JAAAY'ne, Juuuuu'lia, Jaaaa'queline, Joaaaaa'ne, AAAAA'my, Toooooo'ny boy....Aaaaa'bduuuul!

There are 2 sounds that I remember with awe that I will never hear again. The first is the sound of the whistle! You all know what that sound of terror was. Wherever you were from Baisley Blvd to Springfield Blvd. anywhere in Rochdale; if we heard the whistle the hair on our necks stood up and we were summoned to the tennis courts to conference. An unspoken command that was immediately obeyed and swift judgement might be forthcoming or not, but worse if you didn't heed. I hated that sound and I nearly jumped into the ocean one day out there in Battery Park when I heard an imitation whistle similar to that of my father's whhhhhhhoooooip!whhhhhhhoooooiiiiip! I am sad, but glad not to hear that sound because of the fear that it engendered. I understood the sound one day; when I couldn't get my children to come together and I was upset that I had no tool in my maternal arsenal akin to that sound that would immediately draw their attention. As Grandma Ruth would say, "God bless the child that's got his own!" Dad had his own in check and history will tell what mine will become and so I don't judge the sound I am just reminded to say I will never hear that sound in terror again. A bittersweet memory.
The other sound is the sound of the gentle tone of Dad's calling our names when he was calling us for some special or definite calm reason. Joy and expectation to fill the heart when his sing songy voice called out our names, almost always in order or one or the other by themselves, but always with the same melody. I wish that I could put that song to music. It lifts my heart when I think about the sound of the song of the names being called out for some good purpose, especially as opposed to the whistle. There were sprinkle cookies or a suzy Q certainly when the sound was heard in the house. It was a special occasion and there was the sound of our names still ringing in the house because he held onto the notes of our names as if not to let them go. I miss that sound! I miss my daddy and you guys too. It has been years and years since he was able to call our names in unison like that. Probably, only the older children remember the sound of his voice and the way that Papa would sing to the babies right in their mouths and right on their cheeks as a ritual of entering into the family. "Why, o why do I love you?"
The representation of good and evil which we are to the next generation is a solemn thing.
I called my Enoch and my pet name for him is Yanuch after Yanuch Noah and he may not like when I call him that name, I have my own sing songy versions of their names in the house these days. I remember, or try to remember that my authority and influence upon their lives is remembered, or will be and I must pray for the grace to be consistent. If there is anything that our dad was it was consistent. Extreme, I hope not to be, but consistent, help me, dear God.

Tempus Fugit!

My Isaac is 20 years old! Everytime I see him I am reminded that God has a great plan and a wonderful love for his people. I love Isaac so much. I was expecting baby Ben when he was born and he and baby Ben would have been the kissing cousins in the family. This year I got to dance with him at Aunt Gwen's wedding and I was happy to have the dance with him, even though he made it quite clear that he preferred to dance with my prettier niece-in-law, Lez. Rejoicing comes in many colors and senses. My own children were embarrassed that their mother was rejoicing with much "boogy" so to speak. But, they could not understand that the beauty of reconciliation is more beautiful and rejoicing the heart than the initial wedding.
When a couple says I do to begin with. They know nothing! Absolutely nothing! When a couple recommits, especially after troubles they know all that they ever want to know about eachother and still choose to go into the ring after a knock out.
I held baby Isaac in my arms months before my heart was broken to smitherenes and then this past summer I was held by him as we attempted to waltz at the wedding and I was grateful to know him and to have spent time in his life. He will forever be a reminder of the love in my heart for my dearly departed one. God loves us more.

Are you my baby sister?

I find so many wonderful memories of the way that Amy was gifted to make mommy feel like she was an only child. My favorite memory is the pictures that Amy would draw when she was out at Rochdale when we were there for hours. She would draw and draw pictures and I loved them because I was never in any of them. She would draw pictures of mommy and her by themselves. That is my mommy she would say. I would say what is that "Aim"? She would always say this is a picture of me and my mommy and my daddy. There was no one else in Amy's vision but her and her mommy and her daddy. That is how it is supposed to be. Definitely that is how we are with God. It is God and me and when I think about that it makes me pray to God in a very committed way. Am I in your family now Aim?
I just loved playing second fiddle to my baby sister for those years at school. Are you Amy's sister? Isn't she adorable? Isn't she professional? Isn't she a great speaker? I didn't know you could speak, Jayne? Are you older or younger? That was the best question for me. Amy is my baby sister and I am so happy that on this day when 41 years ago she came into the family with a wonderful motivational, type A personality and I love her!
Thank you for being you, Amy!

Olivia, I luvy Ya!

Olivia is over the house today. She is two years old and I get to play Grandma for a little while. She is bright eyed and sweet spirited and just loves helping with the dishes and with the other stuff around. We played "hokey pokey" and tea party and open shut them and all of the baby games and I am now full and over my baby blues. I don't have a baby now and when her mommy comes I can give her back and sleep tight and no one is diapered in our house anymore. God is good and He knows when we have a little taste for a baby in the house. Thank you Karla and Lorraine for lending us your baby for the day. Now, off to work...

Its 2 days to Amy's birthday...

Amy is going to be ???? I don't know what age she is pretending to be, because she still looks better than she did at 18. The one thing about looking ugly when you are young is that you can only get better. Amy wasn't ugly, but none of us knew anything about make up in those days and 18 was not a fun time for any of us. I don't want to see any pictures of me at 18. Well happy 18th birthday to Amy is the wonder. I have been compiling pictures trying to get a birthday surprise and it is horrible that I can't ever get those things together like I'd wish to. Maybe one day I'll be able to get those birthdays and cards and gifts together like I'd like to. I will think of something special to help Amy realize that I am so happy that the alligators dropped her off at our house one day :). :(
Big sister joke! Enjoy the inauguration "AIM".

Mr. Full Moon is taking its final encore

outide my front window this morning and it is beautiful. A little too chilly for me to oogle at him, cheek to cheek. But I can applaud from the warmth of my livingroom computer table and thank God for the new sights and sounds that make the comforts of our North Carolina home.
This morning, there were no glitches to the bus routine, thanks to my capable crew, who do their thing awesomely. It is so very different to taste my daughter's oatmeal or oat candy(way too much sugar) I am going to be soaring all day. No trips to the candy machine, needed for me. I will just carry what is left of her oatmeal in my pocket and chomp on it later on. I am sure it will have hardened, by the time I leave for work. The children ate it and so did I. Thank you, Elyse.
Evvy had packed Enoch's lunch for him again. Those Walker women are so efficient and effective in what they do. I guess that is why the bunch of boys, the lot of them are such geniuses. Why, I said why don't you let him put it in there by himself, Ev. She said, "because, we never would make it to the bus..." We spent the waiting time pretending that I was Dora and En was Diego and Evvy was boots, the monkey and they went out of the door on their canoe to cross the street to the bus. I am sure that teenagers are not supposed to joke with their moms like that. I haven't read the new teen manual on the subject, but Enoch and Evvy are real teenagers outside and real children in the house. I am glad of that.
Ethan, has a trip, today to go and see a movie. He was so excited that he didn't even need the sugar, I mean oatmeal to wake him up. He ate it anyway because his sister was threatening him with some sort of punishment if he didn't finish the whole thing. Walkers also push food on people and their brothers' most of all. I sometimes feel lonely now, being the only Walker in the house by marriage and the bigger children translate any misunderstandings into Bodden for me now. Since they speak both languages. Ezra was sitting rather quietly this morning over his bowl of oat sugar. He didn't seem to notice that there was such alot of sugar taste to it at all. Emily left earlier than everyone else this morning. She's got an infectious case of "senioritis", which is contagious, I hear. We have to go to the pharmacy and see if there are any symptom relievers, because we know that there is no cure for the sickness. We may have to quarantine her, if she keeps sneezing out junk all over everybody. Now that the house is quiet. I think that I will take a nap and then get ready for work.

It must be freezing outside!

It is a little chilly in here. Chilly enough to turn on the heat for the second day in a row. brrrrrr! I don't remember anymore the feeling of air in my lungs where my chest feels like bronchioles must be turning into icicles. I miss NY, but I don't miss that. It is quiet in the house because, on Saturday, everybody sleeps late. A great opportunity to eat a quiet breakfast by myself, yum. I went to the microwave and it was beautiful and new as the day we walked into this new home. NOT!
Somebody had nuked their eggplant from last night and the mess was aweful, I could scream and will later on, but now I just clean it up to have breakfast with my memories of Mom's old fashioned Irish Oats.(that must be why Ezra is so smart). I can't afford the real thing so my simulation includes oatmeal and "Southern Home" Raisin bran. I still have some cream from our holiday binge and it was almost as though Mom were here, in NC, and I was pregnant and the indulgence was delightful. It really doesn't take much to keep me happy. Just clean up the microwave after you use it and better yet, cover the bowl with the eggplant it is going to explode.
Well, I am not pregnant, but when I was, I would carry my Ethan over to Mommy's and she would treat me like company. She pulled out her special china and her special pot and cooked, in a pot(something that I don't do anymore with a microwave) Irish oatmeal and put strawberries and cream and whatever other special stuff she had in it. I didn't have to eat the whole rest of the day. That meal was so potent. We would pontificate on St. Ignacious and Augustine and Nehemiah and Ezra and Fr. Tom and whoever else would come to mind and then I guessed I would be okay after that. I guess I can go through childbirth one more time since somebody must've birthed St. Ignacious. We were trying for a while to be as disciplined as Ignacious and we fell off the wagon, probably the same day right into the bowl of specialty oatmeal. But it was par for the course for these mere mortals and women at that. That is why we need grace and one another.
Ezra's awake now, I better get to my own mothering role. Thanks Mom!

The sun is shining today!

A cold snap has passed through our town and we are starting to feel the chill of the winter. It is about time, I suppose. The sky is blue and the chill in the air and the little bit of frost on the grass remind us that we are not in heaven yet. Even though the weather is very compliant, occasionally, even the weather has a day out of sorts and recalcitrant.
I am remembering the day that we made up the philosophy of where babies came from. The other children didn't know and we had the elder sister responsibility of schooling them about where babies came from. It was cold in the room and we told them that in heaven there is a baby elevator that goes directly into mommy's tummy and the fastest one to run to the elevator got to be the oldest and so on and so on. We knew that had to be true because at that time I always won the race down the block home from school and since I was the fastest one(it didn't matter that my legs were longer than everybody elses), we were sure that that was where babies came from and we looked at mom very differently looking for the elevator to bring the new gift from heaven for us.
I love remembering the days that we had to stand on eachother's backs to turn on the light in the hallway so that we could go downstairs to do something or other. It didn't matter what we were up to. We could reach whatever it was, if one of us would stand on the other one's back!

They tell me, the angels spilled the punchbowl, again!

We, in the Walker family, have a nickname for the hail down here. It started after Uncle Pat passed away. We were praising the Lord, at church and when we came home on the Sunday after Uncle's passing there were ice chips around our house. We had never seen this before.
Somebody said Uncle Pat made the angels spill the ice from the punchbowl on our house. We laughed and rejoiced that Uncle had given us notice that he had made it home safely.
Well, yesterday, it happened again and I was at work and they had no camera to document it so I just have to believe them that the angels spilled their punchbowl on our house again. We had an isolated hail storm in 50 or 60 degree weather. I was amazed at the beauty of God's natural wonders down here in NC. I admired the color of the clouds that brought us such a phenomenon. They were fat and whitish blue and I took my walk 2x twice around the parking lot at work, because the colors were so glorious and they did look like punch bowls.
I had a wonderful dream the night before about dad and mom and me going through some stuff in the attic at 113 and I took it that dad was telling me that he was on cloud duty that day. He does, sometimes tell me that or I imagine that. Anyway, the angels spilled the punchbowl and I didn't get a picture.

Of the Collarred Girl and Scotts Emulsion

One day, the stork brought 3 new children to our house. We didn't treat them very well. They weren't feeling very well. We learned to love them. With them came the Scotts Emulsion. Because we all started to get sick and have runny noses especially the pretty little "collard girl" as Dad affectionately called her. We had to try to strengthen the bones of every body with the Scotts Emulsion. I hated that stuff. I threw up every time, every time. I don't think they ever got that stuff down my throat. It tasted worse coming back up than going down. Ally, "Collarred", and Mike were the cousins that completed our quiver.
When the ship is full the shipmates must learn to work together and for better or for worse we learned to love one another. I really miss you guys!

Somebody asked me how we got started singing Love in Need!

We had a little visitor to our house, who told me that he didn't know how we got started singing, the 2 Stevie Wonder songs that have come to mark us as a family. I can just imagine 100 years from now a whole country of people getting together who came from Bodden blood singing Love in Need.
Well anyway, I got to tell him the story of our Christmas star Denise. We loved her so very much and she asked us to sing at her wedding and introduced us to some new songs by Stevie Wonder to change some of the songs that we were always singing, ie, Doggone Right and ABC by the Jackson 5. We digested the Album whole and memorized every hum and ding of the song together, until we could sing it in unison. The day of her wedding, however, we were scheduled to play a tournament. We thought we had enough time to go to Crotona and then to the wedding but we hit traffic and had to go to the wedding in our tennis stuff. We sang anyway. We had a very interesting time meeting Denises friends and new family. We sang Love in Need and Njikelela, or whatever it is called. We still sing that song everywhere we go, when we get together. Denise passed away and we miss her, but when we get together, we still sing her songs. They mean alot to us.
Denise taught us about Dionne Warwick and The Wiz and alot of the music that we like was developed by her.

Who bumped his head on the radiator?

I have a little 5 year old now who has been walking around with a mysterious knot on his head. He gave me the long winded explanation of how it happened. But I wasn't there so I cannot picture it. First it was blue and then it was just a bump. Big sister, Elyse took care of that boo-boo and she's become quite adept at kissing boo-boos in this season of our lives.
I remember a little brother of mine, who will remain nameless, so as not to shame him. Let's just call him brother. I don't even remember what age. He was just belly high to me at that time. and he came running and put his head into my stomach and he was crying and crying and screaming that he had hit his head on the radiator. I could not dislodge him from my stomach. When he came out of my stomach we watched as the knot on his head grew big and purple, right before our eyes. We were all scared to death of what was going to happen. No parents were home at the time and we knew that there was going to be a price to pay. Intimacy with one another has a cost. The cost is that we went through those kinds of terrors together and lived to tell about it. We loved one another through those hard things.
I have so often bumped my head and had to run to God in just that way and everytime I put my head into the Lord's belly to receive grace and mercy and forgiveness and kisses for the boo-boos in my life, I remember that He is so much more compassionate than I am. I know that one of the best feelings in my life is the feeling of a little brothers' feeling better after the boo-boo has been kissed away. God does that in a spiritual way and when I bend to pray, I imagine His big belly couching my big boo-boo and a big blurple bump on my head, like you know who :).