A Bonny Farewell

The world recently lost one spunky Scottish lady, but Heaven just got a bit more fun.

I was Christina Wilkinson's caregiver for about four years until she moved to Texas in 2014. She was not actually related to me but by the time we wrapped up our "working" relationship, I felt like we had a bond that went beyond family - if that is even possible.

When I got the call last Monday that she had passed away, the news affected me deeply even though I had not seen her since her 99th birthday, when I traveled to Houston. I was not able to be there for her 100th or 101st birthday although we spoke on the phone on both occasions. Our conversation on February 28 would be our last conversation and was admittedly brief. Her breathing in recent months had become labored, but she managed to tell me a little about the festivities held in her honor.

She could not hold up her end of the conversation so her caregiver completed the call. I do know that I was able to tell her that I loved her and I am grateful that those were our final words to each other. I have regrets that I did not see her more often once she left. If only Texas weren't half a world away. But now she is with me always and since Monday I have been replaying in my mind memories from our years together.

Some of my most treasured memories include the annual spring greening. We would go to Home Depot and she would peruse the plants du jour and pick out the ones she thought were just right. From those plants we would create lovely planters that would decorate both her front and back porches. Even with her poor eyesight, she knew just what plants to put together and the arrangements would be admired all summer long.

I especially loved Christmas time. She only had a little tree, but I would spend hours bringing all the decorations down from the attic to holiday-up her cozy abode. She told me where to place each item and there was no going off book. Aunt Chris, as I called her, had a story for many of the decorations which would often lead to reminiscing about family and friends. She often was reflective about how many loved ones had gone before her and wondered why at 90+ she was still around. I told her God didn't need her yet and there was still more for her to do.

I guess one of the biggest lessons I learned from Aunt Chris was how anything is possible. When I turned 40, and was feeling sorry for myself, I was looking for role models, people who even though past their "prime" were achievers. I looked to Willie Stargel - who was the World Series MVP at age 39 or Lucille Ball who was 40 when the first episode of "I Love Lucy" aired. Weeks after my 40th birthday, Aunt Chris would move to Texas at age 98. This was a move that although did not happen as swimmingly as it sounds, was surprising and awe inspiring.

It was out of necessity that she had to move. Her health was not so good at the time and being close to her son and his family in Texas seemed like the best option. She knew this but was reluctant to leave her home, her things, her life and completely start over. This is a scary proposition at any age and I don't know where she found the strength, but she did it.  (I do give her son lots of credit for rising to the occasion amid a hurricane of Scottish stubbornness heading to the airport.)

But even though she is gone, each day I write for The Valley Mirror is a gift in a way from her. It is because she needed to get her paper every Thursday, the day it comes out, that I got to know the staff at the paper. With my background in journalism, and need for a job once Aunt Chris moved away, everything fell into place. When she and I talked on the phone she always asked me how things were going at The Valley Mirror.

It is strange sometimes how in hindsight things become so clear - how she and I were meant to share those years together so I could eventually share my stories with you. The world has lost part of its appeal now that she is no longer a part of it, but I am a better person for having known and cared for her.

Linda's Legacy

With Mother's Day approaching, my siblings and I are trying to find a way to honor our mother for always being there for us. She not only brought us into the world, but she nurtures us, teaches us and loves us with every fiber of her being. For me, she is the one person I have always been able to count on - hands down. I strive each day to live up to the example set forth by my mother for my children.

But while I am very lucky to still have my mother around to share her guidance and wisdom - I do not have my mother-in-law. In fact, I never had the chance to meet my mother-in-law. She died six months before I met her son.

Over the years I have often wondered, "Would Linda have liked me? Would we have gotten along? Would she have approved of her son's choice for his wife?"When I have shared these thoughts with my husband of course he says what I want to hear. "Yes, she would have liked you."

But he does admit his mother was very protective of him and that may have caused us to butt heads once in a while. We probably would have exchanged words when after an endoscopy I asked my husband to dig up my flower garden. I really don't think he was down from the anesthesia yet and I was cracking the whip. "Get up sleepy head there is work to do!"

But after 18 years, these questions still linger. I feel like I've missed out on a part of marriage that may have helped me understand the inner workings of my spouse. Oftentimes during the course of our years together, my husband will say to me , "You are your father's daughter" or he will playfully call me by my mother's name when I sneeze after meals, get a name wrong or hoot and holler in a way that is reminiscent of her.

 There are times when my husband's behavior or way he says something reminds me of his dad, but I never know when he is being like his mom. Looking at our three children, I wonder what traits have they inherited from her side of the family. With her ties to Ohio, I wonder, "Is that why my son roots for the Bengals?" And because of her love of country music I wonder, "Is that why my daughter likes Tim McGraw?"

Linda's love of music may also have been a point of contention between she and I. Although she loved The Beatles, she thought Elvis reigned supreme. I know we would have debated that point extensively probably only to resign ourselves to the fact that "I Saw Her Standing There" is one of the best songs ever. I would have given Elvis points for "Kentucky Rain", which gets me every time I hear it - I'm not sure if subconsciously that's because of her family ties to the Bluegrass state.

My husband and I have tried to piece together what we know about her ethnicity and for that reason we celebrate St. Patrick's Day each year. I make corned beef and cabbage as well as soda bread, which has become a beloved tradition. For even the small sliver of Irish that might be represented in my children's DNA, I want them to have a connection to her. God knows we celebrate every Hunky holiday under the sun for my side of the family- they should get the best of both worlds.

I treasure the stories my husband has shared over the years about his mom. I have so many of her handwritten recipes that I wish I had the time to make. I love watching the home movie of my husband's first birthday. He was so miserable sitting in front of his cake and his beautiful mother did everything she could to put a smile on his little face. Etched in my mind is how she removed the small plastic Snoopy from his cake (which I think frightened him) and kissed it to show it was ok - how she sampled the icing to show the baby how it is done - and how she lightly fluttered around the kitchen seemingly so happy to be celebrating this special occasion.

I know Linda was a hard worker and had many jobs over the years. I know she went through years of heartbreak before finally having children. I am thankful that she never gave up on having a family because without her determination and sense of purpose, the world would be without her daughter and son and her five amazing grandchildren.

So while I look forward to celebrating another Mother's Day with my mother, part of me will be thinking about my mother-in-law. While I continue to ponder all the what ifs, I believe in my heart she is always with me.  I may not always recognize obvious moments when her personality is shining through, but with every meal my husband makes, in every song my children sing and in every hug we share - she is there. I may never know if she would have been happy with me for a daughter-in-law, but as Elvis sang, "Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be."

Drink Comfortably

I cover a lot of ribbon cuttings, groundbreakings and grand openings because of my job. I have to admit I have always wanted to be "important" enough to hold those huge gold scissors and snip the yellow tape, red bow or decorative string in two. Although I have covered many of these events it wasn't until this past weekend that I really understood why people have this ceremonial "ritual".

Three guys I have known for twenty years opened their own business this weekend. It has taken several years for their brewery to come to fruition, but it seems it was always destined to be. I had the pleasure of working with these gentlemen (a term I use loosely) early on in my career and although a mischievous sense of humor can overpower their other human qualities, their dedication to hard work always shined through.

Working at a small town television station you find out who has what it takes to make it in this rough and tumble world. Long hours, ancient equipment, low pay - these are the things that try a person's mettle. But these guys would never shirk from helping a person when they were in a jam and ALWAYS left you with a laugh for the road.

Seeing their establishment up close and personal was truly a memorable moment. These guys worked so hard and completely transformed what was once a dismal, empty space. Dry wall, painting, laying cement -  these three left their blood (literally), sweat and tears all over this brewery and it is a marvel to see what they were able to do.

I never really thought of all the decisions that go into starting a new business until I saw their place. All the pieces that had to be acquired, the furniture, the bar, the lighting fixtures. This labor of love came together slowly and the investment of time and money is overwhelming. It is such a gamble to go out and try to put your mark on the business world. It is certainly not a venture for the faint of heart but for these three, it is a mission they have no choice but to make successful.

The most telling part of this story is the fact that the threesome was originally a foursome. One of the partners died tragically two years ago. The sudden loss of the driving force behind this venture could have been the end to the dream, but that was not an option. Honoring their friend, by providing great beer to the masses in a comfortable setting, was going to be a reality - no matter what it took.

There is a shadowbox behind the bar which contains an embroidered shirt for the silent partner who inspired this journey. He lives on each day the brewery is open, in every toast that is toasted, and in every growler that is emptied.

It is these kind of stories that make a ribbon cutting day one to savor. Yeah, it is nice to see the photo op, it is fun to hear the snip of the scissors and cheers of hurray, but it is important to reflect on the moments along the way that inspired people to take a chance and go for it.

I have always liked Franklin Delano Roosevelt's quote, "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself." But for these guys the quote would go - there is no fear just drink beer!