my own blog, nor is it much different from the two non-fiction books I've written.

What is different is what most journalists experience: get it the way you want it now. (And the way your editor wants it.) Not next week or next month--now!

That's providing me with the opportunity to work on my focus--moving through rough draft to revision to proofreading, all with the intent to get the article finished ASAP. Not a bad lesson in self-discipline for any writer.

Here are my challenges (and successes):

Keep it new. I have to keep reading my words as if I've never read them before, not assuming the words I wrote are correct, but ensuring they are by close attention.Using active voice. Short articles have a point, and the subject should move through the transitive verb and reach the direct object. (Some writers say this should be the case always, no matter how long or short the piece.)Editor or beta reader. I'm lucky! My boss is a good editor and finds needful places for me to revise. My personal challenge is to lower her suggestions for revision to as near zero as I possibly can. (Corollary to this is to learn from her suggestions.)For years I "larn'd the kids good." Now it's my turn. Go, Tom!

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

The Blogging Trials and Tribulations of Tom Kepler

My blog has not been working for about two weeks.

The URL redirect connection was broken somehow, and it took some deep digging to discover how and where.

Part of this digging was due to the fact that my blog was set up originally through Blogger, and I bought my dotcom URL and had it set up just by touching a button on the Blogger site. All is fixed now, so I happy to be back in touch.

This has led me to considering how I contact readers out in the electronic world of reading devices. I'll be writing more about that later--establishing a newsletter and looking closely at Facebook possibilities for more absolute connections.

For now, the most foolproof way to receive my blog posts is to do an email sign-up. On my blog's sidebar is "Easy Email Way to Follow." This just sends an email of my posts to you. There is also a link on the title, so you can read more easily and see any images.

You are sent a confirmation notice to ensure the request is not spam or phishing.

Writing for Maharishi School--a New and Interesting Angle to Writing

I've been enjoying writing so much as a "journalist" that it's been a month since I posted here.

I promise to post here more often now. Here are some favorite posts to the Maharishi School blog that I've written in the last month. It was a pleasure to write these, and I'm happy to share them with you.

Laurie Kavanaugh Retires After 32 Years at Maharishi School

If service or volunteerism were to have a face, it would be that of Laurie Kavanaugh, a “just shy of 32 years” staff member at Maharishi School, who is retiring this September. During those years, she has worn many hats, but they all centered around helping the school run smoothly.

Maharishi School Senior Dia Huggins Volunteers in Africa 

Their service project was to build a library, “the first of its kind in the area,” next to the school in the community of Loibor Siret. The students would then teach “in the school, conduct animal counts on the Maasai Steppe, monitor game cameras, and participate in building ‘living walls’ to reduce the conflict between lions and the cattle of the Maasai herdsmen.”

Greg Thatcher, Teacher and Artist, Pursues His Vision in England

What does a fine artist who is also a teacher do for recreation when the school year ends? If you’re Maharishi School art teacher and department chair Greg Thatcher, you go to England and spend a month drawing the sacred yew trees in St. Mary's Churchyard, Painswick, Gloucestershire.

Maharishi School Senior Wins First Place in Entrepreneurial Course at Babson College

Maharishi School senior Zhou, Huijun (Queena) attended this summer a five-week Entrepreneurial Development Experience course at Babson College at its Wellesley campus in Babson Park, Massachusetts, outside of Boston. Her course-long team project, “Foundation Education,” designed a non-profit tutoring organization and won first place among the course’s 69 students that composed 19 groups.

I've found the discipline of writing this blog has made writing regular press releases and posting them on the school's Facebook pages not a big learning curve. One main (and good) lesson has been to write from a professional rather than personal perspective--more objectivity, I suppose. Another good learning point has been to regularly let others (my editors/bosses) preview my writing. That's leaned up my prose.

I could also talk about what I'm learning about marketing, but I think I'll save that for another post. Nice to be back, hope you're glad to hear from me.

Note: I'm re-posting this article since my blog was off the internet for about two weeks. I had originally posted it on my original blogspot site rather than my dotcom site, but I don't think it was forwarded as usual.

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

A Day Out with Mom #29: 68th Wedding Anniversary

"Hi, Mom. Happy 68th wedding anniversary!"

"Thank you. I don't have my hearing aid in, so I'm not hearing so good."

"That's OK. I just wanted to call."

"I vacuumed the rug today. It's your dad's and my wedding anniversary, but the house still has to be clean."

"That's one thing you and Dad taught me--to be clean."

"Remember that floor buffer for the hardwood floor we had out on Plumas Avenue? Your dad got that for one of our wedding anniversaries. He was always so happy when he could do something like that for me. He got us what we needed. Do you remember the time I buffed the floor and you sat on top of the buffer? Back and forth, back and forth you went!"

"I remember how shiny the floors always were. It was a long time ago."

"Over fifty years. We only did it for a bit so we wouldn't burn out the motor. We had many wonderful anniversaries together, your dad and me. I liked your card. Dad never had a Thunderbird for a car, but he had a friend who had one."

"I liked how the couple were kissing--actually how the wife was leaning over and kissing the husband."

"Everybody deserves a kiss now and then. We should appreciate the times we've had. I'm lucky. I've had good men in my life. My dad was a good man. My brother was, too, although his health isn't good now. Your dad was a good man, and now you two boys help me and your dad."

"We're lucky to have you."

"We're going to see Dad tomorrow. He weighs just 116 pounds. I don't know how much longer he's going to be with us."

"Give him a kiss for me."

"I will. He forgets a lot--but he doesn't forget me and I don't forget him."

"You've both had a good life."

"Yes, we have, many good times. When I'm sad, I'm sad, but I can still remember the good times. We all have many reasons for being happy. We have to remember that. Now, you go and kiss your wife and let her kiss you back."

"Just like in the card I sent."

"Just like that! We make ourselves happy by making someone else happy. It's better than sunshine. It's like the song: 'You are my sunshine . . .'"

"'You make me happy, we skies are grey . . .' That's what I want, Mom. When the lights go out, I want to remember the sunshine."

"And those you love."

"All those who bring the sunshine."


Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

I Leave Retirement and Return to Maharishi School

Yes, I made the decision to return to a full-time job.

I won't be teaching though; rather, I'll be writing press releases and working with social media for Maharishi School. The work will be  something I've done before, yet not to the level of focus that I'll have in the Development Office at the school.

The question, of course, is why I decided to leave retirement for full-time work. After all, I was really enjoying retirement. Well, the answer is that I did it for my wife in order for it to be easier for her to leave her current position, to have more time for family, and to also help provide the opportunity for her to work for herself.

I decided that working at Maharishi School would be a lot easier on me than her current work load and environment is currently for her. It wasn't too difficult to make that decision, though. After one week of work, everybody at school has been very positive and supportive.

Years ago, before I decided to enter education, I really wanted to be a journalist. Now I have the opportunity to research, write, and publish articles daily. I had fun last week and also learned a lot.

The world has progressed too much over the years for me to enter the printing room and shout, "Stop the presses!" I might be able to shout into the copy room, though, "Pause the printer!" It doesn't quite have the same ring to it, but I'm comfortable with the decision I've made. I suppose I've just "paused" my retirement for a good cause. 'Nuf said.

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

A Day Out with Mom #28: Family Time Meditation

1948, Mom, 23 years oldIt's a heat wave here in California on the last day of July, temperatures in the triple digits. My mom, my brother, and I have been dealing with the heat by taking an afternoon siesta.

I wake up at 4:30 on the living room sofa and realize I need to do my afternoon TM technique right away before everyone wakes up. I'm a little late!

My parents' mobile home is set up in the "shotgun" pattern--one long, linear layout, the kitchen and living room in the center with bedrooms on both ends. The sofa in the living room is my "bedroom."

About five minutes into meditation my brother walks through the living room on his way to the kitchen. He sees me sitting up on the sofa with my eyes closed. "Oh, man," he says, seeing me. I know he's focused on getting supper for Mom. He has no problem with the fact that I practice TM; in fact, I taught him the technique almost 40 years ago. He told me just the other day he still remembers his mantra, in case he ever needs to meditate. I told him that was great.

"Just ignore me and do what you need to do," I say. After all, I've meditated on planes/buses/trains and in international airports. A living room/dining room is no problem.

I my continuing my meditation when I hear my mom come out of her bedroom. Then: "Hello, Tom. Are you meditating?" I open my eyes and see her standing before me, a big smile on her face and her hair up in yellow curlers--you know, the plastic kind that have a roller and a clip that slips on once the hair is onto the roller. She looks wonderful.

She yells at my brother, "Tom's meditating!" She kindly wants him to stop cooking so it's quieter. I also taught her to meditate when I taught my brother. She says she doesn't have time to meditate, though. Too buy cleaning the house.

"It's OK," I tell her. "I'm fine."

What follows is a loud conversation about what's for dinner. That is resolved and things settle, the buzzing and chirping of the microwave accompanying the smell of TV dinners.

I continue with my meditation.

My cellphone rings. Since this is my "emergency" phone, I check the text message. It's from my niece that I haven't seen in almost 25 years. I had just talked to her on my cellphone for the first time this morning while on my bike ride. I read the message, text a quick response, and continue with my meditation.

My brother enters the living room, and I hear the TV click on. News. "Your brother's meditating!" Mom says. "No, he's not," he replies. "He's playing with his cellphone." Oops!

I close my eyes and finish my meditation, actually feeling good. I never fail to be amazed, even after so many years, at how easy and powerful the TM technique is.

My brother and Mom have finished eating. "What are you going to eat, Tom?" my mom asks. "Maybe some grapes to start with," I say. "You want some?"

"I'll take three."

She stands by me while I remove the grapes from the vine, wash them, and place them in a drainer. Mom reaches in and by touch chooses three.

"Thank you," she says.

The more things change, the more some things stay the same.

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved

Family Time Meditation

1948, Mom, 23 years oldIt's a heat wave here in California on the last day of July, temperatures in the triple digits. My mom, my brother, and I have been dealing with the heat by taking an afternoon siesta.

I wake up at 4:30 on the living room sofa and realize I need to do my afternoon TM technique right away before everyone wakes up. I'm a little late!

My parents' mobile home is set up in the "shotgun" pattern--one long, linear layout, the kitchen and living room in the center with bedrooms on both ends. The sofa in the living room is my "bedroom."

About five minutes into meditation my brother walks through the living room on his way to the kitchen. He sees me sitting up on the sofa with my eyes closed. "Oh, man," he says, seeing me. I know he's focused on getting supper for Mom. He has no problem with the fact that I practice TM; in fact, I taught him the technique almost 40 years ago. He told me just the other day he still remembers his mantra, in case he ever needs to meditate. I told him that was great.

"Just ignore me and do what you need to do," I say. After all, I've meditated on planes/buses/trains and in international airports. A living room/dining room is no problem.

I my continuing my meditation when I hear my mom come out of her bedroom. Then: "Hello, Tom. Are you meditating?" I open my eyes and see her standing before me, a big smile on her face and her hair up in yellow curlers--you know, the plastic kind that have a roller and a clip that slips on once the hair is onto the roller. She looks wonderful.

She yells at my brother, "Tom's meditating!" She kindly wants him to stop cooking so it's quieter. I also taught her to meditate when I taught my brother. She says she doesn't have time to meditate, though. Too buy cleaning the house.

"It's OK," I tell her. "I'm fine."

What follows is a loud conversation about what's for dinner. That is resolved and things settle, the buzzing and chirping of the microwave accompanying the smell of TV dinners.

I continue with my meditation.

My cellphone rings. Since this is my "emergency" phone, I check the text message. It's from my niece that I haven't seen in almost 25 years. I had just talked to her on my cellphone for the first time this morning while on my bike ride. I read the message, text a quick response, and continue with my meditation.

My brother enters the living room, and I hear the TV click on. News. "Your brother's meditating!" Mom says. "No, he's not," he replies. "He's playing with his cellphone." Oops!

I close my eyes and finish my meditation, actually feeling good. I never fail to be amazed, even after so many years, at how easy and powerful the TM technique is.

My brother and Mom have finished eating. "What are you going to eat, Tom?" my mom asks. "Maybe some grapes to start with," I say. "You want some?"

"I'll take three."

She stands by me while I remove the grapes from the vine, wash them, and place them in a drainer. Mom reaches in and by touch chooses three.

"Thank you," she says.

The more things change, the more some things stay the same.

Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved