Father's Day

I know my dad doesn't like this show, Modern Family, but the dad reminds me of him, like Archie Bunker from years ago.

I used to think Archie Bunker was a terrible dad, until I realized that he loved his family by working hard all his life and wanting the best for his little girl.  When his wife died on the show, I saw a humanity in him I had not seen before, and I sobbed, feeling his pain.

On Modern Family, I cry at the end of almost each episode.  Not because it is sad; sometimes it is hilariously funny.  But at the end the characters reflect on family and its simple truths.

At first I didn't like the dad on this show either.  Until I got to know him and realize his humanity.  This quote sums it up for me.

I think raising daughters was always a puzzling experience for my dad, especially when we were in the throes of puberty.  And I found him puzzling at times. 

But now I see my dad in his humanity.  The older he gets, the more real he is to me, and the more I learn about him.

I realize he is human, like Archie, like the Modern Family dad.  They are just trying to be the dad their children need.  We don't come with instruction booklets.  Not only that, we constantly challenge his authority.  We think he is an old fuddy duddy who lives in the dark ages.

Then, I saw someone who set the rules and could scare me by just looking at me with his Norwegian blue eyes.  But now, I see someone I love, and whom I know loves me.

What changed?  My dad?  No, I did.  I realized he has fears, insecurities, and doubts, like I do.  I realize he is so incredibly intelligent, he is compassionate, he is sensitive. 

I love my dad so much that as I write this I feel  sob in my throat. It is hard to watch him get older.  It is hard to watch his lilting gait and his forgetting things. 

But I am so thankful for him.  I am so much like him.  Which used to be a troubling thing.  But now I can say that with pride.  I am a Hetland.  We are smart, we love animals, we are patriotic, we are creative. 

He taught me so much.  Like how not to spend money I don't have.  Like how to take care of my car.  He taught me to respect my elders, to love my country. 

This is what fathers do.  They teach us, they provide for us.  They try to protect us from all harm, even though they can't. They hope for the best.

My dad showed up, and I am so thankful that he did.

Yesterday

Watching the World Wars series on the History Channel, and being reminded of our troubles here and far away, I reminisced about my childhood.  I thought I had troubles then.  Ah, how easy it was, how carefree.

We went up North every weekend to visit the relatives, the grandparents my favorite.  The days before lugging car seats around, I sat on my mom's lap as we traveled Highway 10 before the interstate, through every little one-horse town.

Hot fudge sundaes at the Dairy Queen in Moorhead, where even now it is still a walk-up counter and not a walk-in restaurant.  The place that never changes, even when my parents were young.

I played with my favorite toys, Barbie.  I had tons of them, my sister giving me hers.  Tons of clothes and accessories, two houses and a motor home.  I was the envy of every girl in town.  My cat was envious too, as she dragged my doll clothes down the stairs in a futile attempt to get my attention. 

I played with paper dolls as well.  I had a whole box full of them, hidden away in the attic when I grew too old.  Again, in an attempt to get my attention, my cat pounced on them and chewed holes through their heads.  Sadly, my mom threw them away.

But she saved my Barbies, my train set, my Little People sets.  I had the school, house, village, and parking garage.  The garage was my favorite as I woke up at the crack of dawn every morning to turn the clakety crank of the elevator up and down, watching the cars go barreling down the ramp.

Ah, those carefree days of Spaghettios and grilled cheese sandwiches.  Eating all the cookies and bars I wanted.  Watching my favorite TV shows: Wonder Woman and Bionic Woman.  I wanted to be powerful like them.

Playing fetch and tug-of-war with the dogs, riding my bike up and down the street, skating around and around in my garage, pretending I was Olivia Newton-John in Xanadu.

It saddens me, how kids nowadays don't have these simple pleasures.  They could, but peers speak louder than parents.  I know, I cared too much what they thought, while I saw my parents as uncool. 

How dumb I was, but I think we all go through this.  Our parents don't know anything.  We think we know everything.

Now I know better.  My parents were cool.  They were fun.  They were definitely unique.  And that made it OK for me to be unique.

If you would like to reminisce about old toys, go to the exhibit at the MN History Center in St. Paul.  They have a plethora of old toys from the 50s to the 70s.  So fun to see the life size Barbie houses I played with, the Little People sets, and all the other fun toys before they disappeared into the dumpster of yesteryear. 

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.

Memorial Day

Every Memorial Day eve PBS hosts a Memorial Day Concert.  My parents and I watch this every year even though it is emotionally exhausting.  We feel that it is the least we can do for those who gave everything for us. 

I am thankful to live in a country where we honor our military and their loved ones.  We proudly sing the Star Spangled Banner at every game.  We watch fireworks on every Independence Day.  And we fly our flag proudly from homes, restaurants, schools, and parks.  We have memorials all over the nation remembering our founding fathers and the wars that our ancestors have fought to protect our freedoms. 

Our sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, friends and spouses, continue to fight this day for these same freedoms.  Freedom to worship as we see fit.  Freedom to speak our minds.  Freedom to redress grievances.  Freedom from tyranny.  We are a land ruled by law, the Constitution.  That is why it is so revered and so protected.  This paper, makes us the United States of America.  But not only that, the lives of every man and woman who fought so gallantly for this nation, makes us the greatest nation in the world!

God bless America!

College Friends

A few weeks ago I found four of my old college friends on Facebook.  I have missed these lovely ladies for so long, I am so glad I found them again!  It has been a treat to read about them and their busy lives.  How they are all married with children, some already grown up!  Now that makes me feel old!  Yet, they all look the same as twenty years ago.  Maybe a bit more mature, not from age, but from the wisdom that life brings.  I hope I look that way too.

Karla was my roommate and best friend.  We were so different but had the same goofy sense of humor.  She was there for me all the times I was depressed, stressed out, or coping with quack doctors.  She was the sweetest person you'd ever meet.

Karen was my Bible study leader.  I admired her and considered her a mentor.  When it was time to gain a new Bible study leader, I didn't want to.  I felt like it was a loss not a gain.  Karen was so real and honest.  She saw her mentees as equal and we were a great group of friends. 

Sarah was Karen's roommate and best friend.  She was wise beyond her years and gave me such helpful spiritual advice.  Such a welcoming and compassionate woman.  Although she was smart she never acted like she was better than the rest of us.

Kristi was my roommate when I graduated and lived in Fargo for six months before I had to move back home.  She and I were also so different but she was so welcoming and accepting, as was her family when I visited them. 

All these friends demonstrated to me what a friend is.  Someone who is loving and accepting.  Someone who listens and doesn't try to fix things.  Someone who encourages instead of lecturing.

They understood my depression and anxiety.  They didn't resent the fact my parents had money.  They just loved me for me.

How rare that is these days.  It is hard to find a friend with all these qualities.  It shouldn't be, but it is.  Why is that?  Why do we make it so difficult?  Maybe living in the dorms and eating in the cafeteria made us closer.  We were together all the time, so they saw all of me: the good, the bad, and the ugly.  And they didn't care.  They didn't complain about the weird noises I made.  They didn't tell me to "cheer up" or "get over it."  They didn't preach at me or make me feel guilty.  They just loved me.

And I love them.

And friends are friends forever
If the Lord's the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never
'Cause the welcome will not end
Though it's hard to let you go
In the Father's hands we know
That a lifetime's not too long
To live as friends

Mother's Day

My mom always sends me an email praising my blog postings.  She always loves my writing. I don't know if this is because she loves everything I do, like my niece, or if she really likes it.  But I am glad she does anyway. 

Motherhood is the most challenging occupation of all.  It requires knowledge of every facet of a child's life, all without compensation. 

Yet motherhood has its rewards too.  Every time you see someone on TV in a candid shot, they almost always say, "Hi Mom!" 

My mom advocated for me from day one.  She stood up to the doctors who thought they knew everything, and proved them wrong.

She lectured parents on teaching their children manners when they stared at me and made me cry.

She made me Spaghettios and grilled cheese every afternoon after school knowing that this fussy eater rarely ate lunch.

She made the best cookies and bars, satisfying our chocolate cravings.

She played games with me, made clothes for my dolls, and loved all my drawings.

She listened to me as I cried, her feeling as helpless as I felt, yet never letting on or losing her strength.

She rejoiced when I rejoiced, she cried when I cried. 

She let me get mad, knowing that I was really depressed.

She is long suffering.  She never gives up or gives in.

I think about all the pain I caused my poor mother.  All the times I yelled at her in my selfishness. 

I regret that.

But I think she knew.  Mothers know. 

I love her.