7/29/22 7/29/22

Blog Bio Mom Scheidies is gone but we still enjoy getting together as a family

Daughter Cassie & hubby Kurt with Jiggs & Bert

Since my in-laws, my husband’s parents Jiggs & Bert passed on, family gatherings haven’t been the same. For years, we followed his Mom’s pattern of a Scheidies weekend gathering the weekend after Thanksgiving in the fall and a gathering the last weekend in April.

In the fall, we celebrated Thanksgiving with a Saturday night potluck at the Scheidies farm and brunch the next morning in Minden with Keith’s folks. We also celebrated Christmas—with gifts for the children, birthdays, and any special event around that time period. In the spring we celebrated Easter, birthdays, and graduations.

Covid forced us to get together via Zoom for a couple of gatherings. While I was thankful for the technology and I was glad to visit with family, Zoom isn’t the same as face-to-face conversations, smiles, and those all-important hugs.

We have gotten together, but too often in the last couple of years, it has been for a memorial service or special acknowledgments, etc. Finally, we held a Scheidies gathering, this time in June 2022, that mirrored the ones Mom Scheidies initiated.

On Saturday night we met at the Scheidies’ farm now owned by Keith’s younger brother and sister-in-law Randy and Nancy who are raising their two grandkids.

Uncles went outside to keep an eye on the little ones. They also gave the kids rides on the 3-wheeler and even on a burro (Someone took a picture of our 5-year-old granddaughter, Ellery, on a burro. She has the biggest smile.)

The kids also got to swim in the above-ground pool on the side porch. Inside, we talked, laughed, remembered, and hugged. We also took time to see who wanted what from two tubs of items from the folks that had not been divided up.

Of course, we had potluck with lots of good food. Only a few stayed for the traditional late-night card game at the farm. The rest of us returned to our homes or hotel rooms for the night.

When the folks lived, we met at their home in Minden where we made eggs and bacon and supplied other breakfast/brunch items. We ate, and hung out until it was time to disperse to our homes—West to Colorado, East to Lincoln, Omaha, and Florida, for Randy and Nancy a short drive North of Minden to their farm and, for us 20 minutes to Kearney. The folk’s home in Minden has been sold. This year we rented the Mitzi Center at Yanney Park in Kearney for our brunch. The park offers so much for the family—including climbing the tower.

We ate, laughed, remembered, and took pictures. We’d gotten together as Mom always wanted for her family. This time without being brought together by death and tragedy. Now the big debate—when should we hold our next get-together? Looks like we’re returning to the last weekend in April. I can’t wait.

Published in the Kearney Hub as “Mom gone: we still get together” 7/28/2022

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5/30/22 5/30/22

Blog Bio Energy, age and learning what's important

As a child, I had endless energy. I wooshed through my days. In Siren, Wisconsin, I walked from one end of our small town to the other, though I was only in first and second grades. I visited friends, played with pets, and told imaginative stories.

At home, I had chores, such as making my bed and helping to keep things clean. Dad patiently showed us, kids, the proper way to make a bed with the covers smooth, and corners just so. That meant I needed to learn to slow down and not just tug my covers up and forget them.

In Wyoming, I was allowed to wander the hills behind and around our home, in daylight hours only. I carried a pocket knife and my father taught me how to stay clear of rattlesnakes and what to do if I could not.

In Kansas, as a young teen, I contracted Rheumatoid Arthritis. Pain and exhaustion became my companions for years. But thanks to prayer and effort, I entered a more healing phase and regained some of that energy. In college, even from a wheelchair, I actively entered into going places and doing things with friends. After college, extensive surgery got me back on my feet. I married my husband I started my married life.

While I continued to have surgery and I often needed to rest in the afternoon, I was involved in home, church, and community activities. This only increased when our children arrived. Sometimes I was incredibly tired, but I still kept up a schedule of home, writing, and everything else. When my books sold to publishers and were available everywhere, organizations began asking me to speak, adding another layer of activities. I got very good at making and keeping schedules. Sometimes I got stressed out, but I also enjoyed my life.

After the kids left home for college and to start their own families, I settled down to writing and speaking and church activities. My career was going well. I landed a good contract with Harlequin’s Love Inspired brand that’s sold at most book and department stores. Yet, I needed more effort to get everything done on my list each day. I realized I needed to pare down that list. Still, my days were full.

The big change came with a bad fall that put me in the hospital for 2 ½ months, with a trach and feeding tube. While I was eventually able to lose the trach and feeding tube, it took me over a year to fully recover. Now things were different. My aggressive edge was gone. My energy was quickly depleted each day.

Each year, I find it more difficult to complete a long list of things. In fact, it seems to take more and more time to get less and less done. My list is often things that I need to do as well as things I don’t want to forget.

I realized my writing would pass away as would most everything else I did. What mattered was my relationships with Keith, our kids, grandkids, other family and friends. Now, a phone call from family or friends takes precedence over my daily list. I am thankful we are relatively healthy. I am thankful I am still writing and selling. I also still find the energy for those things that matter most. my faith, my family, and the freedom to honor both. I am blessed.

Kearney Hub Column 5/30/2022

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5/25/22 5/25/22

Blog Bio Rain, Rain, and More Rain

***Photo by*** ***Nick Nice*** on ***Unsplash***

I was a preschooler when we lived in Clitherall, Minnesota. (My father was a minister.) After it rained, I’d plop down and play in the large puddles lining the dirt roads by our house. I had a great time splashing until, one day, my older sister Karin spoiled it all by pointing out I shared those puddles with worms that rose to the surface. Yuck! So ended my puddle splashing.

I remember dancing on the lawn during a gentle rain shower in Siren Wisconsin. I preferred being outside, even in the rain. Other times, I splashed through puddles secure in my rain boots.

Wyoming was different. It didn’t rain much. Only one creek ran most of the year. The others only filled and swirled with water during a long, hard rainfall or during Spring thaw. They were mostly dry creek beds suitable for exploring. It wasn’t fun being out in the rain that turned the ground into muck, ripping shoes off feet as it sucked and tried to drag the wearer down. The ground became almost, but not quite, quicksand consistency. A person needs to take care. Once while down by the rushing Lance Creek, I got stuck and lost a boot before my friend help me to safety.

Every place we lived had differences. Kearney Nebraska has long dry spells. It also may have days and days of almost freezing rain even in the last of May. After several hot days, we turned off the heat only to turn it on again when the temperatures inside were more like January than May.

I like rain—for a day. Too many days of gloom and rain drag down my mood. I need sunshine and light. If the ceiling light doesn’t give off enough, I turn on lanterns and flashlights. After days of rain, I remind myself the farmers need rain. I pray the rain will soak into the ground and not runoff. I pray for good crops. And, I hope the rain will stop for a while and come again another day.

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4/29/22 4/29/22

Blog Miss those grandkids

When our son Chris’ kids were young, the family moved to Indiana for a job. We were used to seeing them once a week. Now, they were far away. That was before video was built into most computers and cell phones were for more than phone calls. We would so miss the three grandkids, but Chris had a video camera, and the plan was to make regular videos as well as phone calls.

What we didn’t realize was that the kids absolutely hated talking on the phone. Then Chris’ video camera went down. I had no idea the actual grief I would go through having our grandkids so far away. We were thrilled when they moved back to Nebraska a few years later. Every summer they came to stay with us for a week or two until they became teenagers with jobs and other activities. I missed those weeks, but we still got to see them periodically.

Chris’ kids are now young adults and on our way to or from Omaha to visit our daughter and family, we usually stop in Lincoln and go out to eat. Love talking to our grandkids. They are kind and intelligent and I learn from them. We usually find it difficult to say goodbye and head on home.

Our daughter married much later than Chris. Her kids are (in early2022) five and three—a whole different generation from Chris’ kids. But so much fun. We love their smiles. Chris’ kids are almost like an aunt and uncles to Cassie’s kids. We’ve visited for events, holidays, etc. as well to help out with the kids.

During Covid and even now at times, we stay in touch with Cassie’s kids using FaceTime. Ellery puts her hands on her hips. “Mom, we want to talk to Grampa and Gramma.” We get a call and open FaceTime. Our older grandkids and I stay in touch through email.

We also are all close enough to share holidays—usually in Cassie & Kurt’s home in Papillion. High school graduations and Chris’ kids’ birthdays we celebrate in Lincoln in Chris’ home.

As we get older, the trip east seems longer, but so worth the effort. It was so hard having our older grandkids far away years ago and such a blessing when they moved back. Work and school might mean our grandkids will eventually move further away, but right now I am thankful they are all within three hours of Kearney. We can go there, and they can come here to visit. I am already looking forward to that next visit.

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10/25/21 10/25/21

Blog Bio Home, mice, snakes and perspective

I loved cowboys and horses. So, when my minister got a church in Wyoming when I was in elementary, I was thrilled. I didn’t much care about the house. Mom did. Especially when she began hearing persistent scratching behind their closet wall. My mom freaked when a rodent emerged. Turned out to be one huge rat.

Dad quickly dispatched the unwanted visitor and made certain that would not happen again. Except for that exception, mice stayed away from our house well-guarded by several cats that considered our place home.

When Keith and I married we first lived in an apartment house. One day I found evidence of an unwanted visitor in the kitchen. We bought traps and I put food in plastic containers. I was in the kitchen when our visitor dashed across the floor. I screamed for Keith who rushed in and stomped on the mouse--in his socks. Grossed me out. Mice became a problem.

I was relieved when we moved to another, larger apartment on the other end of the mouse-infested one. Then we moved to an older house that had any number of insects and rodents, Traps became a way of life. Mice made me cringe.

Thanks to a government program, my brother Paul was able to build a house geared toward my limitations. Nice, clean and accessible. Yet, in the fall, mice seemed to find a way into the house, probably from the attached garage. Again, traps were a way of life. At least only one or two got in each year.

After our kids were in elementary, Chris got a dog and Cassie got a cat named Cutie. With Cutie in the house, mice had no chance and they disappeared from our lives. Unfortunately, our mice problem turned into a snake problem.

In fact, for many years I wrote at least one article each year about my adventures with snakes that found a way into the house. Eventually, the snakes also disappeared--at least inside the house. Then we had some siding work done.

About that time, we discovered a mouse in the house. This time we got traps that held poison. The traps took care of that mouse. So much for the mouse problem.

Recently, my sister called early in the morning as I walked into the kitchen from the bedroom. In the semi-darkness, I noticed movement on the ground. At first I thought it was a cricket, Then I scared my sister when I started screaming for Keith.

That movement was a mouse crawling along almost flat against the floor. Gross. Gross. Keith rushed in, took a look and slammed his cane down. I had to explain to my sister as Keith got rid of that dying mouse.

I was thankful, we’d never picked up the poison traps we’d put down last year. Thankfully, that seems to be the only mouse that managed to get inside. Over the years we have had either mice or snakes.

As much as I dislike both these creatures, when I see what is going on in our world I realize how small my problem with mice or snakes really is. Those bigger problems put things in perspective. I guess I can deal with snakes and mice—especially if Keith is near.

5/10/21 5/10/21

Blog Thankful for people, park, laughter

We live across the street from Collins Park. Keith and I have lived here since the early days of our marriage. The house is built for my limitations by my brother Paul Fredrickson who was a local contractor. Having the park across the street has been a blessing in so many ways.

I am a bit claustrophobic, but with the park across the street rather than more houses, I don’t feel hemmed in. When our kids were small, we could go hang out across the street at the park on nice days. Over the years, family friends have used the park for any number of get-togethers and picnics. We’ve even attended an Easter Sunrise Service at the park.

Every Spring the cars started filling the roadway as baseball practice got underway. Then came the games throughout the summer, lights on till long after dark, and individuals yelling and cheering until we couldn’t wait for the game to end. My kids would beg money to spend on candy, etc. at the canteen. Once in a while, I even gave in.

In the early days, some thought nothing about blocking our drive with their cars, keeping us from getting out, but this pretty much stopped after a while. (I’ve wondered if my article about the problem made a difference.)

Other than game times, kids and families used the park all summer long. Families had reunions and other gatherings. Sometimes we didn’t have far to view fireworks when families shot them off at the park on Independence Day. During the summer, the park was filled with excited yells and laughter as children played on the equipment meant for their enjoyment. The laughter made me smile.

Then in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, all was silent. The park was off-limits to the children who needed activity and fun. When the wind blew, I sometimes heard the rattle of swing chains, but it was a lonely sound without the children.

The next year, I once again heard laughter at the park. Many walk by with their dogs at their heels. Kids ride by on bikes with friends. Even baseball is gearing up. More cars line the streets and baseball calls echo across the ballfield. At times in past years, the lights, sounds, cars, the overall noise level irritated me.

After the silence of Covid restrictions, I am glad to hear the laughter emanating from across the street. It almost relaxes me now. I smile and give thanks that despite the heartaches and frustrations of fear-based restrictions, Americans are strong and resilient, and we will not only survive—but also thrive.

3/23/20 3/23/20

Blog Bio My house, my home--wherever it is

My father was a pastor. For us that meant we didn’t stay in one location for more than two to four years. How long we stayed and how often we moved depended on when another church would ask Dad to candidate and whether or not my folks felt God leading them to a different church.

My childhood was spent in Canada (my folks drove across a frozen lake in January so I could be born in the US), Minnesota, Wisconsin, Wyoming, Kansas and Iowa. In Clitheral, MN we lived in two places: a small house with very little room and a former red brick bank building that stood on mainstreet and still had a working vault. It also had a path out back.

Our Siren, Wisconsin residence was next to the church and held secret passageways. In Wyoming, Dad doubled the size of our home by adding on the old rectangular church building when the church bought the facility of a shop that went out of business and remodeled it for a church. The only way to get from one part of our house to the other was through a connecting back porch.

The Kansas Country church provided a large farmhouse on a farm worked by the members.

Iowa also had a farm-style house next to the church. But none of these houses were ours. In fact, since the church owned the buildings, my folks had to ask permission for changes--sometimes large changes, sometimes to simply add a nail on which to hang a picture.

We moved to Kearney, not for a church, but so I could attend college. My disabilities meant I needed to have family close. After renting, my folks bought a house and I could understand Mom’s joy at being in charge of her own home.

My parents planned to retire in Kearney, but then Mom died suddenly of a stroke. At the time, Dad had been called back to a church in Canada. When Mom died so did their dream. Dad stayed with his church in northern Minnesota, met and eventually married a widow.

When Keith and I married, we rented apartments and then a house. We prayed for a house of our own, but didn’t have the resources until a government program was announced--and we qualified. My contractor brother Paul had wanted to build us a house, only neither he nor we had the financial resources.

But with the government approved loan, Paul was able to build a house specially designed for my disabilities. It is a one level plan with no basement, no stairs, and easy accessibility.

Friends helped us move in in 1979, just before the new year. It was just in time. I finally had a home that was ours. We brought our first child home from the hospital early April.

Today, I look around my home. The design hasn’t changed though it has been repainted, recarpeted, re-sided, had two new roofs--thanks to the weather--and had assorted other repairs.

We raised our children here, our grandchildren have spent countless hours with us on visits. This house has seen us through illnesses, surgeries, birthdays, and too many holidays and celebrations to count. Every nook and cranny holds memories.

I look back with gratitude for those who pushed us to apply for the loan and walked with us through all that entailed. And we still use the heated front walk Paul added as a Christmas surprise. I was also glad when not long after Keith retired, we were able to finally pay off the mortgage and make the house truly ours.

Now that we’re geezers and slowing down, that one-level plan is a blessing. After living in so many places, I am far from moving on from a place that has been a real home for so long. I also look forward to making many more memories in this, a home of our own.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published Kearney Hub 2/23/2020
Read more of my life in my bio The Day Secretariat Won the Triple Crown
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