Eulogy of Deloris (Rene's mom) written by Kenton Anderson

One day when I was about fourteen, I meandered aimlessly into a new little art gallery in the Old Market called Chezar 11. Inside, wrapped in a bandana and a caftan, a woman in her forties started telling me about art, religion, and life. Eventually she handed me two dollars and said, “Go across the street to Julio’s Mexican Café and get some guacamole and chips.” She squeezed lemon wedges over the guac in the Styrofoam and proceeded to stir the concoction with one of the corn chips for all the world like a witch with a cauldron. In that moment, this unique lady created a lifelong friend.

My name is Kenton Bruce Anderson, also called “Butch” by DeLoris and those who have known me since my youth. Let me share what I knew of my best friend of the last nearly forty years, DeLoris Bedrosky, this richly creative mother, businesswoman, and spiritual thinker.

A mother creates, loves and teaches. DeLoris was first and foremost a mother.  Her initial creations were four kind, good-natured, gentle children. Imagine yourself as a child or young adult. How do you think you would feel if your happily married, 40-something-year-old mother dragged home a 14 year-old troubled boy and started calling him her best friend? Most of us would be aghast. But Rene, Nannette, David, Gary and even her husband Dick just smiled shyly and said, “Hello” and “Welcome” to me. What kind of a person must it take to create that kind of family? She knew she was behaving out of the box, but as a teacher, contexts weren’t so important to her as people were. So she just unapologetically spent her time loving kids, grandkids and adult kids and giving her last to every stranger. And she would chuckle under her breath and say, “I have a weird sense of humor.”

Instinctively, DeLoris knew she had something to teach everyone who came to her. And people responded to that urge. I remember at the Kansas City Psychic Fair where she told me we were going to do readings. I sat on one side of the room with a respectable 2-3 people in line for me; the line to see her wrapped around from me all the way to the other side of the great auditorium.

When she transitioned into the property management and jewelry business, DeLoris took me along for the ride. We rented out her “house in the holler” to drug dealers by mistake, but learned that you can get them out pretty quickly when you stand in the middle of the street taking pictures of each car and passenger that comes to visit. That may not get ‘em runnin’ but it gets ‘em mad enough to call the city and ask for the house to be condemned. Of course the city obliges and they’re out the next day!

She and Dick and I spent the next big chunk of our lives dealing Jewelry and traveling the country buying and selling our wares. When the opportunity came for me to open a shop in Omaha’s Old Market, she took her complete inventory from her Ozark shop walls and hung it on mine. Sure, I paid her back in six months, but what kind of a person DOES that for another?!?

This afternoon, her son Gary asked me to remind you all something very important. When a great artist dies, the value of her work depends on how well the next generation understands what she revealed of her inner soul--in her art, her public persona, and her private life. I will give you that context now of DeLoris’s contributions as a spiritual folk artist. Once you understand how she personified a unique pop-art aspect of Omaha spiritual folk artistry, Gary advises, you should buy all her works you can find and watch them go up in value!

Art and religion were inseparable in DeLoris’s life and in that way she was a true product of her spiritual times. Just as early artists decorated cathedrals during the heyday of organized religion, artists now decorate the homes people sit in to watch their new church of pop culture, the TV. DeLoris’s inner journey was an expression of the great American artistic and religious movement away from organized religion to New Age beliefs, so I will not shy away from telling you what she believed she accomplished: She became a 12th-level adept, left her astral footprint on the moon, meditated in a plastic pyramid, explored all religions, beliefs, prophecies and wisdom, new and old, and was the “best artist” she knew. She had a mind that was always firing and a heart that was always ready to open and welcome a new soul into her orbit.

She was never ashamed of anything she thought or believed. She read extensively and had an in-depth understanding of any of her interests, including UFOs, psychic realms, planetary confluences and pole shifts, survivalism, pyramid power, Christianity, Buddhism, meditation, romance novels, and scandal sheets like the Enquirer and Globe.  She looked for the hidden meanings in everything she did or that occurred around her. After the fire that destroyed her shop, she told me, “I finally figured out why I had been led to save all those magazines (she had huge black garbage bags full of them); I was savin’ ‘em for KINDLING!”

She always believed in a God-force, but she didn’t conceive it the way most religious cultures confine it to human qualities. Her God didn’t look like some human body, but was instead part of every living thing and was the very energy that each was composed of. It was the force that pushes the smallest of impulses together to form particles and squeezes those particled bundles of nothings together to form molecules.

This is what DeLoris left me with and what I think she would want me to leave with you: Our lives are part of a huge canvas covered by the multicolored energy adventures we create, coalescing into a beautiful painting for us to enjoy while we are here and share with those who are here after we are gone. Are you living your life for others and feeling the beauty and joy that creates? Are you remembering that there is a bigger plan than just yours, but you are a special, loving, giving piece of that cosmic puzzle? Are you brave enough to live your life as best you can, allowing your starlight to explode in all its glittering finery, arcing across the great expanse of our little earth sky, yet graceful enough to watch it wane without regret, anger, bitterness, or jealousy? Are you grateful; are you loving; are you brave, gentle and kind? If so, you have lived a “DeLoris” life and you may be at peace with your time.

Riley's Rescue Story

Riley with green collar and Missy

I love my “fur”ever home.  But I have had a rough life; I am what you humans call a stray.  Let me introduce myself.  My name is Riley and I am a red brindle/wild boar smooth haired dachshund.  That is a mouthful to say, so I call myself a short haired brown dachshund or doxie for short.  I am maybe around 7 to 9 years young.  You should see me run, and I have the energy of a young dachshund.  I am able to go on long walks with my mom and never need a rest break like my sister Missy who is only five years old.  I am muscular; sometimes my mom calls me fat boy when she picks me up.  She is just comparing me to my skinny miniature sister who weighs much less than my 17 lbs of muscle.   

Why am I writing this story you ask?  It is for all of you who are thinking about adding a dog to your family.  Please, please, pretty please adopt a RESCUE.  Yes, I know you want a cute little puppy.  They are sooo… cute, and they have that puppy fur that you love petting and smelling.  Yes, they give little puppy kisses.  But us mature dogs are also cute, yet we may not have that soft puppy fur anymore.  I sure don’t.  My fur is rough and I have a huge fat scar on my back, and pieces gone out of my ears.  Trust me I love getting petted.  My parents take me weekly to a nursing home to visit the residents, and boy do they love rubbing my head and back.  Some even give me dog bones to snack on.  (Thanks Chuck and Chris).  I repay them with a cute smile and tail wag.  Then I do this cute little gesture of raising my left paw to beg for more.  I learned that trick when I was living on my own for months before they caught me.  I would see people eating on the Fort Riley Army Base in Kansas where I spent my days as a stray.  I would lift my paw, smile, wag my tail, and I would get a bite of people food to eat. Fried chicken was my favorite.   It sure beats eating raw rabbit.

 Old habits sometimes come back to haunt me. My mom caught me eating a baby rabbit the other day under the porch.  I told her I was sorry, but had forgotten to take the rabbit fur out of between my teeth when I came back in the house.  When the weather is nice, she takes me on my daily walk to the park behind my house. I still try to beg chicken bites from those who are picnicking.  Yes, I know I have food at my house, but not fried chicken. (Don’t tell mom, but dad sneaks me pieces of chicken baked not fried.)  Mom has us both on a diet.

We mature older dogs love also giving kisses, just like those cute little puppies.  But we give bigger and longer kisses.  My sister Missy who is also a rescue loves to give kisses.  She was in six homes before her “fur”ever home at the young age of two.  Yes, she is a licker.  One family that adopted her returned her to the rescue organization NDR that we both came from, because she licked too much.  Yes, I am not making this up about my sister.  My parents got her to be with their disabled dachshund Snoopy, who loved to be licked by her.  He died a month before I came to live with my “fur”ever family.  That is why they adopted me.  Missy could not be left alone.  When my parents left, she would break out of her kennel.  One day when they came home from church, she met them at the door.  The wire kennel had eight welds broken on the top that she broke to escape to tear down the curtains, and pee on the carpet.  She was having a panic attack.  Since I came, she has not had a panic attack again.  She goes into the kennel with me when our parents leave us.  We don’t spend too much time in the kennel, since we get to go most everywhere with our parents.  My favorite is camping and traveling.  There are so many new smells out there when we travel.

So why am I telling you all this.  If you only have one dog now, please, please, pretty please RESCUE a sister or brother for your loved one.  You have love to share with two don’t you?  Your dog will love having someone to go on walks with, play with, and my favorite - snuggle together.  Yes, you have room for two on your lap that is if you have a small breed like me and my sister.  Think about this, twice as many kisses.

I am also dedicating this short story to those who are fostering us rescues.  I am also addressing you who are thinking about fostering us rescues.  Please, please, pretty please, find a rescue organization and fill out an application.  I am very thankful for my foster mom who lives in Lincoln, NE.  I am hoping that I can visit her someday.  She still remembers me even though it has been over two years.  But then who could forget about cute little me?

If it was not for Carla my foster mom, I would have been killed!  Oh, you humans call it put to sleep.  My parents were told that, “I was a little rascal, having survived the streets, after my first family moved away.”  On the base where I lived they called it deployment.  I thought they loved me, but they just left me behind.  Sure, they left me some food and water, but hey it was cold at night.  It was around the month of March or April when they left me.  Living on the street is very hard for a cute dachshund like me.  I did the best that I could.  I still wonder why they did not surrender me to the Veterinary Service on base if they loved me.  They thought that another army family would take me in.  That did not happen to me!  I have the scar on my back, pieces gone from my ears, and I am missing some of my front claws. That is another story that I may tell someday.  I might call that story, My Adventures While Living and Hiding out on the Streets of Fort Riley. Or something shorter like Surviving the Streets. My foster mom, Carla told me that leaving dogs behind on military bases are common occurrences.  The local rescue groups will not adopt pets to military families anymore unless they are permanently stationed or retired.  Don’t think I am bad mouthing military families.  I know you are working for our country and freedoms.  I want to thank you for your current and past service to my USA.

When my foster mom Carla rescued me from Kansas, I was quote, “Soooo stinky and covered in bugs of all sorts.”  She had to give me two baths just to be able to travel in her RV to Lincoln, NE.  She had been camping in Manhattan KS when she got the plea from a local rescue.  Wow, the Lord’s hand was in this placement, according to my mom. 

I need to give you a little background history.  I was caught and sent to the Fort Riley Veterinary Treatment/Stray Facility.  This was May 19, 2011.  They gave me the name Frank.  Get real a cute guy like me named Frank?  Yes, they came up with the name Frank because some kids call us dachshunds weenie dogs. Mom, I want to thank you for not dressing me up in a hot dog bun costume on that day when little kids dress up and beg for candy.  I have seen some of my cousins dressed up like that; not very manly looking bro.

Well I was scheduled for death, oh I mean “put to sleep” but instead I was turned over to the local rescue on May 28, 2011.  Thanks, Kansas Second Time Animal Rescue.  They were desperate to find a safe place for me, and had no luck, as I appeared to be a mix and rather feral.  Can you believe that! Feral?  If you don’t know what that means, that is ok.  Mom had to look it up in a dictionary.  It means existing in a wild or untamed state; having returned to an untamed state from domestication.  You humans jump to conclusions about other humans, based on their behavior. “Look at that bum living on the streets, go get a job!”  Yes, he had a job years ago serving our country, but is going through a tough time due to his past.  You judge people on how they look and smell on the outside, and not what is in their heart.  Thank you Carla for not judging me on my behavior, looks, and smell; you were able to see my loving heart.

The local rescue thought to call my foster mom Carla, since she was known to never turn down a challenge pup.  My challenge was surviving.  I lived with her and her other dogs for three months.   She takes us tough kids in for months which inspired her to start her own rescue.  She currently runs Hope Husker Rescue which cares for special needs dogs that no one wants. 

My mom has told me all about special needs dogs.  My brother Snoopy, who died before I arrived, as I told you earlier, had special needs.  My parents had Snoopy for 12 years and 7 of those years he lived without using his back legs.  A big dog stepped on his back and broke it.  My mom had to carry him outside to express his bladder (pee him by squeezing his bladder).  He had a special wheel chair cart that he used at times, but most of the time he used his front legs to get around. She took him on walks in a baby stroller.  At times my sister Missy would get to ride in the stroller on long walks.  That is probably why she does not like long walks.  She was spoiled when she was younger.  But don’t get me bad talking about my Sis. Ok, maybe just a little.  She gets to sleep right next to mom under mom’s covers, while I have to sleep at the foot of the bed.  She only likes soft dog treats as snacks, but sometimes will take a hard bone and guard it.  Sooner or later she forgets about it and I steal and eat it.  (PS don’t tell my mom.) 

 Our Vet said that most people put their special needs dogs to sleep, but not my parents.  My mom worked with special needs children and young adults for years.  Their parents don’t put them to sleep just because they can’t walk, see, or hear.  They care for them and love them like their other children.  I have heard about this thing that humans call abortion that will kill a disabled infant that some humans call a fetus.  Just thinking about that sends a chill down my scarred back.

Another please, please, pretty please think about fostering or adopting a special needs dog.  They also have a lot of love to share.  According to my foster mom Carla, “There are too many tough cases and not enough people willing to foster or adopt.”  I realize that not all can adopt a rescue or foster but you can make a donation to a rescue organization of your choice.  Every little bit helps.  Thanks ahead of time for your donation.

Back to my story.  I apologize for getting off track and errors you may find in my story.  You see my mom is helping me write this story.  It is winter time and she is very bored, so she thought about writing a story about me.  She was a teacher but had to retire last year, so she has time on her hands.  She had a stoke two years ago and now is blind.  She lost a lot of brain cells and had to relearn how to do things as a blind person.  She had to relearn how to read, write, and spell. I could not help her in those areas, but I do help her on walks when dad is not around.  I am her guide dog as she calls me. I had no formal training to help the blind, but I am very smart and a fast learner, with a keen sense of smell.  Last year while camping she got lost while walking my sister and me. She could not find the RV.  She told me, “Riley find daddy.”  She asked me not Sis.  I did what she asked and turned on my keen sense of smell and lead her to daddy and the RV. I was tired of wandering around the park and I was missing dinner time. I also help on our walks in the park.  I bark when a dog and people approach us.  I am just saying, “Hi”, but it lets mom know someone is around.  She has just a little bit of vision left that she has learned to use and scan her surroundings.  She has learned to follow me along the sidewalk.  She does have troubles picking up my big jobs, so I have to tell her by kicking my back leg and trying to help her by burying my poop under leaves and grass.  Would not want someone to see my poop mess, or maybe even step in it.  Mom has done that many times in our yard.  

I lived in Lincoln, NE for three months with my foster mom and family.  She worked with me on life skills.  The alpha boys at the house were not too fond of me.  Carla said I was a happy-go-lucky pup that was starved for attention.  It did take me days before I started to realize that there was a never ending supply of food.  I was a food hoarder. As I said earlier, old habits are hard to break.  I still hoard little piles of food by the door or under the table.  Before I go for a ride or walk I run over to my dog food bowl and get a bite to eat.  When I go outside to do my duty, I have to take a toy with me.  At times my yard has toys hid all over.  My favorite hiding place is behind the bushes by the fence leading to the park.  Mom then has to crawl under the bushes to retrieve my toys, so I have some to play with inside.  Mom does not know why I do this.  She thinks that I think, if they ever left me like my first family in KS did, I would at least have toys to play with.

I consider my birthday to be on August 10, 2011.  That is when I went to live with my forever family.  Dad had been looking at the NE Dachshund Rescue web site and would read about dogs that needed homes.  He called about another dog but that dog was going to be adopted by its foster family.  Carla told him about me.  So she made the trip to Omaha, so mom and dad could meet me.  I had to be able to get along with Missy, and mom and dad’s grandkids.  I passed the tests.  I got along with Missy.  I only growled at her once when I was sitting with dad in his recliner and Missy jumped up to sit with us.  Dad told me, NO.  I learned fast that dad had room for both of us.  When the grandkids came over the next weekend, I passed that test.  Mom was worried a bit, and gave the kids directions on letting me smell them before they touched me.  I still don’t know why she was worried.  I love children.  Dad said mom worries about everything.

I did not plan on my story to be this long.  Thanks for hanging in there and reading my story.  I need to go right now, I smell chicken.  I have earned a small bite from dad for all my hard work telling my story and trying to get you to adopt, foster, or donate.  PS. Don’t tell mom.  She worries too much about diet.

Special Thanks to the following:

Mom, Dad, (Rene and Pat McQuinn), and Sis (Missy) plus my cousin (Maggie) a Silky that visits, travels and camps with us.

Foster Mom Carla Chapman with Husker’s Hope Dachshund Rescue. Which is a place of Hope and Healing for Dachshunds in need.

Nebraska Dachshund Rescue

Kansas Second Time Animal Rescue

Fort Riley Veterinary Treatment/Stray Facility

My vet at All Creatures that gives me those dreaded shots that they say I need.

Dawn’s Groom Room in Omaha.  Dawn keeps my nails trimmed, and keeps Maggie groomed and mom’s and dad’s past dogs Lolly, Carmel, and Snoop groomed for many years.

Those of you who are currently fostering and those of you who will foster in the near future.  Fill out the application.  Thanks to Missy’s (Princess Di) foster parent’s at NRD.

Those of you who have adopted a rescue and those who will adopt a rescue in the future.

Like I said earlier, Thank you for your generous donation to the rescue of your choice.  I tend to favor those who rescue us cute little dachshunds. I just want to support my breed.

My mom is making me thank Companion Care Veterinary Clinic in Lincoln NE for doing a canine orchiectomy on me.  Let’s put it this way, I left some body parts behind.  Humans need to spay or neuter their pets. I had this done to me late in life. I still wonder if I have left behind in Kansas some very cute part doxie pups when I was living on the streets?

Best Friends

Pat and Rene

Deloris and Richard Bedrosky (my parents)

De Dee and David Bedrosky (my sister-in-law and brother)

We all know someone who has lost a spouse to an illness or accident.  Some of us older folks just happen to know more who are grieving the death of a husband or wife.  This subject has been on my mind lately after attending the funeral of a camping friend’s spouse who had been ill in the hospital for 15 months.  

Ecclesiastes 3 There is a time for every activity under heaven: a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and time to dance… 

I can’t begin to understand the grieving process that one goes through when they have lost a spouse.  Losing one’s best friend to death is a pain that seems to be unbearable.  It is not something that you can prepare yourself for.  No, Pat my husband of 40 years is not on his death bed.  I have been praying for friends and family who have lost a spouse.  These past months I have attended funeral services of three friends whose spouses of 40 plus years had passed away due to illnesses. 

Thirty years ago I only had three friends who had lost their spouses.  Two of those remarried and had children with their second husband.  Now in my 60’s there are so many more of my friends and family mourning a loss.  As they grieve, they feel physical and emotional pain.  Their world has changed.  After years of being a couple they are now alone.  They have their memories and when that fails: they will be left with photographs to help remember their life together.  Note to self: take more pictures of Pat.  People say that time heals loss.  But then it all comes back on the anniversary of their death, their birthday, wedding date and the holidays.

What can we do to help a friend or family member as they go through the stages of grief?  I don’t have the answer to that question, but this is what I have done.  I pray for them.  I pray that they come to know that God is the only one that can help them with their grief.  I can listen to them as they share.  I can visit and send them a note or email.  We can visit together and share memories of the loved one that we both lost. 

 As time passes by, and our bodies’ age, we know that life is short.  We need to make the best of the time that we have together as man and wife.  Things that I have to do: Pray that God will help me be the wife that I need to be.  Tell Pat I love him.  Stop complaining when he spends money. Lord I really need help with that one.  Smile and agree with him, while trying not to think about the money and gas that it will take; when he decides to go on a RV trip to watch spring training baseball games.  I am building memories with him.  Note to self:  Take many pictures, the memory is not what it used to be.  Go to the gym with him when he begs me to go.  I typed that wrong.  It should read stop nagging him about going to the gym and eating healthy.  I just want to spend the years we have together in good health.

Side bar:  When I was talking to Pat this summer about wanting to start a hobby his response was, “You have one already, it’s called nagging.”  I want to hope he was just joking.  I need to enjoy the sound of Pat’s snoring.  It is a fact that women live longer than men.  So, I may have to go through the grieving process of losing Pat.  I do know that I will have help from my Lord Jesus Christ.  I will have his Word for guidance, comfort, and peace.  Matthew 5:4 Blessed are those who mourns, for they shall be comforted.  John 11:25-26. Jesus said, to her I am the resurrection and the life.  Whoever believes live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die.  Do you believe this?”  When or if this happens, I will also have my family and friends as support.  My prayer is that I can be a support for those I know who have lost a spouse.  I need not fear living in a world of change without Pat.

40 Years Ago

Why am I writing on this subject?  It was so long ago.  On Sunday, February 2, 2014, it will be Super Bowl Sunday.  No, I am not writing about football.  I don’t even watch NE football, and could care less about any football, baseball, basketball, or soccer game.  Correction- if my grandkids were involved in one of these sports, then I would care about the game.  I am not writing about Groundhogs Day either.  I do hope that spring is just around the corner, so we can get out and camp.  I am writing about the event on 2-2-74, our wedding date.  Yes, it has been 40 years.  We are still living and together, which is an achievement these days.  We still love each other.  I know I do, and I am speaking also for Pat.

I am writing this to my four grandkids.  - You can keep reading.

Dear Grandkids, I want you to know about “How I Met Your Grandfather.”  I have no idea how my grandparents met or even my own parents.  Angie and Julie you may not even know some of these details.  Pat you may not either, since my memories may be different from yours.  Hey it has been 40 years ago.  It is strange how different our past memories can be.  Angie and Julie’s memories are as if they each grew up in different homes.  

OK grandkids, it all started back during our senior year of 1969/1970.   Your grandfather and I attended Omaha South High on 24^th street in South Omaha.  We were in the same English class taught by Mr. Biggs.  The first time we saw each other was in Sept. of ’69.  You know how your grandfather is a man of many words, just kidding.  We were in an auditorium for class and he stood up to let me pass through the row and said, “Do you ride to school with Rich Z… in the mornings?”He asked.  “Yes, at times.” I replied.  Well that was it.  Oct.-March went by with both of us in the same English class.  In April, I was in the girl’s bathroom, when a friend from English class said that this guy was asking about me.  He wanted to know if I was dating anyone.  She of course said no.  I had a few dates and phone calls during high school, but was way too busy with school, work, babysitting, and saving money to date.  I of course asked Becky, many questions.  Was he cute, tall, dark and handsome?  What was his name? 
Where does he sit in class?  I had no idea who he was.  I came to class and kept thinking was that him or was that him? He talked again to me, and asked if I would go on a date with him. 

 Our first date was on April 9, 1970.  We went to see the Guess Who in concert at the Civic Auditorium.  Grandchildren this was a rock group that had some popular songs like, No Time, American Woman, These Eyes.  I have to stop singing and get back to writing.  I can still remember those songs.  Your grandfather had an 8 track of their greatest hits and we listened to that 8 track over and over years later.  I think your Great Grandma Deloris was more excited than I, when I started dating your grandfather.  She had been worried that I would never marry and give her grandchildren.  You see I was going to be a nun.  You may not know what that is.  Goggle it along with 8 tracks to find out.  I know now as I look back, that it was God’s plan for my life. But back then it was my mom’s plan.  She changed my future plans by lying to me. 

  I attended catholic grade school up until 9^th grade.  I was a very good catholic girl and those girls went to a catholic high school, and then went on to study to be a nun.  It was the 60’s.  I took the test to get into the local catholic high school and I failed.  They did not want me.  I was too stupid.  I could not be a nun, because I would have to go to public high school.  Only the smart kids went to catholic high school.  Public high school was so easy, I got ones and graduated in the top 10%.  My mother Deloris Bedrosky had lied to me.  I was accepted, but she did not want me to be a nun.

Your grandfather and I grew up in the same neighborhood within blocks of each other, yet did not meet until senior year.  His brothers knew my brothers.  I went to elementary school with his guy friends.  His mother’s family grew up in the same neighborhood in Valley, NE, that my mother’s family did.  Grandpa’s uncles played with my uncles.  My grandmother even left a care box of food on his grandmother’s porch when she had heard his grandfather was out of work.

We dated. We went to prom together. We went to a lot of baseball games, wrestling matches, concerts, movies, out to eat, bowled, and attended friends weddings.  Grandpa went to UNO after he graduated.  He wanted to be a teacher.  I find that very funny just thinking about that.  Back then it may have worked because teachers did not have to have patience.  If a student would act up grandpa would just turn on the McQuinn evil eye and the misbehaving student would settle down. Grandpa and grandma was so busy dating and having fun that Grandpa had no time to study, so he quit college.  Grandma was too stupid to go to college.  I later got over that and earned a bachelor, master, and specialist degrees and endorsements’ in preschool, elementary, middle school, high school, and special education and transition education. Yes, grandkids you could say I spent my whole life teaching and going to school at UNO and Lincoln. I worked for three school districts and taught every grade level.  My favorite was young adults ages 18-21.  Grandpa went to college later in life to METRO a community college.  He worked for the City of Omaha until retirement, and belonged to the stage hand union for 30 years working part time for them.

Back to the 70’s, Grandma was busy working at Mutual of Omaha and then went to work at Northwestern Bell making even more money and saving all the money I made. Grandpa paid for everything and drove me around, since I did not drive. On 11-11-71 we needed to get away from Grandpa’s grandmother who was staying with him at her rental house on 3^rd and Woolworth. The man of many words said, “Let’s get out of here and go to Zales and pick out a wedding ring.  So we left.  I knew that we would marry because earlier he had given me a promise ring.  Back in the day that was a thing to do.  It was a diamond chip set in white gold.  If I still have it, I will show it to you someday.  Not sure because when I was not working after the stroke, I got really carried away selling things to help pay the bills.  In the bag of jewelry that I was selling was also my wedding ring, so I am sure I sold the promise ring.  Funny story, months later I was using the bag that had held the jewelry, there in the lining was my wedding ring.  It was not meant to be sold at that time.  I am now wearing the wedding ring to keep my other rings on, since I have lost weight, yes back to my wedding day weight.  

Grandpa still had to get away from his grandmother Inez, so we had to go out and buy a house.  He had to move as far away as he could, so we bought a house in a town called Millard, now called Omaha.  It is the house by church on Oaks Lane that we have shown you.  Grandpa always has to say that it looked better back then, when your mom was little.  We only looked at three homes and the third was a charm.  Remember kids, I worked, and worked, and saved.  It was fun buying a house and a house full of new furniture, some we are still using.  I bought quality furniture back then.  The orange flowered couch and loveseat, along with the oil dripping decorative hanging lamp went bye- bye many years ago.  Back then you could buy a car, furniture, and make a huge down payment on a house with cash from savings.  Grandpa moved in right away, yes to get away from his family. My first night in our new house was on our wedding night.  Ok kids someday your parents will give you the talk or a book.  Grandpa bought me a book, and Angie got your mom one for her wedding night.  Aunt Nan was with Angie and yelled across the book store asking where the _ _ _ books were? 

We got married at 2:00pm, at Saint Patrick’s 1404 Castelar Street.  We had six attendants, my sister Nan, friends Patty B., Cathy C., Bob L, Mike G, and Steve K.  I am still friends with Cathy and Patty.  Cathy sang two Carpenters’ songs; We’ve Only Just Begun and For All We Know. I wore a close out wedding dress maybe under $25. The bridesmaids wore recycled dresses from Patty’s sister’s Grace’s wedding.  My sister wore my pink dress, Cathy her pink, and Patty wore her blue dress.  Great way to save money and helped decide who would be my attendants.  Father Patrick Carroll married us and we had to attend his marriage counseling weekly classes in order to marry at the church.  My cousin Ron G took the wedding pictures.  We went riding around in our 1970 orange Chevy Malibu that was paid for with my savings.  My grandma Em thought that your grandpa had married me for my money.  We all hung out at our new house until 5:45 and then went to the reception.  The reception was at St.Pat’s gym.  The buffet dinner was from 6:30 to 8:30PM and a dance with a live band was from 8:30 to 12:00.  My aunts and cousins all helped out with the decorating and making of the food.  My color theme was hot pink for the reception. We had a dollar dance and earned $60.  We used our wedding money to add a fence for our first dog Brandy, that grandpa’s uncle put it in.  Brandy went to live with a new family after Angie was born.  Child and dog did not get along.  

 We left the huge reception at 11:30 for our honeymoon. We spent it in our new house with all my new wedding and shower gifts.  Back in the day, everyone went to receptions even if not invited.  All my brothers and grandpa’s brothers and sisters friends attended, because hey free food and beer along with a live band.  I am sure they did not check ID’s back then.  Grandpa even danced with me, but then he had too, since he was the groom.  I had two wedding showers. Just recently at last year’s garage sale, I got rid of wedding gifts that I had saved for 39 years and maybe only used the things a few times in the past.  I still have 39 year old wedding towels that are used for rags.  Yes, I have a hoarding streak.  That may be a subject for a future blog.  I would have to call it the Hoarding Curse on the Bedrosky/Bussell family side.  Never know when I would need an olive green fondue pot, so I saved it up until last year.  Someone did buy it.

Fast forward, Angie was born on 3-3-77 and Julie on !-23-79.  My last day working at Northwestern Bell was 3-2-77.  My goal had changed from being a nun, to being a wife, and stay at home mom.  I did daycare for years while the girls were younger for spending money. I also had a lot of money saved when working at North Western Bell, but knew it would not last long. Don’t get me wrong, I really missed my job and yes, I missed the money.  I was working on a special project of converting the telephone directory to computer.  I did all this, coding, keypunching, etc and could work as many overtime hours that I wanted. Back in 1975 at my desk, I had made a promise to the Lord when I read some Bible verses about how Jesus died on the cross for me and rose from the dead.  My being a good catholic girl or nun was not the way to get to heaven.  It was grace through faith if I accepted that gift.  So I accepted, but before that I had promised God if he was really up there listening, I would really like to quit and be a mom ...  Grandkids, that is another story that I will write about someday.Maybe call it "Saved from Death to Life."

 Happy 40^th Anniversary Pat.  Love you!

Grandkids, I will put a copy of this How I Met Your Grandfather, in your binder of writings and letters that I have written to you throughout the years.  Sorry Weston, your binder is the smallest.  You are my youngest.  Jocelyn you have the largest because you were the first.  Katelyn and Easton I love you also.  I hope this will help you in the future when you met that special someone like mom did 10 years ago and grandma did 40 years ago.  Your special someone that the Lord has planned for you may ask, “How did your grandparents met?” And you can tell the story.  Also another reason I am writing this is; if I do begin to lose my memory, I may ask you to tell me the story of, “How I met your Grandfather.” Think of it this way; remember how many times you ask me, “Grandma tell me the story about when I was born.”  Thanks, Julie and Sean for allowing me to witness four of the top highlights of these past 40 years, the birth of my four grandkids.

One last thing kids, in ten years I am planning on having a 50^th party that you all will give us.  Jocelyn and Katelyn you are in charge of making the cake, but please go easy on the sprinkles.  If you decide that a party is too much work; then just send us on a cruise to somewhere warm.  You all are invited, but you will have to pay your own way.  Ten years will not change my thriftiness.  I will be still saving for retirement, so no money for cruises.  Just trying to stay busy.  Maybe I can talk Grandpa into letting me do daycare for extra money for retirement?