Tag Archives: Jerry

A Study in 50 Adjectives.

13 Feb

Tender, patient, careful, loving, generous,
quiet, serious, thrifty, interested, interesting,

christinaandjerry

conscientious, intelligent, honorable, honest, merciful,
caring, hard-working, efficient, forgiving, resourceful,

Turkey Jerry

devoted, loyal, fair, relaxed, reserved,
faithful, handsome, practical, homey, fruitful,

Jerry Cele Canning

huggable, untiring, motivated, kind, meticulous,
nurturing, economical, warm-blooded, cozy, deep-thinking,

Jerry Birthday Cake Kids

stoic, lovable, attentive, playful, calming,
comfortable, consistent, supportive, self-sacrificing, beloved.

Happy Birthday, Jerry!

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History 10What?

29 Nov

Things I (we) Love:  My husband’s approach to History Education

Yesterday he taught his class that when Marco Polo arrived in Beijing, Kublai Kahn welcomed him into his palace, invited him to take a swim in the giant pool, and then made him close his eyes while the emperor dodged about shouting the guest’s name.

You just can’t make this stuff up.  Oh wait, you totally can.

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So Long, Farewell, Auto Wiedersehen, Goodbye

28 Nov

Exactly fourteen years ago today I bought this:

The Saturn, not the tow truck.  The tow truck didn’t come around until yesterday.

I didn’t think I’d established a relationship with my car.  I never gave it a name, or even a gender.  But when they pulled it down our street, around the corner, and out of sight,  I got choked up.  Okay, let’s be honest, I bawled like a 3rd grader faced with long division.

The breech in the emotional floodgates started when I flipped over that title, which had been solely in my hands with a giant PAID stamp on it for well over a decade, and was forced to maneuver my handwriting into a signature that my muscle memory had forgotten:  Christina J. Vogelsang.

The car was my first major purchase as a full-fledged, gainfully employed, single adult.  I did the research, the shopping, the haggling (okay, fine, it was a Saturn, there was no haggling), and the paying.  That navy sedan was a sign of my independence.

Except independence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m sad to see the car go, but I am overjoyed that we have now become a two mini-van family.  I embrace the double dorkiness.  Give me booster seats, and entertainment packages, and back-row cupholders.  Forget independence – I have dependents!

And also, I am dependent, on a fantastic man, with whom I have now researched, shopped, haggled (you should have seen me talk to that dealer who wouldn’t give us the price he originally quoted last week), and paid.  It’s a dependency that is accompanied by the most freeing contentment you can imagine.

I cried not for the loss of the last little piece of my single life, but for the many miles that I have covered in the last fourteen years, and the beautiful location at which I have arrived.

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Ten Days to Ten Years: Day 10

23 Jun

Okay, dear friends, In writing about our wedding day for the past nine days I’ve done my best to spare you a lot of mush, but today is our actual anniversary, and so like it or not, it’s about to get sappy around here.

Happy Anniversary, dear husband,

From the moment you first gently put your hand on the small of my back as we entered Pietro’s over ten years ago I knew that you would be the one to gently encourage and push me, to guard me, and to have my back in all situations.  The first time I was sick after we began dating and you made me take cough medicine I knew you would always take care of me, and go out of your way for my comfort.

And when I joined you for dinner at your family table and we sat chatting for hours with your parents before you and your dad got up and cleared the dishes I knew our life would be full of openness, long talks, kindness and responsibility.  On evenings when I would go on a rant and attempt to gossip or overdramatically speculate you didn’t take my bait or let me dwell on the untrue, and I knew that you would bring out the best in me and not let the worst flourish.  When you pulled out The Lord of the Rings trilogy to read aloud to me I knew our children would grow up with beautiful imaginations and a love of learning.   And as you joined me in my desire for a Sunday morning Divine Service wedding it was obvious that the foundation for our marriage would be the forgiveness of Christ who united us.

I know it’s impolite to say this, but, “I was right!”  You, and our life are all those things and more.  Thank you.  Thank you, thank you.

Jerry, I love you, thank you for loving me.  Thank you for this decade, and thank you in advance for all the decades to come.

Yours,
Christina

Okay folks, mush out.  (But I do totally dig that man.)

Some Awe

11 Apr

He totally is, Pete.  He totally is.  And last week while I was 88 post-it notes deep in hymns he did it all – the cooking, the laundry, the diapering, the vacuuming.

What’s that Pete?  He does all of that every week?  Oh yeah.  You’re right.  Awesome, that’s what your Dad is.

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My Top Ten

13 Feb

It’s Monday, and even though we’ve done very few Memory Dirt Road posts as of late, I’d like to travel down one today.  But today is not just any old Monday.  Nope, today is February 13.

That doesn’t mean it’s the day to panic because you don’t yet have flowers ordered or reservations placed for tomorrow.  And it’s not just the day you recuperate from partying hardy at Abe Lincoln’s B-day Bash.

In fact, as much as I think the 16th President’s birthday is worth a good hoorah, the birthday that has my eye and heart this day is that of my beloved.

But I think Lincoln would have liked my guy.

Here he is reading the constitution to our kids on the Fourth of July.  He’s not the kind of dad that puts exploding substances in the wee hands of his offspring.  He’s the kind that makes sure they understand why their crazy Mom made them pick color coordinating outfits to wear as they stand on the curb collecting tootsie rolls.

You know what else is all-American about my husband?  Apple Pie.  He doesn’t just eat them.  He makes them.

So you’ve got me on this one, it’s cherry, not apple.  It doesn’t really matter, it’s a Jerry Pie, and that makes it delicious.

And he can can.  He can’t can-can, but that’s okay.

Nope, sorry, you can’t have him.  He’s mine.  All mine.

You see, ten years ago this week we started our whirlwind romance.  It began with a dinner at Arnie’s on Feb. 11, a “Lincoln’s Birthday Present” for him the next day, an Ash Wednesday present for me on his birthday, a 7th/8th grade Valentine’s Day party, topped off with a first kiss on Feb. 15 and Voila!  By February 21 we were talking about wedding dates.

I know, hold on to your hat, right?  We were married just four months later.  It was utterly grand.

And it still is.

So, dear, sweet, husband-of-mine, thank you for the best decade of my life, and may we have many, many more decades together.

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We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

7 Feb

I’m sort of thinking in snippets these days, so on this, my return to blogging, I’m going to give you some of those simple headings that capture some of this past emotional week.

Thank you.  We are enormously grateful for all of the cards, hugs, prayers, facebook comments, memorials, visits, meals, childcare, coffeecakes, bagels, cookies, flowers, house cleaning and general friendship we received this week.  The Lord has certainly worked through all of you to comfort us in our grief and strengthen us with His promise of the Resurrection.

Sound of Sinner-Saints.  Eighteen Pastors belting out “The golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest; Sweet is the calm of paradise the blest.  Alleluia!  Alleluia!”  may very well be the beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.  I would like them to sing it at my funeral.  Strike that.  I would like them to sing it before my funeral.  By the time my funeral rolls around I’ll be privy to some even better music.

Days of Our Lives.  Jerry’s Dad lived 33, 405 days.  Here’s a picture of him somewhere around Day 2191:
Whole Wheat Flash Back.  You know those bagels I mentioned earlier?  I ate one this morning and had a serious Twin Pregnancy Flashback.  And not the nasty Junie B. Audiobook type, either.  For several months that delicious combo, sometimes with a side of orange marmade or lemon curd, was the primary source of my requisite 3200 daily calories.  The babies must have also recalled this delight.  As soon as they smelled it toasting they came clamoring for bites.

Excuses, Excuses.  My sister has also not been blogging much as of late.  I’ll let her tell you her valid excuse, but I didn’t want you to think she’d disappeared in a cloud of dust.  Although, the same excuse she has for not blogging probably also applies to cleaning her house, so I guess it’s possible.

Mishandling Loss.  Thomas came running into the kitchen, hand outstretched, during breakfast the other day shouting, “Tooth!  Tooth!”  Instead of assuming that my six-year-old son lost his first tooth, I asked, “Did Simeon lose a tooth and give it to you?”   You see, he didn’t tell us he had a loose tooth, although he sheepishly acknowledged that he knew, but I question whether or not he had come to the conclusion that looseness preceded falling outness.  Abraham witnessed the entire drama and is now mortified at the thought of losing teeth.  With full-on shoulder slouching, and his old-man worried look he shook his head and said, “I hope this never happens to me.”  Also, I failed to take a picture of Thomas’ new countenance.  Please accept this one and imagine an empty spot.  I couldn’t bring myself to picnik in a hole.Wait!  I’m off the hook!  You can’t see his lower teeth when he smiles, anyway.  Whew.

Handling Loss with Technology.  The paper delivery has now been reduced to Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday.  Poor Simeon thought he would have to wait until today to find out the Super Bowl winner.  We DVRed it for him.  And even though was “voting” for New England because he liked their “suits” and “pictures” he took the loss just fine.  Both times.  Also, I wonder if there are any other eight-year-olds in the greater Grand Rapids area that are as bummed about the lack of M/W/F/Sat paper as our son.

Finding Gains Amid Loss.  Although this past week was filled with sadness, and never let anyone tell you that just because someone is 91 and suffers from Alzheimer’s that it’s any less sad to lose a parent, my husband and I had a delightful week together.  We spent hours together at his father’s bedside, hours together in the car, hours together arm in arm receiving condolences, hours together looking over old photographs, hours together crying, laughing, talking and being one.  And for those hours I give thanks for this week.

Nunc Dimittis

30 Jan

That beautiful man handing our firstborn son to his own last-born son is now journeying through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.  We request your prayers as this faithful servant of God, husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather falls asleep in Jesus.

Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of His saints.
________________________________Psalm 116:15

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Us too! Us too!

7 Jan

I know it’s Grab Bag Special Saturday, but I need to jump on my sister’s band wagon.  But to appease all you schedule followers I’ll throw in a picture from our recent trip to Nebraska and tell you how it illustrates my point.  Or hers.  Our ours.

That,  friends, is my beloved husband.  You might wonder what’s going on around him.  In short, a lot.  I don’t want to go into it right now, but I will tell you that it has something to do with this picture.

Sorry, Mom.  I like this image so much I can’t help but use it multiple times.  I do promise a post about the whole event that brought on this behavior, but for right now let’s concentrate with the same diligence as this guy:

You know what he’s reading, right?  Yup, Hunger Games.  He started it that morning.  He finished it that night.

Meanwhile nine children combusted in joy around him.  One of them burst into a fever right before his very eyes, and yet he was able to work even that to his advantage.  He simply swooped up the child in question, plopped him on his lap for a necessary and long nap, and bode his time in Panem.

I fell prey to the series in a similar way a little over a year ago.  I was painfully recovering from the birth of twins and suffering three hour feedings around the clock.  The Hunger Games were the only books that could simultaneously act as a pain reliever and middle of the night stimulant with no harsh side effects.

Well, there was that whole side effect of getting absolutely nothing else done for the duration of the books, but it was easy to pass that off on being a mom to newborn twins.  People totally bought that excuse.

What’s your’s?

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This one is caught by a fan from Grand Rapids.

13 Oct

Things I (We) Love:  Tiger’s Baseball (Pink just didn’t seem right this time.)

The ‘we’ here belongs to my husband and children, as does the love.  You see, what I really love is my husband and children, and they love the Tigers, therefore I love the Tigers.  It’s a classic case of if A=B and B=C then A=C.

They have a combined 65 years worth of lifetime Tiger love.  My husband has seen them through three World Serieses (is there such thing as a double plural?), happily sat behind poles at Tiger Stadium, and stood by the team through the 2003 season.  You remember that one – the losingest record in ALC history?  Yeah, that’s true love.

That was also the summer that endeared me to Detroit.  I refuse to say whether I was rooting for them to win or lose.  Gimme a break – if you’re near a record shouldn’t you strive for it?  Even if it’s a losing one?  None the less, because of my husband’s steadfast fanhood they also became “my team.”

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve had teams before.  Even (gasp!) the Texas Rangers.  After all, I did live in Texas for seven years.  The Ballpark in Arlington only proceeded me by four months, I attended countless games, and even directed a choir that sang the National Anthem.  On a sidenote:  if you are ever offered the opportunity to direct a group singing the Star Spangled Banner at a Major League game say something falsely modest like, “Who, me?  Direct the group?  No, no, you should direct them.  Really!  I’ll just stand on the end and sing.”  Why, you ask?  Because when you’re the director all the world sees your backside.  On a Jumbotron.  According to my friends in the stands it adds an extra 800 pounds.

I actually like all the teams in the Final Four this year.  And yes, even with my limited sports knowledge I understand that term belongs to something else.  The only thing that would make it better is the addition of the Minnesota Twins.  And yes, again, I know enough to I understand that it is impossible to have the Tigers, Rangers and Twins in the running for the World Series.  But while we’re at it, we could also throw in the Royals.  They’re nice.  I guess I’m kind of an American League girl.

But I also think the Cardinals and the Brewers are root-worthy teams.  Shoot, the Cardinals are practically the Official Team of the Lutheran Church Missouri-Synod, and the Brewers?  Well, they have giant Sausages that run around their bases.  How could you not root for that?  Also, I once took a portion of a Master’s class in Hymnody with the girl who was Stosh the Polish Sausage, although rumors have it that she was once seen dressed as Cinco the Chorizo.  I am not making this up.  She had to drop the class because she was losing too many races.  Okay, I might have made up that last part.

But right now, the Tigers are still in this thing.  They can do it.  And even if they don’t, we’ll still be cheering.  Because although I can’t remember which comes first, the top or bottom of an inning, I’m faithful to my team.  And my husband.