Gary and in our playroom. You see the crib in back. We have matching coveralls. You can also see the rug of nursery rhymes I wrote about. 

Gary and were ready for bed. We were five years old in this picture. 

Memories of my Brother : Part 2

Gary and I had many adventures as twins. We were each other's entertainment. One memory which is particularly strong happened when we were around the age of ten. One bright summer morning, I decided it was time for us to explore the world beyond the boundary of our fence and field. So I packed a few goodies in a tablecloth, tied a knot in the ends to make a backpack of sorts and talked Gary into going along with me. Of course, he immediately agreed.

We walked for a very long time. I realized we were pretty much lost. When we came across a railroad track, I had the brilliant idea to walk on the railroad ties, knowing they would surely take us to new and exciting places. We had heard the moanful cry of a train whistle every morning and evening from our house for as long as we could both remember. It called us to the mysteries of the world, as far as I was concerned.

We walked on the track for quite a while before coming upon a trestle crossing over a large creek. We started across, carefully stepping on each tie. We could see the creek bed far below in the spaces between the ties. We had gotten about two thirds of the way across when we heard a train coming. Panic filled my heart with dread. I knew we were in big trouble. I shouted to Gary, who was ahead of me, to run as fast as he could to the end of the trestle. I could feel the trembling of the trestle but did not dare look back for fear I would freeze and be unable to run. We both reached the end of the trestle and rolled down the embankment just as the train rolled past. The engineer was leaning out of the cab shouting and waving his fist.

All we wanted at that point at that point was to go back home. But we did not know which way home was. So we started walking down a gravel road, hoping to see a house or that someone would come by to help us. We were exhausted, hot, hungry, and very thirsty. I had lost our stash of goodies when running across the trestle. We heard a car approaching and turned toward the sound, waving our arms frantically. Then our hearts sank as we realized it was the county sheriff.

The trooper seemed very angry and we knew we were in big trouble. He asked if we were Gary and Judy. We hung our heads and nodded weakly, tears running down both our faces. The trooper put us in his car and took us home. I felt ashamed and wondered what punishment we would receive when I saw our parents standing in the driveway. Mother was crying and my father was read faced and silent. They thought we had been kidnapped again, as we had been when we were babies before they had adopted us.

I explained it was all my idea and that I had practically forced Gary to go along with me. Wonder of wonders, we were not punished. That almost made me feel even worse. I vowed I would never do anything that crazy again. Of course, that promise did not last long.

Gary and I are wearing our first cowboy boots.We were six years old. 

Gary is on the counter and I am in the high chair. We were nearly three years old. 

Memories of my Brother

My niece from Ohio recently contacted me. She is one of two daughters of my twin brother, Gary. Now that she has lost her father, and more recently, her mother, she seeks a closer relationship with me. She tells me how much she sees of Gary when she looks at my picture.

I have written about the loss of my twin. It is a painful part of my memory, but an important one. I have decided to devote my journal to my memories of Gary and me as we grew up together and then, sadly, grew apart, in our adult life.

Gary and I were adopted together at the age of twenty-one months, following the death of our natural mother. We were told as soon an we could understand, the circumstances of our adoption and a few sketchy details about our natural family. In the forties, adoption was quite different from what it is today. If a couple had financial security and wanted a child, that was all that was required. No real background checks were made. Our adoptive parents would not have passed the scrutiny of today's world. They were both alcoholics. My mother was also mentally ill and drug dependent. I think they thought children would magically make all their problems go away.

But, as a child growing up in such a situation, neither of us realized anything was wrong. To us, our lives were normal.

We grew up in a home then out in the country near Omaha, Nebraska, and less than a mile from Father Flannigan's Boy's Town. Gary and I both had vivid imaginations and even developed a language of our own which sounded like nonsense to outsiders but made perfect sense to us. Gary had physical disabilities including being cross-eyed and mildly retarded. I think now his problems would have been diagnosed as learning disabilities.

As babies, he was the aggressive twin. He loved to grab handfuls of my hair and yank, often removing clumps at a time. But as we grew older, our relationship improved. We were each other's best friend and playmate. We were rarely apart.

My earliest memory of us is when we were still in cribs. We would stand up at the foot of the crib and rock back and forth to make the cribs move across the room. I also remember special linoleum in our playroom that had various childhood rhymes and pictures on it. We were rarely apart. We were each other's world in every way.

When we were five, our mother enrolled us in dancing lessons. We took ballet and tap. We went to lessons every week and even appeared in recitals. I remember how hurt I felt when I overheard the teacher telling my mother that I could never seriously pursue ballet because I had weak ankles and underdeveloped leg muscles. It made me angry to think that this person could determine what I could or could not do. Gary liked tap dancing more than ballet, probably because all the boy did in ballet was hold the girl's hand while she twirled.

We attended school in a rural one-room school house, much like Little House on the Prairie. My memories of that time, kindergarten through fifth grade, are among my favorites. Learning was magical for me and because it was a one-room school, I could advance to the level I belonged rather than be boxed in to one grade level of learning at a time. It was then that I first became aware that Gary and I differed. He had had an operation to correct his "lazy" eye, but that did not seem to improve his ability to read or learn. I quickly moved ahead of him academically and at once became his defender in the school yard. Gary was often teased unmercifully by the bigger boys. One time, he was running and not looking where he was going. He ran into a tree, broke his glasses, and cut himself. The other children gathered around, laughing and calling him names. I pushed through the crowd, punching and screaming, telling them to leave my brother alone. From those elementary years and on through high school, I kept my eye on him, protecting him from the bullies of the world.

I miss Gary more than words can say. It is not something I find easy to talk about. I cannot explain the loss I feel, as if something vital to my being were cut away. I don't think that missing part of me will ever be healed. But I prefer not to forget my special connection to Gary. We were twins. As long as I live, Gary also lives.

My brothers Terry and Pat (Pat has the dog) in my Terry's home in Arkansas this summer 

My daughter Monica and her husband Sam, the happy couple! 

My sister Shirley and I in Arkansas a year ago. She is the one who found those of us who had been adopted 

Arno and I in May 2004 on cruise to Alaska 

Parenting in the millennium

I have been giving thought to the difficulties parents of today face in raising their children. A young woman I know is facing the same dilemma as many young parents do today. She works full time, home schools her son, cares for a toddler, and feels she is not doing enough. I worked full time while being a parent, too, but times were different in the 70's and 80's when we were raising our daughter. There was less stress, less worry about someone harming our child when she was not in our sight, and a general feeling of security that does not exist today.

I would not want to be a parent today, the way things are now. But I do wish I could assure this young mother that she is doing a phenomenal job of parenting. I see how tired she is and how sometimes things just don't seem to be going as she would like. She worries that she is failing in some way. But I don't think she is failing at all.

I know others her age who are so self-involved that they don't really think about the things they need to be considering when it comes to their children. They let TV and video games be the teacher to their children. They don't talk to their children. They don't spend real time with their children in activities the child enjoys. Instead they drop their children off to sports or gymnastics or dance classes rather than stay and be a part of what their children are doing.

I am glad this young mother feels so strongly about her children and what is happening in their lives. That takes a great deal of effort in her busy, demanding life. I know when her children look back as adults, they will realize what an awesome parent she is.

It is said that children are our future. As a teacher, a parent, and a grandparent, I know that this is an irrefutable fact. If the adults of this world take time to invest in their children in a personal, meaningful way, the world of the future will change. Those children will take responsibility for their actions, care about others, and understand that what they say and do each day of their lives does effect the world around them. If our children are positive minded, self-reliant, and willing to take responsibility in a personal way for their actions, the world will be affected in a positive way both in their present and in the future to follow them.

Parenting is a huge responsibility and it is only natural (and healthy) for the parent to feel he or she is at times failing at this task. But effort will pay off. If it all seemed easy and effortless, then we would be failing as parents. So, to this young woman and all the other men and women like her who are struggling with parenthood, I congratulate you on your efforts and encourage you to continue what you are doing. Certainly, some mistakes will be made along the way, but the end result will be worth all the effort.

California Sunshine

We have been having quite a bit of liquid sunshine (what Californians call rain) in the last few days. In other parts of the country that could be cause for depression, but here it is reason for celebration. We see no rain along the northern California coast from mid-April until mid-October or early November. That is why California is called the Golden State. The grass covered hills turn a dusty gold and stay that way until the rains come. Then a miracle occurs and the hills turn the most incredible vibrant green you could imagine. When the rest of the country experiences a shut-down in nature, we experience new life and with it renewed hope for a better tomorrow.

I am hopeful our world and especially this nation will experience a similar phenomenon as we do in northern California this time of year. The election is over. The outcome does not matter as much to me as what we do from this point on. There has been a great deal of dialogue about a divided America: divided by religion, divided by demographics, divided by race, divided by political points of view. And while we are divided, young men and women are dieing in the streets of far off countries. Innocent civilian victims of war are losing their lives. Children are orphaned. These are not the things Christ would want. War is not fought by God. It never ceases to amaze me that each country claims God is on their side...whether Christian, Muslim, or any other form of human religion. However, I beg to differ with the point of view that God is on any side of war. The righteous war does not exist.

There is a song by the Beatles called "Imagine". Its lyrics are a mantra to me of what this world could be and should be if we did not allow politics or religion to muddy the waters of humanity.

Imagine there's no heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one

Many undoubtedly will say these lyrics speak of an impossible scenerio. But without dreamers, such as myself, this world would give itself over to utter destruction. I do not believe the Creator would want that. That is why He gave us dreams in the first place. Let us hope as time goes by that we, the people of the world will take the words of this song to heart and the world will truly live as one.