Egg Hunt

This weekend we celebrated one of our annual family traditions. We don't buy our children birthday presents, I don't even do cards, they just get a "happy birthday dude" on the phone or facebook.  I have on occasion even forgotten to do that!  With our bunch totaling twenty seven, we have to keep our Christmas's modest, so, we do other things through the year and one of those things is an Easter Egg hunt for the big "kids", ranging in age from twenty three years to thirty nine!

This year each colored egg was worth one dollar and camouflage eggs were mostly worth $5, but a few had $10, and a couple had $20 written in them.  We usually schedule it on Saturday of Easter weekend, as most of them spend Easter with their other families.  With a family this size we have found it easier to let the other families have the actual holidays and we celebrate on other days so we can all be together.  They all came for lunch, this year it was spaghetti and we were treated to the usual trash talk about who would be the champion!  After we clean up the dishes, we loaded up the bus and headed to where Pa and I had hidden the plastic eggs.  I did my best to explain the boundaries, but they were so hyped and anxious to get started they didn't listen.  I know this because they were constantly screaming to ask us if there were any up here or over here and I had to scream the boundaries again.  I have to scream over Mark who is screaming at them that they should have listened the first time.  Soon, there are shouts of "CAMO EGG!", followed by "GOOD JOB HONEY!".  Meanwhile Grandpa and Grandma corral the grandkids and we hide candy for them in a different area so they have something to hunt too.  After about forty five minutes we gathered to count eggs.  Knowing there were thirty two camouflage eggs and only twenty were found some headed back out again, but many stayed behind being too pooped to go on looking.  Eventually even the "die hards" give up, accepting the fact that some of the eggs will stay hidden forever!  Back at home we sat down and counted out each couple's eggs and I paid out the loot.  There was much hootin' and howlerin' and braggin' by the winners, and pictures were taken of each couple and their haul!  This years winning couple was Ryan and Karen.

The kids always look forward to it, but they always tell us "you don't have to do this guy's".  We know that, and we probably won't do it forever, but  right now we all enjoy it.  We get a kick out of creating fun for the Daddy's and Mommy's who we watch put so much time and effort into doing things for their own children.  We have as much fun, if not more, planning the day, the place, and hiding the eggs as they do finding them.  And as hard as it is to make ends meet as a young family, our goal is that they will all find enough to take their family out to a movie or dinner.  We love making memories with them.  But most of all, we love watching thirty-somethings take out running across a field with a sack in their hand, searching for plastic easter eggs and how excited they get when they find one.  I guess it is true, there's a little kid inside of each of us, no matter what our age!

Rebuke a Wise Man

My bible reading plan has me in Proverbs this week.  It is one of those books you can't help but love and can have new revelations every time you open it up.  Such was the case again today.  In Proverbs Chapter nine I read:

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding." Verse 10

"The woman Folly is loud, she is undisciplined and without knowledge."  Verse 13

"Do not rebuke a fool or he will hate you, but rebuke a wise  man and he will love you"  Verse 8

When I look around today, I think how very true!  The so called educated leaders, news people, and other celebrities think they are so wise but they don't have a clue and are running our country into the dirt.  They mock people who believe in God and have done everything in their power to take him out of any public arena.  No wonder, because they have no fear of God, they have no wisdom or understanding.  They are full of folly, they are definitely undisciplined, spending this country to the brink of bankruptcy.  And heaven forbid that someone may point out that they may be wrong or a different idea may work better.  That just opens up more finger pointing and hateful jabs back at that person.  Both sides seem to be concerned with only one thing, keeping themselves in power.  How long can a country last when their leaders only produce legislation that will buy them votes and keep their party in power instead of what would be good for the country?

But enough about other people. (Isn't that typical, how many times do we read the bible and think "YEAH!  So and so needs to read that!!!)  I don't think that was God's intended use for his scriptures but one I've been guilty of many many times.  These three verses speak volumes about my life.  I can't think of a truer statement about me than "when I came to know the Lord it was the beginning of wisdom and knowledge in my life."  Not to say by any means that I know it all, far from that, but it opened up the path for God to reveal new things to me each and every day.  Before that time, I was the woman "Folly".  I was loud, undisciplined and without knowledge.  Believe me, I can still be that woman, but because I know the Lord, I am sensitive to his desire for my life and open to his rebuke. 

 Which brings me to the third verse, verse eight.  How difficult a verse to put into action in my own personal life.  "Do not rebuke a fool or he will hate you, but rebuke a wise man and he will love you".  I can remember when I was a teenager my mother saying, "Norma, you are not very good at taking criticism" and I would think, "Well who would be!"  But as God points out in this verse, it is to my own benefit when someone shows me where I may be wrong or something I can do better.  How easy, foolish, and childish  it is to become defensive and lash back at the person who said something to me.  How humble to contemplate what was said and discern if there may be an element of truth to it.  How wise I would be, if I realize the person was right, to not only not be mad at them, but to thank them for their concern for me and their courage to speak up.   I don't even think it is humanly possible, it is only with the grace of the Lord that I could ever accomplish this, but it is definitely a goal worth working toward.  Because after all, I  want to be the best person, best mother, best wife, best daughter of Christ that I can be.  If  I am falling short in some way, and someone on the outside looking in sees it, and lovingly makes me aware, it will only help me accomplish those goals better.  Probably one of the hardest criticism's to take would be from someone who isn't on the outside looking in, but rather from someone who is on the inside with me, like a husband, or a child, or a parent.  I know I would (and have) immediately start thinking about all the things that they do wrong in my eyes and be ready to let them have it with both barrels!  But, I just can't seem to pull out of these verses anything that remotely says that is the way to react wisely.

Off the beaten path

 Update:  Mark feels great!  Better than he has in twelve years!  They told him there wasn't anything right about the way his former pacemaker leads were put in.  They were too short, looped wrong and the ends were even placed in the wrong part of his heart.  No wonder the poor dude has felt like warmed over death this past decade!   Amazing how the arrogant, "thought they were God's gift to cardiology" doctors with the big fancy office got it so wrong so many years ago and how the humble, down to earth doctors we have now got it right!  (Sorry, I'm not a fan of arrogant doctors!)  But, bless Mark's heart, not once have I heard him lament the loss of health for twelve years of his life, I have only heard him express gratitude that he finally feels good again.  In fact he keeps getting on me to send a thank you card to his cardiologist and surgeon!

Now, he is determined to keep the "good" times going, so we are trying to eat as healthy as two people who love to eat can, and walking anywhere from three to five miles every morning.  We could be the human form of those commercials that were on TV a while back for some weight loss drug that showed the little stick man shrinking down to nothing while his poor little chubby stick wife keeps looking the same. He has shed about ten pounds and looks fantastic, while I, on the other hand, keep watching the scale stay stuck on the same line day after day after day! But that really is alright.  I feel good and I know that eating right and exercising at our age is more about health and feeling good than it is about skinny jeans.

 



But even more than that, our walks are like a mini vacation every day!  And I have Mark to thank for that.  He announced the first day that he can't stand just walking the road.  He wants to be able to see new things.  I thought, "OK, and exactly how are you going to do that, we can only walk four different directions from our house and it pretty much all looks the same."  I couldn't have been more wrong.  We do off-road walking!    He talks to the land owners around us and gets their permission and we and our dog Shadow head out cross country through pastures and wheat fields and I absolutely love it.  I never know which way we're heading.  He makes that decision and is always thinking of new places to take me and it is a surprise each morning.  Last night I heard him talking to someone on the phone and when I asked who he had been talking to he said he was getting permission from someone to take me on a walk through a new place.  Occasionally, we load up in the pickup and drive a short ways to get to where he wants us to walk.  I had no idea the beauty that surrounds me and all within five miles of home!   We've seen a newborn colt who wasn't even dry yet, countless deer, had turkeys run right in front of us and fly into a tree, and watched dozens of gorgeous sunrises.  We've walked though the plum thicket groves in full bloom, walked to many farm ponds and watched Shadow learn how to swim in them, walked by the river and collected all sorts of

interesting treasures to show the grandkids like different animal skulls and deer antlers.  We've come upon some amazing deep gullies, climbed down into shadowy basins and climbed up some very steep cliffs to get out of them that left us laughing and catching our breath when we finally reached the top. I am always so glad that my phone takes pictures so I could capture some of the truly breathtaking scenery stretched out before us.  I tell him every morning that I feel like I'm on vacation, traveling down a scenic walking trail.  What a wonderful way to start our days!  Gotta go, I've got some thank you cards to write!

Buck Pee and Syrup

Today is my oldest Grandson Brett's eleventh birthday.  Brett is an interesting child to say the least!  When he was a toddler, he didn't give his mother a moment's slack.  Now, he hardly ever gives his mother a moments trouble.  A couple of the adventures he sent his mamma on are definitely worth archiving in our families history blog!

Adventure number one started with a frantic phone call from daughter Kristi.  Brett was about two years old and good mommy that she was, she called me instead of beating her little darling within a inch of his life.  Seems little Brett found the syrup bottle and took it to his parents bedroom, popped the top and proceeded to squirt it across the shoes in the closet, on their clothes, jumped up on the bed leaving a trail of syrup everywhere he went.  There was syrup on each blanket, each sheet, each pillow, each shoe, each wall, well, pretty much every inch of their bedroom.  When I answered the phone, I heard, "OKAY!  Give it to me straight!  What am I doing wrong as a parent and what can I do differently because I don't think this is what normal children do!!!!"  I assured her that normal toddlers can get into things you would never imagine but she  assured me that she had been around toddlers all her life being the oldest of six children and she didn't care if it was normal she honestly wanted to know what I had observed in her parenting and what I would do differently.  Wow!  How many mothers ever have that questioned posed to them?  (That is just an example of Kristi's humility and willingness to learn from others.  We have often commented on this positive trait of hers.) But truthfully I had not witnessed any grievous parenting mistake but she pressed me to come up with something because "She was turning this child around!"

So, I told her the only piece of parental advice I have ever given any of my children.  You are the boss!  The child is not the boss.  If you want them to do something or want them not to do something, say it once and mean it.  Choose your battles carefully, because if you tell them not to do something and then later decide that it really was no big deal and let them do it, it sends the wrong message to them, the message that if they just keep trying they will get you to cave.  Don't worry about what other people expect out of their children, different families have different rules and expectations.  Each family will learn what is important and what works for them.  But make sure they know what you expect out of them, and again, YOU are the boss, they aren't.  In too many families it's the other way around.

Grandpa loves to tell the syrup story as well as the one below.  He always finishes it by saying he doesn't know what Kristi did to Bert (what he calls Brett) that night and he probably doesn't want to know, but he was a completely different kid after that, a model child who never got into anything.  I don't think that was probably the case, but you know how grandpa's love to exaggerate!


The next story I'm not for sure where it fit into the timeline of the syrup showdown, if it was before or after, but it definitely deserves a place in the archives also. This time Brett was just trying to mimic his daddy whom he adores.  Shane is an avid hunter and so of course little Brett loved to imitate him and played hunting all over the house.  One day Kristi saw him with her squirt bottle of water that she used for her hair, squirting it all over the living room furniture.  " Brett, stop squirting that water all over the furniture" she said as she took the bottle away from him.  "But Mommy", he cried, "It's not water it's my buck pee so the deer will come."  "At first Kristi laughed but them she glanced at the bottle and hoped she was just seeing things when she thought she caught a glimpse of faint yellow in the bottle.  She took off the top and sniffed and sure enough, Brett had dumped the water and proceeded to make his own "Buck pee".

Today Kristi has four little boys ranging in age from Brett's eleven to baby Branden's one.  She is a wonderful mother to boys.  Whenever she was working outside and wanted the boys to keep the youngest one safe she would tell them to pretend he was an "injured soldier and they had to keep the enemy from getting him" thus she has a knack of making a chore into fun.  Brett now, is a very independent little eleven year old, getting up and making his own breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.  Kristi has seen him outside when the others are playing and he's picking up the yard and when she asks what he is doing, he'll answer "Oh, I thought I should be doing something constructive."  Kristi has commented many times that she sometimes worries about how old he acts and wishes he would just be a kid.

When our family of twenty seven all get together, we are quite a boisterous bunch, noisy, silly, and probably a bit embarrassing for the pre-teens among us.  Last year for his tenth birthday we gave Brett a surprise party.  We decorated our family bus, loaded everybody up, drove into his yard, his uncle went in and grabbed him, carried him upside down onto the bus as we all screamed "Surprise!"  We then headed to a bowling alley forty miles away for pizza and bowling.  As usual when we all get together we had a blast.  But the one thing I will never forget about that particular time was how much fun Brett had.  How he turned lose and we actually saw this ultra-mature"thirty year old in a ten year old body" transform into a child in front of our very eyes.  So thanks for the memories Brett and now this grandma is going to go in and bake you some chocolate chip cookies for your eleventh!

"Heartfelt" Memories

Wow!  Long day!  Never dreamed this would be a surgery that would take over six hours.  So thankful the kids were here to wait with me.  Now, their home safe and I'm weary to the bone.  I'm heading out to my sister's house to sleep here in a minute but I don't want to leave till Mark is awake enough to tell him goodbye.  We humans are never satisfied are we?  For months now, I've been saying I'll just be glad when it's over, now I'm saying I'll be glad when he's all healed!  Once we got the word that all was well, the kids and I started walking down memory lane.  We spent the six hours waiting in the same waiting room where I spent some of the most agonizing hours of my life twelve years ago.

 On that fateful day, at our local hospital the word heart attack was never mentioned, all the doctor would say to me was his heart was definitely "irritable".  I'm sure that was his way of keeping me calm.  So on the airplane ride to the city hospital, I thought we would find out he had some sort of spell and be home the next day.  I mean after all, we were both just a couple years removed from our thirty's!  When the ambulance deposited us both at the emergency room entrance, I was met by the most arrogant, non-compassionate, human being I have ever met.  He may have had the reputation of being the city's top cardiologist, but his bed side manner had to be the worst known to mankind!  He gruffly asked if I was the wife and when I said yes, he flippantly said they were going to take him back and see if there was anything they could do, but he doubted if there was, it was too late.  Suddenly feeling faint, I cried out, "you know that already without even seeing him!?!" and he said "Yes, he could tell by the EKG they sent that the damage was already done and there was nothing they would be able to do." I stopped cold and watched them wheel my life down the hall.  Since I had come on the plane with Mark, I had no family or friends there with me yet.  I felt someone take hold of my elbow and lead me to the waiting room.  Within an hour my children ranging in age from twenty four to eleven arrived.  I remember looking up and seeing their expectant faces wanting me to tell them all was well and thinking I need an adult here with me.  I couldn't believe I was the adult!  Finally a nurse came out to tell us that the doctor wanted us to know that it wasn't quite as bad as he thought it was going to be.  About that time close friends and our minister arrived.  Together they helped us get through the next few hours.  The doctor from hell (sorry, I don't have good memories of the dude) came out and said Mark was lucky to be alive, the LAD artery (aka the widow maker) was 99% blocked and therefore damage had occurred, but he had been able to put a stent in and he should recover.  I asked if this meant he would have a shortened lifespan.  He looked down on me like I was some sort of moron and sarcastically said, "Well yes!  You don't develop hardened arteries and have a heart attack at his age and expect to live to be an old man!"  I decided right there and then I was done asking this man anything.  After he left, oldest daughter Kristi came and knelt down in front of me, took my hands in hers and said "Mom, that doctor doesn't know anything.  If God wants Dad to live to be one hundred, he will live to be one hundred."  I said "Oh, Kristi, I'm not wanting one hundred, I'm just hoping for sixty five!"  (At the age of forty two, that seemed like a long long ways off, but now it doesn't seem like nearly long enough - I want more!)

Over the next few days, I remember being with Mark in his room and my girls in this waiting room.  The boys, aged eleven and twelve stayed with friends but the girls stayed with me.  They slept in the waiting room on the floor with blankets and pillows.  I remember as long as they were with me I was I was good, but when I was alone it all came crashing in.  But  I also remember laughing hysterically with them.  One event that brought this on was when Kristi and Jamie walked to a quick trip from the hospital one night, which wasn't the brightest decision they could have ever made because it is not the best neighborhood.  In fact we found out later that they have security guards to walk people to the parking garage.    But alas, at twenty four and fifteen, they thought they could take on the world.  As they neared the store they saw someone who looked like a shady character to them so Kristi told her little sister, "Jamie if that guy comes after us, don't worry I've been doing Tia Bo, just do what I do."  Jamie said, "But I won't have a clue what I'm doing!" so Kristi comforted her by saying "Well just hit him with your best cheerleading kick!"  I am very happy to report that the guy did not pursue them because with self defense like that, I don't think the outcome would have been a good one!

One thing I distinctly remember was the strong feeling of God's presence beside me every step of the way.  I remember hearing him tell me that this may feel like I was walking through hell, but it actually was a blessing.  I held on to that thought, thinking I may not know what the blessing was in this life, but someday I will know.  I think in the past twelve years, I have been given glimpses of the blessing we were given on that day.  First of all, I saw at a young age how fragile life is.  I not only try to treat Mark like it could be my last day with him but also everyone I love.  I appreciate every single day I have with him.  Little irritants no longer irritate.  I can see the way it has matured both of us, how God has molded us both as we have walked through the "fire",  especially Mark.  Twelve years ago he was the world's worst patient, mad at the nurses, mad at the world, bitter, depressed, everything that they had told us a young heart patient would go through.  Now, he accepts everything as just a part of life.  He is kind to the nurses, grateful for all they do for him.  His attitude is unbelievable.  If he does get down, he pulls himself back up.  He learned that feeling sorry for himself only manages to make him feel worse.  I have watched him learn to rely on God, instead of himself when things get rough.  Of course if I could wiggle my nose and give him a strong healthy heart I would, but I can see how the "gift" God gave us has made us the people we are today.  I can see that the husband I have at fifty five is an even better version than the one I had at forty two!  And I couldn't be more grateful that I am the one lucky enough to have him for at least a few more years.

Waiting Room

Today, I write from a hospital waiting room, a place that has become very familiar to me in the past twelve years.  On May 30, 1999, my then forty three year old husband suffered a heart attack.  The following year was a nightmare as we dealt with one setback after another.  He went through probably six additional heart cath's in that first year alone as chest pain was a constant for him.  In July, his heart rate was only thirty beats a minute so he had a pacemaker installed.  It helped, but within a couple months they realized that one of the leads had apparently not attached the way it should and was not firing properly, so they put an extra one in.  This, along with the usual trial and error to get the right medicine combination and dosage that accompanies a heart patient's recovery made for a memorable year to say the least!

After we got through that first year, things got better and people who do not know him would never guess he is a heart patient.  He has a very physical job and can do work that a lot of guys his age can no longer do. A year ago, after an episode of feeling bad, we went to his cardiologist for a check up and he didn't come back home for ten days and when he did, it was to recover from a triple by-pass.  I was SO grateful we got him to the doctor before it was too late, the cardiologist's said he probably wouldn't have lasted much longer as he was almost 100% blocked in three arteries. We expected him to feel better than he had in a long time, and I did thrill to the fact that he could go on long walks with me at a good clip and not have to stop, bend over, grab his chest, and catch his breath.  He complained though, that he still didn't feel good.  He said he was still waiting for that "Wow!" factor everyone said he would experience.  Several times a day, for no apparent reason, he would suddenly feel very weak and dizzy.  Call's and visit's to the doctor were met with questions like are you getting enough rest, are you drinking enough water, are you getting up too quickly, and so on.  On two different occasions he passed completely out and fell to the ground.  The first time was out at his shop when I wasn't around but the second time I was.  It is just a little disconcerting when you are at a garage sale with the love of your life and he kills over between a freezer and a doll house.  Luckily no one else noticed, I helped him up, we got in our vehicle, I called the doc and said we have got to figure out what is causing this because THIS IS NOT NORMAL!!!  Since we were already in town, they had us come right over.  Eventually it was discovered that one of his pacemaker leads is bad and when he moves a certain way it shorts completely out.

So here we are, having his entire system replaced.  They are going to replace it with a pacemaker/defibrillator so if his heart ever goes into cardiac arrest it'll shock the heck out of him and he'll keep on ticking!  I like that!  In order to replace everything, including all three leads, they will use a special machine that fits around the leads and using a laser, will cut all of the scar tissue away from them all the way down to his heart, and then they will unscrew the lead out of his heart tissue and replace them with new ones.  He and I have been through a heart attack, a dozen heart cath's, a triple by-pass, a pacemaker installation, pacemaker battery upgrade, a hernia repair, knee surgery and a few other misc hospital stays, but this is a new one, and I'll admit, I'm a little scared.  We both know it probably is nothing compared to the by-pass we went through a year ago, but we are still apprehensive.  I mean, how much trauma can one heart take?!  One of our fears is that if there are any complications they will have to split him open again.  He has kept the most wonderful upbeat additude through all of this, but I think that having to go through that again when he just recovered from the first go round would be enough to send his spirit crashing to the depths.  I sure will be glad when they step out here and say it is all done and everything went well.

 Thank goodness for kids who put their lives on hold to come and support their parents through these trying times.  I have Kristi and her boys, Karen, grandaughter Lexi, Stacie, and Kyle all here with me and I know the other two are praying.  It helps keep my mind off of the "what if's" that will raise their ugly heads during the next four - five hours. Those darn things sure came to visit me a lot this past week. As long as it was daytime and I had work to do, worries stayed away.  But, as is the case with everyone, at night, when I would wake up, worries became monsters and imagination ran wild.  I would snuggle up to Mark and wonder if this was my last week to have him.  Knowing it was a silly thought, but unable to put it out of my mind enough to go back to sleep, I would pray.  I asked Jesus to please keep him safe for me, to guide the doctor's hands, to give me many more years with this wonderful man.  And He would calm me, I slept again, waking the next day with the monsters at bay once more, until the next middle of the night.  Today turned into tomorrow, into the next day and into the next until here I am, waiting once again for a man in a white coat to come out and tell me that my soul is intact, my life is worth living, my world is still turning and my sun still shines.

The Storm of '71

How many dates do you have implanted in your brain?  Dates that you remember exactly what you were doing and where you were on that day, no matter how many years have passed.  I'm not talking about the biggies like 9/11, I'm talking days that were big in your life, or your neck of the woods.  For instance, January 24th was a doosey for me.  On January 24th, 1969, my HUGE crush walked with me to the park and kissed me on a park bench.  This guy was such a crush I still to this day remember his car's license plate.  I think that may be in part because I didn't want anyone to know I liked him, so I referred to him even in my diary as AL554.  In that year I wrote AL554 and January 24th so many times they have stuck in my brain.  Now, when that day in January rolls around I have to chuckle and thank the Lord above that nothing ever materialized with Mr. AL554.  I'm very happy I ended up with the one I got instead!

Forty years ago today, February 22, 1971 is one of those dates, not just for me, but for a lot of people from around here.  I was fifteen years old and a snowstorm hit this area unlike any ever since.  I don't remember  details like snow totals or exactly how hard the wind blew, but I do know there was no such thing as a fence for a several county swath.  The drifts were clear up over some houses.  Some of the main highways were blocked for a week, some of the country roads for a few weeks.  School was out for a week.  My biggest concern was that I was snowed-in at home which was twenty two miles from town and one of my girlfriends who also lived out in the booney's got snowed-in in town.  Talking to her on the phone I got to hear all about her and my other friends in town sledding, and having a wonderful time while I was bored and feeling sorry for myself half a county away!

For my husband it was a whole different story.  He was also snowed in at his house which was seven miles from a different town, but he had a lot more to worry about than being bored.  His Dad was very ill and was in a hospital eighty miles away along with his mother.  Back at the farm, Mark, two of his sisters, his brother and their families were snowed in with him.  The extended family had come home having gotten word that their Dad had taken a turn for the worse.  With their minds on their Dad of course, no one thought to stock up on groceries ahead of the coming storm.  After several days without much food, Mark and his brother took out cross country on a tractor as far as they could go.  When the tractor got stuck, they walked the rest of the way to the main highway, which had been cleared enough their Grandpa could meet them and take them into town to get a few sacks of groceries.  Grandpa took them back to where he'd picked them up, they carried the groceries to the tractor, dug, and pushed, rocked it back and forth and finally got the tractor to move again to get them back home.  In the barn yard was 100 black Angus heifers, calving for the first time. Mark had to keep his eye on them and try to save as many baby calves as he could.  The bulls were a couple pasture's away and he carried bales of feed to them and kept the frozen creek busted up so that they could get a drink.  At the age of sixteen he had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, but he held up well.  To his recollection, they only lost two baby calves which is amazing.

I always said I wish we would get a storm like that just one time so my kids could experience it, but in reality it is a blessing that we haven't.  Being a kid, I don't remember the hardship it brought, the livestock lost, the financial repercussions, the toll it took.  It is probably best that it is just a memory to share with others.  You can ask anyone over the age of fifty who has lived around here all their life  - "Do you remember the storm of '71?"  There is no explanation needed, their eyes light up, they shake their head and launch into their own personal story, where they were and what happened to them during the blizzard forty years ago today.