Awesome Birthday at Aurora Fire Department

Last Saturday the firefighters and paramedics at Aurora Fire Department Station Number 10 helped make one special birthday celebration for Nicolas Noblitt. Some months back, Nic’s mom and dad bid on the fire station birthday party at a charity auction and won. According to the firemen (I can safely say that since this station does not have women among the crew), they don’t do parties. Someone with connections made the event happen and Nic was the happy recipient.

The firemen had set up the long tables right next to the trucks. Nic wheeled around and inspected the trucks as his guests arrived. Then Lt. Matson gave everyone a tour of the station and let the kids climb up into the fire truck and sit behind the big wheel. After pizza (interrupted by a paramedics call) and birthday cake, a couple of the other firemen showed just what it takes to get dressed for a call.

What a great day! I think the grownups enjoyed the party as much as the kids. Many thanks to the Aurora Fire Department!

New Grandson

I suppose he deserves more than a quick post, but Nathaniel Trent Noblitt is one fine little guy. I suppose too that he will take the world on his own terms since he decided to come a day before the scheduled c-section for his mother. He is beautiful, with a high-pitched cry to let the world know that he requires attention--not that I have heard too much of it. That is the beauty of grandparenting. For the most part we get the fun stuff and the parents get the practical.

“Diaper backward spells repaid. Think about it.”

21 Years

Today is Scott’s 21st birthday. I struggled to find an appropriate card at the Jewel last night. Hallmark, American Greetings, and the like seem a lazy way to recognize a milestone birthday. I understand, however, that when we are rushed and tired, it is easier to let card wordsmiths say it. I will give him the purchased card with cash tucked inside. He can go buy something that will soon be forgotten, but I hope he remembers one thing—his mother loves him. Always.

Photo--Uncle Scott introduces Nicolas to video games. Well, Nicolas is just happy playing with the controller.

Camping Renewal

Last weekend was too perfect for these parts. The cornfields stretched for miles, but with some roll to the countryside, it wasn’t a boring drive to Oregon. No, not THAT Oregon. Illinois has a little town called Oregon and that’s where my drive took me.

Past rustic red barns and horse farms, past a make-shift sign pointing to a blessing of the harvest, past so many road kill raccoons I have to make mention. Solitary but not alone, a two-lane road with so many motorcyclists you’d think they were all going to some big convention. I think, however, they just knew this weekend was one of the few left for their passion until spring.

As each cyclist passed another, they extended their left arms downward. Not being clued in to motorcycle culture, I imagine this some kind of “secret handshake,” akin to the cub scout or boy scout handshake.

On hindsight, this is an appropriate segue since scouts camp a lot and that’s where I was heading. Years ago when my son Jeff was a cub scout, I somehow got snookered into becoming a den mother. Of course trying to wrangle eight elementary-age boys into after-school crafts projects is like herding cats. Bless my friend Molly’s heart, she knew better and passed on the opportunity to lead. Her son Christian, my son, and the co-leader’s son, ring-led the other boys into all kinds of harmless mischief. I had fun but not at the time. Does that make sense at all?

Eventually, Jeff graduated cub scouts and moved onto boy scouts and his dad took over as a leader. At least on my watch, the boys didn’t try to burn down the forest on a camping trip. The boy who a attempted that was, as they say, “troubled.”

So, when Jeff felt it was time to introduce camping to Natalie and little Nicolas, I was at first reluctant. Fifty-seven year old bones don’t like sleeping on the ground in a tent. Ever the boy scout, Jeff offered up an AeroBed, clinching the trip for me. The other appeal, besides being outside on a lovely fall weekend with people I love, was Jeff’s cooking.

By the time I pulled into the crowded campground at Lowden State Park, one former Governor Rod Blagojevich closed last year due to budget troubles, Jeff and Natalie had already set up camp. Sweet! Minor items forgotten and a burnt apple cobbler in a new Lodge Dutch oven were our biggest issues. Small price to pay for stars over our heads, a roaring campfire, S’mores, great steaks, campers’ breakfast, and being with people I love.

Defining Moments

I hate labels. No, not the kind on food or medicine, which are practical and helpful except when they are deceptive.

The labels I hate are the kind applied to people. Mostly, I hate them because they do not define a person, only a condition, or at least what some expert seems to think is the condition. So what.

Somewhere along the line someone said I was shy. Is that bad? We introverts are supposed to extroverts. That is the norm. It took me some time to say, “You’re OK. I’m OK.”

As is the case often these days, my fractured mind took me off course. The excerpt below is what got me to thinking about labels. Dear Gentle Readers of some standing may remember my grandson Nic’s extremely early arrival into this world at 26 weeks, 1 pound and 12 ounces in February 2008. Then as now, we worried how these circumstances might impact his life.

While Nic has already overcome many hurdles, he has his work cut out for him. Of course, he is not alone in his journey. In addition to family, Nic has an army of specialists and experts on Team Nic. Here’s what Nic’s mom had to say recently,

We have been worried with the continued stiffness that Nic has in his legs, feet and pelvis. Upon several expert suggestions, we decided to take Nic to Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago to see a pediatric physiatrist, who specializes in whole body movement. Nic hasn't been able to sit up on the floor by himself because the tightness makes him fall to one side or throw himself backward. It also can make him “slouch” when sitting in a highchair. The physiatrist confirmed what we thought, which is that Nicolas has Cerebral Palsy in the form of spastic diplegia. This means that the legs are primarily affected, and also minimal tightness in the arms. This type of CP does not usually affect the cognitive or social abilities of the kids who have it, and does not get worse. CP is a condition that you are born with and that does not progress. Right now we know that the brain trauma he suffered after premature birth is causing his brain to send chemicals to his legs to make them stiff. Although it is hard to have your child labeled like this when he is so perfect in your eyes, we know that CP has a wide range of effects, from very mild to severe. Right now the doctor classifies his as mild.

We are going to have to help Nic continue to work hard to stretch and loosen these muscles in order for him to be able to sit up and eventually walk. That is a scary proposition for any parent to be told that your child may not walk. But, we have great faith in Nic’s abilities and are so proud of his determination so far. He already is exercising and stretching himself and helping himself make progress. I already can’t help but think of him as a tough guy and look at other kids differently because they don’t work as hard as he does. I’m sure that will always be the case.

Other things that we will be doing to try to help him progress is adding PT for a second time a week, starting Occupational Therapy, and also adding Aquatic Therapy once a week. Yes, Nic is going to get more pool time! He loved his first swimming class with Jeff at the Rush-Copley Healthplex, but now he will be trying therapy in the water one-on-one with a PT. I think he will really like this and we will continue to feed his love for the water. This weekend he used his baby pool on the deck for the first time. We will also be using the braces for his feet and knee immobilizers to help him stretch and keep his feet in the correct position. There may be other orthopedic devices that we employ here in the near future.

Down the road Nic may also need surgery, Botox injections, serial casting or oral medications to loosen the muscles as his bones grow longer. The Physiatrist specializes in kids with CP and is going to help us coordinate all his care so we don’t get lost in a sea of opinions.

It is what it is. It is not what it will be.


NOTE: Lisa Belkin has a parenting blog over at the New York Times called Motherlode. She recently posted a wonderful piece of writing by David Sexton titled “Out a Breath,” which was about having a child with Cerebral Palsy.

Strawberry Pies Forever

Hey y’all marketing/pr folks over at Shoney’s, Frisch’s Big Boy, or Bob’s Big Boy Restaurants, I have a question for you if your alerts pick up on this blog post. What’s the real original recipe for your strawberry pie?

I have had a recipe for years that tastes pretty close to what I remember the pie tasting like. However, no fewer that 46 versions crop up when you search Shoney’s Strawberry Pie over at cooks.com and another 11 more if you search Bob’s Big Boy Strawberry Pie.

Some call for strawberry Jello. Others cooks top their pies with Cool Whip (do not get me started on Cool Whip) instead of whipped cream. My version uses 7-Up. So I was curious as to what is the real, original version y’all came up with?

In case you were wondering Dear Gentle Readers, I made a strawberry pie for elder son in honor of Father’s Day. Hope he likes it.

A Cause for the Little Ones

February 23, 2008, doctors at Rush Copley Hospital in Aurora, Illinois, delivered Nicolas Bryant Noblitt at 26 weeks gestation. In case you “don’t know nothing about birthin’ babies,” that’s way too early.

Baby Nico spent 101 days in the neonatal intensive care unit, best called NICU by those families all too familiar with NICU alarms, monitors, endless tests, teams of medical professionals, and constant worry about what comes next.

On the cusp of summer, Nic came home that sunny June day with machines, monitors, and tubes and wires. Not exactly the vision most new parents have for their baby’s homecoming. Books like “What to Expect When You Are Expecting” and its cousins can hardly prepare new moms and dads for the exhausting and anxious ride they are in for when their baby is born prematurely.

So worried and hungry for more information shortly after Nic’s birth, I turned to the March of Dimes Web site to learn more about what this little guy could face. It delivered (pardon the pun).


The March of Dimes is a charitable organization I supported long before baby Nic came into this world. As a schoolgirl in the late 50s and early 60s, I remember the March of Dimes coin cards handed out to raise money. Think about it, this campaign worked! When President FDR founded the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, that was the goal—find a cure. Dr. Jonas Salk’s vaccine against polio did just that. Dr. Albert Sabin’s oral vaccine brought even easier access to protection. Little pink sugar cubes dosed the vaccine to millions worldwide.

With the success of the vaccine for polio behind it, the March of Dimes shifted its focus to preventing premature births and fostering research into helping those little ones born too soon have a shot at a good life. And today, they fund research that gave Nic and his NICU buddies a chance. Yes, I know the organization needs to work on fiscal responsibility, and since I work for a 4-Star Charity Navigator nonprofit, the fact that March of Dimes is not there yet bothers me a bit. However, they have my support.

If you happen to be in northern Illinois on Sunday, April 26 at 8:00 a.m., join Team Nic at Pottawatomie Park, 8 North Avenue in Saint Charles. And if you can’t make it, follow the link and help Natalie reach her goal.

And visit Nic on ciao-nico. He is surely one cute guy.

Toys for Tots and Hard Time Reflections

As I shopped online for toys for baby Nic’s first Christmas, I came across an old childhood favorite, Careers. Oh the hours I spent playing that one with the cousins. I will teach Nic to play cards and board games and I promise to be more patient with CandyLand than I was with Nic’s dad.

Well, shopping and thinking about toys is something I haven’t done for so long that I’m kind of out of practice. My venture to Toys R Us last Sunday was a great disappointment. I felt so out of my element. I prefer to shop online and the toy I ordered from Amazon arrived in a couple of days.

Toys are a large part of my life at work too as they pour in as we prepare to fill the wish lists of the kids in our Christmas program. The folks at Toys for Tots where we get a lot of toys from are reporting that donations are down, and yesterday we got far fewer than last year. It’s been a struggle at our non-profit. We don’t know yet what the end result will be, but it is safe to say Santa is adjusting to leaner times.

Which all leads me to wonder, what course of materialism have we set ourselves up for? Have we built up our children’s expectations too high? Have we lived too far beyond our means for far too long?

I remember Mom talking about the Great Depression and being thankful to get oranges and peppermint candy canes at Christmas time. She knew the meaning of doing without. We Baby Boomers and our Generation X and Next offspring really do not yet know that lesson.

Mom’s Okie family fell on hard times and headed off to California when the Dust Bowl hit, wiping the topsoil needed for healthy crops off of their little hardscrabble farm. They got as far as Arizona. The kids old enough picked cotton alongside Granny and my grandfather. After a time, they loaded up the truck and headed back to Oklahoma and got by with the help of family. Not until WWII did things turn around. Mom went off to work for the government in Washington, D. C. and the country rebounded.

So, dear gentle readers, while I reflect and ponder these questions, I still am encouraged by the true spirit of Christmas. I see it everyday in the people giving to those less fortunate. Officemates who give up their traditional gift exchanges in favor of helping others. School kids who emptied their piggy banks and delivered an envelope stuffed with dollars and coins. Scouts, Key Clubs, Rotary Clubs, Kiwanis, Lions, churches of all kinds, businesses, individuals. They are coming through.

As one donor said to me, “I am doing ok—at least for now.” I like that. Me too—at least for now

Hearth and Home

Politics and worry about the economy dominates my thoughts Monday through Friday as I listen to NPR on the way to work. I could talk about those fears. I could talk about Christmas. That’s on my mind 9 to 5:30 each day at work. Maybe I will write about that later since Christmas talk is a tad early for most of you, I know.

Instead, I will write about family. This week saw two milestones. Thursday, October 23, marked the eighth month of life for grandson Nicolas, and Friday, marked his Uncle Scott’s 20th birthday. While other pursuits capture much of my time, and the troubles and problems of the world can pull my head away temporarily, my heart is with my family.
Always.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Chasing Bear Bryant

“It’s not the will to win that matters - everyone has that. It’s the will to prepare to win that matters.” Paul Bear Bryant

Georgia Bulldog fans dressed themselves in black to psyche out Alabama’s Crimson Tide for the Saturday night game. Frat boys painted their shirtless bodies with black. Little did they expect the evening to turn out as more of a funeral. Bama, under Nick Sabin’s coaching, came to play and play they did, ending the first half with a 31 to zip lead. While Georgia managed to adjust somewhat the second half, the game ended 41-30. I’d say that’s a funeral.

The real story is that when the Tide rolls like this, fans dream that the new coach is chasing Bear Bryant’s legend.

In August, Forbes magazine featured Sabin on the cover with the headline, “Sports’ Most Powerful Coach.” The story begins with this question: “College football has long been a big business. But the money and control Alabama gave Nick Saban raised the stakes to an unprecedented level. Is he worth it?”

Football, and especially football in the South, is akin to religion, and I am very religious in autumn when the boys are on the field and the leaves have only begun to think about falling.

Make no mistake, Forbes is right. This is big business. As University of Alabama President Robert Witt says of the recent $500 million capital campaign, “We have had 100,000 donors in that campaign, and a major reason they support us is football.” Tight-fisted Alabama taxpayers aren’t footing the bill for Saban’s salary or the athletic program. A higher caliber of student is attracted to the university and fundraising is easier. And many faculty members have quieted their criticisms for these very reasons.

But Bulldogs, remember, the good guys always wear white (and red). Roll Tide!

Photo Note: Nicolas Bryant and his daddy were all decked out in Bama attire for Nic’s first game watched on ESPN.

A Tale of Two Nic's

Mom reports on baby Nic’s CarePages Web site:
“Nic got a special delivery today from Nick Swisher of the White Sox. He signed his name and “D30” on the sentimental blanket we dropped off at the White Sox office and mailed it back to us with a nice note from Swisher, via the community relations dept. We weren’t sure that would happen, but it’s a great keepsake to have from his first baseball season. Not only does Nic share Swisher’s first name, they also have the same fighting spirit. Let’s hope the White Sox carry the season into October for Nic!”

In Chicagoland, you are either a Cubs fan or a White Sox fan. Well, that’s my opinion. It’s kind of like Auburn and Alabama. You can’t really be for both. No way.

When the family attended the recent White Sox game, they took the White Sox blanket that accompanied Nic through heart surgery and asked if Nick Swisher could sign it for Nicolas. Happily, the great White Sox player obliged, and now the littlest White Sox fan has a nice memento.

Go White Sox!

The Littlest White Sox Fan

Baby Nic is probably the littlest Chicago White Sox fan, and today he and his mom and dad will be at the game when the Sox play the Kansas City Royals. Nic is a lot like the White Sox team. He hasn’t given up when down and he has spunk and spirit unmatched.

Back in February when Nic entered this world months earlier than expected, all who have come to love him hoped for the day when his day-to-day world would not revolve around doctors, tubes and machines.

Finally, after heart surgery, EEGs, EKGs, feeding tubes, respirators, heart and breathing monitors and other invasive procedures, little Nic will be a boy attending his first baseball game with his mom and dad. It doesn't get much better than this.

The Answer

On August 1 two teenage boys found the remains of Sheila Joan Noblitt over six years after she disappeared one cold January day in 2002. It looks like she died from exposure.

I became acquainted with the case after writing about what happens when you Google your name. I heard back from a detective handling the case and from one of Joan’s relatives.

To the Noblitt family, I am sorry for your loss. We do not know each other, but I can only imagine how hard these last six and a half years have been wondering what fate befell Sheila Joan. May you find this closure as sad as it is, brings peace.

note: link to earlier post.

Little Pleasures

New grandmas are apt to go overboard. How can you walk into a department store without seeing something just too cute to pass up? I steadfastly assert that I am not yet one of THOSE new grandmas.

My latest purchase was only $5 and it was for a good cause too. The other day while paying for some socks, I noticed the Kohl’s Cares for Kids books and plush animals near the checkout registers. Kohl’s says it donates all of the net profits to organizations working with health and education programs for children. Eric Carle’s “Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear?” caught my eye. Carle, illustrator of the classic, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” creates wonderfully bright and charming tissue paper collages.

Depending on your age, you probably grew up with Carle’s books or bought them for your children or grandchildren or as baby gifts. My son still has his tattered copy, which has now been passed along to the newest family member, Nicolas.

So, this little hardback became the latest addition to Nic’s blossoming library. You would imagine a family of writers would love books, wouldn’t you? I don’t know if Nicolas will be a writer or set out on his own course, but so far, this little guy has had one incredible journey. For now, his parents are telling his story on their new blog, Illinois Preemie. Later, Nic, Grandma Sheila expects to hear from you.

A Dog Senses Danger

My son called me on his way to work this morning. “Did you hear about the earthquake?” he asked.

I had and was going to E-mail him later to ask if they had felt the quake in the west suburbs of Chicago.

My daughter-in-law had been awakened by a shaking house and had tried to convince my skeptical son that she wasn’t imagining things. Only after checking the morning’s news did he realize she was right.

Now, unlike the west coast, you don’t really hear too much about earthquakes in the Midwest, but according to the U.S.Geological Survey, "this region has more earthquakes than any other part of the United States east of the Rocky Mountains." For example, the New Madrid Fault is one you might have heard about most. Back in 1811-1812, a series of earthquakes hit New Madrid, Missouri, and even changed the course of the Mississippi River. Today’s quake, which occurred in the Wabash Valley fault system, was centered in southern Illinois and was felt in St. Louis, Cincinnati and even as far as Canada. Because of the region's geology, earthquakes here tend to be felt over much greater distance.

But, what captured my attention was the strange behavior of grand-dog Monte as reported by my son. My son said that yesterday Monte was barking at the ground like he was terribly afraid. Monte's legs were trembling from fear. From past experience, I know dogs will bark at a lot of odd things--motorcycles, vacuum cleaners and especially items that are out-of-place; however, I am now convinced Monte is an earthquake-detector dog.

The National Geographic has an interesting article on the subject of animals sensing earthquakes. Next time, I think I’ll listen to Monte when he sounds a warning. I have a new level of respect for him.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

It’s amazing to see the changes since I’ve been away from home. Suddenly, over the course of two weeks spring waved her magic wand and splashed away winter’s drab with yellow.

Daffodils punctuated the landscape as far north as St. Louis on the return drive along Interstates 55 and 44. And Forsythia shrubs drew my tired eyes away from the boring task of interstate driving. As I pulled in the driveway at home, I noticed the neighbor’s apple tree awash in beautiful blossoms too. Stepping out of the car was a bit of a treat too for you see spring is a little slower coming to more northern climes like Chicagoland.

So, you might wonder, am I happy to be home? I suppose so, but I must acclimate myself again to different rhythms and routines as well as prepare for a new challenge next week. And I miss one certain new member of the family much more than I thought possible. Such is life these days.

Can You Spare Stuff

I've been away from home but not the news of the terrible flooding in Missouri. This morning's mail brought a call for help for a family who lost everything. The Springfield chapter of the international organization, Freecycle, is adopting a family that basically needs well, everything.

I've written about Freecycle before because I love the idea behind exchanging or giving away stuff you no longer want to need in order to keep it out of overfilled landfills. E-mail me if you want the link to those who are helping.

May the Luck of the Irish Be With You

College Boy just returned to Hendrix College yesterday after a week at home for spring break. Mostly we caught up on how he's been doing, what he does with friends, what college students watch on TV (House & Project Runway)--that kind of stuff. He applied for some summer jobs, made his dad a birthday cake and definitely caught up on his sleep. Remember how I worried he wouldn't be able to wake himself up for classes? I didn't even ask if the Sonic Boom Alarm Clock was still in use, but rest assured, his hearing-impaired roommate isn't bothered by it. Funny how things work out sometimes.

And today I post this as I head back to Chicagoland to visit. It's about an eight hour drive and I'm throwing my Chiefton's CD in the front seat for the trip. It is St. Patrick's Day after all and I feel lucky.

In a Perfect World

A few years ago the U.S. pharmacy chain, Walgreen's, had an advertising campaign called "perfect." I will spare you the details but we all long for perfect. I'm glad a drugstore chain thinks it can ease us into perfect.

When we are young girls many of us dream of the white-picket fence surrounding a cute house. Remember the Crosby Stills Nash & Young song, Our House? "With two cats in the yard, Life used to be so hard." We are never even remotely prepared for life's curve balls. We only do the best we can and muster strength and resolve to play the hand we are dealt. That's the reality.

Where is "perfect" when you need it?

A Sweet Postscript

NOTE: Chris, the British journalist/author whose grandfather, Frank Marhoff, I wrote about after visiting Oakwood Cemetery in Montgomery, Alabama has named his new son Harry Peter Montgomery Hunt. Chris discovered my original post last November and we corresponded and I again wrote about this story.

I am happy to hear of the start of Frank Marhoff's great-grandson Harry's life and that his name will carry a part of his grandfather's story forward. Congrats Chris and family!