Let me tell you about.....my mom

August 23, 2011

I have been going through many photo albums lately in an attempt to scan and organize photos for posterity and for future generations of our family.  My mom used to do this type of task, back in the day, but with actual photo albums not with the luxury of a computer.  My mom used to be able to do a lot of things that I bet you do not know.

Born in rural Indiana in the early 1930's she is the oldest daughter but middle child of her family.  My grandparents made the trek from Indiana to California when mom was a teenager.  She graduated from Santa Monica High School (SamoHi), class of 1951.  I am not sure what her dreams or aspirations were other than being married and having children but that was common during her generation.  She was young and naive' when she met a handsome southern gentleman at church in Santa Monica and the pages of the Rainer-Flood history book began from that point.

I am comfortable in saying that there are only 2 people that really know my mom; my dad and me.  When you "know" someone, you learn the things that make them smile or bring them comfort and you are willing to do so even when you are not feeling well.  You listen to them tell you the same thing every day and act like it is the first time you have ever heard it and you love them despite their unintentional actions, but I am a bit ahead of myself at this point of my story.

I chose the picture above because I love the way I am gazing at my mom.  I feel like I look at her this way now because she still amazes me only in different ways than she obviously must have at this young age of my life.  My most vivid early memory of my mom is when President Kennedy was assassinated.  I remember sitting on the floor in front of the television (black and white of course) wondering what the fuss was all about and watching my mom's grief.  We were living in an apartment in Southern California at that time but we moved north to the Conejo Valley where my parents bought their first house not too long after that tragic November.

My mom went through several phases of her life that I look back on and see how they molded me into who I am today.  She went through a very fun Doris Day phase where she had her hair blond and styled similar to the actress and she dressed in fashionable but reasonably priced clothes that she could make or find to resemble some of the ensembles that Doris Day might wear.  She was a very crafty and talented seamstress and took hours and hours to sew clothes for my Barbie dolls with some of the outfits looking suspiciously like Doris Day outfits as well.  I did not appreciate her talents or her hard work back then but I can see how she wanted me to have Barbie doll clothes and that their budget did not allow for store-bought ones so she used her imagination to do her best for me at that time.  My Barbie had a wedding dress made from my mom's own wedding dress and I display it proudly in a frame in my house.  I also cannot resist watching a Doris Day movie if one is on television.

Her Galloping Gourmet phase was more fun for her than it was for me, I believe.  She seemed very enthused to try out new recipes on the family and I am sure that we were not as grateful to her for her efforts and ability to pull together meals on our budget and still have them be "gourmet".  Some of the intriguing sauces contained cooking wine or sherry that added a unique taste unfamiliar to my young palate and I probably turned my nose up at a lot of her hard work.  She did like to cook, though, and I have not been able to duplicate some of her recipes to my liking.  Fried chicken, she made some very tasty fried chicken.  Sure, it was probably the start of my bad cholesterol that I am carrying around today but that coating was great and the chicken was never dry.   She loved to cook in batches and utilize the freezer like a smart woman of the 70's, also something we probably did not give her much credit for as she had the foresight of meal planning.  I also like to cook and experiment with recipes and various spices but I do not have the flare that she possessed for food presentation.  I have fun with the concept of trying new ideas while adding my own spin on the ingredients and I thank her for giving me these skills.

She went through a phase of "Stretch and Sew" classes that enabled her to use her talents to torture us with these matching shirts.  Oh how my brother hated these shirts!  They were made of a terry-cloth type of material and mom and I had blue collars with dad and brother having red collars.  I just love the scowl on his face in this photo, it does make me giggle.  This sewing phase lasted for awhile and provided me with pants that I did not care for, bath robes, shirts, and shorts that were nice, and a few dresses that I more than likely did not appreciate as an ungrateful teenager.  But look at her smile in this photo!  She looks genuinely happy at this time.

Holidays were always made special by mom.  She decorated the house for Christmas with such enthusiasm that it was contagious.  She baked and baked and baked during the holidays. I have great memories of her love for this task.  She worked very diligently to ensure that our Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were abundant with the food and festivities that our family budget would allow.

This picture shows mom and me and my brother in front of a Christmas tree I would guess sometime in the mid to late 60's based on my age and the fact that she is holding her beloved poodle Petite and I am holding Polka Dot.  The tree is adorned with silver icicles and garland as was one of her decorating styles.   She was like a giddy child during this time as she displayed enough enthusiasm for all of us.  She meticulously wrapped presents for us and took great joy in hiding them prior to Christmas.  I only hope we made her happy and I admit I look back on this time frequently.


The 1970's and early 1980's brought some unforeseen challenges for mom as she dealt with life, health issues, and the ever-demanding family.  She withdrew from us in a way that was difficult to acknowledge or speak of and life became forever changed.  I look back on those years and wonder if she so desperately needed someone to talk to and share her life with and I am so sorry that she and I did not have that bond.  Perhaps things may have been different for her if we were closer.  She was a very co-dependent woman and I was very independent.  When life got difficult, and her health deteriorated, she chose the means to escape her problems that were subjective to her co-dependency.  I became a bitter teenager instead of trying to help her;  I did not have the maturity to reach out to her as it was all about me at that point of my life, typical selfish teenager.  Dad was working so hard to keep the family afloat, her friends were probably not comfortable with sensitive discussions, or mom did not feel it appropriate to air her laundry .  Nevertheless, in June of 1983 someone else stepped in.

Dad and mom were driving from Southern California to Durango Colorado to meet with his brother Bill and sister in-law Wanda for a vacation.  Bill and Wanda drove from Wichita, Kansas.   During the drive, mom started feeling ill so she rested in the back seat of their car where, unbeknownst to them, carbon monoxide was filling up the trunk and seeping into the passenger area via the back seat.  She lost consciousness and paramedics treated her for what they thought was heart failure.  She was in a coma for 14 days and doctors urged my dad to “pull the plug” as they felt she would only be a vegetable from that point forward.  Dad could not and would not give up on her and did not allow them to persuade him otherwise.  She came out of her coma but had to go through some basic physical therapy to relearn skills we all take for granted. 

Mom was only 50 years old when it happened and she has to this day never relearned to write the alphabet, dress herself, or do basic day-to-day activities.  She has dementia with very little short term memory and at times her long term recall startles us as she remembers the lyrics to older songs.  It takes a great deal of patience for us all but in particular for dad.  Carbon monoxide poisoning changed all of our lives in an instant. 

After many years and different states (Colorado, Kansas, and back to Colorado) mom and dad settled into our home where we welcomed them with open arms.  Her health declined to a point where dad could no longer care for her as she had a long hospital stay in Intensive Care that left her unable to walk.  I had to make the difficult decision to convince dad to move her to a nursing home where she has been for the past 3 years.  She does not know that she lives in a nursing home, though, which is a blessing.  We try to humor her when we visit as her memory is so distorted with time spans and events.  She has no phone in her room but tells us on the days that her friends call and what nice chats she has had with them.  Even though there are actually no calls, and the person of whom she is speaking may already have passed on, we inquire as to the conversation and let her believe she is so loved to receive calls and visits that are actually not there.  When dad comes and leaves, she thinks he goes to work and does not remember from day to day any differently.  Sometimes she thinks I am her only sister instead of her only daughter and that is the one thing that I do bother correcting.   Mom has had bouts of depression and has had trouble eating or sometimes just does not want to eat.  This is a challenge for dad and he does not miss a breakfast meal unless he is ill with something contagious.  I admire his sincere commitment to mom.

This particular blog was inspired by an event I attended with my mom today.  We went to a Tea Party at the nursing home.  It was for women only and we had such a great time!  There were some "Dancing Diva's" who were aged 59-80 and did some great routines to a variety of music that mom loved.  She kept thanking me for bringing her and the smile on her face was precious.  They served little egg salad sandwich triangles, 2 strawberry halves, 3 grape halves, a little cookie, and a little piece of candy.  She ate every bite of her food on her plate and then tried to get the strawberries off of woman's plate next to her, it was great! 

Life is short, we never know what is around the corner and I do suggest you let your loved ones know how you feel regularly as every moment we have on this earth is precious and unpredictable to say the least.  As always, thanks for reading my blog.  I have included some pictures below of mom in her new home.

Grandma P.




recent Christmas photo



Mother's Day 2010



Best Friends - a heart to heart for my grandchildren

August 22, 2011

Dearest grandchildren,

As I write this I am doing so with the hope or assumption that there will still be some type of an internet for you to use in your future.  I dream that you will be able to read some of these posts and gain some insight into your grandma Patty, perhaps a side of me that I was not able to share with you in our time together.  I would love to have known more about my grandmothers' early years but the closest I came was to be pen pals with my grandma Flood in her last years of her life.  I have a scrapbook full of letters and postcards from her that she wrote to me and I hope you stumble across them someday and enjoy them as I did.

This posting, however, is about friends.  In particular, best friends; the rarest of rare kind of friend that not everyone is lucky to secure in life.  All of us are exposed to groups of girls and boys throughout our lives in school and at work and most of us have had our feelings hurt at one time or another by someone who only pretended to be a "friend" and were not even close to the true definition of the word.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary has several definitions for the word "friend".  A few of my favorites are:

• one attached to another by affection or esteem
• one that is not hostile
• a favored companion

Why is grandma writing about friends today?  I am thinking about, and missing, my very best friend, Kim.  As of this writing, Kim and I  have known each other for about 38 years.  Wow, that is a LONG time!   Her birthday was 2 days ago and I just wanted to give her a big hug; however, we are separated by miles as I live in Colorado and she lives in California where your Nonno and Nonna DeJulio live.

I met Kim in high school during our 10th grade year, aren't we cute in the picture above?  We attended Newbury Park High School in California.  We were both in the marching band.  Kim was a baton twirler and I was a banner carrier.  I also played the percussion instruments (tympany drums, bass drum, cymbals, etc.) in a lot of the band concerts.  I cannot recall how we first met but once we did it seemed like we were instantly destined to be friends.  Little did we know that we had similar lives outside of school and the more time we spent together the more special our relationship became.  We both had other friends, school, after-school chores and jobs, but we spent as much time together as possible.  Graduation was Friday the 13th of June, 1975 and we thought we were ready for the world.

After graduation from high school we had a brief respite of time apart spent evolving our individual lives with marriage and children.  Ironically, we both had the pleasure of child birth in 1980 just a few months apart; Kim had a daughter and I had a son.  We matured and realized how young we were when we committed to our first marriages.  Life is not perfect, it is not the fairy-tale we are read as little girls and boys, and if you are not adequately prepared for the world it takes you by surprise sometimes.

We found each other again in the mid-80's and it felt like we had just seen or spoke to each other the previous day.  By that time I had given birth to my second son and neither of us was with our first husband.  Although we had a lot to catch up on it was very natural and comfortable for me to share all of my woes and joys with Kim.  We were truly attached to each other "by affection" and realized that we did hold each other in the highest of esteem. 

As our years progressed we kept in touch and I was eventually relocated to Colorado with my job.  The distance cannot or will not change our affection for one another.  I can pick up the phone and tell her the deepest secret or I can tell her a joke and make her laugh that wonderful laugh of hers.  I will never, ever, forget the day that she called me early in the morning to tell me that her daughter had been killed in a tragic car accident.  I grieved for her, I wanted to hold her and cry with her but we were miles and miles apart.  This is the only time in our relationship that I regret that I was not able to be there for her but I know she does not hold that against me.  Years earlier Kim had found the love of her life and he was by her side every step of the way during this tragedy.  I love and respect him for that. 

We both forged ahead through the next decade and are still able to pick up the phone at any time of day or night just to hear each other's voice or to find comfort with the things we ponder in life.  We share similar health issues, can glean ideas from one another, or regale each other with funny stories.  We speak of our parents, my children and grandchildren, and we speak of her daughter.  It has been tough for her with other friends because they are afraid to mention her daughter, but not me.  She still has a daughter and always will, even in the afterlife.

This year we are sharing the dreaded event of the over-50 colonoscopy!  It is just by chance that we scheduled them a week apart and we have had many giggles over this.  Hers is already over and mine is still 4 days away.  The comfort of her voice this afternoon helped to calm me once again as I anticipate my Friday task.  That is a true best friend, a "favored companion".

In conclusion, I would like to wish for you, my grandchildren, to find a true best friend some day.  A friend that you will hold in your heart for years and a friend that will share your laughter and tears.  Hey, that rhymes!   (Heehee)

Lots of love,
Grandma P

School Shopping!

My daughter in-law invited me to lunch and to go school shopping with her and my grandkids today and what a blast I had!  Who would ever think that such an event could be construed as "fun", but I truly had such a good time.  Armed with 2 Target carts and 3 kids ages 6, almost 4, and 10 months, the store became a treasure-hunting ground for supplies, clothes, and other ancillary needs on her shopping list.

The older 2 rode with grandma (me) as I pushed one of those extra-long carts equipped with big-kid seats and seat belts and my daughter in-law had the baby and the shopping list so we followed her.  As expected, the school supply isle was abuzz with moms and kids scurrying about with lists of needs for the new school year.  The kids all look so excited and the moms tend to look stressed.  My daughter in-law, however, was calm and collected and very organized with her gathering of supplies.  My 6-year old grandaughter was very dutiful in bringing the supplies back to my cart and then bounce back to mom for more.  What fun it was indeed!

Clothes were next and that is always exciting for kids.  My grandson was precious with his new shirt and pants selections and my granddaughter was absolutely adorable when she returned with matching dresses for herself and her baby sister.  Mom was very thoughtful as she let the kids pick out their own clothes smiling at some choices but never once criticizing fashion taste.  I admire that about her. 

On to the toy section as a birthday party gift for a friend was the next item on the list.  My granddaughter went down an isle and after a few seconds she jumped out with a pirate hat on her head and said "Arrr Matey!"   Oh my goodness what a priceless, spontaneous act that was for me to witness and I shall never forget it!   My grandson found a blue car that he wanted so we spent some time looking at the box and keeping busy with the baby while mom and granddaughter looked for a birthday girl gift.  So happy and well-behaved are my grandchildren and I am pleased that my son and daughter in-law have done so well.

Food and other necessities were up next on the list as we took our "choo-choo train" of carts (grandson liked that) across the store.  I was able to get some great hugs and kisses in with all 3 grandkids and got my grandma battery charged to the fullest.

I am excited for their upcoming new school year adventure as I know that they will be well equipped with supplies and will be sporting some adorable fashion statements.  My son should be proud of his wife for not only blessing him with these 3 little persons but also for her ability to organize such an outing.  I know that I sure am proud of her and actually in awe of how she even manages all that energy.

Grandma is tired tonight but it is one of those special tired feelings that I would not trade for anything!

With Respect - Remember the Living

As the nation postures for a day of remembrance for the 10 year anniversary of September 11^th, 2001 or more commonly known as “9/11” (nine eleven), I want to bring some attention to a group of people who deserve some acknowledgement.

Ground was broken for the Flight 93 National Memorial on November 8, 2009, and the first phase of construction is expected to be ready for the 10th anniversary of the attacks on September 11, 2011.

Most of us know, and have deep respect for, the depth of that tragic day where a series of coordinated suicide attacks by al-Qaeda upon the United States changed our nation forever. On that morning, terrorists hijacked four commercial passenger jet airliners. Two of the jets were intentionally crashed into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, killing everyone on board and many others working in the buildings. Both towers collapsed within two hours, destroying nearby buildings and damaging others.

A third airliner crashed into The Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C. and a fourth plane crashed into a field near Shanksville in rural Pennsylvania after some of its passengers and flight crew attempted to retake control of the plane. There were no survivors from any of the flights. 

I have read that nearly 3,000 victims and the 19 hijackers died in the attacks. Among the victims were first responders, including firefighters and police personnel, and of course civilians just going about their day.

Over the past 10 years we have failed to recognize that there are those who remain among us the forgotten survivors of that day.  These people happen to have a birth date or wedding anniversary of September 11^th and they deserve to be remembered accordingly.

I write with firsthand knowledge of this particular conundrum.  My father, James Lee Rainer, was born on September 11^th, 1931.  He was born in the small town of Newton, Mississippi.  He was the second son but the first to live and was blessed with a little brother 3 years later.  The town of Newton, Mississippi had a Civil War engagement made into a movie starring John Wayne called the “Horse Soldiers” where 1900 Union Cavalrymen dressed in Confederate uniforms traveled south from La Grange, Tennessee to Newton Station where they changed into Yankee Blue before raiding and destroying trains and railroad tracks that supplied ammunition and troops fighting the battle of Vicksburg.  One hundred Union soldiers were buried near his grandfather’s farm in Newton.

Because of the depression, his childhood was of meager means.  One month after his little brother arrived, their home was destroyed by a tornado on Thanksgiving evening 1934 around 8 p.m.  My grandfather told that it sounded like a freight train with strong winds.  With no storm shelter he placed my grandmother, my father, and my uncle on a mattress and with another mattress and him on top they survived a wild ride of 100 yards.  The only injury was a gash on my grandfather’s head.  My grandmother’s visiting grandfather, George Franklin Williams, was later found praying under a pyramid of debris.  There was no recollection that he ever revisited.  Since that day my father has been a little edgy when hearing of tornado warnings.

Rebuilding was slow but my grandfather was a carpenter and painter by trade and with the aid of a frugal and wise wife they had a temporary 2-bedroom house constructed of 12-inch-wide board and batten with a tin roof and outhouse privy.   A few years later with remodeling that included running water and indoor facilities they enjoyed a normal childhood for southern boys of the forties.

My father graduated from high school, completed 1 ½ years of CPA schooling, and worked as a bellhop at the Robert E. Lee Hotel in Jackson, Mississippi.  In February of 1951 he joined the United States Air Force for 4 years during the infamous Korean Conflict.  After basic training in Wichita Falls, Texas he was selected as one of sixty airmen to be stationed in Santa Monica, California for 15 weeks of aircraft and engine mechanic training.

It was fate for him to be stationed in Santa Monica as this is where he met the love of his life, my mom Donna Flood.  They met at a church gathering where lots of young women were in attendance at Sunday school.  They had a very proper courtship 1950’s style, that included some patient long-distance waiting while dad was stationed Germany.  After 2 years dad flew home for a 25-day leave and they were married on June 21^st 1953 at the same church where they first met.  The clan of Rainer-Flood’s was formed on that day and the nomenclature has given us a few giggles over the years.

Dad was sent to Chanute Air Force Base outside of Rantoul, Illinois for several months of schooling pertaining to specialized instrumentation and hands-on familiarization on how to disassemble, repair, and rebuild aircraft instrumentation.  He was then assigned to the 86^th Fighter-Bomber Wing (Neubiberg AFB, east of Munich Germany) under the direction of Master Sergeant John Harris who had worked on the instrumentation of the first atomic bomb at White Sands, New Mexico.  His tour of duty was full of many experiences that he still recalls to this day.  In February of 1955 he received his Honorable Discharge at Travis AFB in California where he reunited with his new bride.

Mom and dad settled into an apartment in Southern California; dad took a job at North American Aviation working the night shift while mom worked a day job at Prudential Life Insurance.  They were young and happy and before they knew it they had started a family in February of 1956 when my only sibling, my brother, joined the family.  Several months before I was to arrive in December of 1957 dad’s job took him to France and England where he installed modification kits on F-100 airplanes.   I was 3 months old when he came home to stay and he went to work for Rocketdyne in Canoga Park, California.  His 35 year career with Rocketdyne ranged from assembling and testing rocket engine components to writing manuals and working proposals for Apollo main engines and eventually to Space Shuttle Main engines.  He worked hard and diligent as he tried to keep from being amongst the growing number of unemployed in Southern California.  The days were long and tough for him but he stuck to it nonetheless.  The 50’s turned into the 60’s, the purchase of a new home, the 70’s with my brother and me graduating from high school and then the 80’s with marriages and grandchildren.  It was a whirlwind of activity to say the least.

In June of 1983 dad and mom were driving from Southern California to Durango Colorado to meet with his brother Bill and sister in-law Wanda for a vacation.  Bill and Wanda drove from Wichita, Kansas.   During the drive, mom started feeling ill so she rested in the back seat of their car where, unbeknownst to them, carbon monoxide was filling up the trunk and seeping into the passenger area via the back seat.  She lost consciousness and paramedics treated her for what they thought was heart failure.  She was in a coma for 14 days and doctors urged my dad to “pull the plug” as they felt she would only be a vegetable from that point forward.  Dad could not and would not give up on her and did not allow them to persuade him otherwise.  She came out of her coma but had to go through some basic physical therapy to relearn skills we all take for granted.  Mom was only 50 years old when it happened and she has to this day never relearned to write the alphabet, dress herself, or do basic day-to-day activities.  She has dementia with very little short term memory and at times her long term recall startles us as she remembers the lyrics to older songs.  It takes a great deal of patience for us all but in particular for dad.  Carbon monoxide poisoning changed all of our lives in an instant.

From 1983 until 2007 my dad cared for his wife with the ultimate example of the vows “till death do us part”.  He was tasked with performing all of the household chores, cooking, cleaning, shopping, food preparation, etc.  Added to his load were chores such as bathing mom, dressing her, and eventually changing diapers on her as the years passed.  He was so loving and giving that he even painted her fingernails weekly and made sure that she was always wearing her favorite jewelry.  There were even a couple of years during this time frame where his mother came to live with him in an attempt to keep her out of a nursing home as she was showing the onset of Alzheimer’s.   Eventually my grandma was transferred to a home to receive the skilled care necessary for her disease and I saw that it, too, took some life out of my dad.

September 11^th of 2001 was my dad’s 70^th birthday.  He was celebrating by playing golf with his brother and some of their regular golfing buddies when the news of the tragedy was broadcast on television at the golf course clubhouse.   As a veteran and a true patriot, this event changed my dad’s outlook of his birthday from that point forward. 

In 2005, dad and mom moved in with me and my husband to share our home with hopes of me assisting him in the care of mom.  He was ever diligent in his care of her but in 2008 she became very ill and ended up in intensive care for a week at our local hospital.  I had to make the tough decision to tell dad that she could not come home as we did not have the nursing abilities to care for her any longer.   Mom has been in a nursing home for 3 years and the transition has not been easy on dad.   He went from being a 24x7 caregiver to having nothing to do and it sent him into a temporary depression that made me thankful he was living in my house so I could reciprocate with caring for him.   At first dad visited mom every day, 3 times per day, and although it was gallant of him, she did not know the difference.  He now visits mom once a day and she thinks that he is there at all times so it eases him a bit that she is receiving good care.  Mom is wheelchair-bound but little things make her happy and dad remains her true love.

Dad lost his only sibling in February of 2011 to a rare form of leukemia called Myelofibrosis, a disorder of the bone marrow, in which the marrow is replaced by scar (fibrous) tissue.   It was a difficult loss for him compounded by the fact that he is the sole remaining member of his small family.  I watch him every day as he goes through the motions of his 79^th year of life and I know that not a day goes by that he relives the events of his life and ponders the future with sadness and uncertainty.

This September 11^th 2011, will be my dad’s 80^th birthday and he has already informed me that he does not want to celebrate it at all.  For the past 10 years he has had a difficult time allowing us to celebrate his birthday and I am sad for him.  As he turns 80 this year I am pensive of his special day being ignored as we are all reminded of the national tragedy.  How many more birthdays will I have with him?  How can we balance the loss of lives on that day 10 years ago with the happiness of achieving an 80 year milestone?  I do not have the answer to this question but I do know that my dad is an unsung, everyday hero of the rarest kind in my eyes.

I love you dad, with all my heart.