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My Aunt Marlene has always had a beautiful smile. It beams in the photograph my father took before the Winter Cotillion at the University of Illinois – when the two oldest Schnepper boys took their best girls out for a formal night on the town. My parents had just been married and Gordon was dating Marlene Eyer – a pretty girl with twinkling eyes and a mischievous smile.

Aunt Marlene was a nurse by training and practiced her profession in a variety of settings. I think it must have been extra comforting to get some TLC from a nurse who had that radiant smile beaming at you.

After my grandparents, Aunt Marlene assumed the responsibility of coordinating the every other year Schnepper family reunions. One year it poured rain – a real gully washer. But it didn’t affect the turnout since most of us had come from out of town specifically to attend this event. Was it cancelled when the crowd of more than fifty couldn’t spread out in the large yard? Nope! Aunt Marlene and Uncle Gordon opened up their home and we all swarmed in. Eating and drinking. Visiting. Laughing. We took family pictures in the living room. I’m sure that sofa was never the same after being piled on by all the separate tribes who made up the reunion. Through it all, Aunt Marlene was the picture of serenity. Smiling.

Later she passed reunion coordination on to me, sharing all her mailing lists and recommendations. She and Uncle Gordon still hosted, but at the winery where there was room to set up without destroying her furniture.

When illness slowly robbed Aunt Marlene of her words, she still found effective ways to communicate with those pretty eyes and that wonderful smile. Even though words were harder to come by, her spirit was undiminished. She was willing to go on adventures like flying to New Jersey for a son’s housewarming party and always seemed happy to be in the midst of the chaos of family gatherings.

We’re never prepared to lose the people we love, even when they continue to steadily creep closer to leaving us. Earlier this week, after sharing time with all five of her children and with her loving husband at her side, my Aunt Marlene left us. I’m sure that she is smiling that beautiful smile as she looks down on us today. Thank you for showing us how much you loved us by sharing that smile for so long.

This is the time of year when you can’t open you mailbox without finding at least one catalog of some kind. Usually many more than one. Some from places you’ve never ordered a single thing from.

I usually scan through them before relegating them to the ever growing recycling pile. I occasionally find a t-shirt with something on it that’s clever or stupid or riotously funny. Not that I would ever buy it to wear out of the house. Why advertise to perfect strangers what you think is clever or they think is stupid?

A couple of weeks ago there was a little plaque with this verse on it:

Friends are like angels, you don’t have to see them to know they are there!

That is certainly true in 2020. No traveling to see friends (or family) in other states or other countries. I can’t even see my friends who live in the same town as often as I would like. Some of them I haven’t seen at all because the risk is too great for their health or the place we usually have lunch isn’t taking the precautions seriously. One of them, I visit through a window to protect them from the dreaded plague, although they got it anyway but thankfully, recovered.

To adjust to all this I’m making more efforts to stay in touch other ways.

Emails of happy thoughts and shared prayers or just checking in.

Notes of encouragement and sympathy or cards by postal mail.

And sometimes by picking up Mr. Bell’s invention to hear that special voice or unique laughter that can only come from my friend.

None of it replaces a full two arm hug before a face to face lunch in one of your favorite places that has managed to survive.

Or meeting friends in a full football stadium or hockey rink or baseball park hours from your home to cheer on you favorite team.

Or getting to finally take a friend up on their long standing offer to cross the border to visit their home in the hills on a lake with a view out the backdoor that could be a picture postcard.

I know my unseen angels exist because I believe they are actively engaged full time in battling the evil in the world right now. How much worse would it be if they were not?

I know my unseen friends are there because we’re making plans for next year, for their next birthday, for my next birthday, for the reunion, the next sports season, for when life as we know it can be finally returns.

I’m praying for that time when hope becomes reality.

For when our angels prevail.

For when friends are once again seen whenever and wherever we want.

In person!

Thank you to my angels for blessing me with friends to help me through this!

One thing is not affected by Covid-19. The calendar continues to change months right on schedule despite the ugliness of the world we live in today. And regardless of the frightening prospects of what the next several weeks will bring. (Please do NOT post any political comments.)

At our house the change in the calendar brings a smidgen of “normal” cheer to our kitchen. The end of October means the boo towels are out!

Several years ago, my friend Millie gave me towels and candy dishes for all the major holidays. My husband dubbed the Halloween towels the boo towels for obvious reasons. They are an indicator that fall is truly here. While this year won’t have the same activities as usual, we have the boo towels and, of course, the pure sugar candy pumpkins that I love!

I can’t predict with any certainty what the rest of the year will bring or where we will celebrate the holidays that follow. Or what 2021 will bring. I only know that where I can control things it will be true that the boo towels will be followed by turkey towels, Christmas ones, heart embroidered terry cloth, Easter egg clad towels and shamrocks. That much I am sure of.

I’m wishing you a smile today and praying for better days ahead!

James M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan, said, “Those who bring Sunshine to the lives of others, cannot keep it from themselves.” He never met my Aunt Judy, but she would have invoked those words.

She became Aunt Judy in 1971 when she married my father’s almost thirty-one year old baby brother. Judy had what it took to settle him down back in his hometown after a life of flying helicopters and commercial airliners. It was a package deal that not only yielded a new Aunt but a new cousin, Dodd.

Usually she had a smile, unless someone was vexing her. Then she pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and said their name. Usually it was “JOOOHN!” But Daddy could get a rise out of her without trying too hard. Then it was “RUSSELLL!” She was easy to tease, but didn’t stay aggravated long.

Her artist’s soul showed itself in many ways. In her salon on the bottom floor of the tri-level house, she cut, curled and dyed lots of hair and was always experimenting with wigs and hairpieces.

Aunt Judy did everyone’s hair for my wedding party, except for my sister, Ann. She wouldn’t be put in curlers and under a dryer after helping at the bachelor party the night before. Aunt Judy gently washed Ann’s long hair, then cut it into a cute bob that looked lovely under the hat she wore down the aisle. Disaster averted much to this nervous bride’s relief.

For many years she was the chief photographer at our family reunions putting up picture boards and making collages of family fun for all to enjoy. She was a prolific talented painter of flowers, landscapes, children and grandchildren.

Judy gave freely of her time and talents. With John she grew her church’s Outreach Meal program over thirty times its original size to deliver meals to 1,000 at Thanksgiving and Christmas. My sisters and I were in town to help one Christmas. What an amazing production! She proudly took us around to introduce her nieces to the other workers, then put us to work!

You rarely saw her sit down without a little fur ball or two curled up in her lap. A little dog nuzzling up against her perfectly content.

Smiling. Creative. Generous. Talented. Loving. All those describe my Aunt Judy, but the word that comes to mind for me is Feisty. She was a lot like the little dogs she loved – affectionate, but ready to fight if necessary. She’s been in a battle for years that has taken every bit of her feistiness, every ounce of fight, and every ray of faith. This week she was called home to bask in the love and the joy she freely shared with us to so long. Sadly, due to COVID, I’ll be basking in memories of her rather than be there in person to celebrate her life. We love you Aunt Judy. Rest in well-deserved peace.

I have wished, hoped and prayed that by now we would only be remembering when COVID was a bad dream we had awakened from. I want to see fewer cases so I can go to visit family and friends in other states without risking their or my safety.

These days we get up each morning and check the number of new cases in the state and in our county. A local TV station shows the breakdown on their crawl. When the trend is down we are always thankful.

Then I usually weigh myself and write that number down before I make coffee.

Not that writing them down changes anything about either of those numbers. But I check them every day.

Earlier this week, I read that 70% of the people this medical website surveyed said the pandemic is causing them to make changes to be more healthy – to eat better, exercise more, drink less. Really? No one surveyed me.

I knew long before this strange year that the medical answer to improving almost every health issue is lose weight. Sometimes I have and sometimes I have not. But I haven’t the mental fortitude to forgo comfort foods (you know what they are) or a well made bourbon drink in the midst of this stressful mess.

Sometimes I do my exercises and more often, my yoga breathing, but if I don’t I am not going to add the stress of feeling guilty about it.

I’d really like to join Bill Murray’s Meatballs campers and begin chanting “It just doesn’t matter!” but I know it does.

The key is to remember that worrying about the virus or the number on the scale or your cholesterol does absolutely nothing to change them. You need to take action to create the change or chose not to. The only thing you should never do is to worry. It is a time sucking, gut wrenching waste of time and it keeps you from sleeping. And we all need to sleep!

Today would have been my mother’s eighty-fifth birthday. I have been thinking about her quite a bit lately. I believe that any organizational skills and business sense I have probably came from her.

For a long time, Mother did all the books for Daddy’s veterinary practice – all the posting of every day’s receipts onto the ledger card for each client, recalculating the running balance and refiling them.

Once a month, statements were sent out. This involved making a copy of each ledger card – not on today’s plain paper copiers, but using a device that had a single sheet feeder to send through each ledger card and it spit out a waxy feeling, smelly copy from the roll of paper in the machine. By the end of the roll, you had to work hard to keep the paper flat enough to fold and slide into the window envelopes.

Daddy rarely collected his fees while out on calls, so the monthly statements were critical for family cash flow. If no payment had been made the month before, Mother would put a PLEASE note on the bottom of the statement. When no payments were made again she switched to a note in red crayon and added underlines and exclamation points. One of the clients was a cattle rancher and rodeo supplier, he received the red crayon messages so frequently that one time when he came into the office to pay his bill, he told Mother she should be ashamed of herself for taking her poor children’s crayons. He gave me a dollar on the way out of the office and told me to buy some new crayons and hide them from Mother!

When crayon messages didn’t work, Mother made phone calls to the farmer’s wives appealing person to person and for harder cases to the farmer when he was just sitting down to dinner. She always seemed to know who really could pay but didn’t make it a priority and who to let ride because their circumstances didn’t allow any extra right now to pay the veterinary bill.

The ultimate bill collection effort she hit upon one day when she was aggravated that all options had resulted in no money from her nemesis, the red crayon shamer. One evening, we came in from playing to find no dinner in the works. Instead Mother loaded us all in the family station wagon – dirty faced and bare footed from a day outside – and drove us out to this client’s house. She got us out of the car, marched us up to the house, and pounded on the back door. The man came to the door looking puzzled. When he opened the door, Mother said, “They’re here for supper. I’ll pick them up in an hour.” Then she turned to leave.

“Whoa. Bev I can’t feed all those kids.” The client stood blocking the doorway.

“Neither can I because you haven’t paid your bill in six months!” Mother fired back.

He began laughing. “Just a minute.” He went back in the house and returned a few minutes later with a check that he handed to Mother.

“This is fifty dollars too much.” Mother said.

“Maybe now I can stay ahead. Goodnight!”

I don’t think he stayed ahead too long, but it was the only expedition we ever made to his house at dinner time.

Happy birthday Mother with love.

Ten days ago Alabama moved into the “Safer at Home” mode which meant restaurants could open their dining rooms with the appropriate social distancing and other precautions. Very, very, very s l o w l y things are opening up. You have to do a lot of checking before going out. Just because they can be open doesn’t mean they are.

Last Friday we decided to act as if things were almost normal, although we were prepared to be disappointed, but we had to get out and, as my sweet father-in-law would say “blow the stink off”. We went to Office Depot, which has never closed,and Hobby Lobby, which just reopened. And we drove around town checking to see what was and was not open.

Then we went to lunch in a sit down restaurant where we were served delicious food on real plates! The Olive Garden was doing a great job. Tables with signs saying “Social distancing is temporary, Family is forever, We are family” blocked the social distancing tables. Staff wore masks and gloves. They weren’t very busy. In our dining room there was only a mom with a six year old enjoying the escape.

We were almost giddy. It felt like we were doing something illicit, like someone was going to come over to stop us from enjoying our meal. It only added to the excitement of the adventure.

Then we found our brand of toilet paper in the grocery store AFTER NOON! Could the worm be turning?

The only indication things were post virus was that there weren’t many people out and they were masked. My husband has abandoned his mask for a red bandana. He says it makes him look less like a scared old man and more like a desperado!

And yesterday my diamond engagement ring that had been sent off to get new prongs before all this started, came back incorrectly changed, and was returned to Kentucky for a redo, finally came back again – and it was right! A seven week adventure instead of ten days. I wondered if I would ever see it again.

And my humming birds have found their way back!

My nursing doctorate sister, Lisa, warned me that we really shouldn’t go out yet just because we can. We should wait at least three more weeks. Instead we’re following her original advice and not touching our faces, eyes, and mouths when out and about and carrying our handy spray bottle of alcohol to use when we do have to touch something outside of our house!

We will never find our way back if we don’t start down the path to normal. If Dorothy hadn’t started down the Yellow Brick Road, she never would have gotten to Oz. If she hadn’t found Oz, she wouldn’t have gotten back home. Back to normal.