White Water Rafting

 Good morning dear friends. I thought I would relate the Tuesday's adventure before we left Gold country. 

It was a day unlike any other. It was going to be 102 and the girls wanted one adventure before we left the rapids. The morning dawned bright and the girls packed up their gear. 

Boat. Check

Fishing supplies. Check

Water and sunscreen. Check

Snacks.   Check

Towels.  Check

They piled all their gear into the truck because they were driving to the spot where all the water rapid tours departed and that's where they were putting their boat into the water.  Take the 1 1/2  hr float back to where our RV is then get the bikes and go get the truck. It seemed such a simple plan. 

The big boats left with paddlers, equipped with life vests, helmets etc and the girls put their boat in the water  when the last tour boat left. 

Immediately Wendi heard an air leak in the boat and said to Jenny, "we have a hole in the boat." Jenny said."maybe we shouldn't do it today." Wendi said, " it will be alright. 2 of the 3 chambers are holding." 

Off they went with Wendi's back to the rapids and Jenny facing the rapids. As they paddled the air was trying to empty out of the chamber with a hole. Wendi tried to keep her finger over the hole while paddling and skinned up her knuckle pretty badly. 

Meanwhile Jenny was saying, as the water got choppy, " I'm nervous.  I'm really, really nervous.: 

Wendi reassured her. "Everything is gonna be alright."  

The people that paid 119 dollars per person to have a tour guide were watching Wendi and Jenny going down the rapids with air leaking and a panicky Jenny. 

Jenny will share with you that she has anxiety. The mountains have been a challenge or any new experience, since we've been out but wendi is her opposite. Scared of nothing and taking names. They make such a great pair. 

Jenny is saying to Wendi, " why did we do this? Why did you let me make the decision to do this? We're gonna sink. We have no life vests. Wendi, why did we do this?"  Wendi was trying to reassure her, while paddling, holding her finger in the leak and flipping water out of the boat. 

At one point, they said the tour guided boat stopped and waited for them to make it through. At which time , Wendi and Jenny acted cool, like nothing was wrong. As soon as the big boat was outta sight, Wendi and Jenny were bailing water out of the boat and trying to keep the one side that was going flat out of the water.  

I wish you could have seen them tell me about it when they got home. I was laughing so hard as they unfolded the scene for me. Trying to be so cool while the big boat was watching , then trying desperately to keep it from sinking.

We all laughed until we cried. If you want to know if there are pictures. There are. There is also a video. I will have to see if I can procure that for all of us to watch. 

Lesson for white water rafting. 

Life vests

Helmets

Intact boat

Valium? Lol

Hope that everyone has a wonderful Saturday. I love you. Always, kimmee

Ps. I did a thing. 6 or 8 inches cut.i feel so much lighter.

Remembering The Escambia River

 Good morning dear friends. It's been awhile since I've floated down a lazy river but those memories are still fresh in my mind. 

When we were kids, we lived for Saturday and Sunday, cause that meant swimming. 

Oh, not Pool type swimming but water you couldn't see through, slime on the bottom and an occasional water moccasin or alligator. 

It wasn't that we were any braver than you are about going in watering holes but we had no innate fear of anything. 

I can probably blame that on youth or conditioning, as our childhoods weren't spent in the Ocean where the sand on the beach is white and the water is blue. 

Ours were spent in Cold Creek in Jay or Swimming at Munson, Morris Creek, or one of the lil streams on the way to Ebenezer Chrurch or over in Century at the Gravel pit. 

Goodness, as I think back, we probably should have been more careful than to swim in a place where sand and gravel could have caved in on us as we swam. Lol. 

We were just kids though and like I mentioned, we had no fear of the unknown. We didn't spend our days thinking, what if?

We went for every experience we could soak up. 

I'm not saying we should not have a lil caution in our lives, considering it's a wonder we made it to adulthood but I'm saying, live a lil more. Try a few more things that maybe scare us a lil. Sure, we will be afraid. Our skin may give us goosebumps from the anticipation, but do it. 

Go to Egypt like my friend Liz. Go out and watch a sunrise when it's cold. Go out and let the moonlight seep into your bones or catch the biggest fish and let it go for the next fisherman. 

Live life like today could be your last, because it may be. 

I love you guys. I hope that you all know that. Always, Kimmee

(The pictures are from my sister Donna. My favorite Aunt Catherine at Morris Creek and the Escambia River where Daddy fished and we swam with the mocassins)

My Daddy

 I was thinking of Daddy this morning and his parents. He was born on Jan 21, 1912 and he said he weighed about 2 lbs. Now I don't know if they had a scale and it was probably just a guesstamate but he was little enough to be kept in a shoe box so he couldn't have been that big. 

His Mama, the Grandma that I talk about with the long hair that she put in a braid, was tiny so it was not a far stretch that she might have a preemie or tiny child. I can't imagine trying to keep a preemie child alive in a wood house with a wood stove for heat in winter. Although I shouldn't say that as we did the same thing with my first Grandchild, born a month early at 4 lbs and 2 oz and only 3.5 when we brought him home in Nov. 

Times were different then and even in a shoebox in a dresser drawer, I know it had to be cold. I can imagine Grandma holding her tiny boy, her first boy born after two girls and willing him to live, just as I did with mine that contracted whooping cough at age two. Night after night, rocking in the chair praying for life and for God's grace and somehow Daddy made it and my child did too. 

Grandpa wasn't a wealthy man but he had managed to buy some land outside Jay City limits and Grandpa had built a house. There was nothing left but some wood pieces the last time Donna and I looked many years ago but it was the home that my daddy grew up in. Daddy had to stop schooling when he was 12 and go to work for the family. He worked sawmill and field work like his Daddy and Granddaddy before him so he wasn't rich either. 

Life in 1912 was hard. His Daddy was 27 and Mama 26 with two girls, Loree and Thelma. I know that Grandpa was excited about having a boy because men in those days equated having a son with success. What it really meant was your family name would live on and I can see the importance of that as a Historian but it also glossed over that you had two daughters that were equally as important as your son, but that was the time and thinking then and in some places now.

There was a daughter Sudie Ann born after Daddy on Oct 1913 but she only lived two years. She died on Dec 13th 1915 and is buried at Sardis Cemetery where much of the Gilmore and Creamer family are interred. I have a middle name of Ann too and wonder if it came from her. I never thought to ask when my Two Aunts were telling stories to me and  Donna.

The year Daddy was born in 1912 saw so many things happen. New Mexico became our 47th State that year in Jan, followed by Arizona in Feb. In March Roald Amundsen announced the discovery of the South Pole. That same month The Girl Scouts were formed in Savannah by Juliette Gordon Low.  In April the famous ship The Titanic sank but I doubt that Daddy's family ever heard anything about any of these things. They could not read and did not have radios and such back then. It would have been in the Newspaper but I doubt they ever saw one of those, at that time either. It was pretty much word of mouth news back then. The local Gossip and you all know who I am talking about would be on the party lines of my youth and that is how news traveled in my day but in daddy's day, you didn't visit that much and grew all your own food so there wasn't the social aspect of seeing lots of people everyday like we do now. The world has exploded in the years since Daddy was born.

That same year  Native American Jim Thorpe won Gold at the Olympics in mismatched shoes he had found, because someone threw away the ones he had. He ran and won it in loafers, not running shoes. What an amazing feat that was. I am proud reading about it years later with my bit of Native blood running strong in my veins. It is shameful that this many years later, people of color still fight to be recognized as equal in our land but it still exist and we still hear about it in the news. 

Only a few short years later The First World War happened but Grandpa didn't go to War. He had 6 children by the end of the War with 5 living and was doing everything he could to make sure they had food on the table. He grew his food and Grandma fixed it for everyone to eat.   

The land was fertile where Grandpa's house was. It was near the Escambia River and they could grow most anything they wanted to eat. I do wonder where they bought their Flour, sugar and salt but I don't have anyone old enough to ask these questions anymore. I can guess that there was a store close by that they took a buggy  or horse too and spent their hard earned 50 cents for a big bag to take home. Sugar cane was freely grown in that area too so he may have made his own sugar and syrup like some of the people did on Morristown road when I was a child. I can only surmise these things as I have no one to ask. A reminder for us to ask the things we want to know before our parents and grandparents depart leaving us with unanswered questions.

Daddy grew tall despite the conditions of this birth and was a hard working man like his Mama. I would say Grandpa was too but I only ever saw Grandpa sitting while Grandma was working so don't know if he was a hard worker. His daughter Aunt Elma thought "Papa" hung the moon so I can guess that he was a hard worker and a good man. I didn't know him much. Grandma was my hero and the one that I went to see as much as I could. She baked Snickerdoodles and let me help her with the chores and then rewarded me with porch swing tea and cookies. It was the best of times with her and I am so grateful for those. 

Life was hard in those days and many since. When WWII happened my Uncle Hardy went to War but my daddy did not. He was married with a child of his own so stayed home working in the sawmill to take care of his little family. By Wars End another child was born so he had three mouths to make sure were fed. There is one thing I can say about Daddy is that he kept us fed, clothed and Sheltered my whole childhood, even when he drank, he worked and worked hard. I love and respect him for that and am grateful. 

I guess many of these memories are coming forward because that first child he had, my sister Ruby Lee is 81  years young today.  I told her this morning how beautiful I always thought she was and that she has a beautiful heart to go with it. I will always be grateful to her for keeping me safe  growing up.  

This is going to be a series and this is the first part. I wanted to get it on paper while my memory is thinking of it. I appreciate you all letting me ramble on about my life. I love you all and wish you a beautiful Fall Day. Always, Kimmee.

Birth Of My Heart

 A long post of the birth of my first daughter whose birthday is today. I'm saving it for her here so it will never be lost. 

It's hard to say it was just a day because it was actually 3 days. I started to feel the pulling on my body 72 hrs before and even though this was my first birth, I knew that you were trying to come home. I was so scared, alone and knew that I would have to drive myself to the hospital so I didn't want to wait too late to leave Chula Vista for the Balboa Naval hospital. I had been to the Dr on that fateful 4th day before and he had "stripped my membranes", a practice they don't do anymore, Thank God, but it was done to me and it started the process of birthing. 

It was so painful early on and I was worried so that day around 10AM, I drove myself in and after examining me, they said I was only 1 to 2 CM and they sent me home. They told me to walk a lot and stay busy so I drove back home and walked up and down the lil hill where our trailer was parked. I visited with my elderly next door neighbors and they were very worried that I would wait too long to drive myself in so around 6 PM, I drove myself back to the hospital. I was a full 3 Cm by then and they weren't going to keep me again but I told them I was alone as my husband was deployed so they put me in a room by myself, gave me an enema, and it began. 

It was so slow and I started bleeding about 11 PM.  I was so embarrassed that I kept wiping myself with the lil kleenex on the side table. I kept getting out of bed to go to the bathroom to wipe and one of the nurses finally figured out what I was doing and said, don't do that anymore. If it gets Blood on the sheet, that's OK. It was so hard for me but I stopped wiping so that they could tell how much blood I was losing. 

The baby monitor on my belly was so loud and uncomfortable with those big straps they put across me but I made myself stay put and just listened to your heartbeat. Around midnight or one, I noticed a change in your heartbeat and called the nurse. She said it was alright and to just turn on my side and try to rest, which I did. 

But I couldn't just shut off the plopping of your heartbeat. It seemed like hrs later and around 5,  a bunch of " wanna be" Drs came into my room with an instructor and they talked about me. Right in front of me. That's when I knew I was a case now. Something was going wrong and they wanted the students to see it. I became furious and yelled at them to get out of my room. They looked at me like I was the one with the problem and they left. 

All I could concentrate on was your slowing heartbeat and I was praying for what seemed like hours , for you and I to live. I had become so worried that you were not going to make it. I prayed over and over,

 yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for though art with me. 

Over and over I whispered it to your heartbeat sound on the monitor, trying to impart some energy to that slow, ploppy heartbeat. I begged the nurses to tell the Dr throughout the morning but they just reassured me that everything was alright, when I knew it wasn't. I was only 8 CM. They kept telling me , it's a first pregnancy and these things take time but I was alone, so scared and listening to what I thought, was my daughter dying. 

Your  heart beat was only in the 80's now. I watched the monitor like a hawk all the while praying,  yea though I walk through the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for though art with me, over and over. 

It was probably only an hr but it seemed like forever when the Dr finally came to see me. I used to remember the name of the dr and I'm sure it's written in Wendi's baby book but I can't bring it forward now. I think the last name was Smith. 

He looked at the monitor, pulled the sheet up and asked how long has she been bleeding? They said since last night. He listened as I did,  to the heartbeat, at which time it sounded like a wet plop into a bucket and only about 58 beats to a minute and said prep her for surgery. They nurses sprang into action. Washed off my stomach, started to shave me for a C-section and then they could see hair from your head. You were trying to be born but You had no strength and I didn't either. 

They stopped shaving me and immediately took me down the hall to surgery. I was almost out of my mind with worry so it all seemed a blur of activity. They put me on a gurney type bed, stripped my gown off and put this huge light over my the area. I was so traumatized at this point that I was so exposed, so weak from blood loss and I couldn't heart your heartbeat anymore. 

They were moving in lightening speed but it seemed like slow motion to me. They seemed urgent and I didn't know why because they tell you nothing,  when something is wrong. 

The dr was down there working, they were telling me to push. I didn't know what any of it meant. I hadn't had anyone tell me what to expect, how to breathe, what to do. I was a stranger in a strange land at 21 years of age. 

I saw the dr grab a circular shaped tool and felt him insert it into my body. I didn't understand any of it. But what I found out later is that he was trying to help pull you out. They had seen the cord around your neck. So they pulled with the forceps and what seemed like finally, you came out at 7:22 AM. 

I saw your lifeless body, all blue, with black stuff all over your face and the first words out of my mouth were, she's dead. They didn't keep you long on that table. They suctioned your nose and mouth of the merconiam and cleaned your face and whisked you away. 

They sewed me up, took me to a recovery room where for hours, they massaged my ututerus. 

I can't begin to describe to you how much that hurt. If I thought the pain of childbirth was more than I could bear, the massaging felt so painful I cried. I felt so wimpy doing that but I was in an emotional state. The nurses were rough with me. 

They said if I didn't massage it, that they would and they were so rough. So I massaged and massaged until they took me to a ward with other mothers. They kept getting me up and I was white as a sheet. I was so pale, from loss of blood. 

The last time they got me up, they put me on the toilet and left me alone. I fainted, fell off the toilet to the floor and hit my head. When they came back I was sprawled on the floor and they finally seemed to get it that I was weak. 

12 hrs after you were born, I was in the ward. The other mothers had seen and fed their babies but I had not. An officer Dr came to see me when I fainted and he examined me. He took my hand and turned it over where the palm was entirely white. He said,  you're not going to get out of bed now without help and you're not going to be alone in the bathroom till you feel better. We need to give you a couple pints of blood but I was so scared of that so I refused. 

He said what baby did you have and I told him a lil girl but I didn't know anything about her. He said, what do you mean? I said I haven't seen her. I don't know if she lived or not and I was so sad and crying. I will never forget him patting my hand. Then I saw him walk over to the nurses station where he read them the riot act. He said , this girl doesn't know if her daughter lived or died. God, he was so mad. When he was done, he came to me with a wheelchair, helped me into it and took me down to the Nursery himself. 

Once there I saw you for the very first time. 12+ hrs since you were born. You were pink now, with wires all over your little body. You were breathing, sleeping like a lil angel and you had brown hair and oh so pale skin like a China doll. 

I was so thankful to this young Dr that i couldn't thank him enough. You were alive and your life gave me a burst of energy. I had someone else to live for now. All my life seemed to suddenly make sense. The abuse, my dads drinking, my mom leaving us, my bad marriage. All of it. I knew that I had to do all that to be here for you. You were my reason and you still are. 

They moved me from the smaller recovery ward to a long ward with about 32 rooms, filled with mothers like I was and for the first time that night, I got to hold you and try to feed you. I gave you a name Wendi Gail, the Gail being after my sister Donna. The nurses said Windy gale and I said no. Wendi Gail. They said, oh man. I don't know about that and they did hurricane windy hands and laughed. 

I didn't care what anyone thought. You were my Wendi Gail and I loved you with every fiber of my being. They told me you had to eat 2 ounces before I could take you home so I kept trying to achieve that every 2 or 3 hrs when they brought you to me.

You just couldn't eat that much so at the end of the 2nd day, I started feeding the plant in the room what you couldn't eat of the 2 ounces and told the nurses you ate it all. 

I had this thought that I needed to get you home by any means so that you would be safe.  They kept waking you up to hold you because you were one of the most beautiful babies they had seen so I worried you weren't being allowed to sleep. I knew they were waking you up to hold you because they told me. They didn't know how that worried me. 

I kept quiet, kept feeding the plant and on the 3rd day, they said I could go home. I put you in my green pinto wagon and took you home. Car seats weren't required then so I held you while I drive us home. I still can't believe that I did that to this day but I didn't want to just put you on a seat and more yet, I didn't want to be away from you for a minute. We had worked too hard to get you here. I drove the miles from San Diego to Chula Vista and walked inside my home,  a 2 bedroom trailer on blocks. I went next door to get my other baby, a 3 year old tan miniature dachshund named Scooby-Doo and got ready to introduce my first baby dog to my first baby child. 

The elderly neighbors gushed over you and said what a beautiful baby you were and they brought me things over the next week til my sister Donna came to visit. I was so happy to be home with you and even more happy that you had fought to live like I had fought to live. You were born at 7:22 on June  9th 1974 weighing 6 lbs. 9 ounces and 21 inches long and 21 hours after I entered the hospital. 

You were the same poundage as the day you were born. 6-9 and i was in labor with you for 21 hours which was my age. That started the marvelous, adventurous and miraculous life that we have shared. I love you with all my heart. Happy Birthday Wendi. You are my life's breath. Love,Mom

The Wooden Doll

 

Story of A Wooden Doll

My time on this earth began in the early 1900's. I was a tree in the forest that was chosen to become a doll. 

The men whom harvested my tree and made me into chunks of wood took it to the Schilling Doll Factory in Sonneberg Thuringia Germany. I was given to a master craftsman and he began looking at the piece of wood to determine what kind of doll could be made. The man with weather beaten hands picked me up and said, “I can see you now. He was getting an image but the image he saw was his own beloved 5 yr. old daughter Gretchen. He started to carve my head and he made it have an open area on the top so that he could send me down the line to have my brown glass eyes inserted. I could now see my predicament and looked at the hundreds of dolls that lay in various stages of being made into a complete doll. My master craftsman was interested in me personally as his little Gretchen had wanted a doll for a long time and this one was for her. He followed his doll down the assembly line directing her to be made with care. 

She was finally ready to be taken to the area to be dressed and he thought “how would my little one want her to be dressed?” He picked out a Volendam Dutch costume for the doll with the solemn face and thought how proud his little girl would be when he placed it in her arms.

He returned home with pride and could see his little girl standing at the door waiting his arrival after a long day at work.. His daughter could see that he had something in his hand, but had been taught not to ask questions about dolls that he brought home, because her mutter sewed clothes for the dolls sometimes and she thought this might be another of those times. 

 Her Vater ate his meal and talked of his day and the making of a special doll with brown eyes to match his own sweet one. After eating the humble meal, he gave the package to his daughter and said “this one”s for you”. Gretchen almost choked on her sausage as he said this because she did not dare believe that at last she too had a doll. As she unwrapped the brown paper that wrapped the package, she did not breath. When at last the paper was removed, she saw the doll that occupied her dreams.  Her face was so like her own with big brown eyes like hers. She did not have hair so she asked her mutter to cut her long brown hair to place in the dolls head to make her a wig. Her Mutter consented and the doll looked back at her solemnly in thanks, she thought, for her hair. 

I lived with Gretchen for 5 years until one day she became sick with a terrible fever that took many of the factory workers including her dear Mutter. 

After Gretchens’ death her Vater could not bear to look at the doll, nor think about his beloved daughter's hair. That only brought painful reminders that his daughter could no longer light up his life with her smile. Her doll was forgotten in a drawer until money was needed to purchase food. Her Vater removed the brown paper wrapped doll without looking at her and took her to market. He bargained for food to feed his remaining family and did not give the doll a second look.

I was sent to a doll store and promptly placed in a window where many little children looked at me daily. It was the time of the war and a soldier came in one day to buy me to take to a place called America.. I was happy because I had been saddened by the death of Gretchen and needed someone to love me again. 

I was stuffed in a suitcase and began the long air ride to America. After what seemed a inordinately long amount of time I arrived to a little girl called Helen. She was a sweet little girl whom played with me endlessly and always asked me “Where did you come from?” and “who had you before me?” Whose hair is that on your head?. She could tell it was real hair but I did not tell her as I was saddened to leave Gretchen and I also did not need the reminder that she was gone and my life had changed.   (image borrowed from Google search)

I can’t say that Helen was unkind but she had many such dolls and I never felt the love that I felt when I was in Germany. We moved many times and I am sure that I lost my wooden leg on one of those moves to Canada. Many years passed and Helen grew up. I was relegated to a drawer once again. Then I was carefully placed in a box. 

My present owner found me one day in a box without my leg and unclothed on a shelf. She had very little money but had made a deal to trade her jewelry for ME.. I felt very special as no one had cared that much about me for a long time. When Gloria saw me in the box with the exact brown eyes that she had, it was all over for her. Gloria saw herself as a little girl, in that dolls face..The present owner told her the story of My travel and a bargain was made to trade the doll for jewelry. I was worth a lot and it took several gold bracelets and a diamond ring before the lady would trust Gloria with her aunts doll, but finally a bargain was made and I was on my way to The USA again.... 

Since that time in 1989 I have lived with Gloria. She has talked to me and loved me as Gretchen did and also kept Gretchen alive for me and others when she tells the story of how I came to live with her.

I now go to another lady named Ingrid to live. I don't blame Gloria, she is ill and must make sacrifices to move to a place called florida to live near her daughter, the Nurse. 

She tells me she has found a good home for me and I believe her. She even says I will have a new leg.. That would feel so good after all these years. 

She is also sending along my story so that Ingrid will know me and my life and so that she will never forget how one little girl in Germany that thought I was so special.  I am awaiting my trip and hope that my new owner will like me as I plan to like her. Who knows? There may be other dolls that I can visit with there and maybe even add another chapter to my story.

The End

of is it???????...