Peanut Butter Sandwiches and Chocolate Chip Cookies

When I was in grade school, lunch was likely my favorite part of the day. After sitting quietly (or as quietly as I could) throughout the morning, I finally had the opportunity to talk with my friends over our midday meal. While school lunches have changed over the years due to governmental regulations and guidelines, I’m fairly certain that this tradition of relaxation and camaraderie with classmates remains the same.

At High Grove Elementary School in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s when I attended, one face remained constant every day during lunch. Mrs. Thompson would be behind the counter, busily preparing trays and offering a warm smile as students passed through her line. I remember I always tried to make a point to say something to her as I walked by: "Mrs. Thompson, the cookies smell delicious today," or "When is the next pizza day, Mrs. Thompson?"

Each time I interacted with her, she would look at me and smile, wipe her hands on her apron, come around to the other side of the counter and embrace me in a big hug. I remember her smelling of peanut butter and flour, likely from all the peanut butter sandwiches that were popular and her famous chocolate chip cookies.

Mrs. Thompson recently passed away, and when I read through her obituary (above), all the warm memories of her smile and grandmotherly manner came rushing back to my mind. I’m sure my young self thought of her as just that: another grandma who enjoys spoiling her kids. She was the beginning of my favorite part of my day growing up, and I have never forgotten her kindness.

It’s hard to believe that after all these years, I have such vivid memories of someone I hardly knew, other than in her work environment. But her love and care for me and the hundreds of kids she served at High Grove with a smile made her someone important to me. We never know the impact we have on others, and sometimes just a smile and a hug are all that is needed to boost someone’s day or lifetime. Thank you, Mrs. Thompson, for loving me and all your kids at High Grove. You’ll be missed.

Tears, Trials, and Truth

Divorce is hard, no matter how you look at it or how it directly impacts you and those you love. Unfortunately, sometimes there are things that happen in a marriage that cause it to fall apart, despite the wishes of one or both of the parties involved. Throw in a child or two or more, and the decisions of the adults directly impact the children.
  

Two months ago, my divorce was final. It’s not something that I’ve talked about publicly, and those who know have either heard from word-of-mouth or I have told individually. My personal life has always been just that - personal.

As the last several weeks have passed by, I have been asked more and more about my relationship status, as it has apparently become clearer to people that something was amiss (like my wedding ring, for instance).

I still love my ex-husband, as I spent the last seventeen years with him being a major part of my life. We will forever be united in our love for our amazing son, and through all the struggles that we have dealt with over the months leading up to the divorce, Michael has remained our priority.

There have been a lot of tears, but change is always a scary thing, even if it’s change that you asked for. I didn’t come from a broken home, and I was always told that divorce was not an option. The vows you make when you get married are sacred -- 'til death do you part. Taking back those vows was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

So, I thought it was time to come clean, and let all of you know that I’m okay; I’m happy, even. Life sometimes throws you curve balls, and this one was definitely a doozy. What’s done is done, however, and sharing the truth with all of you was important to me. Thanks for all of your love and support.

The Olden Days

 

Let’s face it: kids these days have it pretty good. They have the world at their fingertips, and information is as accessible to them as sunshine, practically. Everywhere they look, and everywhere they go, they are bombarded with applications and status updates and “selfies.”

So, it should come as no shock, that during a recent conversation with my own child, the topic of cell phones came up. He asked, “Mom, when you were my age, what did you do with your cell phone while you were at school?”

After laughing hysterically, I explained to him that I didn’t have a cell phone when I was nine. Instead we had a phone, with a cord, that was attached to the wall. The kid, needless to say, was completely dumbfounded.

“You mean like those phones you see on old TV shows?” he asked, to which I nodded in agreement. “Oh, right! Like in the olden days!” he added.

Now, I’m aware that I’m not getting any younger, but to think that in my child’s mind I lived in the “olden days?” Well, that just didn’t sit well with me. When does that new Apple watch come out, so I can feel young again?

Heart Month

Every February, for as long as I can remember, in every magazine and in several commercials, we are constantly reminded to be heart-conscious. Whether it’s the cereal we eat, the exercises we do (or don’t) do, or whatever is determined to be good for your heart, advocates for healthy hearts are everywhere.

A few years ago, I was young, and sincerely thought that heart issues were for older people. I thought, “I’m young, my friends are young, we’re healthy, we have nothing to worry about!” I was wrong.

In 2011, my best friend, Danielle, gave birth to her second child, a healthy and adorable boy named Charlie. Two months later, while at a benefit walk, she collapsed. Several days after, it was determined that her heart stopped beating for too long, and her husband and family made the hard decision to remove her from life support. This was truly devastating, and a complete shock.

Witnessing something like that, especially someone you are close to, really makes you open your eyes to things, making you hug those you love a little tighter, and count your blessings like never before. Danielle left a legacy in her two handsome boys, and I see her in their eyes.

She left me with memories, but also left me with the knowledge that our time spent on earth can be cut short in an instant. This February, I will focus on my own heart, and those who I hold so close to it, and I will be reminded that heart health is so much more than whether or not my heart is pumping blood through my veins. It’s about family and friends, laughing and enjoying life. Because that’s what’s truly important, and that’s the kind of exercise I can do without breaking a sweat.

New Math vs. Old Math

I’ve never really cared for math. As a little girl, sitting at my desk in first grade, I remember my teacher patiently waiting while I rattled off my addition and subtraction problems not from memory, but by using my fingers. It wasn’t that I’d never get the hang of math, it was more of an issue of disinterest. Numbers didn’t do anything for me. Give me a word problem, and I’d read it aloud like no other. Ask me to solve the same word problem, and I’d give you a blank stare.

The funny thing about math is, throughout school, it gets progressively harder. Concepts build on previous concepts, and if you didn’t master those earlier concepts, you’re out of luck. That was me: out of luck. When entering third grade, I remember they started throwing multiplication and division at me. That’s where they truly lost me. I was done, I felt hopeless, I knew there was no way I’d ever "get" math.

Over the years, I had a few teachers who believed in me and gave it their best to help me understand math, but I was perfectly content with my barely-passing grades that provided me with enough math credits to squeeze on through.

Just when I thought I’d escaped all math (albeit what I can do on a calculator), I had a child who loves math. Not only does my son love it, he’s really good at it, at least by my standards. When he was in first grade, I had to look up the answers to a couple of problems on his homework and I remember thinking, "surely math wasn’t this hard when I was in first grade. This must be that ‘new math’ I hear about."

Unfortunately, as was the case when I was in school, math gets harder. The boy is now in third grade, the same grade where I decided I was done with math. Where I had given up, my son continues to succeed. He learned pretty early on to ask anyone but Mom if he has a question regarding math homework. Spelling or reading? I’m your girl. Math? Um, let me see if Google knows the answer.

Don’t even get me started on what some refer to as "common core math." That’s a whole ballgame I have zero interest participating in. I’ll just be on the sidelines, happily reading player biographies and looking for typos.

Violence Continues

There’s something contagious about being around someone who is passionate about something. Whatever it is they have on their heart, when you listen to their story and hear their thoughts, you want to be a part of it -- even if it’s something you know absolutely nothing about.

Listening to Jackson County Prosecutor Jean Peters Baker left me with a sense of urgency this week. Together, with the Kansas City No Violence Alliance, her goal is to stop violent offenders in their tracks, and hopefully, put them on the path to better things. While her statistics about the number of homicides in our city have begun to dwindle, the violence remains deadly.

As I am writing this column, I just received confirmation that the body that was found at The Bay waterpark, just minutes from where I sit, was that of 14-year-old Alexis Kane, a student in the Hickman Mills School District.

Our prosecutor was one-hundred percent correct when she said this is unacceptable. Our kids, our babies, are paying the most horrific price imaginable, and most likely over petty things. Whenever I hear bad news, which is daily in my profession, I can’t help but think of my little boy, and how he, along with all of his friends and playmates, deserves to live in a better world. Stop the violence.

Welcome 2015

The new year sure has come in with a bite to it, and in more ways than the crazy-cold temperatures outside. This week, I had the misfortune of writing some horribly depressing news stories. And those on top of news from around the world, and I don’t feel as optimistic about the start of the new year as I normally do.

Typically, I enjoy the start of a new year. The thought of a blank slate, so to speak, keeps me energized through our blustery winters...at least until spring hits. Then I rely on the sunshine and flowers to keep me going. I’m hoping that the sour news coming across my desk turns into stories of happiness and people in our community doing great things for each other.

If you know of any such stories, or hear of anything going on in the community that you think we should write about, we are always looking for input. Email me anytime at mwilson@jcadvocate.com, stop by our office to chat, or give me a call at 816-761-6200.

This is your community newspaper, and we want to write the stories that you want to read. We look forward to doing just that in 2015. Happy New Year!