In the Back of the Closet

Yesterday was a very good day.  I went to the Pour House to eagerly whip up 60 tea sandwiches for the afternoon event, happy to know that my crazy neighbor kids (nephew, niece, nephew) would be returning from their family vacation that evening.  Even though Sunday is the only day I can sleep in a little, I anticipated the likelihood that I'd be jostled from slumber by Jake's screaming and squealing from the front porch about something very exciting.  And, even though I don't see much of those kiddos, it's a comfort to know that they're growing up right next door.  I especially appreciate the fact that Joe, my almost-old-enough-to-drive-holy-shit-how-did-that-happen-better-stop-calling-him-PEANUT... well probably not, still stops in at my office to chat.  That's a cool thing for an auntie to enjoy.  It was also good because the ladies of the Hysterical Society (affectionately known) pulled off yet another spectacular afternoon tea event, complete with beautiful and delightfully good sandwiches, snacks and desserts, tea, a little wine, and a lot of laughter thanks to the humor of PruDENSE, singing life lesson songs to us, as she channeled the late Patsy Cline (and she did a heck of a job at it). The event helped us to raise funds as we continue efforts to restore the opera house. So, family was headed home, the weather was beautiful, the event was a success, I enjoyed some wine with friends and the PHouse was bustling with strangers from all over the state.  But, what made my day especially good was the gift that a kind young lady named Jennie delivered.

One of the saddest days I can remember was the day that my mom and uncle started dismantling my Grandma's home.  They'd decided it was time for Grams to go to an assisted living.  They packed her up, settled her in and then tore into the house like mad men.  They wanted it done.  Over.  Sort, pick, decide, argue... just get it cleaned out, cleaned up and on the market.  Boom.  Done.  And there it sat.  Gramps and Gram's house.  The place where we used to watch from the front door for hobos to hop off of the train.  The driveway where we used to wear the plastic wheels off of the scooter.  The house where "As the World Turns" provided the most drama during the weekdays, and the "Big Joe Polka Show" oompa'd away on the weekends when Gram would do laundry and iron every piece of it, organizing things on the massive kitchen table that Gramps built.  He'd gotten the round top from some bar somewhere and build a massive pedestal for it.  You could easily sit 10 people around it.  And when it was time for everything else from the house to go, ironically, it was so big that it stayed.  The family table got left behind. 

Gram's house soon sold to a young man who was getting married.  Gram was excited that his future young step-daughter was going to be living there.  "Good house for a young family" she'd say.  She'd always ask how her house was.  "Are they keeping it up?"  "How does the yard look?" I'd reassure her it still looked just like her house.  We drove past the house when we'd take our rides around the countryside.  After these new owners put it on the market, we stopped to pick up the real estate flier.  Gram was failing and didn't even recognize the house.  She looked at the flier.  Laughed.  Said "That's a LOT of MONEY" for that place!  Then she looked at the picture of the kitchen and, yes, she recognized that huge round table. Not the house, but the table. 

My Gram passed away in May.  She was 95.  She had a lot of hard years of work, little money and life struggles, but she had many happy years in that house.  It has again sold, to another young couple, and Gram's house is making another transition.  Jennie had told me that they were buying Grandma's house.  I immediately asked her if I could take a tour.  Yeah, kinda rude, but I know her and didn't think she'd think I was being nosey... just being sentimental.  She agreed... after they got settled.  Deal.  Weeks later, she mentioned that they were finding "things" she thought were probably my Gram's.  I said "SAVE IT ALL".  She did. And yesterday she delivered Christmas presents in August.  As she reached into the trunk to show me the hand-embroidered "FRANK AND CLARA 50th ANNIVERSARY" golden pillow, my eye immediately was drawn to the white plastic bag.  There it was.  The deep red and blue swirly paisley print was peering at me... saying "do you remember me?"  Indeed I did.  That 20 lb tablecloth was my Gram's favorite.  It was the fancier of those that she had (there were 3 in the bag).  She had to make it because that damn table was soooo biggg!  It was salvage upholstery fabric, in deep dark colors on a creamy white background... topped off with rich gold tassel trim.  Gramps wasn't fond of it.  It was kinda splashy.  But she loved it... and so I did too.  And, yesterday, on the 3rd month anniversary of her burial, Jennie brought a little bit of my Gram back to me. 

So, you see, yesterday was a very...VERY good day. I thanked Jennie a few times.  She was pretty calm.  It was matter-of-fact to her that "you should have these things... they were your family's".  Most everyone else would have thrown it all in a rag-bag or the dumpster.  But happily, this young woman was kind enough the have the foresight to think that I just might want it. And I did...do...and will always be appreciative.  I slipped over to my neighbors last night and delivered a second yellow summer cloth to my brother's back gate.  I texted him..."left you a little surprise... see if you remember".  He did.  And if and when these new owners decide to sell that big old good for nothin' table... he has FIRST DIBS as the next owner.  And when that happens we have the appropriate tablecloths for it.  What was left in the back of the closet made me very happy.  Thank you Jennie.

  Gram Clara B. Best kolache' maker around!  Love & Miss you.  Especially on Sundays.

Have Cause. Will Travel.

In our ongoing pursuit of promotion for our renovation and restoration project, a couple of the Friend Historical Society ladies joined the PHouse staff and we took off to toot our horn on June 8.  Destination Fairbury.  "What?" You might ask?  Why was Fairbury a potential "big deal"?  It was, after all, a repeat performance for the Pour House to do a wine tasting at the Stagecoach Antique Store.  But, baby this time we pulled out all the stops.  We catered the event (no I will not do it again... really... I mean it) and paired a lovely smoked brisket and horseradish crostini with a fantastic Barista Pinotage, Boursin and Beef puff pastry with the Arenal Sauvignon Blanc, blanched asparagus wrapped in crispy prosciutto was lovely with our Betty White, and of course we had various fresh fruits, savory cheeses and charcuterie, olives and sweet raspberry bars that topped off our new Bramble Berry Bliss.  Boy, did we put on the Ritz!  What was generally unknown was that we were hot on the heels of the field editor for Nebraska Life Magazine.  I got a tip that he was going to be there covering the First Friday in Fairbury event.

I have been pursuing the magazine for several months now, trying to convince them that there is a fantastic story to be told.  The story, of course, is the success of our renovation efforts of the Warren Building; the increasing popularity of the Pour House, the never-ending room flipping process to accommodate the many reservations for the San Carlo Room, the inquiries about making donations of art and artifacts to be placed on display in the Welcome Center, and the lovely art that hangs in the Mary Mary Quite Contrary Gallery, welcoming people to private events hosted there.  And, of course, the next major phase of our efforts... our grand-daddy grandiose grand plan to restore the Historic Warren Opera House to be both a theater for performance and film.  Much to my chagrin, as the many munching and sipping guests magically separated and the room cleared, there he was.  My target.  Off I went, to sell, sell, sell.

We talked about why I decided to put a wine bar in the middle of Busch Light country.  Why a town of barely 1200 people would support such a major project, and how a tiny non-profit historical society group (average age 67) could make such an impact on a town called Friend.  Impact, I explained, that was more than improving half of a city block. This is all-around impact.  Economic benefits, tourism that never existed for this town, community promotion, support for the school arts programing and probably most important to us personally, building friendships.  Women of varied ages and life experience have found their way to Maintenance Monday (M&M day), even if it's on a Wednesday evening, or an early Saturday morning and  many who do not even clean their own homes are in the Warren Building scrubbing toilets and mopping floors, dragging fifty pound garbage cans that wreak of stale beer and ceremoniously bitching about it. We are all scraps of this odd, but lovely patchwork quilt that is the force behind the project.  "Yes!" I proclaimed... we're a little weird..  no... quirky, but we've all got our eye on the proverbial restoration ball, and we mean business.  We are self identified as "Women of High Caliber".  We're gun owning, toilet scrubbing, cuss-word tossing over-achievers.  "Down right inspirational," I told him.  He looked at me like I was a nut.  Yet, on Monday, Nebraska Life Magazine contacted me to ask for more details, in writing. I immediately obliged, probably overwhelming the poor editor, but we are now in the hunt and I am hopeful.

That evening, after a lot of hard work and hot air, I followed our caravan of support back to Friend... my foot on the dash, drumming to my favorite REO songs (I'm a rock star when I drive)... thinking about what an inspiration we are.  Inspiration to each other, to the community, and to others across the state who are literally "WOWED" by what we've accomplished thus far.  I'm proud to be a part of this M&M Day (although I could really do without scrubbing the men's room) group and I have great confidence, as I sit in my new antique "chair of inspiration" I traded the Stagecoach Mall in lieu of mileage, that we are on the verge of great things.  Naysayers and undoers be damned!  Get out of the way, because the Women of High Caliber are on a roll!