Today’s Memorial Day guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.
One or more Baboons have expressed interest in hearing more about our son Joel, who died in September 2007 from an alcohol related accident, at the age of 26. Telling stories about Joel is one of the most healing things I do, so here you are.
Well, I finally did it. I threw out the remaining lefse.
This wasn’t just any lefse, not even just any homemade lefse. My son and I made this in December 2006, his last Christmas in the physical. This is one of my favorite things about Joel – he loved family traditions, and making lefse is something his grandpa had taught him. He truly enjoyed getting together with Family, was the one that would take videos of the little kids at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and then make video gifts for their parents. He was the fun “uncle” who would be on the floor playing with the toddlers.
When Joel was little, his favorite color was orange; I dressed him in that so he’d be highly visible on the playground. He loved cats from day one – Sox was absolutely appalled when he turned 9 months old and started walking. By the time he was eight, he was more reliable.
Like many children of Babooners, Joel put up with our beloved Morning Show (TLGMS) while growing up, and thanked me for it later – and yes, he appreciated ALL kinds of music because of it, from Classical to Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash, the Beatles.
Music is what made it possible for us to connect when he got to be 14 – Jerry Garcia had just died, and suddenly “my music” from the 70s was in the mainstream again. In music we had something that could start us talking.
Joel was smart, good looking, funny, and he shared my sense of humor. He liked helping people, and was a good listener – ended up being the Confidant in his group of friends. He was organized (!), practical, and resourceful. He became the medic on the hunting trips – had little vials of anything they would need: aspirin, antihistamine… tucked into the “slots” on his ammo belt.
An Aquarius, as an astrologer friend would tell me, he did “march to the beat of a different drummer”. When (at age 20) he and a buddy set off to look for an apartment, they ended up buying a little house a mile from ours, and rented out a room to at least one other friend to help make payments. We saw him almost weekly for dinner, followed by watching any DVD he would bring (i.e., the entire seven seasons of The West Wing). Or sometimes we’d do a special project like making lefse.
And now, like many things, I have to let the lefse go. It smells stale and I see some (former) insects in the box. So I arranged and photographed it, then put some out for the critters and composted the rest. I still have my dad’s griddle – I might make lefse again some day, but I probably won’t do it alone.
What do you do to keep important memories alive?
Trail Baboon 
BIR, Thanks for honouring those of us on the Trail by sharing your precious Joel with us. What a darling little buy who grew to be a fine young man. The lefse may be gone, but not only do your memories linger on, but now they have grown and are shared by fellow baboons.
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There is some truth in that, Jacque – the more people you tell about your loved one, the more their memory is alive.
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Wow, Beth-Ann, I called you Jacque, I guess because I got used to her being on first thing for a while there…
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I failed you this morning. I had one of my “awake from 2-4am” nights so slept in a bit this morning (to the crack of 7:30am!)
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hey barbara, i love the stories of joel and the way you have always embraced the memory and any reference to him as he comes up on the trail. good looking young man and the twinkle in his eyes is very telling.
there is no answer to the question of how to deal with loss but there are lots of opportunities to figure it out. the day someone dies is so traumatic and emotional that there is a spot where you can feel your heart coming out of your chest. then you settle in and start remembering and wishing you had done some things differently taken more time said things left unsaid and the learning process for those of us left behind starts to take form. then the extended dealing with a new life, a life without that person/friend/soulmate in it physically anymore and the realization that the world will go on and that the special stuff you got from your relationship with that person will take you a long ways in healing the newly opened hole in your heart. the good the bad the ugly are all part of the deal and we get to remember and put it all in perspective from now on.
someone gave me the gift of the visual image of everyones life being a book that is there on the viritual memory shelf for you to pick up and page through every time you think of it. they like being remembered and the book is there anytime you need it. for as long as you need it and at whatever level you want to get into it today. sometimes it brings smiles sometimes tears sometimes longings but it is there and will be there again next time you want to revisit.
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memorial day is an appropriate day for the remembering we are doing huh. i was thinking about my dad at age 17 going into the navy back in 1942 with visions of becoming a hero only to realize when you get between the sheets at night its only you in there. he went through flight traing school and had visions of the glamour job of being a pilot but discovered he had a hearing deficiency that didnt allow him to hear the blips and dings you have in your headset as a pilot so he was out, plan b given to him without his input and he was a medic stationed in long beach. he was always prefacing that part of his war experience with the fact that they made a medic out of a guy who cant stand the sight of blood. he was good at being kind and caring when you were ailing and the stories he had of the guys he helped back into the mainstream upon their injury based return were touching. he was given watches and dress blues and gifts of thanks from guys who had little but appreciated his being there for them. i have friends and relatives who have big war stories with italian peasants hiding them in the dairy barns and fighting through the lines in hand to hand combat but the memory of my dad having to leave the room when i had a tough accident because of all the blood and open wound action make me smile and know that he did all he could in the misappropriated placement he was given. we remember everyone who gave their all for the country today. back in the day of wwl and wwll the knowledge we were all doing the right thing for the right cause was clear. since then not so much. i appreciate the heros who lay it all out for us but i question viet nam and iraq and afghanistan, the ugly underbelly of the universe is always there and the response is unfortunately pretty much already established but i do appreciate the understanding that war is the vehicle to get you to a place of healing. egypt is rid of their awful dictator today. now what? watch out what you wish for. good luck and gods speed to all the military people out there in the name of the true meaning of life. thanks past present and future and a big thanks for the timing that allowed me to reflect on the luck of being born in the year after the draft ended rather than in the middle of it.
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Well said, tim – both of them. That’s a cool image about the “virtual book”, I’ll remember that.
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Rise and Shine Baboons!
Thanks for sharing your son with us BiR. It is a bittersweet story. Many baked goods I would offer to make with you, but I find lefse awfully bland. I’ve always wanted to try gnocci though, also with a potato base! So if you would like to trade out your carbohydrates, let me know.
I am back from returning my mother to Iowa. While there my sister and I, sans my brother this year, decorated the graves of my father’s family at the Nevada Cemetary. When we do this we tell the family stories and remember them or remember stories about them. The oldest grave there is for Charles and Moria (said Moriah) Jackson, my great-great grandparents. All we know of them is that he returned to Nevada from the Civil War and found that his wife had a child by someone else so he divorced her. Three days after that he arrived at the Justice of the Peace with his first cousin, requesting that he be married. The JOP refused to do the honors. The day after that he arrived with Moria, no relative apparently, and married her. What a romantic guy.
My father is buried nearby. Today I remember him.
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What’s to prevent us from having a gnocchi and lefse making party? I love both!
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i am in there
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A definite possibility! We just need a big enough kitchen somewhere.
Jacque – I believe lefse (like other white things like potatoes) are bland so that they taste best with melted butter. 🙂
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butter peanut butter and brown sugar is heaven
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Ja, Sure.
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Fascinating story, Jacque.
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Thanks for sharing your memories of Joel with us, Barb. That adorable little towhead sure grew into a handsome young man! I can only imagine the grief you and your husband have gone through over losing him so young. While I’m sure it still hurts, I’m glad you find healing in keeping his memory alive, and sharing your memories with friends. I love that you arranged and photographed the lefse before disposing of it, it’s an almost ceremonial step in letting Joel go and marking it. The day you decide to make lefse again will be yet another milestone, and I’m sure it will come. Sometimes the only way to deal pain is going through it.
Living as far away from my family as I do, I have always known when I visited them that the good bye at the airport could well be the final good bye. This was especially true, of course, when I visited my mother after she had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. Same thing was true when I visited my father six months after mom’s death, when he had received the same diagnosis. My most recent visit to Denmark was to make sure I saw my favorite uncle one last time. He had had several heart surgeries and wasn’t doing well. Ironically, he’s still living and doing reasonably well, while his older brother has just recently been transferred to a nursing home because of late stage dementia. I treasure the memory and the photos I took of our last family meal together. In some ways I think deaths that you anticipate, either because of old age or illness, are easier to deal with because you have time to adjust to the idea of death. It is the accidental deaths, like Joel’s, or the sudden unexpected death of Tom Keith, that really sucker punch us. I think that’s because those deaths deprive us of the opportunity to prepare for that final good bye. For me the celebration of Tom’s life at the Fitzgerald provided the opportunity to celebrate a life I knew only in a very superficial way. Your sharing of Joel’s story provides that same sense of celebration even for those of us who never met him.
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nice
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Yes, that’s what I was hoping, PJ.
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You are surely right about expected and unexpected deaths. It seems a little odd, but people who die after a long or difficult illness don’t cause us to mourn as deeply because “at least he/she is no longer suffering.”
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I think this is true because suffering is so difficult for all involved. The one who dies is not the only one who ceases suffering. We watched my dad die inch by inch of Multiple Sclerosis–it hit him hard, affecting not just mobility, but his brain. What he experienced changed everyone who ever knew him. When he finally died in 1997 after39 years of this it was a relief, but it was also painful.
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MS is a terrible affliction, Jacque, I can only imagine how that impacted your family over such a long period of time. My friend Mike Mikkelsen has late stage Parkinson’s. Most of the people in his yoga class have MS. I was truly inspired to see their determination to stave off the effects of the disease in every possible way for as long a possible. Mike’s Parkinson’s has long taken a physical toll on him; he can barely speak and now he’s beginning to show signs of dementia as well. Very, very painful to watch this once brilliant man be reduced to a mere shadow of himself. I’m sure we’ll all draw a sigh of relief when he passes, yet all know how painful that loss is going to be.
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sorry pj tough to watch and be helpless to affect
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Good morning. I will keep this short because my very active granddaughter is visiting. Barbara, thanks for sharing part of your memories of Joel with us. I have lots of things around the house that bring back memories of parents and relatives that passed away. One of the most interesting to me is a bottle cap for milk from my grandparents farm where they bottled milk which my mother delivered to homes in the small town near the farm. Well, I had better stop now because the little ball of energy will soon be back asking for my attention.
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jim i can visualize you trying to keep up with a whirling dervish spinning around clarks grove.she has got to be the luckiest whirling dervish in all of clarks grove. good old grandpa who is running six steps behind her in the aftermath of her passing. enjoy it.
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Thanks, Holly. Harry Manx is so talented; love that song.
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Beautiful, Holly – I didn’t know that song.
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Nice, Holly. Love Harry Manx.
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Nine years ago I produced a concert with Harry Manx at the Friends’ Meeting House on Grand Ave. Despite appearing on TLGMS for an interview and receiving a “Best of the Week” pick by the Pioneer Press, only about 20 people showed up. It was a wonderful concert although not financially successful. I don’t believe he has been back in town since then.
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i remember him on the morning show, didnt know him then havnt heard form him since buut as soon as i saw his name mentioned i knew exactly who he was and what wonderful stuff he did.
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Barb, I loved your stories–so well perceived–about Joel. If I were to ever lose my only daughter, I’d hope to handle the loss as well as you have . . . and I say that without dismissing the real pain you have felt. It looks like you are facing your grief honestly and with sensitivity, trying to sustain the most positive memories of a young man who seems exceptional.
I’ve had to find emotional equilibrium after suffering two deaths in my life. One was the death of my parents, a dual event that I can lump together here although each death was a singular event. The other was the death of my marriage.
To process the loss of my parents I spent nearly four years writing a book about them and the great love they had for each other. Writing that book was an act of love for me, as I always felt close to both of them. When the book was done, I understood my parents far better than I had when they had been living. I regard that slightly ironic fact with resigned sadness, although I treasure the knowing. I sure wish I could sit down with them and ask a few key questions now.
The death of my marriage was more complex and continues to be. It is a garden I tend in my peculiar, haphazard way, a garden filled with as many weeds as flowers (and more than a few thorns). I don’t know how to weed it, so I just water that garden and contemplate it, resigning myself to the fact I will never really understand it. I guess that is part of life. There are mysteries we aren’t meant to solve, try as we may. And yet they are ours, so we cannot ever quite turn away from them.
The goat trip was a joy, weather notwithstanding.
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Hope you’ll tell us more about the goats sometime, Steve – did you take pictures?
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I took some crappy pictures. Oddly enough, the highlight of the trip was not the goats but the conversation with Linda, Lisa, Sherilee, the Teenager, Barb, Steve and Barb’s friend Janet. After a splendid picnic lunch we had a lovely talk.
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I don’t find that odd at all.
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The goats just aren’t as articulate…
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And, Linda brought back some chevre for me! This baboon network works magic.
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I expressed myself clumsily. The goats were a delight. Some were shy; some were bold. They all seemed curious and hungry. And then we had a lovely afternoon of great food and conversation. I recommend Barb and Steve’s hospitality to all baboons.
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Divorces can certainly be painful. In my own case, the death of my first marriage was a my first major life crises. I was so surprised at how painful it was, divorce being so common. But a couple of years later, I decided to let it go and move forward. For me the end of a friendship has been much more difficult to deal with, even though I was the one who ended it.
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We are supposed to make lemonade when life deals us a bunch of lemons. And it is necessary to let go of grief when we can do so. The right time to let go of grief from divorce is when we can no longer squeeze any wisdom from those lemons, and oddly enough I’m not there yet (after ten years). I’m still learning.
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Deaths have been few and far between in my life, as my family lives so long and my parents are still alive. My parents are going to the cemetery today to lay flowers. Food traditions are a nice way to keep important memories alive. I don’t scrap book but I suppose that would also do it, but I just don’t have the talent for that. Thank you for sharing your son with us, Barbara. What a cutie!
Our new dog, 4 year old Welsh Terrier, Bailey, who we saved from homelessness and introduced to the household yesterday, is spending the day hiding from our old dog, who is not really happy and is definitely setting out what the pecking order is. He is a sweet clown without a dominant bone in his body. I think you could compare our old dog with Margaret Thatcher. Bailey spent a quiet night with our daughter in the basement. The cats were glued to me all night. They are not happy. I expect it will take some time for everyone to establish their routine and territory.
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Good luck, Renee. I do hope your menagerie sorts things out. I do hope that your old dog knows that while she may be the alpha dog, ultimately she ranks below you in the hierarchy of the family. Husband and I failed to teach our Welch Corgi that, she thought she was the boss and viciously attacked our old Dachshund several times. We had her euthanized a year ago after yet another totally unprovoked attack on Pablo. Had we not been able to separate them, she would have killed him. It grieves me still. Mitzi was the sweetest, most charming little dog, but she had an unpredictable aggressive streak toward Pablo that we could not control.
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We had a fox terrier who did that with our first Welsh Terrier, and we ended up putting
the fox terrier down. I wasn’t aware that it wasn’t a good idea to have two female terriers in a house hold. Since Bailey is a boy, I have some hope here. I do need to work harder at putting our old girl in her place without demoralizing her. We are making a point of feeding them separately and keeping them both out of the kitchen, since that seems to be disputed territory associated with food. Bailey is totally non-aggressive, with other dogs, that is. He barks like crazy at the cats, while our old dog just ignores them or sleeps with them. I don’t understand it.
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Renee, your situation isn’t unusual after introducing a new pet into a household. I think most dogs and cats do adjust to each other in a reasonably short time. I just wanted to caution you to be alert to how your older dog is allowed to express her aggression. It sounds to me like you’re doing the right thing by feeding them separately and keeping them out of places where your older dog may feel a need to express her dominance. I do think it’s a good sign that they get along outside. Perhaps more time outside playing with them will help. Welsh Terriers are sweet dogs and I hope that yours will eventually become friends, and for the sake of the entire household, including the cats, that it happens sooner than later.
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See my post below. Bailey is back in his interim home. Our old girl was getting more aggressive instead of less, and Bailey was turning out to be a cat chaser, and I had the memory of all the dog fights we had with the fox terrier, and the all-round unhappiness that we experienced.
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very nice of you to save baily. enjoy
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Today after I saw my old dog randomly attack Bailey for peeing in the wrong place in the yard, we decided that he had to go back to his interim home, people who had second thoughts about giving him to us after he left yesterday and were glad to have him back and who have the perfect set up for him. We are sad but he and all the other animals would be very unhappy if we had kept him.
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Under the circumstances, you probably made the right decision. Glad he found a good home. Dog fights can be terrifying.
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Sorry he didn’t work out, Renee, but glad he has a good place to go.
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Lest anyone think my old terrier is a complete raving beast, I took a nap this afternoon and woke to find her and the two cats snuggled up to me as close as they could get. The cats aren’t afraid of her at all. She’s a sweet girl but she needs to be the only dog in the house.
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Renee, It’s sweet and kind of you to give your terrier the peace and predictability she needs in her old age. She was only doing her job, protecting her territory and preserving order as she knew it. Good of you to understand that for all of your sakes. Time enough for change when she’s off to the happy hunting grounds.
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ive got a wife like that renee, glad baily got to go back to pre-mean spirited intimidation out there on the prairie.
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i mean glad the old dog got to go back to the good pre baily life.
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I sometimes take flowers to the cemetery for Mother’s Day. Usually lilacs, but this year the lilacs were already spent, so I skipped the trip. I also have a few of my mother’s blouses, and I like to wear one on Mother’s Day. She probably wouldn’t think too much of the flowers on her grave – she was a very practical person and didn’t see the point of cut flowers. But it would probably please her to see that her blouses are being put to good use.
Clyde’s book has a wonderful piece about sense memories and their role in preserving the past for us. Perhaps he will stop in and share some later.
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Linda, I can see how wearing one of your mother’s blouses is a very effective, and meaningful way of honoring her memory and bringing her to mind. I own a few such tangible items that whenever I use them, I think of where they came from. And they need not be from deceased people to bring them to mind either. I own several pieces of pottery made by our potter friend, Mike Mikkelsen, who lives in Bellingham. Until Mike and Anne moved from Northfield some years ago, we saw them regularly. Now that we rarely see them, except on Skype, his dishes and pots keep him present in our daily lives. Same thing is true of Martye Allen who lives and works not too far from Steve’s cabin. I see Martye mostly at pottery sales in the Twin Cities area, but my thoughts fly to her each time I drink from her beautiful cups.
When my friend Albina died 20 years ago, I inherited one of her stainless steel pots. In fact, I didn’t inherit it, I bought it at the huge estate sale her adult children held after her death. I never fail to think of her whenever I cook a meal in that pot. Albina was a wonderful cook and I couldn’t possibly have chosen a better item to buy to keep her memory fresh in my mind, although that wasn’t what I had in mind when I bought it.
Likewise, I own a fair amount of beautiful pottery from now deceased potter friends. I never put flowers in one of Chuck Hallings vases without thinking of him, and I never brew a pot of tea in Ken Olson’s teapot, or light a candle in one of his candle holders without
thinking of him.
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Barbara, thank you for sharing a little bit about Joel. He sounds like a delightful person.
To remember certain people, I like to link certain activities to certain people. For instance, my dad would lick his ice cream bowl clean when he ate ice cream. I think he enjoyed the ice cream so much (especially if it was chocolate) that he wanted to get every bit. When I eat ice cream, I sometimes do the same thing as I remember him. In fact, I should do that today – he died 3 years ago today.
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Right you are Edith. I am just in from planting the last of the garden–a protracted affair with all the rainy days. When I plant I think of my mother, still living, and my grandmother. Both were great gardeners. And the garden seemed to bring out the very best in both of them.
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Thank you Barbara for sharing Joel with us, your memories and photos; the stories that help all of us. He’s as I remember him, his elfin face, a quiet and thoughtful aspect, but always with that twinkle in his eyes. I always think of Joel now when I see a deer 🙂 Just as I always think of my father when I see a dragonfly (his favorite Japanese folk song) or a sparrow (his favorite hymn was “God’s Eye is on the Sparrow, I Know He Watches Me”) or eat peanuts (he always had a dish of peanuts within reach). My grandmother and her love of music when I play on her old upright grand piano ( no, Grandma, I don’t practice every day!) And another miracle that began long before Joel’s death is how many children you and Michael have welcomed into your lives over the years, nephews and grandchildren and many of Joel’s friends. I’m glad you chose today to open Joel’s book of life and let us in because it reminds me that although we’ve all experienced loss, each person’s story is unique, just like Joel.
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Thank you, Robin.
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Barb, I’ve just reread your blog, and I know this must have been very emotional for you to write about. I hope it has also been cathartic to let yourself share this story and to read the responses to it. I for one, have a better understanding of who you are; I value your trust and your friendship.
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I’ve loved Mahalia Jackson since I first saw her when I was 16. Here’s her rendition of “His Eye is on the Sparrow”:
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Wonderful! My father took many large reels of taped music to Japan when we moved there in 1949 — my earliest memory of hearing Mahalia Jackson. PJ, thanks for reminding me.
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Barbara, your story about the making lefse your son reminds me of the krumkake that my Uncle Horace made and brought to our house for family celebrations. When he passed away my father cleaned out his apartment and found the tools for making krumkake which were passed on to me. I haven’t used those tools, but I do hope to find time to use them some day. My Uncle Horace was a special person and it would be good carry on his tradition of making krumkake which was probably part of the family tradition of his wife, Aunt Ora.
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Evening.
Barbara, thank you; a lovely story about Joel. And all the rest of you, the things you’ve written and shared today are wonderful. Good advice and just plain nice stories to boot.
I think sharing the stories is the best way we have of keeping memories alive.
I have a 6″ angle grinder I bought at the auction of neighbor who died unexpectedly. Every time I use it I think of Richard. He was about the quietest guy you’d ever met, but then he’d make some sly comment that would just crack everybody up. He was a better repair man than I’ll ever be but I try to work up to his expectations when I use his grinder.
Kelly and I drove to Ceylon and Wilbert MN today and put flowers on her folks, grandparents and an uncles plots. She told me a few more stories of growing up and pointed out a few more landmarks.
The uncle died at 3 yrs old. The marker is misspelled: ‘Kinny’ instead of ‘Kenny’. But it’s been that way for more than 50 years.
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Thanks for all the votes of confidence today, Babooners. Just a moment of honesty – in reading all your comments, I realized that I told you all the delightful things about Joel. For now, that’s fine.
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everyone has a side that is unperfect. if it can be kept as the other side rather than the predominant side, you win.
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Barbara, you get to choose what you want to share. However, we are a hardy group and when you want to share another facet of the story we’ll still be here.
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Somewhere is the phrase, ‘Remember the good times, forget the regrets’ but that’s easier said than done.
You already said “…alcohol related accident…” so we know it’s out there, but that wasn’t the point of today I don’t think.
As Beth-Ann says, we’ll be here. I have always admired what a great group of listeners you are here.
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i have moms family in a graveyard down around lake street, dads famiy is in a couple of different locations in fargo. only go to fargo for the next one. good irish wakes love em. moms family was uppity and not much fun. great grandfather was great guy, he was the native american philosopher attourney. his daughter, my grandmother was a good one but grandfather and all the aunts were /are
less so. so when i go to the memorial remembrance with my mom it is hard because she wants it to be a nice memory and it never is. after seeing what being a jerk can do to your memories i have received maybe lifes best lesson. leave a positive legacy. it would be a shame to have people remember you as a negative on the planets checklist.
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It’s late on Memorial Day and I just read your story about your son. When I got to the picture of him taken in 1997, the image shot through me like a cannon ball. It was as though he was my son as well as yours – that face, that precocious expression, that energy beamed through me. And I’m weeping as though it was my son who died. I am so very sorry that you lost your beloved, Joel. There simply are no words to define such a pain as losing a child but I honor and weep for your experience, Barb.
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CB – I was hoping I would make people too sad with this post today, but it sounds like there was just some connection there. One of your comments ‘way back was what got me thinking of writing a post about Joel. Thanks… my email is mmbbhassing@usfamily.net
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…would not make…
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BiR, lovely detailed writing. You have captured a heartfelt picture of your well-loved son. Good memories. I like the lefse ritual that you created. I buried something of my father’s in my backyard, he donated his body to a medical school; I have marked the spot with my favorite rocks and stones. Some comfort in rituals.
I’m slowly returning to my own daily rituals after a period of good and bad chaos—not mine, I mentor young people. I have been reading this blog late at night, a wonderful counterpoint to the chaos of the day. Thank you all
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Thanks for checking in, Nan. This is a special place, isn’t it?
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Yes, it is. Sorta like a Blogland Northern Exposure. I feel as if I’ve been out checking my traplines, and just got back in town. Thanks to the regulars, the town is still there.
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We lost my wife, Geri, suddenly in August 2010 to a recurrence of breast cancer. She had baked some banana bars early that summer and put a container in our freezer. I didn’t want to eat them, but I knew she’d rather we enjoyed them, especially because she knew banana cake (or bars) were my favorite, and that was my traditional birthday cake since I was little. Geri was well-known as a cook, especially her desserts.
Anyway, late this Spring, I was getting something from the freezer and looked at the bars and saw some frost was building up inside and realized I better get them out, hoping they weren’t already ruined if the container had gotten cracked open inadvertently. I thawed them out, removing the frost so they didn’t get soggy, and they were almost perfect.
I kept them in the refrigerator and ate them slowly. As I was having the last one, I looked at Geri’s picture and told her thanks.
And yes, Barbara, I took a picture of them before starting to eat them.
However, there are still some M&M brownies in the freezer, but they’re contained in zip-lock snack bags inside of a sealed container, so I figure they’re good just a bit longer.
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A perfect companion story for the lefse, Mike. I hope you and your girls are healing, as much as it is possible to heal.
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Yes, Mike, those small daily gestures mean most and are most missed.
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