Schiess people and their musical ideas

I've been asked to get a choir or small group together and prepare a musical selection for Thanksgiving. So I chose the very traditional Hymn of Thanksgiving, long a favorite of mine. As I have been singing it around the house today, I remembered that Wayne and I sometimes sang it together. We left the tune alone but made a small modification to the words. As follows: (Hope you like it.)

We gather together
to gather together.
We gather together
to gather together.
We gather together
to gather together.
We gather together
to gather together.

* * *

Wayne also liked to sing "I Wonder As I Wander" a little differently.

I wonder as I wander
in my underwear . . .

Not sure if he ever finished it. But he certainly got a kick out of himself whenever he sang just that much.

Today it brought up a memory for me. It's my mother's uncomfortable recurring dream. She is wandering in her underwear . . . down at the Ocean Park Pier. People don't seem to notice that she is wearing only underwear, but she knows, and she is sure someone is bound to notice sometime soon. Poor Mama.

Two Bits

• Neti Pot. If you haven't heard of it, you will. I bought one and have been using it. It is a small piece of equipment that facilitates a sinus wash. You're thinking: gross. Well, weird is a better descriptor. But I'm kind of converted to the sinus wash concept anyway, and this is so much easier than snorting warm salt water. (Gross works here.) Would Wayne ever have used such a thing? No, as they say, way. But, then, his concerns were centered in another body system.

• Yesterday I pulled the two unfortunate tomatoes off the plant and brought them inside. Quite green and not likely to ripen now that it's autumn. And it was supposed to be in the low 30s last night. They are now wrapped in newspaper and sit on my kitchen window sill. I should have thrown them away, but I just couldn't. I'll wait until they turn red, if that ever happens. Then I'll slice them, taste them, and then throw them away because I'm pretty sure they won't taste like home-grown tomatoes. No bacon needed.

Some Days

Today I miss Wayne. A lot. I've been asking him where he is.

I just need him here to talk over a few things. It would help me so much. He always had a way of making me know things would be all right. I would like to hear him tell me that today.

Too bad.

It's Sunday

Today is a great day. You should know there are such things.

I went to church. Sounds simple. Sounds small. But it was great, from start to end. So that a person comes away almost overwhelmed and filled with gratitude.

Awfully glad I was there. It was a blessing. I mean, a blessing.

And then I get a call from Alyce, sharing her experience in church. Another blessing. For me and for her.

It's a great day.

Small World, as they say

Monday I went to Curves in Centerville, Utah. A woman there heard me tell my last name and said her husband has Schiesses in his genealogical line. They pronounce it Schi-ess, like two syllables.

We exchanged contact information. I will send her what I have. You know, pedigree charts.

When I figure out how to email that kind of stuff.

Ann's email

I was at a friend's house this morning and she (Steffanie) was telling me and another friend about her parents. They've been called to serve a mission for our church in the Philadelphia PA mission, Spanish speaking. That's the mission where we live.

This prompted the other friend to ask, "Do they speak Spanish?"

Steffanie answered, "Oh yeah. We lived in South America for a while when I was growing up. And when he was young, my dad served his mission in Uruguay."

You can guess what I said, "My dad served his mission in Uruguay."

Steffanie, who is always amazed at everything you tell her, said, "No way. Do you know when?"

I told her dad was born in 1939. She said, "My dad was born in 1939." We talked for a moment about the fact that my dad died in 2003.

After asking me my maiden name, she got her phone and called her dad. She said, "My friend's dad served his mission in Uruguay, and we think it was at the same time you were there. Did you know an Elder Schiess?

He said, "Elder Schiess. Of course I knew him. I have great respect for Elder Schiess." This friend's father, a man named Rogers, told her that Dad had been a great missionary and had worked hard and had been a zone leader.

We already knew those things about dad, but it was still nice to hear them. Steffanie then told her dad about Dad's death. He was surprised.

As she talked for another minute with her parents about our dad, I sat there trying not to cry. I was happy and sad. Happy that all the people who knew Dad have great respect for him and sad because, well, I miss having my dad to call on the phone like Steffanie did. So easy. Just dial a number and there he is on the line.

I love you all and I am glad I have many family members who can know what it's like to miss Dad as I do.

Please overlook any typos here. I know I often send messages with typos.

Ann

It's as if

When our children were little, they hated the vacuum cleaner. Each child in turn.

When they were babies, they would cry when I vacuumed. I mean really cry hard. Or, if they could run out of the room, they would.

They were quite afraid of it.

Now, I think I'm afraid of it. Well, you know, it's as if.