GED examination

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GED
The following questions were set in last year’s GED examination.
These are genuine answers (from 16 year olds)

 
Q. Name the four seasons.
A. Salt, pepper, mustard and vinegar
 
 
Q. How is dew formed?
A. The sun shines down on the leaves and makes them perspire.
 
 
Q. What guarantees may a mortgage company insist on.
A. If you are buying a house they will insist that you are well endowed.
 
 
Q. In a democratic society, how important are elections.
A. Very important. Sex can only happen when a male gets an election.
 
 
Q. What are steroids?
A. Things for keeping carpets still on the stairs (Shoot yourself now, there is little hope).
 
 
Q. What happens to your body as you age?
A. When you get old, so do your bowels and you get intercontinental.
 
 
Q. What happens to a boy when he reaches puberty?
A. He says goodbye to his boyhood and looks forward to his adultery (So true).
 
Q. Name a major disease associated with cigarettes?
A. Premature death.
 
 
Q. What is artificial insemination?
A. When the farmer does it to the bull instead of the cow.
 
 
Q. How can you delay milk turning sour?
A. Keep it in the cow (Simple, but brilliant).
 
 
Q. How are the main 20 parts of the body categorized (e. g. The abdomen)?
A. The body is consisted into 3 parts – the brainium , the borax and the abdominal cavity.
The brainium contains the brain, the borax contains the heart and lungs and the abdominal
cavity contains the five bowels: A,E,I,O,U (RIGHT!)
 
 
Q. What is the fibula?
A. A small lie
 
 
Q. What does ‘varicose’ mean?
A. Nearby.
 
 
Q. What is the most common form of birth control?
A. Most people prevent contraception by wearing a condominium (That would work).
 
 
Q. Give the meaning of the term ‘Caesarean section’.
A. The caesarean section is a district in Rome. (Probably close to the Vatican)
 
 
Q. What is a seizure?
A. A Roman Emperor. (Julius Seizure, I came, I saw, I had a fit).
 
 
Q. What is a terminal illness?
A. When you are sick at the airport. (Irrefutable)
 
 
Q. What does the word ‘benign’ mean?
A. Benign is what you will be after you be eight (brilliant).

What’s Prettier than Freckles?

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freckles2An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, spent the day at the zoo. Lots of children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.

“You’ve got so many freckles, there’s no place to paint!” a girl in the line said to the little fellow. 

Embarrassed, the little boy dropped his head. His grandmother knelt down next to him. “I love your freckles. When I was a little girl I always wanted freckles,” she said, while tracing her finger across the child’s cheek. “Freckles are beautiful.”

The boy looked up, “Really?”

grandmaOf course,” said the grandmother. “Why just name me one thing that’s prettier than freckles.”

“The little boy thought for a moment, peered intensely into his grandma’s face, and softly whispered, “Wrinkles.

TOP TEN Caddy Replies

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# 10.

Golfer: “Think I’m going to drown myself in the lake.”
Caddy: “I don’t think you can keep your head down that long.”

# 9.

Golfer: “I’d move heaven and earth to break 100 on this course.”
Caddy: “Try heaven, you’ve already moved most of the earth.”

# 8.

Golfer: “Do you think my game is improving?”
Caddy: “Yes sir, you miss the ball much closer now.”

# 7.

Golfer: “Do you think I can get there with a 5 iron?”
Caddy: “Eventually.”

# 6.

Golfer: “You’ve got to be the worst caddy in the world.”
Caddy: “I don’t think so sir. That would be too much of a coincidence.”

# 5.

Golfer: “Please stop checking your watch all the time. It’s too much of
a distraction.”
Caddy: “It ‘s not a watch – it’s a compass.”

# 4.

Golfer: “How do you like my game?”
Caddy: “Very good sir, but personally, I prefer golf.”

# 3.

Golfer: “Do you think it’s a sin to play on Sunday?”
Caddy: “The way you play, sir, it’s a sin on any day.”

# 2.

Golfer: “This is the worst course I’ve ever played on.”
Caddy: “This isn’t the golf course. We left that an hour ago.”

……and the #1 best caddy comment is (drum roll):

#1

Golfer: “That can’t be my ball, it’s too old.”
Caddy: “It’s been a long time since we teed off

Whole Real Food

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shelley-red-coatProblem: We are disconnected from our food. The food we eat is poisoning us. Our dismal health record can be attributed to the “unfood” we routinely consume.

Many people have no idea where their food comes from or why they should choose to eat certain foods. Their focus is calorie not nutrient.

What to do? I’m simply not the kind of person to throw up my hands and give up because there’s nothing I can do. There is always something to do.

Solution: Start a food dialogue. Introducing WholeRealFood.com.

Long-time readers of www.OneWomansOpinion.com know that I have a passion for food.

I read about food. I write about food. I shop for food. I grow food. I prepare food. I share food. I eat food.

I think that makes me qualified to share information about food.

Hence my new site. www.WholeRealFood.com

The site name succinctly defines my food philosophy. I believe most chronic disease can be prevented, treated and/or cured through dietary adjustments towards whole real foods.

I plan to post an article about food or nutrients every few days to a week.

Sign up for my newsletter to be reminded when I post new content.

You can decide for yourself whether it’s useful information.

Do you have questions about food? I welcome them.

Contact me to suggest food topics to cover.

My goal is not to tell you what to eat. My goal is to give you information in easy to swallow bits so you can choose food that works for your body, your lifestyle and your health goals.

I’m hoping we can start with a conversation about food. Check out my site www.WholeRealFood.com to whet your appetite.

In the meantime, I urge you to Eat the Food, the Whole Food and Nothing but the Food.

Birthday Present

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Shelley 4 yrs old

Shelley’s 4th Birthday www.shelleygoldbeck.com

Throughout my life I have confided that I never had a traditional kid-centered birthday party when I was a child. My birthday was always acknowledged, usually with a dinner and cake at Grandma’s but it was always just family.

Now that I’m at the stage of life where most women are happy to forget about birthdays altogether, my birthday activities have mushroomed. This year, I’ve been celebrating for nearly two weeks and I’m still not done!

The celebrations actually began a few days before my birthday. Over the years, I seem to have collected many friends whose birthdays are near mine. May 13 is the date for four of my friends. One is in Italy, one was too busy that week, one is out of touch, but the fourth and I had a lovely lunch that day.

A new friend treated me to lunch the day before my birthday. She blew me away with her thoughtful gifts and the efforts she took to present them perfectly.

With my big day falling on a long weekend, the May 17 Club decided to celebrate after the weekend. (Yes, there is a club, a group of people I’ve met over the years who share my birthday. See below.) As we all have busy lives, we’re not meeting until Tuesday, a full ten days past our day. But we don’t care. We are happy to catch up with each other once a year.

My birthday began with piles of Facebook and email wishes. Say what you will about the intrusion of internet in our lives but when it’s my birthday and 50 people take the time to send a greeting, it makes me feel pretty special! Those greetings poured in all day and spilled over into the rest of the weekend!

A friend sang “Happy Birthday” on my voicemail and she tracked me down and wished me a happy day. Very good effort!

For the first time in probably 20 years, I celebrated my birthday with my parents, the people responsible for my existence on this planet. My mom cooked a turkey dinner, one of my favourite meals. My sister joined us and brought me a bouquet of flowers. I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten flowers from her.

My daughters and granddaughters took me out for sushi in the evening. One of my favourite activities is to watch my grandtoys eat sushi. Most kids won’t go near it. With my little ones, you have to be rather aggressive with your chopsticks or you might not get any sushi for yourself!

Lunches continued to be lavished upon me all week. I even bought a couple as I celebrated with friends with birthdays after mine. I discovered that another friend’s birthday is the day before mine: we resolved to celebrate together next year.

A close friend surprised me with a handmade, heartfelt gift recognizing my recent accomplishments. I even received a number of old-fashioned, mailed cards, most of which made me laugh. (I’m glad people think of funny when they buy me a card!)

Ideally, I would simply take off two weeks to fit in all the celebrations. But the real world requires that I accomplish tasks despite the parties. Alas! I have neglected thanking everyone for their greetings. Until now, it has seemed premature.

So today, I reflect on the many blessings I have received these past two weeks. I am rich with contacts that take their valuable time to acknowledge me. I have close friends and family eager to spend time with me.

The timing of all this is perfect. Now is the best stage of my life to collect birthday memories. Children inevitably forget the parties, lose touch with friends, and it all ends up a blur.

As an adult, I am aware of the importance of these “touch points”. I am wise enough to ponder them in my heart, revere them, and hold them as precious. Thankfully, my mind is still clear enough to remember them for some time.

Have you ever seen a young child with a mountain of birthday presents? Opening them becomes a chore. Wrapping paper falls away, revealing a carefully chosen gift, only to be glanced at and discarded on the pile to make room for the next present.

As an adult, I open each “gift” with care, examining the wrapping and appreciating the art that went into it. I focus on the spirit of the giver. I hold the gift in my heart and carry it with me forever.

How can I regret birthdays past when birthday present is so rewarding?

Though I may have been short-changed on parties as a child, I’m more than making up for it now.

Isn’t life wonderful?

 

May 17 Birthday Club (originally published May 17, 2009)

This week the May 17 Birthday Club conducted its 20th annual meeting.  It was festive as usual as we all got to soak up an hour or so hanging out with four other people who share little but having been born on the same day.

I first became aware of the club ten years ago when I hired a new assistant.  I was telling my colleague, Paul how amazing it was that the new hire had the same birthday as I do.   I rambled on about how I had never met anyone who shared my birthday.

Paul asked me when my birthday is and when I told him May 17, he said, “Mine too”.  I called “BS” and demanded he produce his driver’s license.   Sure enough; it is May 17.

He then proceeded to tell me that he and two other guys he had met through business get together for lunch on or near their birthday each year.  He immediately invited my new assistant and me to come to the next lunch and we have never looked back.

The first time we talked at length about our similarities and differences and wondered aloud whether there was any truth to our horoscope.  We discussed the various celebrities that share our day, among them Bob Saget and Dennis Hopper.  As the years passed we learned about each other’s passions and families.

Some years we met in November too for our half birthday just to catch up with each other.  Last year our spouses joined us for dinner to honour the 65th of one member and the 50th of another.

We have representation from four decades and we always discuss our ages and how time marches on.  (For years one member has stated his age as X “US” (generally giving him at least a 20% advantage!)) This year I told the group that I’m 17 for the third time!

We’ve witnessed many life changes.  One year a member lost his mother just before our meeting.  The following year he lost his father.  I remember him calling himself an orphan that year.  The next year we celebrated the birth of his first grandchild.

There have been graduations from Kindergarten , high school, and university.  We have witnessed career changes, once-in-a-lifetime vacations and acquisitions of businesses and property.  We have had births, deaths and weddings to discuss. Next year a new baby will be coming to the lunch.

This week we marveled at how our lives have evolved, all the fun we’ve had meeting with each other, and how quickly the years have passed.

Happy Birthday to my fellow May 17ers.  You have greatly enriched my life.  I am privileged to have lunched with you all these years.  I feel like I have found a family.  I sure hope we’re still meeting in 20 years.

And if your birthday is also May 17, you are automatically a member.  Drop me a line and we will gladly include you in the festivities next year.  It’s bunches of fun, but that’s just One Woman’s Opinion.

Announcing the Death of sgold@leyco.ca

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Photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Photo belongs to www.ShelleyGoldbeck.com

Last week I killed my old email address, after 16 years of faithful service.

It was diseased with SPAM. No email filters, no rules, nothing could stem the tide of unsolicited messages interrupting my days, every five minutes.

On my home computer it wasn’t so problematic. Besides the 100 or so messages I screened out each day, the junk mail folder would silently fill to three hundred in a couple days. I might glance through it to ensure a real message hadn’t been misidentified or I might simply “select all” and delete.

But when I travelled email was a royal pain. The same junk mail filters don’t apply to webmail. I had to physically remove each and every message. A click or two is no big deal until multiplied by 300!

The really tricky part is if you have to pay for every bit of data. When I have no access to internet I use my iPhone as a hotspot. It’s wonderful technology but make no mistake: I pay!

(Telecommunication companies have us in their death grip. We rely on our devices for business and pleasure. Our provider choices are limited and they seem to be in cahoots, offering little that’s different from each other. But that rant will wait for another day).

Every minute I spend trashing my emails costs me money. Wasting money irks me.

I was compelled to take action on my email situation.  My email address had to die.

It was a perfect time to better organize my email life. I subscribe to many online newsletters, groups and services, mostly nice to know but not crucial. I decided to send the non-urgent to my new g-mail address, accessible from anywhere, but not in my face on my computer.

My main email is for my friends, family and acquaintances and my favourite newsletters. Anyone can always contact me through my websites so any worry about losing touch has dissipated.

But here’s something weird: I somehow miss all that spam. Not that I ever read or responded to any of it, but the recurring appearance of red numbers indicating the messages waiting in my inbox was part of my daily routine. I was always on a mission to get my inbox free of the unnecessary, which, now that I reflect on it, likely contributed to my tendency to procrastinate: a distraction, a diversion, a non-task to take focus from my real tasks.

It just occurred to me: I’m no more advanced than Pavlov’s dog, responding to the bell of my inbox!

As stupid as it sounds, now that SPAM is gone, I have a sense of loss. Is it that I’m suddenly not nearly as popular as I thought I was? Or maybe it’s because clearing my inbox was woven into the fabric of my life. The human brain is astounding. We often miss the terrible, even the annoying. I suppose that explains how victims of abuse can be so conflicted about their aggressors (love/hate) and actually miss them when they’re apart. Stockholm Syndrome is another example.

Now what to do with all that found time?

That’s no problem. I constantly bemoan my limited time, no doubt, inextricably linked to my overly ambitious to-do list. I have a new project overview pasted to my office wall which I expect will help me focus on necessary tasks. I think of it as a junk filter for my tasks list.

I have one less excuse for not working towards completing my projects.

Wait! There are two new messages in my inbox! Later!

Where are the Real Mother’s Day Cards?

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MothersDayWith Mother’s Day just around the corner you may not realize that some of us dread shopping for the perfect Mother’s Day card. It’s not that we don’t love or at least respect our mothers; we do, but not in the Hallmark tradition.

My friend Greg once confided in me the difficulty of finding an appropriate card. His mother was an abusive alcoholic when he was growing up so the “mother and apple pie” relationship never blossomed. She has been off the bottle for twenty or more years but she remains, what he calls, a “dry drunk.” She constantly demands his attention yet she is quick to criticize him at every turn.  She wields the sword of guilt if she thinks he doesn’t visit often enough, despite the hazards of a six-hour plus mountainous journey to her home.

Naturally he finds it difficult to relate to her with any genuine sentiment, despite his obligatory feelings as the eldest son and a responsible adult. Buying a suitable card is nearly impossible yet he wouldn’t dare risk not sending one.

Each year I find myself agonizing in front of the department store Mother’s Day Card displays, searching in vain for that perfect card that conveys my appreciation but without the over-the-top mush and gush. Statements like, “you’re my best friend” or “you were always there for me” simply don’t apply.

That’s not to say we are lacking respect for our mothers.  We’re cognizant of the importance of having been given life. We realize they made sacrifices and they managed to raise us in some fashion despite the challenges they had in their lives. We don’t necessarily blame them for the way things happened.

Greg and I are not alone. Several of my friends’ mothers have lied, cheated, and stolen from them and committed other un-motherly acts towards them and some still do. Some mothers insist on repeating the same awful sins their mothers imposed on them.

One friend’s mother ran off with another man when she was twelve years old. She basically raised herself from that moment as her devastated father was emasculated. Mother and daughter have managed to heal their relationship in the past decade, after a decade of estrangement, and they are still working through it. Obviously, a card that declares “you were always there for me” is totally inappropriate.

Another friend and her mother and siblings endured substantial physical abuse from her father for thirty years. Almost two decades after the abuse stopped her mother pretends it never happened; “father was a saint”, she declares. The rewriting of this tragic history trivializes the trauma her children endured. You can understand the near impossibility of finding a suitable card among the flowery, “I could always count on you in times of trouble” and “Mother, you mean the world to me”.

For those of us whose maternal relationships could be called strained at best, we need cards that wish them a good day, because we can say that with sincerity, but they must not include “everything you mean to me”, “you are my best”, and “I couldn’t have done it with out you” sentiments.

Perhaps we need some cards like these:

“You really messed up my childhood and consequently my adulthood but you’re still my mother and I honour that”.

“If you hadn’t been blotto throughout my childhood I could buy you a mushy card”.

How about, “Times have changed.  Thank God nobody HAS to get married anymore.”

Or “Too bad you didn’t consider adoption instead of the shotgun wedding; we could both have had happy lives.”

Perhaps, “Lucky for me abortion was illegal then”.  A variation could be “Too bad abortion wasn’t legal then!”

“I’ve come to accept your lack of mothering skills and chosen to be a better mother myself.”

Where are the cards that say, “It would have been nice if you had made me a Halloween costume or come to one parent-teacher interview”?

The simple, “Sorry I ruined your life”.

This one could be popular: “I wouldn’t have worked so hard to be born if I had known you would remind me how you had to endure 36 hours of labour every damned day of my sorry life”.

“Too bad you got short-changed on the oxytocin” (mother-love hormone).  Or maybe, “Instead of a day at the spa your gift is a shot of oxytocin.”

“I take full responsibility for all those stretch marks and your saggy breasts since you blame me for them anyway”.

How about, “Thanks for all the times you sent me to bed without supper; otherwise I would be fat”.

Then there’s, “I wish _____ was my mother; I suspect you do too”.

The ever popular, “Let’s face it; not everyone is cut out to be a mother.”

Even for those who weren’t traumatized, a basic “have a good day because I can wish that for strangers and even my enemies, however grudgingly.”

Sorry, I’ve gotten a little carried away. I found some morbid satisfaction in expressing these ugly truths on behalf of children everywhere with less-than-ideal mothers.

I am a grown-up and like many adults I have risen above the shortcomings of my parents. I understand their paths weren’t at all what they had dreamed they would be. I, long ago, forgave my parents and told myself they did they best they knew how; I truly believe they did.

I sincerely doubt there are many parents who purposely ruin their children. I made some stupid mistakes myself when I raised my own.

Let’s just have some cards that reflect the reality that every mother-child relationship isn’t necessarily something to celebrate. That doesn’t mean it can’t be acknowledged as nicely and vaguely as possible.

Happy Mother’s Day!

The Easter Bunny Has Been Outed! (Santa too.)

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easterbunnyThis Easter my Grandtoys (grandchildren) reached a milestone.

A bit of sleuthing by my eight-year-old granddaughter, J____ revealed Mommy is the Easter Bunny.

It seems the receipt for the candy Mommy bought caused some curiosity, especially when she snatched it from J____’s hand and forbade her to read it.

The night before Easter my daughter had wondered out loud to her friends how long she must keep up the pretense of the Easter Bunny, since her kids are eight and eleven, long past when most kids’ faith has been altered.

When the bunny was out of the bag, she was worried about the repercussions on the fragile psyche of her kids. J___ simply said, “You’ve been going to all this trouble for us? Thank you, Mommy!” Hug.

No tears. No anguish. Just raw appreciation for the efforts Mommy made to bring fun and joy to her children.

“I guess this means you’re Santa too.”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

No drama there, either.

My nephew was seven when his sister was born. My sister, his mom warned him when he figured out the truth. “You will not spoil your sister’s fun. As long as you comply, Santa will leave you gifts too.” Worked like a charm!

Magic and make-believe are vital components of a great childhood. But things change. We grow up. We must face the realities of life. We have to put away childish games and thoughts.

Does that mean we abandon magic? Absolutely not!

As adults we get to MAKE magic. We stretch our budgets to give gifts, which we often give anonymously or on behalf of a make-believe being. We pretend to be someone else simply to bring a smile to a child’s face. As adults we have the power to bring magic into the lives of people around us. We get to be angels.

If you’ve ever seen the shining eyes of a child who has been touched by magic, you know how precious it is.

While receiving magic is wonderful, the true joy is in giving magic. Ask any grandparent.

 

PS: What do you call a rabbit whose field is anesthesiology?

The Ether Bunny!

My Finishing Mom

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mildred

Photo owned by www.shelleygoldbeck.com

I am blessed to have had three mothers. My first mother, of course, gave birth to me. My grandmother assisted in my rearing; I consider her my second mom.

Then there is my ‘finishing” mom.

I call her that because she finished the job of raising me. You see, I was 17 when I married her son and like most 17-year-olds, I thought I was pretty smart. In reality, I knew nothing.

Through her open heart, smiling face, undying service and unconditional love, she gave me many tools that have shaped my life.

We bury her today. This is my tribute to Mildred Olsen.

My grandma met Mildred through work. They became fast friends. Grandma started attending the church down the street and found the Olsens attended there.

That’s where I first met my third mom. I remember her incessant smile. I also remember sitting behind her and seeing her rearrange the sausage curl at the end of her hair.

I was 14 and had an immediate crush on her son. Three years later I became her daughter-in-law and she became my mother-in-law, a title she hated because of the negativity surrounding mothers-in-law and the ensuing jokes. She worked hard to dispel the stereotype and she achieved that.

mildred2

Photo owned by www.shelleygoldbeck.com

She always treated me as though I were one of her children.  My Christmas and birthday gifts were as generous my sisters-in-law’s gifts.  She both praised and scolded me (gently) as if she were my own parent. I never resented it. In fact, I loved the feeling of family she instilled in me.

I imagine she was taken aback by my ignorance of keeping a home.  As the oldest in my family, I was expected to labour outside on the farm. The extent of my kitchen skills were peeling potatoes, setting the table and washing dishes.

She taught me how to cook. Not so much taught, but allowed me to observe and ask questions. I often helped her do her Christmas baking. I learned how important food presentation is. The tomatoes weren’t simply sliced, but neatly arranged on the plate. I still serve tomatoes this way.

Her apple pie was legendary. In fact, Pastor DeMaere told me she made the best apple pie he ever ate and he had been served thousands of slices of apple pie over the years. A roast beef dinner evokes sweet memories of her Sunday dinners.

Not only did I learn how to cook in her kitchen I learned hospitality. Mildred loved nothing more than having company. Out would come the coffee and squares or cakes. Her reward for serving her guests was their company. That suited me well. I am thankful I learned hostess etiquette at her side.

In her kitchen I also learned how to clean. Her kitchen gleamed. Everything was wiped down daily and because of that regularity it was easy to keep it up. I will never claim to be as meticulous as she was but I learned how nice it feels to work in a clean kitchen.

Her message was consistent: whatever you do, do it to the best of your ability. Go the extra mile. Make it look beautiful just because.

I used to marvel at her energy. She was the first one up and the last to bed, always working, always doing, usually for others.

When my babies came, she taught me how to care for them. She was their second mom and I always felt comfortable leaving my children in her care. I knew she loved them at least as much as I did. I am forever grateful that my children got to have all those comfortable memories of time spent at Grandma’s.

mildred3

Photo owned by www.shelleygoldbeck.com

She was our moral barometer. When the girls were teens and trying out racy language, they would claim it wasn’t so bad. “Would you say it front of Grandma?” They would hang their heads, “No.” Settled. If we were ashamed to do it in front of Grandma it was likely shameful.

She and I used to talk for hours on the phone or play games Sunday afternoons when the men were napping off their big meal. Those conversations shaped my thinking. Mildred also influenced me by sharing her self-help library. To this day my reading includes self-help books, which most people find boring.

Mildred had class, quiet dignity. She genuinely cared about people. She was happy in her roles of wife, mother, grandmother and homemaker.

Luckily, I see Mildred in my girls. R____ has her darker skin and hair and voluptuous figure. She reveals her pain through her eyes, just like her grandma. She is also meticulous in everything she does. H____ shares her openness, loving spirit and her innate sense of morality.  She thrives on company too. My girls both appreciate having known this wonderful woman and they acknowledge her profound influence in their lives.

As I compile this, the memories of her love flood my mind and it’s hard to choose which should be included.  The most indelible one is this:

My grandma and Mildred were neighbours and friends for decades and forever connected through their descendents. In the last years they were in the same seniors lodge for a time.

My grandma began to deteriorate. At one point she was unable to walk to the dining room for lunch. The lodge wasn’t exactly accommodating.

One day my sister arrived at the lodge in time to see this: Grandma was perched on the seat of Mildred’s walker. Mildred, bad heart and bad hip notwithstanding, was pushing Grandma slowly towards the dining room.

This image of my finishing mom supporting my second mom, regardless of the hardship it might cause her, is the statement of how Mildred lived her life. It is how I will forever remember her.

In service to others in her own quiet way. With a smile and great love.

“There is no greater love than to give one’s life for a friend.”

Thank you, Mildred, for finishing me, for being my grandma’s longest friend and for helping me raise my daughters. I could not have walked this way without you.

My Baby Sister

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April on Tinker, circa 1970

April on Tinker, circa 1970 Photo owned by www.shelleygoldbeck.com

Today, my baby sister, April celebrates her 50th birthday.

It’s hard to imagine her being 50. I wonder how my parents feel: their baby is 50!

What to get a 50-year-old woman who has a very happy life? She wants for nothing. She has family, friends, a nice home.

A party is out of the question. She hates being the centre of attention. She once threatened my life if I even thought of a surprise party like the one we threw for her husband’s 50th birthday.

Finally inspiration. A Letter to the Living. A few years ago I wrote about the importance of telling people how you feel about them before their eulogy.  I call them, “Letters to the Living.”

And I have never sent one to my sister. So here goes.

Dear April:

I remember the day you came to this planet. Mom announced to Dad that the baby was coming and our brother and I were shipped off to Grandma’s. I remember staying home with Dad a few days too.  He fed us and cared for us but he didn’t wash one dish. I remember Mom facing a pile of dirty dishes when she got home with you.

Dad’s parents were immediately taken aback by your name, as no Germans are named April. Named after a month! How absurd! All discussions ceased when Mom reminded them of Great-Uncle August. I happen to think April is a pretty name.

You changed our family. Our parents were finally old enough to be parents and they showered you with love, as much as they were able. In fact, Grandpa exclaimed that at last he saw “Mutterliebe”, mother love in our mother when she brought you home.

Brother and I loved kissing your soft baby arms, cooing, “Chicken wings, chicken wings!”  You would giggle and then pinch us so hard we would cry.

In typical sibling fashion your presence was barely tolerated at times. Other times, I was fiercely protective of you. I remember a friend of mine excluding you when I was eight and you were two. I insisted on your inclusion. She had no siblings. I concluded she didn’t understand love for a little sister.

Brother and I quickly figured out Mom and Dad had a soft spot for you. You became our ambassador, our negotiator. If we could convince you to ask them on our behalf, we reasoned, odds were in our favour of scoring.

Alas, you soon learned of the power you held and you often wielded it for your own good and against us. You adeptly extracted favours for your petitions to parents or you out and out refused us. I suspect you savoured your power over us.

You were ten when I left home. I have often regretted being wrapped up in my own life and not being a mentor or even a good big sister to you, especially as a teenager.  Somehow you grew up and became someone that I have long considered a lifelong friend.

Sisters we may be but we are different in so many ways. I have always known that you were the most intelligent of our parents’ children, though I wouldn’t admit it when I was young. Of course I let on that I was the smartest, but deep down, I knew.

As an adult, I enjoy the intelligent conversations we have. I relish sharing books with you, knowing you have the capacity to understand them as I do.  It’s not easy to find intellectual equals, but I have my sister.

There were times I was jealous of your relationship with Mom and Dad. Thankfully, I grew to value it. You did much to teach them how to love their children and to teach all of us how to have good relationships with our parents and children.

I remember a time when I doubted you would ever be a mother or much of one. How wrong was I?

One of my proudest thoughts has been of you tenderly rearing your children to be the fine citizens they are. I often boast about the accomplishments of my niece and nephew; we all know their mother was integral to their success. Thank you for having a son, whom I think of as a son. He holds a special place in our family of girls.

I am grateful for your thoughtfulness to my daughters and for being an example and mentor for them. They regard you highly, and they recognize the impact you’ve had on their life choices.

I admire how you handled being a stepmother and a grandmother at a really young age. I witnessed that you were always fair and loving towards your stepdaughters. I see you continuing to support them as they raise their families, exploding that whole evil stepmother myth. Well done!

I have you to thank for getting my business books in order. My detail-orientation gene is not as strong as yours.  When you did our books I enjoyed the regular interaction it forced. I miss that.

Your devotion to Grandma in her last years left an indelible mark on my heart. I couldn’t be there but I was comforted that you were and you would defend her to the death. And you did. Thank you for carrying that burden for our family. You did us all a great service.

I can’t think of many others I would enlist to plan a special event or navigate through government bureaucracy. I’m glad you’re the younger sister. You are better equipped to organize my geriatric care than I am yours!

I admire your ability to keep house so much better than I can. I simply didn’t inherit Grandmother’s neat freak tendencies and my priorities are different. But I sure do enjoy walking into your beautiful, neat, clean and orderly home.

Your ability to rise above life’s hurdles and mud holes is inspiring. It’s not easy to crawl from the depths and fashion a brand new life but you did it. You held up your head. You did the hard work. And you emerged a wonderful woman, wife, mother, sister, daughter, and friend.

I honour the day you were born, 50 years ago today.  I am thankful for the day I was given a sister. I am proud to call you my friend.

Happy Birthday, April!

Love, Shelley