The Suit

Hanging on the wall of my parents home is a picture of my father, Raymond. My guess of his age in the photo is eighteen to nineteen years old. In our first home in Milford, Connecticut, the picture hung above a photograph of my parents dancing at a wedding. When we moved to Maine, it was placed in the same arrangement...just a different wall. The same as when my parents moved to Florida for a year then came back to Fairfield, Maine. Their last home is their current home. They’re number thirteen on a dead end street across from a cemetery. Some might find that a little creepy. I think it’s pretty funny, myself.

On Tuesday, my mother had a doctor’s appointment so I volunteered to stay with my father while my sister took mom to see her physician. It was routine stuff. It wouldn’t take long, they said. The roads had been cleared of the snow that had fallen overnight. Dad was always worried about all of us when the weather wasn’t sunny and 75. Come to think of it, he worries about us when it’s that nice out, too.

Dad and I made small talk about the stimulus package the government was looking to pass, the weather for the weekend and how my son, Anderson, was doing in school. I sat in my mom's chair and looked up at the wall of photographs. The one of my father was hanging below a sketch drawing of the church they were married in. He had mentioned to me about six months before that he wanted me to find a tie just like the one in the photo so he could give it to Anderson to wear to church. I looked all over. I scoured the internet, called department stores in Connecticut, to no avail. 

I asked my father “Dad, where did you get that tie?”

And the story began.

“I bought that tie. I bought the suit, too, with my own money.”

He went to tell me exactly how.

My father was thirteen years old in 1949. The family was very poor. There were five sons at that time before the two little sisters came along. The house on Madison Avenue in Bridgeport they grew up in is now a parking lot next to an ice cream shop. His father was a box nailer at the Bridgeport Brass Company. That company, years before my father and his father were born, is credited for spinning the copper wire that made the first long distance telephone line from New York City to Boston possible. His mother, with five boys, worked hard at being a mom. From the stories they have told me...she had her hands full.

On a late winter day his mother, Grace, brought home new clothes. They had saved enough to buy each of the rambunctious boys pants and shirts. They were growing like weeds and hand me downs only lasted so long. She presented my father, who was tall and very lean, a pair of knickers. In the 1940s, it was common for teenage boys to wear “short pants” or knickers. They came just below the knee and sometimes they fastened with a buckle. My father took one look and asked her to return them because he was NOT going to wear them. She wasn’t very happy about the response. They had spent their hard earned money on new clothes for their eldest son only to have them refused by him. His excuse? He wanted to wear pants. Long pants. 

She told him “If you want pants, buy them yourself.” Grace took him and the pants back to the store she had already come from and told the manager her son didn’t want them. The manager asked him “What do you want?” My father perused the clothing and his eyes landed on a suit.

The Suit.

“I want this.” His mother knew she couldn’t afford it and, once again, told him he would have to buy it himself. Raymond walked right up to the suit and looked at the manager and asked him “Will you please hold this suit for me? It may take me awhile to get the money but I will be back for it.” He picked up a tie and asked him to hold it as well. They left the store with no pants and no suit. However, he did leave with a determination and an idea.

Before it became cheaper to buy at grocery stores, milk was delivered in glass containers by the milkman. A man in a white suit and cap would travel by truck with hundreds of bottles of milk to deliver around the city. He would arrive in the early hours of the morning, go to the stoop of a home and pick up the empty containers. He would then leave fresh full bottles in their place. With five growing boys, the family went through a lot of milk. 

Raymond, being the go-getter he was, woke up early the next morning and greeted the milkman. He asked him if he could work for him to earn a few dollars a week. The milkman thought a moment and told him “Well, I would finish earlier every day. Why not?” So they made plans for the next morning for Ray to start delivering milk.

After a month it had turned to Spring and the earning was slow. It was getting closer to Easter and Ray wanted to be able to wear the suit to church on Easter Sunday. The grass had sprouted up so he took the family lawnmower and went around to the houses in their neighborhood and sometimes beyond. On the weekends he went door to door asking to mow lawns. The money started adding up but it still wasn’t enough. He didn’t think he would be able to purchase the suit in time. What could he do?

Go to his favorite uncle, of course.

Howard Holt was born Halvor Fostvet in Eydehamn, Norway. He came through Ellis Island on the ship Stravangerfjord in 1923. A master craftsman who built cabinets, tables, chairs, and even boats, Uncle Howie, as he was lovingly referred to, was a kind man. He and his wife, Dorothy, doted on children. They couldn’t have any of their own so they spoiled all of their nieces and nephews. I can say I was lucky enough to be spoiled by them as well. He was my godfather and I was his only godchild. Never a holiday went by without them sending me a card with a little something stuffed inside whether it be a two dollar bill or a bunch of stickers. When they would visit, a bag of candy was brought with them just for me. Their hugs were the biggest, the warmest and the longest.

After school, Ray went to visit Uncle Howie who was building another project in his workshop. He wasn’t at all surprised at his nephew’s unannounced visit. They lived less than four miles away. Ray would often take the half hour walk to see him and help him with whatever he was working on. It was with him my dad learned to make the cabinets in our home in Milford, put upstairs bathrooms in our homes in Fairfield. He even built a garage. We were always so amazed that he could do all these different things. When we asked where he learned how to do it all he would always answer “Uncle Howie”.

That day Ray started helping like he usually did and tried, as casually as a thirteen year old boy could, to slide into conversation that he was saving money for something special. Uncle Howie, who could read between the lines, mentioned that he could use an extra hand around the workshop. “Some jobs are just too big to handle alone.” Right away Ray asked if he could have the job. How could he say no to his favorite nephew?

In a matter of two months a young man went from having no job to having three all at once. Each day was closer to Easter and he wanted that suit in time. In the mornings he would deliver milk. After school he would mow lawns. In the evenings he would help his uncle.

The Saturday before Easter, Ray counted all his money and headed straight for the store. The tinkling of the bell went off and it announced to the manager the arrival of the young man with whom he made a deal with a few months prior.

“So, I suppose you’re here to pick up your suit.” said the manager.

“And tie.” Ray quipped.

“Hmmph,” was the manager’s response. He went out back and a few minutes later a large cardboard box tied with string was in the man’s hands. Ray counted out the bills and coins to the exact amount. When the manager was satisfied he rushed home to his room. There he untied the string and lifted the cover. It was just like he remembered: Navy blue with a matching tie with an embroidered cross. He resisted the urge to put it on right then and there. He didn’t want to risk a single wrinkle. He hung it in his closet to await the next morning. 

And what a morning it was. Easter Sunday was as big a deal then as it is now. Families getting ready to head to church would see a flurry of activity in order to get there on time. Can you imagine what my grandmother went through to have five boys clean, fed and in their Sunday best before it was time to leave? 

Things came to a standstill when my father walked into the room. There he was in his new suit and tie standing before his mother, father and four brothers. “Raymond! Where did you get that?” 

“You told me to buy it myself so I did.” He told them of everything he did and how much he had saved in order to wear the new suit special for Easter. His parents were so proud of what he had accomplished. His brothers, well, they’d rather wear the knickers.

St John’s Episcopal Church on Fairfield Avenue in Bridgeport was full that day. Each person sitting in the pews had a full view of the choir raising their voices to the Lord in song. In that choir was a tall, young man in a snappy new suit and a big smile on his face. Though no one’s smile could be bigger than the ones of the parents watching their son who had worked for months just to wear a new suit to Easter Sunday service.

Where is the suit now? My parents like to be prepared for everything and that includes the time they pass on. The suit is now in a box and is ready for when my father passes on. The suit he bought as a thirteen year old boy will be the suit he is buried in. 

And tie. Never forget the tie.

Why I Believe, Love and Do

“As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and

helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you.”

― Dieter F. Uchtdorf

For the last few months at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Skowhegan,

Maine, many of the talks given have had to do with ministering. Ministering is helping

out fellow Saints in our ward by visiting, calling, helping or writing to them to see how

they are doing and if they need any help physically or spiritually. For me, it’s a little

different.

I am a member of the Newport ward. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I attend Skowhegan

because that’s where my son goes. When we moved to our new location I didn’t know the

rules had changed and that it takes more than transferring records from one ward to another.

Now it takes meetings, letters and approval of the Big Three of the General Authority to

have them changed.  I am in the process of trying to get my records moved to the Skowhegan

ward so I can continue there, hold a calling, get my temple recommend and take my son to

the temple. Nothing means more to me than being able to attend with him and watching him

grow in the church.

Listening to the talks, the same advice is given each week to minister to the members of the

church. Not being a member of the ward, I have been trying other methods to help people in

our neighborhood. This past weekend was General Conference. I had listened to the two hour

session on Saturday and felt moved to share my message of faith and my love of our Heavenly

Father and his Son. On Sunday morning, I posted a picture of the Boston temple on my

Facebook page and wrote “Happy Sunday everyone! Have a blessed day and know God and I

love you! Time to recharge my spirit!” I prayed that morning to have missionary work come

to me in some form that I might include my son.

On Sunday afternoon, my prayer was answered.

It was the first warm day of Spring and my husband wanted to be outside, as did we all. He,

my son and I went across the road to an abandoned lot and decided to metal detect. It is one

of our favorite things to do together. While we were digging, an elderly woman pulled up

and watched us from her driver’s seat.

I approached her and asked if there was something I could do for her. She asked if the young

man, pointing at my son, would be willing to help her out by doing a few odd jobs around

her yard. I called my son over and he introduced himself. When asked he emitted an enthusiastic

yes! She lived only three houses away. We told her we would meet her with our rakes in hand.

A few minutes later we arrived in her driveway and she was explaining that this was the first

time in her life she was unable to prepare her flower garden for the season. My son and I went

to work immediately raking out the long grass that surrounded the rose bushes. He was careful

to not pull out any of the new growth that was sprouting through the wet ground. There were

many returning flowers pushing through.

While we worked I asked her about the flowers and about her life. It so happened her birthday

is the day after my father’s and they will both be eighty-three this year. She said she had asked

another young man to come by last week to help but he never came. She is very unsteady on

her feet and has trouble using the stairs in her home. With Spring she has much to do but hasn’t

the strength to do it.

We finished with that flowerbed and she asked us to move on the the front yard. We filled

garbage bags full of leaves, grass and sticks. The yard was finished and we put all of her tools

away in her garage. It was then time for payment. When she asked my son how much he would

like to be compensated he told her that there was no need to pay him. He had fun working in the

sunshine.

Still, she insisted on giving him something in return. He walked up to her and held out his arms

and went in for a giant hug. “This is my payment,” he stated.

Smiling and patting his back, she still insisted on a form of payment. Without payment, she said,

there would be no reason he would want to come back. Listening to her she reminded me of my

father. When helping my parents with their laundry and odd jobs, dad is always slipping a little

something in my hand before I leave even though I say it’s not necessary. She moved to her car,

retrieved a ten dollar bill and informed us it was for both of us. She enjoyed our company and

hoped we would come back. When I thanked her for letting us do God’s work that day she started

to cry. I gave her a big hug and said we would be back.

Much like the flowers of Spring it is time for us to come out of the darkness and see the sun. It

is time for us to renew ourselves and our covenants with our Heavenly Father and brush away

the tangled mess of events in our past that we hang onto that try and hold us from our true happiness.

Let us untangle ourselves from the weeds and thorns of our worries and doubts and bring new life

to, not only ourselves, but to others around us. That they may feel the love we have for our fellow

man. That they may see the good works that can be done by helping those around them. Simple

acts of kindness is all it takes.

Had we not been outside that glorious day, the answer to my prayer may have never been noticed.

Had I ignored her and not inquired as to why she was watching us, I would have missed the chance

to befriend her. I would have missed the chance to teach my son the power of doing God’s work. I

would have also missed his chance to show me he is living the gospel by doing the work for another

for the simple payment of a hug.

Brothers and Sisters, since the first time I heard Elder Uchtdorf empower his wisdom on us all with

his “Believe. Love. Do” mentality, I have been trying to put his words into action. I think it was

meant for me because he spoke to us on my birthday, October sixth, with this message. These three

simple words have changed my life for the better.

I BELIEVE in Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit and the Book of Mormon.

I LOVE them all, my fellow Saints and non-Saints.

I DO the work that is asked of me by God.

By Believing, Loving and Doing we were able to serve not only the woman who loved her flowers

but serve our Heavenly Father. And that is all that is ever asked of us.

Developing Your Gift from God

Yesterday, a man spoke in church about how when we are born God gives each of us a talent. That talent is left for us to discover because, sometimes, it’s not an immediate revelation. While some find it when they are children others may encounter theirs when they are adults. That talent is for us to do what we may with it. We can develop it. We can hide it. We can share it with others. We can teach others about it so they can increase theirs. Some are truly blessed and have multiple talents.

While I’m not the best vocalist, I do try and share what I think is my talent. It is such a joy for me to watch people dance to our music whether it’s the cover of a song or an original that was penned from my own hand. When the clubs are filled with patrons having a good time it makes my heart smile and I know God is happy with me.

The most wonderful part of my job is the children. When they are at the campgrounds and family functions I love to include them. When you think about it, little children are not the usual audience to attend a national concert on the stages of Bangor or Portland. When we, as a band, perform at these functions, we are the first “concert” they actually see. The children will come up to the stage and stare at the instruments. Others will stand right in front of me and watch my sparkling microphone. These are things they’ve never seen in real life. The music doesn’t come out of a tiny box or cell phone. They aren’t watching it as it is Chrome-casted on a television screen in a YouTube video.

It’s live. And to them, it’s amazing!

We have the kids come up on stage and dance or sing or, if we have it, play the tambourine. From that moment on, that’s all they can think about. I wish I had saved each message from a parent saying “Ever since we saw you play that‘s all my child thinks about. He/she wants a guitar/drums/microphone for their birthday/Christmas!”

We planted a seed.

A seed of music in a young child is a powerful thing. Studies have been shown that music helps a child learn and study better. They are better students because they can focus on a task because they focus on learning a song or a riff or a drumbeat. It helps them overcome shyness because they start to perform in front of others or join a group that makes them work with others. They can nourish that seed and, if they want, have it grow into one of the most wonderful talents a person can have and one of the easiest things to share.

I see the seeds in my own children growing. Jayden has taken to the drums like a natural. Brad has been playing guitar for years and has started talking about starting his own band with his friends. Anderson is now singing loud and proud at church. They see me and Chad and how hard we work at our music and it is rubbing off on them. We would never force them to play but we will encourage them when they are practicing. It’s our jobs as parents to help them nourish their talent.

It’s also my responsibility as an entertainer to give 150% each time I perform. In every crowd there is always someone that has never heard us. We may do the same 60 songs at every gig but there is no excuse for not giving it your all every time. You only have one chance to make a good first impression. I refuse to let that chance slip by because you never know who that one person is. It could be someone looking to hire your band for an event. It could be the next Jimi Hendrix or Carrie Underwood watching you play or sing. You will never know the affect you have on others.

Take your gift from God and make it grow. Whether it is music, teaching, sports…it doesn’t matter. Discover your gift and develop it. It will not only fill your heart but it will fill others. And you can be sure God will be smiling.

 

 

To My Stepdaughter...From Your Stepmom

I have known you since the day I met your father. I fell in love with him that very minute. I think it’s safe to say I have loved you since that day as well.

You see, I never had a daughter of my own. I was blessed to have a son who is the same age as you. God’s plan for me was to have only one biological child but I believe He meant for me to love many children.

You are one of those.

It isn’t hard to do. You are a smart, funny, charming, beautiful 10 year old young lady and the apple of your daddy’s eye. You say the funniest things out of the blue, you forget things easily and you’re a very good student and artist. The look on your father’s face when he gets to see you is like no other. His face literally lights up. The sun rises and sets with you according to him. As his princess, you can do no wrong.

But you do.

When it happens he has to discipline you. He hates that. He feels terrible when it’s happening and like total crap when he sees your sad, puppy dog eyes.

For me, I see the love he has for you and I see the same you have for your daddy. You hug him out of the blue. You draw him silly pictures. You step on his feet and have him walk around with you as you smile up to his face. You know your daddy loves you.

I wonder if you see the love I have for you, too.

I know I’m always telling you to brush your teeth, brush your hair and pick up after yourself. I know it seems like I’m nagging but, if you notice, I tell the same thing to my son. I try to treat you equally. I’m not always successful.

I ask you to help set the table, load and unload the dishwasher and load and unload the dryer. I tell the same thing to my son, too. You’re both 10 and are able to help around the house. That includes feeding the pets, vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. You are always willing to help. There are even times when you ask to help.

How did I get so lucky?

One of the fun things I get to do with you is bake. I know you love to bake cupcakes and pies. I ask you to help and you put on your special apron and we do it together. I actually think you are better than me.

You also like to sew. Santa brought you the sewing machine at Christmas and we have spent quality time together making a stuffed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, pillows and a bunch of little things. Soon I hope to teach you how to quilt. Maybe the one you make you’ll take to college with you one day to keep you warm.

Another thing is cooking. When I say “You’re cooking tomorrow” your eyes light up and you automatically plan a menu and what we will need to make it. We head to the store the next day and buy our ingredients and I teach you as much as I know about your choice of dish. To tell you a secret, you always pick things I have never cooked before so I google it during the day so we can make it that night.

See? You are helping me learn things I never knew before.

The hardest part for me is how girly you can be. Growing up, I never learned anything about makeup, ribbons, French braids and the colors pink and purple. I grew up as a tomboy and I still am for the most part. You match your outfits much better than I can. When we go school shopping, your taste in clothes blows me away.  At least we share a love of shoes!

Soon, you’ll be at the age where boys will start to be “interesting” and they will be interested in you. Your father will be on edge with ANY boy that is mentioned, written in a heart on your notebook or calls to talk to you. You’ll be asking me questions. I didn’t date until I was sixteen so I wonder what kind of help I can be to you when you start to ask for advice. I hope you feel comfortable enough to come to me when you do have questions and I hope I will be able to answer them for you. And I won’t tell dad about our conversations unless I’m worried about you. There is such a thing as Girl Code.

I know you have a mom. I know you love her very much and it’s obvious she loves you, too. You are always excited to see her when she picks you up for the weekend. I always try to make sure to send her pics of you when you are with me if you’re doing something silly or if you drew a cool picture. I also send her texts of things coming up in your life that, if she can make it, she is always invited to. I hope she enjoys them. It’s know hard for me when my son spends time with his dad and I don’t get the communication of pictures or texts. I try to make it a little easier on your mom. I hope I’m showing you that, even though divorce happens, if it ever happens to you, you can be the bigger person. It may not always feel good but God will reward you for the good things you do.

Speaking of God, I hope you hear me talk about Him. He is a huge part of my life. I would never push my religion on you. That is for you to decide. But I am glad you have an open heart. You see me and my son say prayers before every meal and before bedtime. You see us at church and when you ask to come along you voluntarily participate with the other kids. I know the young ladies enjoy spending time with you and the ladies of the church think you are bright and talented. You also see us doing God’s work. When we do things like clean up our road in the spring, hold open doors people and use our manners we feel good. When you see your dad helping our neighbors with their yard work or catching their pets that have runaway, that’s also God’s work. I always say that God’s work is doing for others and not expecting anything in return. You’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart. And there is a lot of goodness inside YOU.

You are officially my stepdaughter. That’s what the world gives you as a title. No matter what they call you, I will treat you like you are my own daughter. I will love you like you are my own daughter. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt. When you’re happy, I’m happy. There will be times when you’re older that you’ll be mad at me for disciplining you or having you pick up your room and you’ll scream “You’re not my mother!” and slam your door. I’ll expect that and it will hurt me. I’ll let it go because that’s all I can do.  I know that won’t be the reason you’re mad at me. Just know that I will be there for you in every way possible as long as you’ll have me. 

I love your father. You are a part of him. I love you, too. I am so glad he brought you into my life. I have enjoyed watching you grow into the wonderful young woman you are and I can’t wait to see what your life brings you. We will always be there for you and will always try to do our best to do what’s right for you. 

Anderson Helps the Community

The last thing Anderson needed to complete to become a full fledged Wolf in Cub Scouts was to clean up a part of his neighborhood. Thankfully, the sun came out today and it was our chance to shine! It just so happens to be Earth Day and everything fell into place.

 

Our road is a dead end. There are 14 houses on it and not much traffic. We thought it would take us an hour to do the entire .7 miles. It didn't look that dirty when we rode in the car.

 

We were so wrong!

 

We filled 6 kitchen size trash can bags FULL of trash! We called Chad to pick up the bags as we went along and bring us more. It took us 2 whole hours to finished and, boy, were we tired!

There were 60 Budweiser glass bottles, Dunkin Donuts cups, Cumberland Farms cups, McDonald's bags and cups, Panera Bread boxes and plastic bags from every big chain grocery store.

 

It was sad. Anderson asked "Mama, why is there so much trash? I thought we loved the Earth."

 

All I could do is tell him the truth.

 

"Some people don't care about the Earth. That's why I'm glad there are people like you who do."

 

On our way down the road a few neighbors came out of their houses to thank Anderson for his good deed. He said he wants to clean our road every year.

 

The Boy/Cub Scouts of America is a wonderful organization that teaches children the importance of our world and taking care of our natural resources.

 

I am so thankful for the opportunity to help Anderson learn about the Earth and what it means to us and how to help it stay clean. Hopefully, this is a lesson he will keep with him for the rest of his life.

Anderson Got Baptized Sunday!

 

Sunday morning couldn’t come fast enough for Anderson or myself. We were both so excited for this very special day!

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints…in other words…Mormon.  I was baptized Christmas Day of 1995. I’ve been to a few temples and I try and practice the Latter-Day Saint ways as best I can. I’m DEFINITELY not perfect but I try hard to be.

Anderson goes to church every Sunday thanks to his dad, Daniel and his stepmom, Lori. They are both members of the church and very active members. It was Anderson’s decision to be baptized. And on Sunday, dressed all in white, he was ready to take…the plunge!

It was a wonderful ceremony. His dad was so proud to be able to baptize him. Many family members and friends were able to make it. They counted the attendance and more people had attended the baptism than the sacrament meeting. He is one very loved young man.

I was lucky enough to be asked by Anderson to give the talk on the Holy Ghost. I wrote it and practiced it out loud a dozen times! It felt good to stand in front of the congregation that had gathered and tell him how much I loved him and how proud I was of his decision.

I spoke to him about the feeling the Holy Ghost can give, how it can help him make good decisions and that it was HIS responsibility to make the best choices he can. He is growing up and He’ll be approached by people and tempted to do things that aren’t healthy for him. I hope he is able to make the right decisions and, if he doesn’t, at least he’ll have the opportunity to repent and make them right again.

I’m not one to be all preachy about things and this is in NO WAY intended to be. I am just so proud of my son and the boy he has grown to be. I wish time would stand still sometimes. I know that the years will bring many more amazing times for us. He is already talking about getting a job so he can go to college and fund his mission with the church. He can afford to slow down a little bit. A job and being an adult will come soon enough. It’s great he wants to be so responsible but for now I think an allowance for chores is good enough!

And even though they are not members, Chad, Bradley and Jayden were all there to support him. It doesn't matter what the kids are into. We all support whatever they do. That's what being family is all about. This was a big moment in Anderson's life and they wanted to be there for him.

Thank you, Anderson, for asking me to be a part of your special day and the love you give to me and all around you. We are truly blessed to be a family.