Relationships & Family

A Brother's Gifts

jbloustein — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 15:48:36 -0600

My big brother, Bob, I called him.

Not just because he was 14 years older, but at six-foot-three and over 200 pounds, he truly was my big brother. We were inseparable.

Just before my eighth birthday, Bob was drafted into the Army and deployed to Korea. The night he left, he slung a duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed his guitar case. “When I come back I’ll teach you how to play,” he promised. Then Bob was gone.

As If on Cue

jbloustein — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 13:00:47 -0600

Exhausted already and it was only dusk on Christmas Eve.

I sprinted up the steps to the church balcony where my electronic keyboard sat, nagged by the feeling I’d forgotten something.

Music for the service? Had that. Youth choir ready? I waved my hand and they stood to position. My light for the music stand? I panicked. No light!

Opportunity Knocks

mcherkezian — Fri, 22 May 2009 10:37:05 -0500

Door-to-door. That had been my life as a vacuum salesman for two years. I went into neighborhoods and demonstrated our product by cleaning people’s carpets. If they liked what they saw I did my best to close the deal. The company I worked for was a good one for a family man like me, with a wife and three children to provide for. I was lucky.

Help for Fort Hood

mcherkezian — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 12:05:00 -0600

Last week’s tragedy at Fort Hood in Texas was a blow struck at all decent people but one that landed most heavily, I think, on members of the military present and, like me, past.

I spent my whole career in the army, retiring several years ago with the rank of Major General, Chief of Chaplains. I know Fort Hood well. It is the single largest U.S. military installation in the world, home to nearly 50,000 soldiers and 120,000 family members.

Who Would Watch Over Us?

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 18:11:40 -0600

I shushed the kids. Driving in this snow was nerve-racking enough. I was emotionally drained that Christmas. It was the first since Jim, my husband, passed away, and I wondered how I could take care of our kids.

Even this simple trip to the grocery meant that the three of them—17-year-old CJ, 11-year-old Sandie and three-year-old Ronnie—had to come with me.

'Leaf' It to God

jbloustein — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 15:56:38 -0500

I dragged my rake through the leaves, thinking about how last fall Steve would have been here with me, helping out with Aunt Maudie’s yard.

It had been five months since my husband’s death from a heart attack.

I struggled to go on. I’d prayed and prayed for relief from the gray sadness I seemed to live in. But it seemed impossible without Steve.

Dad's Orange Tree

admin — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 15:20:40 -0500

I guess I've always been a daddy's girl.

Dad ran the only funeral home in our small Minnesota town. Maybe it came from spending so much time comforting other folks, but from skinned knees to high-school heartbreaks, he knew just what to do or say to make me feel better.

It was no different after I grew up and started a family of my own. Dad was more than a grandfather to my two sons. He gave them support and advice from the time they started walking until they left home. When I went through my divorce, Dad was right there to ease the terrible hurt of that as well.

Hidden Treasure

jbloustein — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 13:17:42 -0500

"Team Ria will find the loot!” my niece Regina declared.

She brandished a compass and a journal, items from the treasure-hunting kit her mother, my sister Maria—Ria for short—had assembled as a Christmas gift. Now we were putting them to good use.

Somewhere amid the browning oak trees and rocky shores of Catskill Point Park was a golden doubloon that had lain hidden for 17 years—and we wanted to find it. We needed to.

Fragile Moments

admin — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 11:02:23 -0600

"I love you, Pop."

"I love you too, John."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Because you've told me so more than a hundred times."

John is 4, and I'm his grandpa. I'm not sure where the name "Pop" came from. He has called me this since he was able to talk. It was original with him. "We're buddies, aren't we, Pop?" he often says. And buddies we are.

McKay's Pennies

batch — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 20:20:01 -0500

McKay, our only child, loved pennies. He loved life. When he was little, my husband, Carl, and I called him "couch hopper," because he was so active and fun-loving he'd often jump over our couch in sheer excitement. No matter what he did—whether it was climbing a tree, reading a book or saying his prayers—he did it full speed ahead.