MRB's Talking Fingers

 It was in 1961, that a song was written and then recorded by Frank Sinatra, which we all sang with great enthusiasm. We had finished three years of nursing training, we could either go back home or apply and accept a ‘paying job’ anywhere we wanted to be. Several classmates had already made wedding plans, and there were no more curfews. There were several who chose to further their education, travel, and work toward new goals. The majority of my classmates were now twenty-one years of age, and that was a big deal! Times have changed… we’ve had some great years with wonderful experiences, and we’ve had some ‘not-so-good’ years that we don’t want to repeat. We’ve had good jobs, been able to enjoy vacation times, and we’ve watched our families grow up. We’ve even been able to welcome and enjoy grandchildren… who are not ‘children’ any more, but mature young adults, stretching their ‘wings’ to get ready to fly. Life carries on! Where were you in 2000, the year a computer bug threatened to

  I’m not yet ready to write a blog about Christmas, but I’ll get there. This week, I’ve been thinking about trains, especially while watching so many ‘going’ and ‘coming’ through our valley. Trains have change in many ways in my lifetime, and this may bring back a few memories for you too. In the early 1940s, our family lived on a farm, and when it was necessary to travel 80 miles to the city, many times my Mom and I would take the train. The proprietor of our General Store, would sell us our tickets, and then put up ‘the flag’ so that the train engineer would know to stop the train to pick up more passengers. I loved the huge steam engine, and the recognizable whistle that we could hear on the farm. I didn’t love it so much on the winter trip in 1947, when the train got stuck in the huge snow drifts. I do remember that we had to sleep on the train one night, until the snow plow helped to get the train going again. When I had my first vacation, after graduating from Nursing School, I

    Most people here on The Hill know that we live in the Foothills of the Canadian Rockies. They understand that we have four distinctive seasons, represented by blooming trees and beds of bright flowers, bright cloudless skies and much warmer days, colorful tree leaves and food-producing gardens, and piles of snow and ice-covered rivers and lakes. So… why have I started this blog with that photo? We’re almost through the first week of December, supposedly getting ready for Christmas, and there isn’t a hint of snow in the photo. You are right… I took that photo from my favorite window. No wonder I’m having a problem getting into the Christmas Spirit. I’ve read many items on the Internet about the banning of Christmas traditional activity, which had caused me to recall our family traditions. During the growing-up years of our children, we developed an unusual list of traditions. My husband’s business activities were always at optimum during the warm weather, making it almost impossible

  In the mid-1980s, our two children were both completing their high school education and were trying to decide what they wanted to do as an adult. There were a few ideas, but the question was, “Would Dad and Mom agree?” Our son wanted to sell real estate, like his father did, but had to be convinced that he was too young. Where would he find a customer who would be willing to work with an 18-year old Realtor? Our independent daughter wanted to get a business degree, but not anywhere near home. She also wanted to attend a Christian university, to learn more about her spiritual journey, so applied to various colleges and decided that whoever accepted her first, gets her. She ended up in Indiana, then transferred to Washington for her last year, where she met the love of her life. Shortly after she started her first year, I received a letter from a friend, asking if I had heard about a little known U.S. law that would give Canadians the opportunity for dual citizenship. She thought it pr