Moving

“Mother,” Linnea groaned, looking at me with pleading eyes, “kids are supposed to move away, not mothers!”

I sighed, then pulled her in close for a hug.

It was the end of our last grandma day, and Linnea and I were visiting while the kids played in the backyard with Kami and Krissi.

“It won't be so bad,” I tried to assure Linnea, knowing she wasn't going to believe me. “Now, your kids will have a grandma who lives in the country. You always hear stories about kids spending the summers with grandma and grandpa out on the farm. This will be just like that.”

“No it won't,” Linnea grumbled, looking close to tears.

I was thrilled to be moving up to the mountains, excited about leaving the desert and the big city behind, but I hated leaving my children and grandchildren. I had begun bringing Tais, my oldest granddaughter, over to my house once a week six years ago when she was a baby, and today was probably the last time we would ever have grandma day. This was hard.

“You can come up and visit us whenever you want,” I tried to comfort Linnea. “You go up to Snowflake all the time anyway to visit Jason's folks. Now you can visit us, too.”

“But I can't just pop over whenever I want, mom. It takes three hours to get to Snowflake.”

“Then maybe you guys should think about moving up to live by us,” I suggested with a twinkle in my eye.

“Not in a million years,” Linnea declared. One thing Linnea had always maintained was that she would NEVER live in Snowflake! To her, it was the smallest, most backward, unappealing city in the state. Linnea liked the big city, even Gilbert was too tame for her.

It sure was a shame we had to leave behind so many people we loved. That week our neighbors and friends hosted an open house for us, kind of a going away party. I had already gone to two luncheons with friends and spoke in church, so I didn't expect many people to come to the open house. I was amazed at the wonderful turn out! It was so nice. Everyone was sweet, and they all signed a big poster for us that Kami claimed for her very own.

“I'm putting this up on the wall in my bedroom,” she told us on the way home that night, “and I'm keeping it there forever!”

Moving was hardest on Kami. She was twelve, and just getting used to Junior High. Now she had to go to a new school and meet all new people. I think Krissi was nervous, too, but somehow sixth grade wasn't quite as intimidating. Plus, my sister had already moved her family up to Snowflake, and her daughter was the same age as Krissi.

“One of the best parts of living in Snowflake will be having so much room when we build our house,” I reminded the girls. “There will be lots of room for dogs and cats, and maybe even horses.”

“Can we really get a horse?” Kami perked up.

“We'll sure try,” I assured her, knowing if anything made up for having to leave her home, school, and friends, it would be the thought of having a horse of her own. Kami loved riding, feeding, and caring for our neighbor's horses, and she had learned a lot.

Moving was a lot like life. There were good things about it; wonderful, exciting, fun things like getting to live in the mountains where it actually snowed! But at the same time there were awful, sad parts, like leaving family, friends, and our home. Sometimes the good outweighed the bad, but sometimes it didn't. Just the same, I was excited for our next adventure to begin, and to find out just what lay ahead for us in the future.

The Fish Hook

My Grandpa Johnson immigrated from Sweden just before he turned 21 years old.  He planned to go to medical school, but soon after he reached America he caught rheumatic fever and was sick for almost a year.  Once he got well he had to find work to pay off his medical bills, and never was able to realize his dream of becoming a doctor.  His dream lived on in the members of his family, though.  His oldest son became an orthopedic surgeon and many of his grandchildren and great grandchildren are doctors, nurses, or work in the medical profession.

None of the kids in my family went into medicine, we mostly became teachers, but two of my brother's-in-law are doctors, and we did our part for the medical profession by providing work for the doctors we knew.

Both Keith and I had to have our tonsils out when we were little.  (That was actually kind of fun because we could eat all the ice cream we wanted.)  I broke my collar bone when I was two.  Keith had rheumatic fever and was sick on and off for years when he was small.  Phillip had a seizure once when he was a little baby, probably brought on by the heat, and when he was a little older he drank a whole bottle of 'Blue Medicine' (that's what we called the antihistamine Mom always had to have on hand to give Keith when his allergies got bad) but the doctor assured her Phillip would be OK, just very sleepy.  Linda ended up in the hospital with pneumonia, and again with some sort of stomach trouble, and.then there were the little things that always happen to kids, like the time Keith got a fish hook stuck in his hand when we were up at the cabin.

  The hook was stuck in good, and because of the barbs Dad couldn’t get it out.  Dad's brother, Uncle Ray, was up at the cabin visiting us that weekend, but he was out hiking somewhere when Keith got hurt.  Mom and Dad didn't know what else to do, so they put Keith in the truck and drove around until they found Uncle Ray.  Keith was about five years old, and he was pretty good about the whole thing.  He just sat in the truck and looked at his little hand with the hook stuck in it as he bounced over the dirt road, not crying or complaining, just staring.  I suppose seeing a metal hook sticking into his skin must have been kind of fascinating to a little boy who was used to sticking worms on the shiny metal.  When they finally found Uncle Ray he knew exactly what to do.  He simply took a knife and cut the hook out.   I wonder why Mom and Dad hadn't thought of doing that?  Anyway, they had a lot more faith in Uncle Ray doing the operation instead of them.  After all, he had a medical degree and a Doctors certificate hanging on the wall in his office, although Keith was not the kind of patient he usually operated on.  You see, Uncle Ray was a veterinarian.