By: L.A. Kohl
June 15, 2006
(published in the June 21, 2006 edition of "The Bullseye")
I know it was only a few months ago that I wrote an article about how much I appreciated living in a rural, small town area. But something happened a few days ago that made me want to express my “awe” over small town life once again.
It all started one day when I sent a $39.00 check with my husband and oldest daughter, so they could purchase a roll of stamps on their way through town. She had lots of thank you notes to mail, so I wanted lots of stamps. (Perhaps before I continue, I should explain that we normally only stop at the post office an average of a couple times a month – at most.)
Anyway, later that day when they got home from working together, Nate tossed some assorted stamp booklets on the table and said, “They didn’t have any rolls of stamps, so they gave us five books of 20 instead.”
I noticed that there weren't many full booklets laying there, but I just assumed my daughter had more thank you notes than what I thought she did, and ended up using several of them. Imagine my surprise when I walked into our post office the next day and the postal mistress (or matron…or what do you call a female post office manager?) asked me a question.
“Was your husband in here yesterday?”
“Why yes, he was,” I replied, wondering where this was going.
“Did he buy a lot of stamps – like $39.00 worth?”
“Yes he did; all in booklets, since you didn’t have any rolls of stamps on hand,” I answered. I couldn’t help feeling impressed that she not only knew who my husband was, but she remembered how many stamps he’d bought!
“Well,” she continued, “Did you get all of them when he got home?”
Now this was getting humorous…did she know that my husband was prone to leaving things in places and then forgetting to tell me where he’d put them?
“Umm,” I stammered, “He did bring home three booklets....”
“I’m asking because a woman found half a book of stamps in the trash yesterday, and turned them into me. Your husband was about the only one I could think of that might have accidentally thrown them away – so here you go,” she said as she pulled them out and handed them over to me.
I couldn’t help chuckling as I got into the car and drove away. I was amazed by several things about the incident...all of which could undoubtedly only happen in a small town.
First, that a lady found 10 stamps in the trash and didn’t keep them for herself. Secondly, that the postal worker was able to figure out who had thrown them away. And lastly, she not only figured out who threw them away, she figured out who his spouse was so that she could get them into the correct hands.
You gotta love small towns!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Time Passages
By: L.A. Kohl
May 24, 2006
(published in the May 31, 2006 edition of "the Bullseye")
The rumbling outside could be heard off and on throughout the day today. But when the actual rain finally started sometime mid-afternoon; it had “inviting” written all over it. By the time it let up, all nine of us had managed to find an excuse to go out in it for varying amounts of time. Nate and I were a little more practical, and were only a bit soggy. The kids, however, from the eighteen year old down to the three year old, were drenched.
It suddenly took me back to the summer before fourth grade, to a small house on Lakeview Street in Centralia. I suppose my brother and I liked to play in the rain at other times in our lives – but for some reason I only remember actually doing it during that one year stint that we lived in Centralia.
Undoubtedly it was hot and stuffy in the house – no air conditioning – so whenever it would begin raining, we would begin begging to go out and play in it. Mom would peer out the door, to make sure it was just a gentle summer rain and not a major thunderstorm, and if she gave the go ahead, out the back door we would bolt.
Isn’t it strange how certain things and events can transport you through time like that – even if it was decades ago and even if it was a seemingly insignificant occurrence?
I remember standing at my Grandma and Grandpa Hall’s grave a few years ago, on Memorial Day weekend – and having all these little snippets of memories bombard my mind…purple irises and pink sweet peas, gathering eggs in a hen house, fishing on a pond bank with Grandpa, snapping beans and shelling peas with Grandma, enjoying her mulberry/rhubarb pie, and bread with milk gravy. Nothing significant and life changing, but all the little memories brought tears to my eyes all the same. Just the realization that all those things were now in the distant past, no longer to be experienced, made me feel melancholy.
I’ve been experiencing the same types of feelings and thoughts the past few days, as we celebrated our oldest daughter’s graduation from high school. I spent the last few months creating a life scrapbook for her – and if pictures don’t transport you through time, I don’t know what will. One that gets her father and me the most is her “pets” page. There, side by side, is a picture of a smiling little three year old trying to pick up a tiny new puppy; and next to it, a beautiful, young eighteen year old, smiling and kneeling beside our family’s current canine friend. I know several years occurred in between those two pictures, but in our mind’s eye they appear almost as simultaneous as they do on a scrapbook page. The little girl may be all grown up and ready to make a new life of her own, but our hearts still see her as that cute little girl that needs her mommy and daddy.
Life, and time, are funny things. One moment you’re young and full of ideas and ambitions – and the next minute you seem to have grown old, in experiences at least, if not in spirit.
Your children are now the ones with the ambitions, and you’re the ones just trying to keep up with them, doing what you can to help them reach those goals, and wondering where all those years went?
May 24, 2006
(published in the May 31, 2006 edition of "the Bullseye")
The rumbling outside could be heard off and on throughout the day today. But when the actual rain finally started sometime mid-afternoon; it had “inviting” written all over it. By the time it let up, all nine of us had managed to find an excuse to go out in it for varying amounts of time. Nate and I were a little more practical, and were only a bit soggy. The kids, however, from the eighteen year old down to the three year old, were drenched.
It suddenly took me back to the summer before fourth grade, to a small house on Lakeview Street in Centralia. I suppose my brother and I liked to play in the rain at other times in our lives – but for some reason I only remember actually doing it during that one year stint that we lived in Centralia.
Undoubtedly it was hot and stuffy in the house – no air conditioning – so whenever it would begin raining, we would begin begging to go out and play in it. Mom would peer out the door, to make sure it was just a gentle summer rain and not a major thunderstorm, and if she gave the go ahead, out the back door we would bolt.
Isn’t it strange how certain things and events can transport you through time like that – even if it was decades ago and even if it was a seemingly insignificant occurrence?
I remember standing at my Grandma and Grandpa Hall’s grave a few years ago, on Memorial Day weekend – and having all these little snippets of memories bombard my mind…purple irises and pink sweet peas, gathering eggs in a hen house, fishing on a pond bank with Grandpa, snapping beans and shelling peas with Grandma, enjoying her mulberry/rhubarb pie, and bread with milk gravy. Nothing significant and life changing, but all the little memories brought tears to my eyes all the same. Just the realization that all those things were now in the distant past, no longer to be experienced, made me feel melancholy.
I’ve been experiencing the same types of feelings and thoughts the past few days, as we celebrated our oldest daughter’s graduation from high school. I spent the last few months creating a life scrapbook for her – and if pictures don’t transport you through time, I don’t know what will. One that gets her father and me the most is her “pets” page. There, side by side, is a picture of a smiling little three year old trying to pick up a tiny new puppy; and next to it, a beautiful, young eighteen year old, smiling and kneeling beside our family’s current canine friend. I know several years occurred in between those two pictures, but in our mind’s eye they appear almost as simultaneous as they do on a scrapbook page. The little girl may be all grown up and ready to make a new life of her own, but our hearts still see her as that cute little girl that needs her mommy and daddy.
Life, and time, are funny things. One moment you’re young and full of ideas and ambitions – and the next minute you seem to have grown old, in experiences at least, if not in spirit.
Your children are now the ones with the ambitions, and you’re the ones just trying to keep up with them, doing what you can to help them reach those goals, and wondering where all those years went?
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
A Soldier's Letter for Mother's Day
By: L.A. Kohl
May 6, 2006
(published in the May 10, 2006 edition of "The Bullseye")
I gained permission to use the following letter, written for Mother’s Day last year by Sgt. Jerod Hall. He was a 26 year old soldier in my extended family, serving in the United States Army. I say “was”, because he was found dead in his barracks at Ft. Campbell, KY last month, after having recently returned from a tour of duty in Iraq. They still do not know the cause of his death, although they did determine there was no foul play or violence involved.
Without sounding too “morbid” during such a wonderful time of year – I thought perhaps this simple letter could be an inspiration to someone out there. Perhaps you think you’re not the “expressive” type. Perhaps you think your mother already knows that you love her, so why should you make a big, mushy deal about it?
Jerod’s case is a very good example why – simply because you never know when today may be your last opportunity to tell someone how much you love them. You don’t have to use big, expressive words, or come up with some cute, rhyming verse. Speak or write simply from your heart and a loved one will consider it a masterpiece. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Jerod’s mother will consider this letter a priceless treasure for the rest of her life.
See if perhaps it inspires you to do something this Mother’s Day to express your love and appreciation for a very special woman in your life.
After hours of pain endured while bringing me into this world, you loved me.
During my toddler years when you wished there was such a thing as a "child leash", you loved me.
While I was growing up and hit you with a non-stop barrage of questions about the way things are, you loved me.
When I was a teenager and pushed and bent all of the rules as far as they could go, you loved me.
When I was unable to finish college because I could not afford it and had to move back home, you loved me.
When I decided to work in the mines, even though they are dangerous, you worried, but you loved me.
When I decided to move away and devote my life to my country, you worried even more, but you loved me.
As I prepare to go back to a part of the world that is full of danger and strife to help give those a chance at a life that I sometimes take for granted, you still love me.
You taught me good values and gave me a strong foundation to build my life on. You never judged me and only showed me love and respect. For all of these reasons and more, I know that I have the greatest Mom in the world. Even if I do not show it all the time, I love you with all of my heart. Thank you for being MY Mom.
Love,
Jerod Austin
May 6, 2006
(published in the May 10, 2006 edition of "The Bullseye")
I gained permission to use the following letter, written for Mother’s Day last year by Sgt. Jerod Hall. He was a 26 year old soldier in my extended family, serving in the United States Army. I say “was”, because he was found dead in his barracks at Ft. Campbell, KY last month, after having recently returned from a tour of duty in Iraq. They still do not know the cause of his death, although they did determine there was no foul play or violence involved.
Without sounding too “morbid” during such a wonderful time of year – I thought perhaps this simple letter could be an inspiration to someone out there. Perhaps you think you’re not the “expressive” type. Perhaps you think your mother already knows that you love her, so why should you make a big, mushy deal about it?
Jerod’s case is a very good example why – simply because you never know when today may be your last opportunity to tell someone how much you love them. You don’t have to use big, expressive words, or come up with some cute, rhyming verse. Speak or write simply from your heart and a loved one will consider it a masterpiece. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Jerod’s mother will consider this letter a priceless treasure for the rest of her life.
See if perhaps it inspires you to do something this Mother’s Day to express your love and appreciation for a very special woman in your life.
After hours of pain endured while bringing me into this world, you loved me.
During my toddler years when you wished there was such a thing as a "child leash", you loved me.
While I was growing up and hit you with a non-stop barrage of questions about the way things are, you loved me.
When I was a teenager and pushed and bent all of the rules as far as they could go, you loved me.
When I was unable to finish college because I could not afford it and had to move back home, you loved me.
When I decided to work in the mines, even though they are dangerous, you worried, but you loved me.
When I decided to move away and devote my life to my country, you worried even more, but you loved me.
As I prepare to go back to a part of the world that is full of danger and strife to help give those a chance at a life that I sometimes take for granted, you still love me.
You taught me good values and gave me a strong foundation to build my life on. You never judged me and only showed me love and respect. For all of these reasons and more, I know that I have the greatest Mom in the world. Even if I do not show it all the time, I love you with all of my heart. Thank you for being MY Mom.
Love,
Jerod Austin
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