(Note from Arta: When people asked me what I would like for the celebration of my 80th birthday, I told them I would like to put their words on our family blog. Here's what my friend, Michele, said.)
Telephone Birthday Wishes, Arta.
I remember one million sleep-overs at your house. You didn’t have 8 children. You had 9, counting me. I will always remember butter horns, cinnamons buns and bread. Your house always smelled so delicious. I remember I wanted to learn to make bread. You taught me how to make a 10 grain heavy bread. It was raising. I took it home and it was so heavy, my brothers were throwing it like it was a rock. Now that would be gourmet bread.
I remember you used to rub the knots out my shoulders. The rubbing would be agony but I felt like a million dollars when it was done. You had learned how to do this from you dad.
I remember you loved to travel to see Wyona and you would bring home fun stuff.
You had that grand piano and at Christmas there was a beautiful hand carved nativity on it, again, from Wyona in the Philippines. It was so lovely. The figures were so large. I must have touched that many times. I was drawn to it.
I learned to love avocados at your house. Kelvin would bring home boxes of them from the store, seconds. You showed us how to eat them out of the skin with with Hy’s seasoning salt, or mash the pulp and put it on toast, again with the seasoning salt.
I was 16 when Richard was born. I was at your dinner table one night. We were sitting and eating; Rebeca was holding Richard. After dinner you came out and said we are going to learn about birth control. You laid out a condom, foam jelly, a diaphragm, and maybe some pictures of other things like an IUD. You showed how you put a condom on a banana. I was so embarrassed and so was Rebecca, both of us laughing so hard. And Richard, the baby, was playing with the banana. I remember that so clearly.
The other part of that night is how you use toothpaste when brushing our teeth. You placed a lot of toothpaste on a brush smeared it all over the table, showing how if we used a lot it was destined to get all over the counter and the mirror in the bathroom. Then you showed us how to put a pea sized amount on the toothbrush. Both of those lessons were taught at the same dinner table.
You would the champion all of your children in their own unique ways.
I love you so much, and you have had such an influence on me. You were fundamental to my testimony. I learn to talk to God from you. I learned to ask questions. I learned to have faith. I learned how to work hard when things were going wrong. I learned how to be a good a mother. If I could have, I would have had more kids like you. I knew you were super strong woman, but not so strong that you couldn’t apologize.
Michele Hasegawa Rasmussen
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Telephone Birthday Wishes, Arta.
I remember one million sleep-overs at your house. You didn’t have 8 children. You had 9, counting me. I will always remember butter horns, cinnamons buns and bread. Your house always smelled so delicious. I remember I wanted to learn to make bread. You taught me how to make a 10 grain heavy bread. It was raising. I took it home and it was so heavy, my brothers were throwing it like it was a rock. Now that would be gourmet bread.
I remember you used to rub the knots out my shoulders. The rubbing would be agony but I felt like a million dollars when it was done. You had learned how to do this from you dad.
I remember you loved to travel to see Wyona and you would bring home fun stuff.
You had that grand piano and at Christmas there was a beautiful hand carved nativity on it, again, from Wyona in the Philippines. It was so lovely. The figures were so large. I must have touched that many times. I was drawn to it.
I learned to love avocados at your house. Kelvin would bring home boxes of them from the store, seconds. You showed us how to eat them out of the skin with with Hy’s seasoning salt, or mash the pulp and put it on toast, again with the seasoning salt.
I was 16 when Richard was born. I was at your dinner table one night. We were sitting and eating; Rebeca was holding Richard. After dinner you came out and said we are going to learn about birth control. You laid out a condom, foam jelly, a diaphragm, and maybe some pictures of other things like an IUD. You showed how you put a condom on a banana. I was so embarrassed and so was Rebecca, both of us laughing so hard. And Richard, the baby, was playing with the banana. I remember that so clearly.
The other part of that night is how you use toothpaste when brushing our teeth. You placed a lot of toothpaste on a brush smeared it all over the table, showing how if we used a lot it was destined to get all over the counter and the mirror in the bathroom. Then you showed us how to put a pea sized amount on the toothbrush. Both of those lessons were taught at the same dinner table.
You would the champion all of your children in their own unique ways.
I love you so much, and you have had such an influence on me. You were fundamental to my testimony. I learn to talk to God from you. I learned to ask questions. I learned to have faith. I learned how to work hard when things were going wrong. I learned how to be a good a mother. If I could have, I would have had more kids like you. I knew you were super strong woman, but not so strong that you couldn’t apologize.
Michele Hasegawa Rasmussen
So, that "Birth Control at the Dinner Table" conversation was TOTALLY memorable. i had, however, forgotten the part with Richard and the banana! that is hysterical.
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