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B.L.
Sitting across from my ex-husband, Scott, at a favorite Mexican restaurant, I noticed that our once large party had dwindled down to three. It was on this trip back to Omaha that the seats once occupied by friends, our sons, and Scott’s wife were now empty.
My Barbie World
“What?? You really want to see Barbie? YOU liked Barbies?”
This was my husband, Garrett’s response after telling him I wanted to see the Barbie movie. My answer to his question was not just a yes, but a resounding yes. Not only did I like Barbies, but they were my favorite toy.
The Hottest Day of the Year
“You were born on the hottest day of the year!”
This was the beginning of the story my grandpa would tell my mom every year on her birthday. It was the story of her birth.
Walking Through our Iowa Summers
As a child, I stood watching my grandma as she meticulously wrote my check in her careful cursive. With an amount in the hundreds, it took extra time for her to fill the line where the dollars were written. This was a rite of passage.
Jerry’s Kids
Labor Day weekend in the 1970s included a television telethon that tuned us into Jerry Lewis begging us to help ‘his kids’. Jerry’s Kids were the unfortunate children afflicted with Muscular Dystrophy. Wiping sweat from his brow, Jerry would joyfully thank his viewers for their generous contributions.
The Boys of Summer
It is impossible for me to think back to my childhood summers without associating them with baseball. A dusty field full of dirty boys strategically built next to our town swimming pool fills my memory.
Field of Dreams
I wrote this story in 2012 about my family’s 2002 CWS experience. The story was published in the Omaha World Herald on June 27, 2012. The College World Series will always hold a special place in my heart and my boys.
Swimming Pool Blues
With my many years of running and now cycling as part of my fitness repertoire, I am frequently asked the question "Why don't you do a triathlon?" My answer has always been "I'm not a very good swimmer. I would sink."
I have perfected the dog paddle, but past that, my skills are limited.
So are the Days of Our Lives
“Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives,” said the booming voice as a giant hourglass appeared on the TV screen.
That famous line visually adorned 70s television sets in the background of my childhood days. I didn’t understand the significance of the flowing sand at the time.
You Have the Right to Remain Silent
“But, Mom, we didn’t do anything wrong!! Why won’t you listen to me?”
These were the pleading words from my childhood friend, Bev. Her appeals came out as screams between sobs as she sat in the passenger seat of her mom’s car.
Mike and Vernie
I have a childhood friend who asked me to write a story about Vernie, an icon of sorts from our hometown. This request continues to pop up as I publish new stories about our 70s-era adventures in Remsen, Iowa.
“You should write about Vernie!”
Hey, Don’t I Know You?
“Oh, my God! You look just like Michelle!”
This was the comment I received after meeting someone for the first time back in the 80s. The introduction was from my roommate to her childhood friend. The referenced Michelle was another friend from their hometown.
Big Bird Revival
The setting was 1979 rural Iowa in the heart of a cold Midwest winter. I was twelve years old, a 7th Grader at Remsen St. Mary's grade school. Our family lived an idyllic 70s life in small-town America. Dad was our town barber. Mom was a homemaker, tending to every need of my family. Although a master of all household duties, her proudest role was that of our chief seamstress.
You Can Never Go Home
I went home last October.
My hometown is Remsen, Iowa. A small town nestled in the rural midwest with a current population of 1,650. It had been years since I had been back. I was excited to make the trip for the town’s annual Oktoberfest, an event that draws thousands to the little Luxembourg of Iowa.
Family
Reunions.
Reuniting. Being there. For each other. With each other.
That was the tagline for my three sons this past week. A roller coaster of a week that started with their Grandpa Russ Lane being put into hospice care and then ending with them flying back for his Omaha funeral. In the days in between, the Lane brothers (Zach, Ben, Grant) took planes, trains, and automobiles cross country to attend my family reunion in Arizona.
Who Has a Kegger on Christmas Eve?
Garrett and I spent this last Christmas in Kingman, Arizona with my parents and brother. With our own adult-age children scattered across the country, our empty-nesting Christmases come in all varieties these days. This year brought us to my parents’ home with me being back to being the kid in the family equation.
Peace Out
So Baby has graduated. Yes, it is true. The last Lane boy birdie to leave the nest. And the weekend has been nothing short of a whirlwind of events, from baccalaureate to party to commencement. All in about a 24-hour span.
A Girl and Her Brothers
I am a sister. I wear that like a badge. My brothers have been a part of me and a part of my identity. People would know us collectively by our names; Matt, Mark, and Sandy. There wasn't one without the other. Each born a year apart, we were a troupe of three.
Mary L. Wagner
Mary L. Wagner...Mary L. Wagner...Mary L. Wagner...
I have written (and practiced) that signature many times as a teenager.
Coming of Age
This is a coming-of-age story. That time in your life when you are transitioning from the cute kid to the young adult. But you really miss being the cute kid. My coming of age was when I was around twelve. This story took place in the middle of the summer at my grandparent’s farm in Iowa. My mom is the oldest of nine Pick children. As the oldest grandchildren, my brothers and I were doted on by our many aunts and uncles.
