Lila Perry Steinhoff Archives

October 17, 2014

Birthday Season 92-364/365ths

Wife Lila arranged for Mother’s Almost Birthday to start off with a delivery of a bouquet of of cupcakes from Class of ’66 classmate Marilyn Maevers Miller. Miz Miller is an artist in the kitchen. (If you are interested in any of her handiwork, drop me an email.)

“That’s not for eating”

Marilyn also dropped off a huge pot of mums from her garden in Charleston. She saw me eying them hungrily, and quickly let me know they were real, “not for eating.”

Only amateurs have birthDAYS

When you’re pushing 93, you’ve had time to figure out how to stretch your birthday into a Birthday Season. Brother Mark and I got her a new TV for her bedroom a couple of weeks ago (that was a selfish move on my part: the old one weighed as much as a Volkswagen and didn’t play nicely with the antenna I had installed in her attic). Mark and Wife Robin are driving down for the weekend Friday, and Wife Lila is due from Florida next week.

Some packages from the Western Branch of the Steinhoff arrived marked “Do Not Open Until Your Birthday.” Curator Jessica will be here around Halloween, and I am hoping that she’ll fill the holes in her suitcase with some of HER fine baked goods to carry on the celebration.

As soon as she sees the taillights of my van pulling out of the driveway, she’s thinking about flying out to Tulsa for Thanksgiving. We’re hinting strongly that Florida would be a good place to spend Christmas.

So, light a candle on October 17, and let Mother know you blew it out in her honor.

Past Birthday Seasons

September 2, 2014

Where are the Gleaners?

When I spotted a field with a bunch of small, round, orange objects in it along the Ohio River Scenic Byway near Letart Falls, I turned to Curator Jessica and asked what she thought they were. “They’re not big enough for pumpkins,” I observed.

The question was answered about a quarter-mile down the road when we came upon field after field of tomatoes whose vines were turning brown. Wife Lila is proud (rightfully so) of the tomato plants in her backyard garden, but here were miles of them rotting on the vine.

“Pinhookers” clean fields in Florida

I’ve seen “pinhookers” around Immokalee pay farmers a small amount of money in order to harvest the leftovers in a field, so I wondered why nobody appeared to be doing that around there.

What were those people called in the Bible who did that? I asked Miz Jessica, who had been to church before our jaunt and should be up on that kind of thing.

“Gleaners. It comes from the Book of Ruth and the story of Ruth and Boaz,” she said without hesitation.

I wish I had been going straight back to Florida. I’d have brought Wife Lila enough tomatoes to keep her canning for weeks.

July 29, 2014

Mother and the Class of ’66

I hadn’t planned to go to the Class of ’66 lunch when I was in town. I had too much going on, the ’66ers are young whippersnappers, and the affair was being held at a place where I swore I’d never spend another penny after two bad experiences.

Then, I got this Facebook post from Jane McKeown Neumeyer: Ken, ask your Mom if she would like to be my guest at Monday’s Class of 66 Luncheon. I could swing by to pick her up. She is definitely an honorable member and more honorable than most of us. If not, maybe, you could drop by with your Mom during lunch sometime so that those of us who only know her through your blog could meet her. Oh, and we could see you, too. LOL!

Marilyn Maevers Miller puts on the pressure

Marilyn Maevers Miller weighed in: Thank you Jane, what a lovely idea!!!! By the way….she is so much fun!!

Wife Lila and Mother went down to Marilyn’s joint in Charleston one time and I understand that there was much hooting, hollering, hijinking and hilarity at the meeting. They laughed about it for days.

Marilyn, in the striped outfit, was on her best behavior today so I’d trust Mother to go down to Charleston for another play date.

Sally Wright Metz tugged on her arm

Sally Wright Metz tried to figure out which of Mother’s arms was the fake. She gave them both a pull, I think, but they stayed on.

Bob and Dick

Dick McClard, left, wonders how such a delightful woman could turn out a commie pinko son. Bob White is less judgmental.

Jane wouldn’t let go

I didn’t know if Jane McKeown Neumeyer was pulling a Sally Wright Metz arm check or what, but I didn’t think she’d ever let go of Mother’s hand. I’m glad she pressured me into bringing Mother, though, she enjoyed the celebrity treatment.

Brune Standard Time

Brad Brune, operating on his normal Brune Standard time, arrived late and after the group photo had been taken. He always likes to make a grand entrance.

The Group

Here are the folks who showed up (minus Brune). It looks like Mother has been accepted into the Class of 1966. I just hope they can keep up with her. (Her October Birthday Season is approaching. She’ll be 93.)

July 6, 2014

A Sign of the Times

When we moved into our house in West Palm Beach, it had two bedrooms and one bath. When Sons Adam and Matt were little, they shared a bedroom. I drilled a hole in the door and installed a wideangle lens peephole so we could see if they were (A) Awake; (B) Asleep or (C) Up to mischief.

In retrospect, that might have been more useful when they got a bit older.

In 1986, we added two rooms and another bath to the back of the house. Matt got the new back bedroom and Adam got the old one to himself.

Mother ran across a wooden sign that read “The Adams” in a yard sale. Wife Lila rearranged the letters so it spelled “ADAM” and we hung it on his bedroom door. (Covering the peephole at the same time.)

Adam hits 34

Family and friends gathered to celebrate his 34th birthday on July 6, even though his official Birthday is July 7.

Grandsons Graham (barely visible at left) and Elliot are quick with the puff. I was too slow to capture the lit candles.

Room is officially mine now

Just before we left the house, I grabbed a screwdriver and pulled the ADAM sign off the door.

His acceptance of it concedes that the room is now, officially, my office. I have to decide what to do with that peephole, though.