Category Archives: Family File

Thoughts on family life

Classic Adventure

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PB and I took a little road trip.
We didn’t go very far.
We weren’t gone for very long.
That’s our kind of adventure.

We went to a band concert in a park.
We toured a breathtaking religious site.
We walked through a historical homestead.
We overlooked a river at flood stage from a bluff.
We ate steak and shrimp at a good old fashioned supper club.

The highlight, for me, was a stop at the largest used book store in the state, with over half a million books.

Be still, my heart.

After perusing dusty titles for the better part of an hour, I stumbled on a treasure—literally. A stack of volumes on the floor tripped me up. And I’m so glad they did.

The Harvard Classics were compiled in 1909 by Charles W. Eliot, Harvard University President. He proposed that anyone who would commit to reading this “Five-Foot Shelf of Books” would be exposed to the greatest works ever written and be duly educated.

Sign me up.

The complete 50-volume set is available on Amazon—for $1300. The new books have shiny fake-leather covers and clean, crisp pages.

In that used bookstore I found my treasure at 95.4% off the Amazon price! The covers were faded and the pages were musty. Perfection!

It took me a while to track down PB in that gigantic maze of a bookstore. But when I did and he saw the glimmer in my eye, he knew. A treasure at a bargain price cannot be denied. Now I just need him to put up a five-foot long shelf in my office.

I’m hoping to open Dante’s Divine Comedy or Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and find a few hidden $20 bills from 1909. Even if I don’t, the true treasure is the joy of reading and learning from the old books.

Volume 1, here I come.

Pilgrim Hymnal

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This is my grandfather, J. Frank Bradley.

Isn’t he handsome?

He was born on June 5, 1886.
Yesterday would have been his 138th birthday.

He died in 1966, just nine months after my grandma passed.
It was said he died of a broken heart.

I don’t remember much about the man. I have no recollection of sitting on his lap for a story or playing peek-a-boo or even hearing him laugh. I was at the tail end of his line of grandchildren so he was already elderly when I came along. I faintly recall Grandpa Bradley’s baritone voice leading the “Doxology” at family Thanksgiving meals. Maybe that’s why I pulled this old hymnal down from the shelf this week. It’s a treasured possession.

The hymnal was gifted to J. Frank when he retired from singing in the church choir after 40 faithful years. Both the pastor and the choir director wrote notes of thanks inside the front cover. All 28 choir members, including the organist, signed their names.

“I must say that you are a fine human being and that you have been a source of personal inspiration to me during our years of friendship.”

Here is what caught my eye when I opened the old songbook.

March 8, 1959. I would be born eight months later. Still an unknown surprise, I was in the earliest stages of being knit together in the secret place, wonderfully and fearfully made.

I picture Grandpa Bradley in the Somers Congregational Church choir loft, holding his Pilgrim Hymnal and singing, “O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter in the stormy blast, and our eternal home.”

It seems that this world is in even more need of God’s help than it was back in 1959. But I have just as much hope for my grandchildren in the years to come as he must have had for me.

Someday, in our eternal home, maybe Grandpa and I will sing a duet.

Golden

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Friday, April 19, 1974.
A skinny 14-year-old farm girl
met a handsome 16-year-old preacher’s son.
Fifty years ago.
Fifty golden years.

Five years, 4 months, and 6 days after that first meeting, the two stood before a church full of friends and family and sang to each other.

“Love’s grown deep inside of us
And time has made us sure
That the reason we stand here
Is because You’ve touched Your hand here.
The love we feel today is meant to be shared by two,
So we commit our love to You.”

Still do.

A Small Drop of Tea

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These frigid, dreary days of midwinter can be challenging.

Some of us slowly plug away at winter projects in the basement, take an afternoon nap, and heave great sighs of general antsy-ness.

Some of us slowly type away on writing projects on the computer, read English novels, and heave great sighs of contentment.

To inject a little joy into our hum-drum days, I’ve started a new tradition—tea time.

Between 2:30 p.m. and 3:00 p.m., (depending on the length of the nap) the tea kettle goes on, the tea biscuits come out, and PB humors me by being a good sport. It’s a fun little break in the day. I don’t make him lift his pinky finger or speak in an English accent (although I want to so badly). He would rather be in the woods or in the garage or…. probably anywhere else, but alas, the wind chill is dangerous and the garage is not heated. So he’s stuck inside with me, drinking Hot Cinnamon Spice Tea and munching on shortbread biscuits.

I think it’s absolutely lovely.

I think he secretly likes it.

Out with a Bang

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We celebrated Christmas with the whole gang on Dec. 29-30, ending the year with a bang. These guys made some serious noise (very early in the morning) and cleared out the cookie and caramel stash in no time (sorry for all the sugar, parents). After opening presents, they all got to work on their new stuff. Each year I marvel at these young humans that are growing and becoming interesting, intriguing, and unique individuals.

Opa and Nonnie surprised the kiddos with matching jammies.

The 2024 Bible Reading Plan will be posted tomorrow!
Happy New Year’s Eve!

Journey to the Center

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PB took me on an adventure last weekend to the center of the earth.
Or more precisely, the center of the Northwest Hemisphere.
Who knew this remarkable spot was right here in Wisconsin?
I didn’t. Until Saturday.

In case you need to brush up on your Junior High geography, here’s a quick review.

There are only four places on earth where the 45th Parallel Latitude intersects the 90th Meridian Longitude.

  • The Pacific Ocean—45°S – 90°W
  • The Indian Ocean—45°S – 90°E
  • A mountain in China—45°N – 90°E
  • Poniatowski, Wisconsin—45°N – 90°W

The only place on all of earth’s 197 million square miles where a person can stand exactly halfway between the equator and a pole and halfway between the prime meridian and the 180th meridian is right here in America’s Dairyland.

We drove north for a couple hours, turned into a farmer’s cornfield, then walked 1/4 of a mile.

PB sure knows how to get to the center of this girl’s heart. He took me on a surprise adventure to a place I’d never been before and we stood on a special spot together that no one else among the world’s 8,045,311,447 people were standing.

It was magical.
A perfect date.


We became official members of the 45-90 Club.


Then we got some lunch and drove home.
It was such a good day!
Life’s an adventure with PB!

Sweet Spot

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We have entered the sweet spot.
Our littlest ones are out of diapers
and our oldest ones are still not driving.
We are in a delightful window of time.

Just look at these kiddos.
They give me hope for the future of this world.

The Grandkid Lineup — 2023

Behold! Children are a gift from the Lord.”
Psalm 127:3

Wonky

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I miss this.

A few years ago, in an effort to upscale our home’s curb appeal, I sent for a set of decorative garage door hardware magnets. From the road, the black plastic rectangles, hinges and handles looked like the real deal. There was only one problem.

Teddy is our three year old grandson. He and his sister and his parents stayed with us for a while this summer. He regularly exposed us for the fakers we are by rearranging the magnetic pieces. Children have a way of keeping you honest. And humble.

Teddy and his family recently moved to their own place and the garage door has looked respectable ever since. But I miss the unexpected reminders of the joy of imperfection. I used to smile as I drove in the driveway and saw those handles helter-skelter on the garage door. It prompted me to pray, “Lord, sometimes I put on a fake front and try to look like everything is perfectly in place. Help me to be authentic and real, even if my life looks a little wonky some days.”

“But when the Perfect One comes, the imperfect will pass away.”
1 Cor. 13:10

PB and Andy

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My mother used to say that February wasn’t good for anything but reading a good long book. I’ve adopted her philosophy with a twist. February isn’t good for anything but reading a good long book on a beach.

PB and I headed south for a couple weeks and came home when February was just about over. We enjoyed sunny skies and warm sand in our toes. We saw some sights and spent time with some lovely people along the way.

Our last stop was Mount Airy, North Carolina, the hometown of Andy Griffith, and the inspiration for the fictional town of Mayberry.

During the early days of the pandemic, everybody had an opinion they were happy to share. Those in a leadership position of any kind during that time know how stressful it was to maintain peace and harmony. In the midst of chaos and criticism, uncertainty and unpleasantness, PB and I escaped to Mayberry every night after supper.

A half hour with Andy, Barney, Aunt Bee and Goober lowered our blood pressure. We laughed a little, we learned a lesson, and we whistled the theme song. For a few moments, we harkened back to our own childhoods (like Opie’s) in small towns (like Mayberry). The TV show provided a sacred thirty minutes of simple joy and warm community, things that were sadly lacking in the world at the time.

When we made plans to take off this February and visit family in North Carolina, it was a no-brainer. PB booked a night in Andy Griffith’s boyhood home and one of the kids set us up with a ride in Barney’s squad car. We went to the Andy Griffith Museum, had lunch at Snappy Diner, and stopped in at Floyd’s Barbershop. We sat in the sheriff’s chair at the courthouse and bought a souvenir at Wally’s service station. It was a walk back in time.

Watching the Andy Griffith Show
(even if you’ve seen all 249 episodes)
while sitting in Andy’s living room
would make you smile, too.