It arrived yesterday. Today’s mail brought a package from the aforementioned cousin. She’s been going through old family stuff that was passed down to her from our grandmother. It’s lovely to receive these artifacts in manageable portions to savor rather than store for some who-knows-when time.

New camera, family relics. Put them together and what do I get? Something to practice on and to share here!

I recently put up a picture of my grandma (my dad’s mother) wearing a mink around her neck.

And somewhere in the bowels of this blog’s archives I’ve shown this favorite picture of my grandparents.

After receiving today’s package, I looked for (and found!) a picture of her as a 15-year-old girl, her first tintype. It was fun to have this frame of reference as I photographed these:

It’s a book of sewing cards.

It looks like she first drew the pictures on paper, poked holes along the lines, then sewed or embroidered them. According to the date, she was 13.

Precious!

After a full day of sorting through box after box of what was left of the senior Macys’ earthly possessions after their children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren had chosen what we/they wanted to keep, I snapped this one picture for a keepsake of my own. It will serve as a reminder about why it’s a good idea to release attachments to my own earthly possessions. How much stuff does it take to live comfortably? Who is going to want this or that after I’m gone?

Thankfully, one of the grandsons can wear both the hat and the boots!

The family tree will hang in Rachel’s home—eventually.

John took home the “Nobody’s Purfect” stitchery, remembering the stories of Howard and Mauri’s penchant for crookeding all the frames in their parents’ house.

John’s idea is good—record everything with the camera and then find new homes for all the tangible stuff.

Mauri and I camped our way to Denver. Hey, that van still takes Mauri places.

A tandem canyon ride

Pre-wedding events. A day later they would all be Andersons.

I look pretty happy (and young and thin).

Son, father

Quinn’s dear friends traveled far — Trace, Jamie, Tina.

Mauri and I sang, and I can’t for the life of me remember what song.

Quinn sang, and I can’t for the life of me remember what song.

Taylor sang, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember what song, so I e-mailed him today: a Frank Sinatra rendition of “The Best Is Yet to Come.”

The family recited a passage from Lamentations.

Mauri tied the knot.

One happy family!

Oh, and then Ben and I surprised Quinn with a song at the reception, and I can’t for the life of me remember what song.

All this singing! You’d think we like music.

This is my favorite of all the wedding pictures. It captures their expressions as every guest pulled out a white hanky to bid them farewell.

More singing and fun for us as we looked after the kids while D&Q took a short honeymoon. Their longer honeymoon included two darling little Andersons, the older of whom just started high school! Time flies, as you know.

Happy anniversary, Quinn and Dusty. Here’s to many more.

—–

OK, I’m happy now. But I’d be even happier if I could think of those songs.

____UPDATE___

Quinn remembered, of course. So we won’t forget again, I add the songs here for future remembering.

Mauri and I sang Twila Paris’s “Faithful Friend”; Quinn sang “My Tribute”; Taylor sang “The Best Is Yet to Come”; Ben and I sang Moulin Rouge “Come What May”; and Mauri and I sang to the kids our Wee Sing project “Jonah.” There.

So we took our lemon and made lemonade.

Exiting the airport we called AirPark to come back and get us. On the way we heard the dispatcher announce the valet driver had locked the key in our car.

They were extremely apologetic about it and invited us to wait in their closet-sized break room while the locksmith came to undo the damage.

Even that turned out okay because not only did they not charge us for the back-and-forth shuttle ride or the short parking, they assured us a parking spot tomorrow morning on our return (the lot was full).

Mauri had just read in “The Week” about a Japanese restaurant in Portland, so he located it on his smart phone and asked the GPS to take us there.

I ordered the chicken and curry;

Mauri ordered, um, what is that stuff called again?

Whatever it was, he slicked it right up. I managed to clean my plate as well.

That left us both wanting a nap (eating is such hard work) but we figured this was a freebie day and wondered aloud what we might do next.

Bob’s Red Mill seemed like the right choice. We hadn’t been back there since our tenth anniversary when we went out on the town to do ten things. (That was two years before I started blogging in 2006, but I have all the pictures of the ten things.)

See? That doesn’t surprise you a bit, does it?

We managed to find a bagfull of stuff to buy, and I also helped Mauri eat a world class cinnamon roll baked right there on site (and maybe by our friend Bruce Bishop).

Maybe for me the best part of the lemonade is the stop we made at T-Mobile to buy me my very own smart phone. I know, I know, I’m way behind the curve on this one. Don’t call me though; I haven’t learned how to answer it yet.

For a long time now we haven’t taken advantage of an outstanding opportunity offered to Friends pastors to come and enjoy the beach for a very low fee. So when Captain’s Cabin became available, we snapped it up.

A new feature here at Harbor Villa and all over the camp is these cool luggage carts. It used to take several trips to haul our stuff up to the cabin. Now, one!

We can’t come to this particular spot without remembering our engagement story.

I was sitting in this very spot when I popped the question. Not where he’s sitting. Where I’m sitting.

Ha! That’s just my rationale for doing something I love to do. But wait! I have ten children, all told, so I get to do this eight more times.

A quick heads up: I enjoyed playing around with some Photoshop filters; that’s why these pictures look a little different.

I love how this filter exaggerates her plenty-blue eyes.

We made our children work for their supper. As a result, this girl now refuses to eat fish.

Am I biased, or is this really really cute?

It was called clogging in North Carolina’s Maggie Valley. She danced and sang as part of the Smoky Mountain Kids.

Blink. Blink. And she was a college graduate.

That purse was all she wanted for Christmas.

“Turn around and she’s a young wife with babes of her own.” Well, actually, I took this picture the day before she married Dusty, who brought these little darlings into our lives and hearts.

A year later she got to experience motherhood “from scratch,” I like to say.

And several years later, she journeyed to Ethiopia to begin mothering our two adopted sweethearts.

You might think the Anderson family is complete.

Okay, I won’t tease you into thinking they plan more children. But any essay on Quinn’s 40 years of life would not be complete without including her passion for the people who live in the colonias outside Juarez, Mexico. She and all the other Andersons consider them part of their family.

Three and a half years ago the then family of five traveled with a team from their church in Colorado to build a couple of houses in Kilometer 30. Rather than write about what happened on their return from that trip, I will encourage you to read it on the website she has since set up for that purpose.

Here’s just one example of the ongoing results of her passionate heart. And that isn’t all. She’s opened a website to encourage donors to help with the funding of future “builds” like the one our family did last Thanksgiving.

I realize there are plenty of good causes hoping for your support. But don’t think I’ll let that stop me from encouraging you to consider participating! Call it a birthday present for my 40-year-old daughter. You couldn’t give her anything she’d want more or like better.

Not always, though.

There’s this time.

And this. Feel free to laugh at my pathetic cakes. I certainly do!

After Paul stopped having birthdays it was a little hard for Quinn to celebrate hers. But she quickly figured out it would be okay to celebrate her dad’s birth—regardless. So every time May 1 comes around, Quinn and her gaggle of loved ones go eat a meal at Red Lobster. And she honors her dad by doing this other thing I can’t share (I’m sure she wouldn’t care, but I didn’t ask permission).

Paul would have been 70 years old today. I knew I’d be in Phoenix to look after the Anderson kiddos while their parents take some days away to celebrate Quinn’s 40th. I also knew they’d return today in time for a Red Lobster celebration. A lightbulb lit up in my brain as I pictured the confluence of those events.

Mauri always says, “Beware of a woman with a plan!” (He’s lived with me a long time now.) I dug into the project of putting together a book of memories for Paul’s three children. At his memorial service we passed out paper and pens, setting aside a segment of time for folks to write down what they would remember about Paul. So I started out by scanning many of those letters. My computer is full of pictures, but that just made it hard to narrow the choices. Not long into the project I realized the book wasn’t only for Ben, Quinn, and Taylor; it was for me too.

I had fun teaching myself digital scrapbooking. I won’t brag about my artistic prowess; that isn’t my gift. But I managed to cram a lot of Carlson life into 76 pages.

The inspiration to make a Shutterfly book came through this blog, and in particular this post. Scroll down to the visual of Nella’s first birthday book, and then a little more to the link to see it on Shutterfly. Now that’s the ideal!

Still, I’m happy with how my book turned out. However, as I revisited the book the day after I ordered four copies—I saw a mistake—two of the same picture on a two-page spread. Rats!

Here’s a link to the book if you care to take a look. I’d offer a prize for the first to find my mistake, but I’m still too bummed about it.

I came across a 1965 issue of Campus Life Magazine (publication of Youth for Christ) this morning and decided to scan a particular article to share with you. I’ve posted it in large format so you can read it, even though it’s a bit cramped on this page.

After Mauri read it I asked if he still agreed with what he wrote.

I will never forget the efforts of my (Michigan) church family in 1993, who similarly served me and my family after Paul’s memorial service.

They even made a special Mickey Mouse cake to honor Paul’s collection (he always wore a Mickey Mouse watch).

Young Dionna wore her Mickey sweater for the same reason.

So you can see, it was an important part of our healing process. I don’t remember who was involved, but I sure remember the care it represented.

Here’s my worksheet for the day. There were cookie/brownie bakers and cake bakers and those who volunteered as the lunch team and others for the reception team to set up / serve / clean up. Oh, how I love the camaraderie of a team effort! The tables got set, the beans got baked, the salad got tossed, the chips got bowled, the sandwiches got plated, the drinks got poured, the cakes got sliced, and the guests got fed.

And later the cookies got arranged, the punch got made, and the family had a pleasing environment in which to visit with those who attended the service. It was a sight to behold! Who wouldn’t love my job?

And I am fully blessed by it all.

I’ve said this before, but I always thought it was cool that my “kids” shared their friends with me, and John and Cherri are some who kept in touch with me all these intervening years. So when the Andersons moved to Gilbert, Arizona, I could look up John and Cherri’s current address in Gilbert and Google map the two. Turns out they live seven house apart! So while Ben was here, we gave them a call and ended up at their house for dinner and an evening of catching up with each other.

Small world!