Pembroke Lane Reunion

In 1969 we, the Stumbo family--Nancy and John and our three children, Annette, Laurie and Paul--lived on Pembroke Lane in Topeka, Kansas.  Right next door were the Guilds, Fred and Joanne with their four daughters, Jenny, Leslie, Nanette, and Lisa.  Across the street lived the Hildyards, Hobart and Virginia and their three children Brent, Wendy and Wes.  Eventually everyone moved away from Pembroke Lane and then Topeka.  Everyone.  All the Guilds moved to the Northwest, in and around Seattle.  The Stumbos scattered everywhere, as did the Hildyards. Hobart and Virginia retired to the Northwest, to Whidbey Island, northwest of Seattle, in the 90s.  The three families did not keep in touch except for Hobart Hildyard and John Stumbo.

Two years ago Annette discovered Leslie Guild on Facebook, told me, and I quickly added her to my list of Facebook friends and we started to communicate with each other.  (God bless Facebook!)  When Hobart and I discovered each other and got together in March, Leslie realized that we would be close to where she lived on Whidbey Island and we made plans to get together sometime this summer. Last night was the night.

The surprise:  Leslie knew that Jenny and their parents, Fred and Joanne, were going to be at Jenny's second home near Oak Harbor on Saturday evening, so she contacted me and arranged for Hobart and Brent, who was here visiting from Phoenix, and me to pop in and surprise everyone else, who had no idea that Leslie and I had been in contact.  A Topeka, Kansas, Pembroke Lane reunion in Oak Harbor, WA!  What fun!  The Guilds were surprised and we were thrilled to see them and began to get caught up on the past three/four decades.  Friendships were renewed, stories and hugs exchanged, and memories recounted.  It was a marvelous reunion.  Thanks, Leslie.  

Jenny and Leslie

Fred and Joanne

The Texture of Time

On our recent trip to the west coast we saw spectacular sights, gorgeous vegetation, magnificent shorelines and interesting people, but often what caught my attention was the texture and beauty of what once, but no longer, was young and vibrant.  Old trees, driftwood and fallen logs drew me in and I paused to study and photograph them.  The young thriving plants were colorful but often created only a background for the stumps which provided the interest and focus. That often applies to people, too.  We saw many young, healthy, beautiful people at the beach and on the paths, but it was the old people who were memorable--the old man in the motorized wheelchair with his dog on a leash, and the elderly couple wearing sun hats, walking the pier holding hands--those with stories and memories that reach back for decades.  Their texture is written on their faces and displayed in their posture and gait.  I feel joy for the young.  I appreciate their energy and ambition.  But my heart is touched and my interest held by the old--both people and nature.  

A Magic Moment in Manhattan Beach

We were in southern California, wrapping up our trip to see Hobart's kids and their families.  The visits in each of their homes had been wonderful and different.  I had gotten to know his children as adults after having known them as children decades ago.  Hobart spent quality one-on-one time with his kids and grandchildren.  We experienced each of their cultures and homes and had even gotten to meet and spend time with some of their friends in Phoenix, Arizona (Brent), Del Mar (Wendy) and Hermosa Beach (Wes), California.  

It was the last day with family before we were to head up the coast to home on Whidbey Island, WA.  Wes's family was busy that last afternoon so Hobart and I went to Manhattan Beach to walk the pier, visit the aquarium, and enjoy the beach.  During our time in the Southwest, Hobart had mentioned several times that he'd like to buy sandals, so on the way to the pier, we found a fabulous Skechers shoe store.  (We later discovered that the headquarters of Skechers is in Manhattan Beach and this was their signature store.) I bought three pairs of shoes immediately.  Hobart found a pair of sandals he liked and decided to wear them out of the store, but Tim, our salesperson, made him first take off his socks.  "Hey, man, get rid of the socks--you're in California." Hobart paid and we left.

A block down the street, Hobart complained that a strap was rubbing the top of his foot, so we found a bench on the sidewalk where he could sit down to put his socks back on, well out of Tim's sight.  The bench was right in front of the Rock N Fish, an open-air restaurant.  A woman diner and her friend, who were eating lunch near us, noticed our big Skechers bags and asked if Skechers was having a sale.  We visited briefly, encouraging them to go check out the cute shoes. We headed to the pier and aquarium.  

An hour later we were returning from the pier on the way to the ice cream shop and stopped for a minute to rest on the same sock-donning bench. The same woman diner and her friend walked by us.  We smiled in recognition and commented on their absence of Skechers' bags, reminding them that the store was on the corner.  We all laughed and they continued walking down the street.  

A few minutes later Hobart and I arrived at the ice cream store a block away. We each ordered two scoops.  Hobart had cookie dough and mint chocolate chip.  I had Nutella and salted caramel.  We settled into comfortable chairs at a small table to enjoy our ice cream.  Suddenly, Hobart, looking over my shoulder, broke into a huge grin and yelled, "Hey!  We've got a table for you!  Come sit down!" and pointed to the table next to us.  And here came our diner woman and her friend--our third encounter with them that afternoon. 

Serendipity!   

They joined us and for the next hour the four of us talked and laughed and teased and exchanged stories and histories. We discovered common connections and shared interests and visited openly and comfortably. What an hour! We bonded, and, upon parting, exchanged emails and embraces. What a blessing and what a gift!  We had all given each other the time to create a memorable moment, to experience our common humanity, and to feel the Loving Spirit that runs through and connects us all.  

What magic!  

Quinn and Jereal

Nancy and Jereal

Quinn and Hobart

Mocha Moment

One night last week neither of us wanted to fix dinner, so we headed to the hospital cafeteria in Coupeville where we knew we could get a good meal cheap--sliced pork tenderloin, au gratin potatoes and roasted carrots for $4.00.  While filling our water glasses, I noticed a coffee/cappuccino machine sitting by the water dispenser.  There were eight choices and the price was right.  Twelve ounce cappuccinos or mochas or coffee or hot chocolate were $1.20.  That bit of information got tucked into the back of my mind.  Several times over the next few days, the mocha possibility popped into my mind but was quickly dismissed.  This afternoon we filled the back of the car with trash and recyclables and took them to the recycle center and dump in Coupeville. The clear glass goes into this bin, separated from the green and brown glass, and the flattened cardboard goes over there.  Sort the soda cans from the soup cans, the paper from the plastic.  Done.  On the way home I suggested that we stop at the hospital for a cappuccino.  It was raining and a cool 54 degrees, and we deserved a treat.  No one was in the cafeteria.  We chose our drinks--mochas--and watched while the machine miraculously did its thing. We punched the button. First the hot espresso poured into the paper cup.  It stopped and the hot chocolate streamed in.  It stopped and was topped off by steaming milk.  Repeat.  We paid our $2.60 and sat down at the corner table which had a pretty bouquet of flowers in the middle.  Hobart placed me in a chair facing a huge window and said, "Look."  He pointed to the horizon where I could see cars cresting a hill and then heading down toward town.  "Isn't that a wonderful view?" he commented. "I sat there last week and enjoyed that view.  I want you to enjoy it today."  We sipped our hot drinks.  Perfect.  Better than Starbucks (which is a risky thing to say out loud in Washington.)  We had a moment...a wonderful moment...enjoying our mochas, visiting, and watching the cars appear and disappear to unknown destinations.  Recycling has its rewards.  

Thriving

In the middle of a cul-de-sac, in the middle of a hole in the asphalt, this little flower chose to take roots and grow.  No, it isn't an ideal spot and the risks are great--cars pass by or over it many times daily, but the blossom reaches for the sun and creates beauty anyway.  I found this flower on my morning walk.  I went home, got my camera and returned to take its picture because I was touched by its tenacity.  I've known people like this--planted in a less-than-desirable spot, surrounded by the ugly or ordinary, and yet adding beauty by their courage.  I'll go back to visit my flower this morning to celebrate its brief life and be blessed by its message.  

 Pausing

Hobart pauses.  He gets into the car, puts the key in the lock, puts his hands on the wheel and pauses.  He sits down at the table and looks at his food.  He pauses.  He makes his cup of coffee every morning, grinding the beans, heating the water, putting it all in the French press, waiting, pouring it slowly into his favorite cup, carrying it carefully to his recliner in the living room where he sits down, looks at the cup of coffee.......and pauses.  

I asked him about his habit of pausing.  He doesn't recall when or why it started.  It's just a habit.  It's just Hobart.  I love it.  It reveals so much about him--the deliberate way he lives his life, his attention to detail, his refusal to hurry through a chore, a store, an activity or a thoughtful expression.  I have been to church with Hobart five times. Four out of the five times, we were the last ones out of the building.  He takes his time in a world that is scurrying to get there faster in order to do more in less time.  

His habit of pausing is his unique way to experience the moment.  What an incredible gift!  And I am learning.  It never occurred to me to pause and study the cookie before biting into it like Hobart does. I've watched him observe people walking by and he is paying close attention to learn something about them from the way they are moving. During the ballet he commented quietly about the piccolo he was hearing. What I have always known but now can observe in Hobart is that moments are precious and all I have to do to find one is to pause.  
  

Hobart, pausing with his morning cookie

Hobart, pausing in the closet

Hobart, pausing to look at the mountains

Hobart, pausing to watch the sunset 

On Wednesday we had a magic moment when we were invited to Hobart's friends' B&B for lunch.  Delicious lunch, charming home, and wonderful people!  What a treat!

Hobart and Jan
(and me in the mirror)

Compass Rose B&B in Coupeville, WA