Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Lucky

I didn’t use to think I was lucky. I was the only grandchild who remembered Kermit. I felt that there was a lot on my shoulders to hold the scant memories I had of him tight and not think about or talk about them. No one else had them so if I talked about them would it be bragging?

I remember him being tall, but then almost everyone is taller than I am. I wanted to be tall, but I feel I am more Eunice and Lydia then the taller, svelte women on my mothers side of the family. Being short does not make me feel lucky. But then I think about the one strong memory I have of Kermit. While it’s sad, I cling to it as hard as I can.

I was three. I lived in Lexington, Kentucky with my parents, Raymond and Joyce and my younger brother Mark. We got the call that my dad needed to return to illinois quickly if he wanted to say goodbye to his father. Kermit was sick and in the hospital. They felt he would soon die. I remember driving in the car what seemed like a LONG time. Mark and I had just learned how to sing the song Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and I’m sure we must have driven my mother crazy singing it as we drove to pick up my father who was in Indiana working.

I remember being at the hospital, a big thing during those days. Children were not allowed in the hospital, and they had to get special permission for us to visit. Mark and I were supposed to sing our new song for him, but it ended up being a solo when he wouldn’t sing with me. I remember Aunt Wava standing by his bed, a sheepskin lying across his bed. His hands stroked the fleece. Afterward, Eunice took us out into the hallway and peeled an orange for us to share. Sometimes I smell an orange and it takes me back to that time.

So am I lucky? I am blessed beyond measure.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson · 1 Comment

Christmas 1980

I think I might have brought you this photo already, perhaps years ago. But I was feeling nostalgic, and this photo made me feel good. Eunice writes on the back of this photo that this was taken at Christmas of 1980. I don’t know if we planned to be seated like this, but I love it! We have Matthew, Michelle, Judd holding Julie, Eunice holding Nicholas, Mark holding Isaac, Jennifer, and Kim. The Schneiderman’s bookend all the Millers. So Cute!!

While we are spread across the nation and celebrating with families of our own, I think back to these days when we were all together. While it’s been years since we were together, we remain family, which neither time nor distance can change. As we begin this holiday season, may you have peace and joy with some childlike wonder thrown in.

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

We Had Special Grandparents

Last week, on the other blog pages, I wrote about grandparents, my father’s mother, and my husband’s great-grandmother. Today, I’m writing about our Bill and Jean Jorden. Parents first, wonderful grandparents, and outstanding great-grandparents. 

When I found this photo all I could do was sit and stare at it. I didn’t remember ever seeing a photo taken with both my grandparents and just my brother Mark and myself. There were always other people in any photo taken with the Jorden’s. Not that it is a bad thing at all! There are a lot of us, so to find this photo of just the four of us amazed me. 

Bill was the only grandfather I ever “knew”. My paternal grandfather had died when I was 3 years old and I have few memories of him. Bill received all my grandpa hugs, all my grandpa jokes, all my grandpa laughs. To me he was the inventor of the family. As large as life itself and just as great. Able to appreciate the birds and trees and teach us all how to filet a fish. I’ll never forget when he told me I hadn’t hit the fish hard enough on the head. I miss his fried fish. 

I could go on and on about what made Bill Jorden an amazing grandfather, but I’d be preaching to the choir. They tell me that he was also amazing on the job, but to me, Bill shined with his family.

When I was 10, I asked my parents if I could be called Shelly.  I knew a girl in school with that name and thought it would be cool and easier to spell.  My mom said if I had wanted you called Shelly I would have named you that.  So, no fun names for me. But Bill, he had a nickname for me.  He’d always called me ’Chell.  He made me feel special.  To date, there have been only three people to call me that: my grandfather, my brother, and my husband.  The last time I saw him, he couldn’t hear very well, but once he figured out it was me, he’d pat me on the cheek and say ” ‘Chell’s here.” Still large as life to me and just as special.

My grandmother made everyone feel unique and seen.  I don’t know how she did it with 12 grandchildren, but she did.  While she would share news of my cousins when she visited, or we were there, she’d always ensure her focus was on you.  She knew what we all liked and would ensure we’d have that to do with her.  I’ve never met anyone equal to her in games, especially cards.  And words, too.  Jean excelled at any game, puzzle, or teaser that had words in it.  While I enjoy boggle, I still have memories of her finding so many more words than I do that it’s hard for me to play.  

I know that my family feels the same as I do, that we’d love one more opportunity to be in Bill and Jean’s presence. For now, our memories and photos will have to do. Until that day, we are once more reunited, and we can tell them thank you for making us all feel so loved. 

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Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Feeling Special

When I found this photo, the feelings that I had were overwhelming. It wasn’t because it was a Christmas photo or that we had an aluminum tree. It was the look on my grandma’s face. The love I see there is how she always made me feel. Now I’m not saying my time with Eunice was always smiling times and sunshine. We had our storms and personality clashes. But I always felt her love for me. 

Like many from her era, Eunice was not a professor of loving words. She was raised in a time when children should be seen and not heard. I never asked her what her relationship with her parents was like. She’d tell me stories about them, but never how she felt; they were her parents. After the years spent serving the children and families of West Wichita, I have seen what it’s like when a child is not nurtured with praise or feels like they are loved. I’m not saying that Eunice experienced this with her parents, but it would explain a lot in how she treated others. 

Eunice was, at times, hard to love, and her personality was too much for some. As someone who also can be a lot, I could commiserate with how she may feel. Many times, it was just her and us, Mark and I. But sometimes, I got lucky when she’d come and visit us, and it would be just her and I. She liked to talk about Kermit and her father and I liked to listen. 

It wasn’t until I became a grandmother that I thought about how I wanted my grandchildren to feel, especially when remembering me. It doesn’t matter what photo I see with Eunice in it; her love is right there, shining back at me. Even at the end, when her memories and personality shifted, I still felt love from her. Even though she couldn’t have told me how we were related, I felt she knew we were family. 

My hope is that my brothers and cousins feel the same way I do, but I know they had their own relationships with Eunice and some of them were strained. I witnessed my brother Isaac struggle to find shared interests or topics that he and she could discuss. While they never were able to grow their relatioship, I don’t think it stopped Eunice from loving him or anyone else. While I miss receiving that love from her, I feel so blessed to have these photos so I know that THIS is how I want my grandchildren to feel when they think of me. 

Posted on by Michelle Anderson

Uncles Day

Wayne Miller, Michelle Miller, Mark Miller and Randy Schneidermann

I have been blessed to be born to a family that forges strong relationships.  At the time of this photo, we lived in Shelburn, Indiana just a quick 5 hour drive away.  While Mark and I were not able to live in the same area as our extended family, when we visited they made up for it.  

Uncle Wayne and Uncle Randy allowed us to tag after them being their shadows wherever they went.  And that meant we too got up early and did chores with Grandma Miller and the Uncles.  One job we had was to walk in front of the tractor and shoo away the turkeys so that they could be fed.  Another was to catch the just born piglets for shots and teeth trimming.  One of the best jobs I ever had was helping them with their chores.  I’m sure we would frustrate them with all our questions and energy, but they never showed it or treated us any differently.  

So today, I make it honorary UNCLES DAY and I thank them for all the support and encouragement they have given to their nieces and nephews over the years.  

Even though this photo says March 1972, I don’t think that it was taken then but perhaps the year earlier and Eunice just didn’t have it developed until then.  

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Michelle, Mark and Joyce Miller on a sunny day outside the Miller farmhouse