Lucky Thirteen

What a lucky break I had today. Chuck called me on his early morning commute, saying, "You don't want to miss the sun and fog this morning." Right away, I started gathering my essentials; cameras, water, protein drink, soda. While he gave me some general directions to where he was seeing the fog, I loaded the Highlander. I didn't have time to change out of my capris and Birkenstocks. I needed to hurry before the sun burned off the fog.

Unfortunately, I only had a vague idea of where I was heading, and I do not have established spots for early morning sunrise shots. I drove to two different entrances to Pratts Wayne Woods County Forest Preserve, only to find them chained with NO PARKING signs. Apparently, forest preserves don't open early just because conditions are perfect for photography.

When I pulled the Highlander off the highway, I realized the lane was a private drive. I flipped a U, and that's when this incredible sight came into view. I checked the rearview mirror; I was the only one on the road at the moment. I threw the car in park, and pointed my Canon out the driver's side window. 

There were streams of sunlight cutting through the limbs and shadows of a big, old tree. There was fog. There was a starburst of sun. When I checked the rearview again, a car in the distance was headed my way. It was time for me to go; I avoid confrontation like the plague.

There were no public parking spots available along the highway until I spotted a little gravel turnout in front of a bike trail. I left my car there, and headed down the trail. I could barely see through the thick foliage that was between the bike trail and the open forest preserve. When I saw a rarely used path into the woods, I took two steps into the thick brush, and I heard a deep voice behind me say, "Better be careful of the poison ivy there." I froze in my tracks, surveying the greenery around my bare feet in sandals and backed myself slowly out of the weeds. I thanked the passing walker, and went in search of more photos along the established trail.

Sigh. It was so hot and humid, and my bangs were sticking to my forehead. The mosquitoes had been feasting on my exposed arms and legs, and I really wished I'd taken the time to go to the bathroom before I left home. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable on several levels. Was it asking too much to want to capture more sunbeams coming through the trees and fog? I kept walking down the bike trail, snapping pictures of berries and flowers, and trying to capture the gorgeous way the sun was cutting through the trees.

I realized I'd already been given an exceptional gift in the shot of the tree, and any other incidental pictures I took might be fun, but would not compare to the beauty I had captured earlier. 

Later, Susan and I got together for our weekly Coffee and Cameras day, and explored the Dupage Forest Preserve, which was open by 9:00. 

Out of the dozens of shots I took today, I had thirteen pictures that made me pretty happy; a baker's dozen of photographs from a beautiful morning spent outdoors, chasing sunbeams and fog. Thirteen was my lucky number today.

My Steel Magnolia

Everyone needs a steel magnolia friend. You may need to watch the movie Steel Magnolias to understand the depth of that sentiment, but maybe after I introduce you to my best friend since junior high, you might realize you have a steel magnolia of your own.

Lynn made me this piggy bank when we were in high school.

Lynn and I met in seventh grade. We did the typical teen girl things; passed notes in class, had sleepovers, spent time with each other's families, gossiped, and listened to music. We also did the typical rural kid things; attended 4-H meetings, rode horses in the creek and sledded in the hollow (which is pronounced /hol*ler/, by the way), and Lynn had a big sow named Priscilla that started our lifelong fascination with pigs. 

When we grew up, we became elementary school teachers, wives, and mothers. Unfortunately, we were separated by the thousands of miles between Virginia and Utah, but whenever we called each other or got together, we didn't skip a beat, and just picked up our conversation where we left off.

Lynn was my matron of honor at my first wedding. She and I had our first two children in 1987 and 1989. Throughout the years, our friendship has been a steady source of support. 

Our Red Hat Society day with high school friends. Lynn had a hat, too; she just hates hats, as a rule.

Back when we were in 10th grade, Lynn had such a crush on a cute boy in our class named Bennett. It made sense to me that the nicest girl I knew should be with the nicest boy I knew. 

Bennett had been one of my best friends since we were in fifth grade. He was always kind to me, and since it took me a long time to fit in with the girls in our class, it was comforting to see a friendly face in fifth grade. It was easy to see Lynn and Bennett would be perfect for each other, so I played matchmaker.

Bennett and Lynn. Photo taken in June 2018

When we were at the high school Valentine Dance, I let Bennett know that Lynn liked him. And the rest, as they say, is history. They dated all the way through high school and college, and eventually married and had four children.

When I started my blog, there were only about 12 people who read Randomocity regularly, and Lynn was my very first official "follower." That meant so much to me. 

Fresh faces pink from the cold; sans makeup after cycling. December 2013

My daddy died just before Christmas in 2013, and I flew back to Virginia to be with my family. Lynn invited me to go bike riding with her and her daughter a couple of days before his funeral. She knew I needed a break, and spending time outdoors with my best friend was just what I needed. It was 18 degrees the morning we cycled nine miles along the Piney River, but my heart was warmed by her thoughtfulness during that cold December day. 

Priest Mountain overlooks the peach orchard.

When Lynn found out I was going home to Virginia this summer, she made sure Chuck and I would be able to spend time with Bennett and her at their farm. Lynn and Bennett are family; Chuck had to meet them, too.

The smell of fresh peaches always takes me back to Virginia, and working for Saunders Brothers.

The four of us piled into Bennett's pickup, and went for a ride through the peach orchards, and reminisced about the days when Lynn and I used to work for the Saunders Brothers in high school, thinning peaches, driving the tractor, and planting boxwood and azalea slips. As luck would have it, Bennett's folks were riding around the hills at the same time, so Chuck and I were able to say hello to them. 

We showed Chuck the packing shed where I used to sell peaches for Bennett's dad back in the seventies. The four of us enjoyed lunch in their spacious kitchen. Chuck is still talking about the Virginia ham Lynn served. Luckily, I was able to find it here in Illinois when we returned. 

At Daddy's funeral, with some of the amazing women who helped me through that time.

Lynn is the epitome of southern hospitality, welcoming any and all into her cozy home. She is smart, strong, and funny. Lynn wants to help others when she can, and always seems to manage to do more than is expected for others. She was an amazing teacher with a soft spot in her heart for the little ones in her classroom. Lynn has weathered the storms of life, experiencing trials and loss with a tempered optimism. Throughout the years, she has not let difficult experiences harden her. If anything, her compassion has deepened, and her love has grown. 

2018. Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth; ignore the watermark. My bad!

Robert Harding, the author of Steel Magnolias, needed a title for his play when he finished writing it. Harding had this to say about that:

"When I was young, often sent to pluck a few magnolia blossoms for my mama’s floral needs, I learned that, while gorgeous, they are fragile and bruise easily—qualities often attributed to Southern women. My extraordinary life experiences with my sister and mother showed me that the women I’ve known are indeed gorgeous, but their lives can be fragile. But if you look underneath, you realize they possess a tensile strength stronger than anything I could ever muster. I wrote of their strength, joy, and laughter that rang out no matter what life threw at them. After my sister’s death, the only way I could deal with it was to celebrate them. When the play was finished, I needed a title. In my head, I heard that grand dame’s voice and the way she pronounced “steel magnolya.” It seemed right. My mother, my sister, my aunts, the neighbor ladies—I still hear their glorious voices all the time. I hope I always will."

Thank you, Lynn, for being my steel magnolia. 






More photos from our day with Lynn and Bennett:

Bennett created this peach out of colored slate, and inserted it into their walkway.

Mama and 'Em's

Home Sweet Home.

Chuck and I got to visit at "Mama and 'em's" last weekend. I had totally forgotten that phrase until I heard my brother-in-law talk about going to his folks' house. He was telling us about going to his "Mama and them's house for supper," but when he said it quickly with his southern drawl, it came out, "We were goin' to Mama an' em's house for suppah." 

"Mama and 'em's" can refer to your parents' house, or your mama and anyone else she is with. We were blessed with visits at mamas and 'em's. I'm blessed with two mamas, and it was my good fortune to see them both on the same trip. 

It was a whirlwind vacation in Virginia. Chuck took off three days of work, and he drove through the night, both ways,  so we could capitalize on time with my family. This man is one amazing husband with what he is willing to do to make my dreams come true.

The Beidler Girls

If you are one of the many people I didn't get to visit while we were there, I am so sorry. Having two moms, an aunt, four sisters, and four brothers makes it tricky enough to even see my family when we go back home, let alone the other people I would love to visit. 

My sweet aunt in Virginia Beach drove about five hours ONE WAY to see us, and one of my sisters came in from the Richmond area. What a treat to see all of my Virginia siblings. (Joelle, we missed you, Sweetie.) 

Each morning Jackie and I enjoyed sitting on her screened-in porch, talking over our mugs of coffee and tea. We watched as the sun came up high enough to dapple the yard with sunlight and shadows. The heat and humidity held off until Monday morning, so our weekend was wonderful with relatively cool weather for porch time, cookouts and family gatherings. 

We erroneously called this Panther Falls throughout my childhood. We later learned it is actually Staton's Creek Falls.

We wanted to show Chuck a couple of our favorite places so when Natalie joined us, we took him to Staton's Creek Falls, and we went for a little drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway. I tried so hard to stay in the moment while we were visiting. There was so much I wanted to soak in; the vistas, the beauty, the camaraderie, and the love. 

Friday and Saturday we spent time with our Beidler relatives. One of Jackie's requests earlier this year was to gather together as a family, and all four of the Beidler kids, our spouses, and even our niece and her new husband did just that. We hadn't all been together since Daddy's funeral in 2013. It felt so good to all be in the same place, even for a little while.

My sister Natalie welcomed us into her home, and her husband Jeromie grilled burgers and hotdogs for us outside on the grill. Bless Mother Nature's heart; it wasn't hot as blazes, and we were able to enjoy Nat's screened-in porch during supper. (Is my hatred for humidity obvious?)

Sunday we went to church with Mom, and my brother Dan and his wife Becky had us all over for an open house that afternoon/evening. All but one sister made it, and I saw her the next night. I finally met a great-niece and great-nephews I'd never met. 

Monday night, more family I only had met through Facebook were there. We all talked and laughed, while some of the family enjoyed the swimming pool. Cooking for that crowd can be a challenge, but my sister-in-law is an experienced caterer, and she handled it like a pro.

Irish Creek Valley from the Blue Ridge Parkway

What's time with family without lots of laughter, reminiscing, and some photos? Visiting at Mama and 'em's might not be everybody's idea of the ideal vacation, but it is just what my heart needed. I love my mamas and 'em. All of 'em. 

The Evolution of a Grandma

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

Once upon a time, a precious, little boy was born, and his parents introduced me to him as Grandma Denise. Over time, that baby boy learned to talk, and I became Gramma. Now that CJ is three, he has his own ideas about how things should be.

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

My grandmothers were called Grammy and Grandma; pretty traditional names in my world. For a brief period of time, I considered what I would want to be called as a grandmother. Sierra had a boyfriend in high school who called me Mama Dee, and I smiled every time I thought about future grandchildren calling me that. Mama Dee has a southern flavor, and I like that.

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

I knew childhood friends whose grandmothers were Meemaw, Big Mama, Grandma Nana, and Granny. Some of my relatives and friends have grandmother names of their own now; Omma, Oma, Yia Yia, and Gigi. Maybe I would always just be Grandma.

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

Guess what? We can ask children to call us whatever we want, but more often than not, they will call us whatever they want, and most of us will love it because it will become our special name, given to us by those precious children we call our grandbabies.

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

Just recently, we were able to spend a week with CJ and his new baby sister Aly. When we arrived, CJ called us Grandpa and Grandma Pa. How cute is that? I loved it. I was hashtagging pictures right and left on Instagram #grandmapa and #grandmapaparazzi. Yeah. It was perfect. 

Photo credit: Chuck Bennorth

The next morning, my pet name had changed to Grandma POO. I laughed. "Grandma Poo? You mean Grandma Pa?" I asked. 

"No!" CJ smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "Grandma Poo!"

So let it be written. So let it be said. I shall now be known as Grandma Poo. Well, that will be my name until CJ decides to call me something else. And I will love whatever he decides because it will be the name given to me by a child I love very much.