Farewell and Much Love to Aunt Millie

I received the call from the hospice nurse yesterday morning. Aunt Millie had taken a turn for the worse. I guess it was a call I had been expecting for quite a while. Turns out this really was the end. My husband’s Aunt Millie passed away last night shortly before 10 pm.

It’s been rough go the last five years or so. So

tough to see someone you knew as a sassy, vivacious woman slowly and steadily decline into the abyss. I watched as her body became increasingly frail, and as her cognitive capacity became more and more limited. I can’t tell you how much I rejoice that she has finally been freed from the bondage of those earthly restraints.

She was a tough woman, in a demure sort of way. At her peak, she was five foot two and 118 pounds. An introvert by nature, she always told me not to worry about making her into a social being, because she rather enjoyed her own company. She admits that she lurked in the shadow to her older sister Dorothy, far more extroverted and outgoing. But when Dorothy died in 1972 and left young sons, it was Millie who stepped up to the plate and served as the motherly figure.

While introverted, she wasn’t necessarily as passive as one might think. She used to tell me that some folks would call her “Mulie,” meaning “Stubborn as a mule.” I know that first-hand. A few years ago we attempted to remove the throw rugs from her apartment because they were a trip hazard. We put them in her closet. She obviously wasn’t hip to that, because the next time we visited the rugs were back on her floor. (Lesson learned!)

So minus the past five years, let me tell you about the Millie I knew.

When I first met my husband Ed, he talked incessantly about his Aunt Millie. I knew immediately that she was a woman I wanted to meet. A couple of months after we started dating, we went Christmas shopping and he wanted to buy her a nice dress. He didn’t know what size she wore. So he called her on a pay phone (no cell phones at that time) and told her that he was shopping for a dress for me. So being that she had not yet met me, he told her that I was about her size (way more than a white lie), and asked her what size she was (size 8). Anyway, he purchased a beautiful dress for her that day (which, by the way, I chose). While most of her clothes have been given to Goodwill, I couldn’t bear to part with that one yet.

When I finally did meet Millie, I found her to be quite the vivacious woman. You would think she was quiet and demure, but it only took a little time of getting to know her when she would talk your ear off. I was struck by the fact that she intensely valued family. While she was widowed very young and never had children of her own, her nieces and nephews meant the world to her.

I can’t relay the stories of them all, but I can share those of my own husband. My husband Ed has shared stories of Millies’s compassion and generosity. Having lost his mother (Millie’s sister) in 1972, he speaks highly of how Millie stepped up to the plate to step into the mother role.

As to my own recollections, they are many.

When Ed and I got married, it was Millie who lit the unity candle on behalf of his side of the family and stood with his father for the family pictures.

When my first son Clay was born, I remember how she came to my house the day after I came home from the hospital. She held my baby boy. And held him. And held him. I pretty much had to coax her to give him back. Up to that point she had never changed a diaper. Starting with Clay, and then with Luke and Sam, she became a pro.

If you would have asked her, she would have told you she was their grandmother. For the most part, she was. And like most grandmothers, she totally spoiled them. When I was pregnant with Clay, she was adamant about the fact that I needed a good rocking chair to rock the baby in. She bought me the most expensive rocking chair in the store, which I still have. She bought them toys, of course, and the occasional savings bond.

A child of the depression, she would come for dinner and want to save the tiniest teaspoon of peas (which drove me crazy). Not to say she didn’t have her quirks. Don’t we all?

Despite the quirks, I loved her. I loved her because she loved my husband and my children so much. And I’m guessing she might have loved me too.

I know she wasn’t happy when we transitioned her to assisted living. And I was heartbroken when we moved her into nursing home care (though I have to say we were completely satisfied with the nursing home we chose). But I know the Millie of 10 or 15 years ago would have told us to do what we needed to do that was in her best interests. I hope we did her right.

We so love you Millie. And we so rejoice because we know that tonight you are in a better place. Enjoy the reunion with our loved ones in the hereafter. Know that we will always love you and look forward to when we can join you in the heavenly reward. And rest in peace, my dear. You are forever loved.

Cheers to You, Grandma Evelyn!

Me and Grandma Evelyn, November 2017

The call came a little after 8 am this morning, August 5, 2018. 

While my husband and my parents and I were sitting on a screened-in porch in Hilton Head, enjoying the dawn of the first day of our vacation, we received news that my Grandma Evelyn Carpenter passed away this morning.

You’d think it’s not a great way to start a vacation. I, however, choose to take the time off this week to celebrate and remember her and the remarkable life she led.

In some ways she was not your typical grandmother. Warm and fuzzy she was not. Not by any means. Not so generous with the hugs and kisses, either. But friendly, yes. In fact, she could talk your ear off. I remember she would come to visit me when I was a child and if she happened to strum up a conversation with a cashier at a grocery store, or even a casual stranger, I knew I would be standing there for the long haul.

Part of her friendly demeanor probably stemmed from the fact that she was a well-known businesswoman in her small town. She owned and operated the town diner for many years while my dad was growing up, and then when she left the restaurant business she owned the local “cut-rate,” sort of a general store that sold a little bit of everything. It did a fairly brisk business, as Grandma and Grandpa’s store was the only one in town with a liquor license.

As a young child, I benefited greatly from this store, as I received comic books galore. When Grandma returned unsold issues, all she would have to do was send back the front cover of each magazine and pitch the rest. But did she do that? Of course not! After all, she had grandchildren! All the Little Dot, Little Lotta, Richie Rich, Archie and superhero comics I wanted (my brother was more into the superhero stuff). We always looked forward to Grandma and Grandpa’s visits because we knew they’d be loaded with comics.

As a teenager, during my visits to Michigan, I would actually go to work with my grandmother and help her out in the store. I remember the old-timey cash register she had. You don’t see those anymore.

But then Grandma and Grandpa sold the store and retired full time to the lake. The lake – Little Whitefish Lake. For me and my brother, that was vacation paradise. There were bikes, fishing poles (and fish loaded in the lake!), and a big old pontoon boat. Every day during our summer visits, my brother and I would go bicycling to the other side of the lake. Sometimes we’d bicycle the seven or eight miles to Sand Lake and back. Lots of lake fun!

There’s no doubt, Grandma supplied me some nice childhood summer memories. Even if she wasn’t always generous with the compliments.

It didn’t matter though, because with her, it wasn't about the words, but the actions. I knew what a good woman she was. She wasn’t an emotional woman, but a very generous one. I’ve heard stories about all the foster children she took in. Or maybe just friends or cousins that needed a place to stay for a day, a week, or a couple of years.


I've heard the stories about how she nursed my grandfather back to health when he came back from WWII with a bad bout of malaria. And I saw with my own eyes how well she took care of him during his 10-year battle with Alzheimer's disease.

I’ve heard stories of the hobos she used to feed when she owned the restaurant, nourishing them after close of business with what was left over from the day.

I've heard stories about how she helped build the VFW hall in Sand Lake, Michigan and worked tirelessly for the VFW auxiliary for more than 60 years -- a truly patriotic thing to do.

Over the last 20+ years, I have seen her tend to her busy schedule, as she worked at least three days a week. "Work" being volunteering at the Grand Rapids Home for Veterans, where in total she had logged more than 10,000 volunteer hours.

I’ve experienced her generosity myself when one year when I was poor as Job’s turkeys and I found myself owing $300 to the IRS. I complained to her about it and she offered to loan me the money. I declined, telling her I would find the money somehow, but I appreciated the offer.

Or even more substantial, when after having both my second and third babies, she flew down to Kentucky and stayed with me for a week each time to help take care of me and the kids. Plus she did all the cooking. I loved her beef stew and homemade noodles!

She was a busy lady. During the last few years I would laugh when she would complain about how crappy she feels. She would say you can feel crappy and do nothing, or feel crappy and do something. More often than not, she chose to do something.

Incidentally, I noticed that as she got older (and I got older too), the hugs became tighter, the “I love yous” became more frequent, and I developed a genuine admiration for her. I think things like that matter more when you get older.

I last saw her when I went up to visit her last November. It was a nice visit. We went out for lunch, then went back to the Home for Veterans and spent a few hours just chewing the fat. When it came time to leave, I hated to, but I gave her a big hug, told her I loved her and that I would be back to see her. I was hoping that was going to happen before then end of this year. I so regret that it didn't happen. I had no idea that last November would be the last time I would see her.

I recall another visit prior to the one last November. In April 2015 I felt this urge to go see her, which I did, and it was a wonderful visit. I asked if I could interview her, which she allowed. I recorded it, though I don’t have the recording at my fingertips just now. But there were a few things that we talked about that stood out.

First, she was proud of her independence. At the time she was 94 and still living by herself and driving (though I’m not sure that was a good thing). Anyway, she had always prided herself on her independence and staying that way, even 20 years after my grandfather passed. Unfortunately, several weeks after this conversation she had an episode that resulted in the permanent loss of her independence – a situation she absolutely detested. But while physically she was beat down, she never had a hint of dementia and was always sharp as a tack (other than being in a state of denial about the fact she was 97 when she would rather be 50). Up until almost the day she died, she spent every day reading her newspaper and watching CNN.

Second, she expressed that she was ready to meet her Maker at any time. The sooner the better. She had no reservations at all about dying. Most of her contemporaries had already gone before her, and she welcomed when that day would finally come.

Finally, when I asked her what she was most proud of in her life, she said it was her children – that she recognized that my dad and my aunt had both turned out to be such good people. It wouldn’t surprise me if she never told them that. As I said, she was never generous with the compliments. But it’s not that she didn’t feel love and compassion for those closest to her.

The last three years were very hard for her. Admittedly, she wasn’t always in the greatest mood because of her own frustrations about losing her independence and probably just wondering why it was taking so long to “cross over.”  But those three years represent but a fraction of her life.

She was a spunky lady with a fiery spirit. In some ways, we have all gained something from her and as such we are better people.

So as I embark on my Hilton Head vacation, I will toast to you, Grandma. (I know you would appreciate that, since you were known to have a glass or two of wine yourself.) I will toast you for your spirit, your spunk, your lifelong generosity, your admirable work ethic, and that really good pot roast you used to make.

Rest in peace, Grandma. And cheers!

Innocent Children and America's Moral Crisis

First, what I say, of course, is purely my opinion. But that’s what blogs are for, right? I don’t mean to offend, but sometimes I feel strongly enough or inspired enough about something to where I just have to write about it. I hope those that don’t agree with me can at least respect my point of view. If you don’t agree with me, I promise that if you start your own blog I will read it and give your points food for thought. Having said that, here goes:

(John Moore/Getty Images)

This post won't be long. Short and sweet. Just a commentary about the most recently implemented practice of separating migrant children from their parents at the border.

It’s wrong.

I’m probably preaching to the choir here. In fact, I probably won't change many minds. But just some points I wanted to make.

First, I’ve read some really insensitive Facebook posts expressing the opinion that if parents don’t want to be separated from their children, they shouldn’t cross the border illegally. Never mind that these people aren’t criminals, but fellow human beings who are simply desperate for better lives for themselves and their children. Despite that, even if you want to blame the parents, there’s one key point that’s being missed here: It’s about the children, stupid.

These children have no control over whether they are brought here are not. They don’t deserve this kind of treatment. They don’t deserve to be traumatized in this way. They are innocent children who need to be with their families. To rip them apart from their mothers and fathers in this way and then detain them in institutional-like settings is, to me, evil.

Second, in response to our Attorney General, who quotes Romans 13 from the Bible to justify such an atrocious policy  – I say I can’t help but wonder how many others may have used this passage to justify their brutal acts. Maybe the Nazis? Maybe abusive slave owners during what was another dark time in our history? And since when do we use Bible passages to dictate our policy? We do have such a thing as separation of church and state. It’s not a recent thing – the concept was the brainchild of our founding fathers. And what else does the Bible say? Aren’t we forbidden to eat shellfish? So when will the federal government start closing down all the Red Lobsters in this country? Sorry, but in my heart I’m thinking Jesus would have thought what we’re doing right now is NOT okay.

Third, when President Trump blames the Democrats for this he reminds me of an abusive boyfriend or husband. Follow my line of thinking here.

I was in an abusive relationship once when I had a boyfriend with a volatile temper. It was mostly verbal and emotional abuse I suffered, but once in a while I would get hit and thrown around too. I remember so vividly that instead of taking responsibility for his own actions, he would deflect the blame onto me. It was my fault that he had to treat me that way. So many times he would tell me that if only I would just change in this way or that, he wouldn’t get so mad at me to the point where I would have to suffer his wrath. In other words, I made him treat me that way. (Fortunately, I was able to eventually escape that relationship. But it was only after being far removed from it that I realized how insidious his logic was.)

So how do I use that experience to make the analogy to President Trump? He says he doesn’t like to see children separated from their parents, but the Democrats are making him do it. Yes, if only the Democrats would cave to his demands and agree to build that stupid wall, then he wouldn’t have to use these children as political pawns and rip them away from their mothers’ arms. Okay, that’s a load of crap. He can stop this at any time. Just like an abusive husband – deflecting the blame for his own actions and resisting any accountability.

Mind you, this isn’t a Democrat versus Republican thing. There are good people on both sides. And both sides should know that we are in the middle of a moral crisis here. Not Democrat versus Republican, but right versus wrong.

I guess in this day and age, maybe the divide of right versus wrong seems gray at times. But I would think common sense would dictate that all of us, no matter what side we’re on, would see this as so obviously wrong.

Call your congressional representatives. Call your senators. Express your outrage. And for God’s sake, the next time any of us want to look at refugees and immigrants as the bad guys, as the enemies, as animals (Trump’s words, not mine), please remember that we are all children of God. We are all fellow human beings.

Do what’s right.

JCI Revive!

On April 2, 1998 – 20 years ago next week – I joined my local chapter of the Jaycees. At the time, I had just had my second baby and was acclimating as a new stay-at-home

mom. After about three months of cleaning up soiled diapers and folding laundry each day, I started to wonder, “Is this all there is?” I knew I needed to pursue some kind of interest beyond just being a mommy.

So one day in the community paper I saw that the local Jaycee chapter was hosting a “Meet the Jaycees” night. I called the contact number for more information and spoke to a very nice person named Natalie. I ended up going that night and before the event was over, I was sworn in as a member.

I jumped in. Within a month I was newsletter editor. The next year I was Individual Development Vice President. Then Management Vice President (twice). And then, ultimately, President in 2002.

We were an active chapter with a diverse array of programming – social stuff, along with professional development events, charity fundraisers, and then the various community events we participated in, from corn booths at the fair to annual prayer breakfasts, to Christmas events to benefit underprivileged children, to hosting parties for developmentally disabled adults.

The wealth of projects made us a very well-rounded chapter. And I was proud to have served such a dynamic and active chapter. The year I was president, we had approximately 76 members in our chapter by the end of the year. I know this, because this is the number we needed to receive “Blue Chip” status from the national organization.

During my tenure I was honored with many awards. I still have many, but only a couple of the most special ones hang on my wall: the presidential appreciation plaque with my gavel; and my framed and matted JCI Senate certificate, which I received in 2004. Plus the lifetime membership award I received to the Boone County Jaycees.

So, long story short – Jaycees had quite the impact on my life. Though I do hit an event every once in a while, I’m no longer very active, as I’m not supposed to be. The organization is specifically for 18 to 40 year olds, the purpose to develop these young people into young leaders. I’m way over the age of 40, so my time is up.

But I do have three sons ages 18 to almost 23. Wouldn’t it be special if someday they were active in the JCI organization! I’m not sure how that could happen. The oldest has moved away to Lexington, the younger two are in school. But having learned what I have about the organization of late, I think it would be awesome if my own kids could someday become active. (I’d even pay their first-year dues.)

I happened upon the JCI national/international website a few weeks ago and I have to say, I’m impressed. While I have at times had questions whether the organization was going to make it here 

in the states, it appears the organization has rebranded itself into a massive global effort where all young people are invited to do their part to make a positive impact in the world. JCI is so much more than just what we do here in Kentucky. No, JCI is active throughout the world – in Europe, in South and Central America, in Japan, and in Africa, among others. There are just so many opportunities to make the world a better place while at the same time developing yourself to be the leaders of tomorrow. Check it out for yourself: go to https://jci.cc.

There are still some chapters that are active, but many are led by more seasoned members – some of whom are past the Jaycee age. This, of course defeats the purpose of the organization to train up and coming young leaders.

I think if my boys were to get involved (a big if, of course), it would have to be on their own terms, by starting their own chapter from the ground up – one they can own from the start. I know they have plenty of buddies they can recruit.

And one thing I’ve learned about recruiting is that if you start out with a few young men, the young women will follow. (Come on, oldest son, at least have you and your friends check out the website and see if their would be something you’d be vaguely interested in.)

So if any of you has near grown children over the age of 18 – children who could benefit from becoming engaged in their community, have them check out this organization. They’re nice people, of course. And what makes them particularly special is that each one has his or her particular vision for making the world a better place.

And given this current climate of unproductive political discourse, intolerance for diversity, and limited empathy for the plight of others, I can’t help but wonder if an international organization such as JCI may be the catalyst for more open dialogue, greater understanding and an enhanced sense of compassion for others.

And maybe it’s not initially a project that changes the world. Maybe it’s simply selling corn at a county fair to make enough to provide some nice gifts to underprivileged kids at Christmas. Sometimes the path to changing the world comes in small steps.

All I know is I greatly valued my time with the organization. I found a sense of purpose there. I’d love to pass it on!

The Jaycee Creed

We believe:

That faith in God gives meaning and purpose to human life;

That the brotherhood of man transcends the sovereignty of nations;

The economic justice can best be won by free men through free enterprise;

That government should be of laws rather than of men;

That earth’s great treasure lies in human personality;

And that service to humanity is the BEST WORK OF LIFE.

If you’re over 18 and looking for a great outlet beyond your work for making great friends, developing professionally and making a difference in your community then check it out:  https://jci.cc.