Poofy Woofy

If ever you get a card or letter from me, and especially if you're family, it might have these mysterious letters at the end:
pfu,wpfy

There's a story:

When my Grandmother and Grandfather (my Dad's mom and dad--Ada and Ernest Conner) lived out at Wallace Creek, my Grandmother wrote us a letter every single day of the week. I honestly don't remember NOT getting a letter on a day that the mail ran. As my Daddy read the letters aloud to us or as I tried to read them, (I found my Grandmother's handwriting difficult to read.) there was always one very predictable part. Every letter ended:

"Love, Mother
Pray for me. I pray for you."

My Grandmother continued to write letters as long as she lived in San Saba County. (She moved to Waco, where I grew up, and lived in a trailer house on my Uncle Arvin's property the last years of her life. Then my Daddy would talk on the phone to her every day and go eat lunch with her very often during the school year. Letters then would contain old news!)


A picture of Granny with Rachel and Ira in 1980


Anyway, as our children began to leave home, I remembered my Grandmother's tradition and thought it one worth carrying on. My intentions started out good. I would try to write Rachel every day when she went to ACU. I think I actually did a pretty good job of keeping the mail coming. Because there were 5 of us still at home, I changed my closing to "Pray for us; we pray for you." I got lazy after a while and shortened it to "pfu, wpfy"

Rachel was very sweet to open up and read all the mail. One day when she was reading a card, a friend glanced at it and saw the strange letters at the end and wanted to know what "Poofy Woofy" meant. Rachel explained, after she finally figured out from where the strange question originated.

Unfortunately, I haven't kept up the steadfast tradition of my grandmother for all my children. Now there are cell phones, e-mails and texts. But when I do write one of those rare letters or cards and it includes those little letters, I think of Rachel's little funny and the steadfast faith and love of my Grandmother.

Even if you don't choose to embrace the "Poofy Woofy" tradition, I do hope that you'll carry on the prayer tradition. Remember to keep your family constantly in your prayers and tell them that you do!

Pfu, wpfy!

One Year Ago...

One year ago today Bob and I were making final preparations for a trip to, Washington, D.C. Neither of us had ever been, the kids were after us to get away, and we wanted to do a last "fling" before we "nested" ourselves in for Mom's last days. A reason to celebrate: About 6 weeks before, Mom's prognosis for her Stage 4 lung cancer (which had been diagnosed the previous November) had changed from a couple of months to a couple of years! ...good doctors, good medications, and a gracious God....

I resigned from my first grade teaching position and we were readying ourselves to live the next few years to their very, very fullest.

So, part of our preparations for our departure included getting Mom nestled into Glen Rose Medical Center Nursing Home (where she had previously stayed after a bout of pneumonia for a while). She would enjoy those "hotel" accommodations for about a week while we enjoyed ours in the Eastern United States.

So, late the evening of August 12, 2009, only after being home a couple of hours after spending several hours getting Mom settled into her temporary quarters, I received a phone call from the GRMC-NH that my Mom had fallen and that they had taken her to the emergency room at Glen Rose just to check things out--just to be on the safe side.

Seems like my very-independent-Mama had decided to put herself to bed (She didn't want to bother anyone.) and had slipped and fallen while trying to get a pillow situated and getting her Sonic Diet Coke within reach. (Yes, she, too, was an extreme fan of Sonic's drinks! --and another trivia fact: Southwest Airlines refunded all of our air fare!)

The ER examinations revealed that Mom had indeed broken her hip. Dr. Julia Hutchison was her doctor here and she recommended that Mom be sent to a facility that had a pulmonologist--a place that was able to monitor and treat all her lung conditions as well as her fracture. So we took her to Cleburne's hospital so that she could receive the special attention she needed while getting her orthopedic issues cared for.

(I will just go ahead and say that we were not very satisfied with what went on at the hospital in Cleburne. Most of it boiled down to communication issues, I think. I did receive the satisfaction of voicing my concerns to the president of the hospital board...and it reality, I honestly do not think that any of this would have altered the final outcome of the 10-day journey we would make with my Mother.)

With that said, Mom's surgery did not occur until Sunday, (Yes, they did surgery on Sunday!) a full 4 days after her break. During those few days of waiting, though, it was determined that Mom's heart was functioning at only 25%. Evidently, she had suffered a heart attack at some point, of which we were not aware. We were actually mentally prepared (or as much as you can be) for her not to make it through the surgery; or at best, to never be able to be weaned from the ventilator.

God was good. She made it through surgery like a champ and came off the ventilator the very next day. The respiratory therapist worked with her and got her auxiliary O2 levels back down to an acceptable level. A local (Cleburne) oncologist from Texas Oncology had visited her and she had resumed her Tarceva therapy. Her brothers and sisters were able to come from San Saba and visit with her in the ICU at Cleburne...(I need to get the picture of all them together that Joe took on his phone...) Things were much better than we had ever hoped for.

Then, this is where everything gets a bit fuzzy. She was moved to a regular room (a separate bad story...) in the wee morning hours of Wednesday, August 19 and things started sliding-downward like crazy. She was having terrible trouble breathing and was very anxious. (We were told it was the emphysema-type thing, where one could inhale, but had difficulty exhaling.) She was dosed with Ativan and the auxiliary oxygen levels kept increasing. They were staying in the double-digit range.

So, then, (why?--I asked hospital personnel then and later, too.) it was decided to transport her back to GRMC-NH via ambulance-type transportation on the evening of Thursday, August 20. Of course, a mobile unit is not set up to transport people at that high level of oxygen use and had to stop mid-trip to hook her up to another O2 tank. Bless his heart, the respiratory therapist at GRMC practically met us at the door to care for Mom. I believe his name was Scott. He had come to love Mom through her stay in the hospital during the Fall of '08.

Nursing homes are not equipped to handle people with that high percentage of O2 delivery, either, in case you wondered. Scott sent her back to the ER at Glen Rose later that evening where she had to receive a tracheotomy. The decision was made to transport her to Harris Methodist (Texas Health Resources) in downtown Fort Worth. (We were not going back to Cleburne!)

At the ER in Fort Worth, it was determined that Mom had pneumonia and was septic. With the added issues of her remissive lung cancer and a low heart function rate, a move to the Palliative Care Unit was deemed the appropriate step to take.

We kept her on the trach until all family members could get to Fort Worth to say their good-byes. (Children, grandchildren, and siblings were able to be there.) I don't remember exactly when everyone got there and when the trach was removed, but Mom hung around and listened to music and "danced" with us in her sedated state until around noon on Saturday, August 22, 2009. (Laura Story's "Mighty to Save" brought a wonderfully humorous story into our lives...maybe I'll tell it later.) Then she began her dance with Jesus and my Daddy.

Mom, we miss you, but can't really be sad for you. Thank you for loving us and for helping us realize we need to fully live each day, to find joy in each breath and to love as each day is our last. I'm not sure I ever literally danced with you here on Earth, (Church of Christ influence, maybe? :) but I'm imagining our Heavenly dance. Nice.

School Days, School Days

Some of you young 'uns may not know the song:

School days, school days,
Dear old Golden Rule days.
Readin' and Writin' and Rithmatic,
Talk to the tune of a hick'ry stick.
I wrote on your slate, "I love you Joe!"
When we were a couple of kids.

(Hmmm...I'm kinda like Conner. "They usually rhyme, Boo Boo!" Don't know if I'm missing something or not and really don't want to look it up right now. It's not important to the story.)

But yesterday was my first day of my 19th year of teaching. I "got" to go to New Teacher Orientation because I missed last year to stay home with my Mama. And blessing upon blessing, I was rehired and hopefully will be able to finish my career at Glen Rose Elementary.

The interesting thing about all this (or at least to me), is that I was rehired into basically the same job that I was hired to do 18 years ago: Special Ed and Content Mastery. A perfect job for some pretty near perfect times.

But as the school industry goes, I always knew that a possibility existed for me to be moved into a regular classroom. (For you who are not familiar with all this, MANY more after-regular-school-hours are required for that kind of assignment.) I just prayed that if it did indeed happen, it would wait until my children all graduated from high school and left home. Sure enough, the summer after Jodi graduated, I got "the call". I was moved into a 3rd grade classroom (the first year that the state of Texas required students to pass the reading portion of the TAKS test to be promoted to the 4th grade! ...a little pressure there!)

I did get through that year and survived. Because 3rd grade was being moved from the Elementary campus onto the Intermediate campus, I requested a reassignment to first grade. I remained in first grade 6 years. They were very hard years, but enjoyable. How can you not love 6-year-olds? I always said that they would be learning in spite of me if not because of me, just because they're in that eager-to-learn stage of life.

Anyway, I consider myself very blessed to be able to go back to work at a lower stress job (at least I anticipate it to be!) I honestly never expected to be this happy about going back to work!

But I want my story to go back even further than me.

My Mom and Dad were both teachers.

I was always told that my Daddy started coaching/teaching at North Junior in Waco the year I was born. As I'm trying to put a date to it, since I was born in July, I'm really not sure if he started in 1954 or 1955. I gotta hope that it was 1954, because that sure would have made things easier for them financially. I don't know how long he stayed at North Junior (I could research it, but probably never will.), but he then moved to University High School and was the football coach and then Assistant Principal there for all my growin'-up years. Then(the aha of my story)he was moved back to North Junior as a Principal and remained there until they actually closed the doors of that school. He was able to return, if not to the actual job, at least to the place at which he started his teaching career!

Just to fill you in with the bare bones of the remainder of his teaching career, I will tell you that after North Junior closed, he was moved to University Junior High School as the Principal, but didn't stay there long before he retired. I think I'll follow in his steps and choose to retire if I get moved from my starting place again! I believe that Daddy was in the teaching profession for 33 years...and every one of those years was in the Waco Independent School District. Pretty much unheard of for coaches and administrators these days...

Mama not only taught all 33 (or 35) years for the Waco ISD, but she was even on the same campus: Kendrick Elementary. Do I hear "Amazing"??

My sweet brother, Donnie, is an educator, too. I'm thinking that he's quickly approaching his 30th year...if he's not already there. ...and Stephy, his wife, is a school nurse. (Stephy's mother was also a teacher in Hawaii.)

I believe my grandmother, Sadie Ross Ragsdale, was trained as a teacher, too, but I'm really not sure on the details of that.

So attention to the beginning of school days has long been a focusing factor for this family. Things have changed. I doubt teachers had inservices about the best uses for slates and how to keep students from writing "inappropriate" messages on them...but I am very sure they didn't have multiple days about how to use all the technology available!!

"The same, but different."
from Cherry Pies and Lullabies
...a story with which I became familiar as a first grade teacher...

Goodness and Mercy

Funny how if you're not in too big of a hurry, memories can flood your mind. My memories are good ones this morning. Granbury Church of Christ publishes a daily devotional email 6 days a week, and I try to read them every day (but in all honesty, miss about as many days as I succeed).

Today I did get to it. It's scripture focus was Psalm 23. That's a familiar passage, I know, but just in case you're a little fuzzy, here's the last verse of that chapter:

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell[a] in the house of the LORD
Forever.

My Daddy had 2 blue heeler dogs. Their names? Goodness and Mercy. Why? "surely Goodness and Mercy shall follow me...." Wish I had a picture.

My Daddy had many funnies like that.

The Frog Prince

I found Lydia's frog prince hiding in Ira's room this morning.



(Sorry the pictures are a little fuzzy. I had a difficult time photographing it while minimizing the glare from the lamination.)

This frog came to live with Lydia sometime during her Senior year of high school. Her frog's "speech bubble" says: Our God is a consuming fire. Heb. 12:29.

I am not sure how it all started, but she began to put the label off of every piece of fruit she ate on this poster. It started off with the common fruits like lots of oranges and apples. Then it became a game to find unusual looking labels on exotic fruits.



As she worked through the summer as a life guard at Glen Lake Camp, she continued to "feed" her frog. Then there was a rush to complete the poster before she left for ACU in August. She met her goal; I took the poster to school and laminated it and it decorated her dorm wall.

There were other posters. In fact, I think she kept one going all during her undergraduate years. On subsequent posters, though, she had a brother, sisters, parents and grandparents saving stickers for her. With very few exceptions, Lydia actually ate every piece of fruit represented by a sticker on this frog.

Silly as it may be, this Frog Prince represents a very special, fun time in a pretty chaotic time of our lives. Thanks for making me smile today, green froggy, and for prompting me to tell another story!

Incredible Journey...

On June 21, we received an email from our church that someone had contacted them with a matter that might interest us. This is that forwarded email:

NAME: Stephen Reilly
DATE/TIME SENT: 6/20/2010 3:18:41 PM
MESSAGE:
This is a long shot. I found some family photos that were discarded at a
local storage. It impressed me that the photos were a complete set of
school photos, perhaps lovingly assembled and labeled by a parent or
grandparent. Alas, there was little to identify the family other than the
marriage of one of the daughters, Jodi Lea Spies, at your church, July 30,
2005. Other children in the photo collection are Joshua Conner, Caleb
Conner, and Ira Spies. I believe the photos may have been collected by Mr.
and Mrs. Ira Conner, at 600 W. Roy, Waco, TX 76706 (apparently
grandparents) , but there is no working number for them. Perhaps the
photos were intentionally discarded, but I was concerned that they might
have sentimental value for family members. Thus, I "rescued" them was I
discarded by own trash at the storage facility. Sorry to bother you with
this. Stephen Reilly, email or 716-3057

I knew that this "trash" was generated as a result of our marathon clean-out spree last Thanksgiving week (4 1/2 train-car sized dumpsters were filled and numerous trailer loads were made to a storage unit awaiting a massive garage sale that a Waco church would be having in the Spring for its youth Summer activities)at my Mom and Dads house; but whether or not we had intended to discard these particular items, I did not know..But I did know that if these pictures and newspaper clippings had survived all this and were trying to find their way back home, they deserved another look.

So after contacting Mr. Reilly, he very kindly mailed the bundle to me.



Upon opening the package, there was no doubt that the pictures did indeed chronicle the lives of the grandchildren of Ira and Oleta Conner, the children of Donnie and Stephany Conner and Bob and Bonnie Spies.



My intent was to divide the items into stacks for each of the grandchildren and then disperse each stack accordingly. But a few days went by without me doing it. So, when Rachel and the boys came for "The Land of the Dinosaurs" (a musical held at the Texas Amphitheater here in Glen Rose) last weekend, Rachel and I went through the items and divided them appropriately.

As I supposed, the pictures consisted mainly of school pictures and newspaper clippings of which there were numerous copies. But there was one fantastic find that I felt made the whole venture worth it:



This was the card that Ira had made for his Peepaw when he had his first knee replacement surgery(out of 5!) back in the Spring of 1990. (I believe Ira was in the 4th grade.) This card was the topic of many conversations and the source of much laughter for my Mom and Dad up until the very end of their lives. Please notice the dog with Peepaw's knee bone in its mouth. It complete the picture of the sterile operating room quite nicely, doesn't it?

Thank you, Mr. Stephen Reilly, for taking the time and effort to return these to our family!