Rowan and Oakley At Our Tumbleweed Ranch

Oakley, Bosten, Rowan, and the Whoopie cushion.
Oakley and Rowan build things.
Rowan and Oakley eat a feast at Mom’s.
Rowan and Oakley graze at Grandma Helen’s.
Oakley checks out Roxy’s fat belly.

Although we lived primarily “up north” until 2017, we also had the house next door to Mom and Dad in Delta. We called it The Desert Beach House. We spent almost every holiday and school break there. Rowan and I spent most of each summer there, and Suzanne would join us for a couple of weeks when work allowed. Suzanne spent most of her time in Delta sleeping and sewing. Rowan spent a lot of his Delta time hanging around with whatever configuration of “the kids” was over at Mom’s. He watched them grow up, even as he grew up himself. They all got along, but as I look back, I think Oakley and Bosten seemed to find themselves trailing Rowan around most often. In the first photo here, you see the three of them in Rowan’s room filling up a Whoopie cushion which they would later place on Mom’s chair on the porch. Mom was a good sport when she sat on on it. She played up her surprise dramatically as she slowly sat down on it, making the fart sounds last an inordinately lengthy time. The kids found ways to slip it under her over and over throughout the day. Mom played along long past her patience with the trick had worn thing. They all enjoyed the Whoopie cushion, but Mom wasn’t upset when Rowan and the kids, for some reason, couldn’t find where I accidentally on purpose lost it for a while.

One day when Oakley was maybe 3 or 4, Rowan and a bunch of the kids had been playing outside between the two yards, when he came into our house and sat down with great exaggeration and accompanying loud sighs of frustration. I asked him what was wrong. He blurted out, “I had to get away!” He continued, “Oakley won’t quit talking! Why does Oakley ask so many questions?” I knew exactly what he meant. But I laughed, because talking incessantly and asking question after question about everything, from morning until night—well, that was a trait Rowan and Oakley shared. Rowan was the talkative pot calling the kettle chatty. I am grateful I had the chance to be the audience for their verbal conversation marathons for so many years.

Oakley’s First Delta, UT July 4th Parade

Here I am, on Oakley’s inaugural 4th of July, reluctantly handing her off to whoever was the next person clamoring to give her loves and spoil her for a while. Over the years, there have been times I couldn’t remember where I had tucked away this or that photo. But I have always known exactly where my Oakley-and-me-at-the-parade photo is, whatever house I’ve had it in.

If you have ever experienced a July 4th in Delta, you know it feels like practically every person who lives in the vicinity of the town—or once lived there, or was born there, or married someone who was born there, or whose car once broke down there—is uptown at the parade. Prime viewing spots are carefully claimed and staked out with groups of empty chairs, days before the big event. Most people in the community are good to unofficially “grandfather in” certain spots for families who have sat in the same viewing spots for literally generations. If you drive east over the overpass during the days before the 4th, and look out to the other end of Main Street, you’ll see empty chairs lining both sides of the street, from one end of the town to the other. You’ll see what looks like a version of the Parting of the Red Sea: imagine waves and walls of chairs instead of water. It’s a vast canyon of beach chairs, lawn chairs, church folding chairs, piano benches, kitchen chairs, and the occasional recliner that lines the street. On the 4th itself, the chairs are full of revelers early, for the the parade and its accompanying festivities.

About now, y’all are wondering what this description of 4th of July chairs has to do with Oakley. I fully intended to use this post to write about some of the Independence Day hi-jinks I saw her pull over the years, but another blade of grief just hit. I cannot write another word right now. That’s the best answer I can give you. Photos prompt too much feeling in us sometimes. I have to stop.

The Joie De Oakley

Oakley was all about fun and making sure everyone knew she was having it. Her joy was thunderous. I snapped these two photos at a belated 75th birthday party Mom gave for herself at her house. Oakley and her cousin, Brix, stole most of the attention that day, and Mom thought having them be the entertainment was just about the best birthday gift she could imagine. I love that Oakley’s toddler happiness is inescapable in these pix, and I am newly moved by the photo of her with two of her most beloved protectors: her Grandma Mary and Mom. She admired and adored them both. The feeling was forever mutual. TIE O’ THE DAY honors all three of these incredible women, during this sad time.

When Oakley Was A Wee Sprite

Here are some photos of a small Oakley, in my Delta living room. Her Frida Kahlo eyebrows were already coming in strong. Those rubber balls she just had to have hit the living room walls more times than I can count that day. Seriously, that girl could throw with gusto!

Whenever a new Delta grandniece or grandnephew was born into the family while I still had the house next door to Mom’s in Delta, after holding each of the babies for the first time, a word would come to me about a trait I suspected they harbored somewhere in the core of their spirit. It felt kind of like I got a vibe from the baby’s soul. I have kept a list of each child’s word, but I have not shared them with anyone, not even the kids themselves. The word that came to my mind as I held Oakley Jane Shiner in my arms for the first time was this: WHIP-SMART. As you who knew Oak must already know, my vibe was accurate. Oakley had a keen mind. Always. I think she was working on how to make her whip-smart brain show us something wild and original. It’s a pity we won’t see what brilliance she could brew up for us to see.

Oakley’s funeral will be held at the Delta 1st Ward on Saturday, October 8, at 11 a.m.. Viewings will be held Friday, 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. at the Nickle Mortuary; and at the Delta 1st Ward Saturday, 9:30 to 10:40 a.m., prior to the service.

If you feel inclined to donate funds to assist with Oakley’s funeral and hospital bills, there is an account in her name, Oakley Shiner, at any branch of Zion’s Bank.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest

TIE O’ THE DAY is in mourning over the loss of my grandniece, Oakley Jane Shiner. She would have been 18 next month, on November 4th. For those of y’all who might not already know, Oakley was a passenger in a horrible car crash in Delta on Saturday. She was first taken to Delta Community Hospital, and then she was taken by Life Flight to Utah Valley Hospital—where she died later that night. She was surrounded by her family, and we adored her. Suzanne and I were blessed to be there. Oakley went peacefully, except for the sound of our crying and our hearts breaking inside her hospital room. Her siblings, Calab and Kenna were with her through the last moments of her life. They will miss their big sister immensely. Oakley’s promising life had barely begun. It would have been a blast to see all the places she would have taken herself in life. We love you, Oakley. And we missed you the moment you left us. By the way, your make-up looked spiffy right up to the end.

I want to do a few more posts about Oakley throughout this week. I found some pictures of Oakley and my Rowan that I wish to share. Also, a secure fund is being set up this morning at one of the local banks. All funds donated to this account will go directly to pay funeral costs and hospital bills. Nobody will be able to access the money for any other purpose. I’m sure I will be able to give you the specifics of where to donate to this fund in my afternoon post today. Oakley’s funeral arrangements have not yet been finalized, and I hope I can give you that information this afternoon, as well. Thank you for the condolences you have already shared with me and the rest of Oakley’s family.

In Oakley’s name, hug your kids and grandkids a little tighter today. 💔💔

Not-me On Errand Day

Yes, I purposely matched my socks so I’d blend in.
Suzanne seriously cogitates over her decision on a new phone.

Tie o’ the Day couldn’t believe it either. But I tried to tone down my normal clash. I tried very hard to look like everybody else. I’ll explain, but it’ll take me a minute to get to the reason. You see, Suzanne and I had a list of errands we needed to do together on a weekday, so she took the day off yesterday. First, we were off to the credit union to sign some paperwork for our trust and estate planning. That went off without a hitch. Then we were off to the Apple store, so Suzanne could choose a new iPhone. If you’ll remember, in July—on Suzanne’s birthday—I told her I would like to gift her a new phone, but I wanted her to pick out whichever one she wanted. Flash forward to nearly 3 months later, and she was finally ready to make her decision yesterday. She went for the lilac iPhone 14. And then we were off to Verizon to get Suzanne’s new phone hooked up with a line on my account, so I and Suzanne and Rowan and Mom are truly on the same family plan.

Okay. So here’s the part where I finally tell you about why I purposely attempted to blend in yesterday. I knew one of our errands meant we were going to the credit union, and I thought we might have time to start the loan paperwork for my new truck—which really might be here sometime next week. A thing I’ve learned in my life is that what you wear in certain situations makes a bigly difference in how you are treated. If you’re going to the credit union to get a loan to buy your Velocity Blue new Maverick, there’s a better chance the credit union people will give you the money if you don’t look like you just walked in out of a hurricane under the Big Top at a circus—which is probably as good a way as any to describe my normal garb. Yesterday morning when I first got up, I was all set to wear a wood bow tie, my new Lemonhead socks, one of my protest t-shirts, my half-boots, and one of my protest baseball caps. But then I suddenly remembered our errand list. I knew it would not be to my benefit to wear what I had planned to for the day. So I found a pretty, somewhat low-key (for me), long-sleeved shirt. I paired it with a somewhat subdued (for me) Tie o’ the Day. I found a pair of not-loud-colored (for me) Sloggers shoes that didn’t have cows or paw prints, or chickens on them. Most important to my toning my look down a notch, was my decision to wear my pastel orange Bombas socks. It happened: on purpose, I chose to match my socks with my shirt! I knew this would give me the edge at the credit union when it came time for them to approve the truck loan. And I wore the most serious-looking golf cap I own. It does have black in it, after all. Alas! We didn’t even end up dealing with the truck loan yesterday, so I’ll never know if I successfully blended in enough with the other customers at the credit union, in order to achieve my loan approval.

After we got home from our errand-y day, I confessed to Suzanne that I had not been my normal self that day. I had lied with my style. She looked at me quizzically, and I told her about my decision to dress more like normal people and less like my usual clashy kind of normal-for-me attire. When she heard why I dressed down, she squint-eyed, belly-laughed out loud for a good 15 minutes straight. I suppose that meant I didn’t look all that different from how I usually do. I suspected as much. But hey, my confession made Suzanne lose herself in laughter, so my efforts were well worth it.

Big Helen Is Now 92

Skitter and I made our way to see Mom yesterday, on what was her 92nd birthday. I told her she’s had so many birthdays that she’s starting to go backwards in time: I told her she didn’t look a day over 29. Someone on the staff stuck their head into her room to check on her and Mom informed them she’s 29. When the staff person was gone, Mom winked at me and said, “Do you think they believed me?”

The first thing Mom said to me when I walked in was not “Hi!” Nope. She said, “You just missed Joyce Moody! She gave me this pillow.” And then she showed me the birthday card Joyce gave her, and we laughed about that. Mom clutched her new pillow the entire time I was there.

I brought Mom another stash of snacks. Gummy bears are always a hit with her. I introduced her to pretzel bites filled with peanut butter, which she fell in love with. I also gave her a Fruity Pebbles Birthday Cake candy bar, which she finished off right before the nurse came in to check her blood sugar. Oh, boy! I felt like apologizing to the nurse for Mom’s extra high blood sugar. But the nurse didn’t fuss about it. “I’ll just give her some insulin,” she said. Whew! As far as I’m concerned, when you’re 92 you can eat whatever sugary things your heart desires. When I gave Mom her Hostess Birthday Cupcakes, I decked one out with candles. I explained to Mom that I thought it wise to not attempt to put 92 candles on it, so I just went with the 2 candles—plus the one orange Bow Tie o’ the Day candle at the very front of it. I love Mom’s photo here. Still clutching her birthday pillow, she’s giving the thumbs up. I chose her birthday tiara to sort of match with the purple housecoat I guessed she’d be wearing. And yes, Mom managed to easily blow out all of her candles. We had the best time together yesterday. I love Mom so very much. I can’t wait until next year—when Mom turns 28. 🎂 🎈

Some Hipster Got A New Hip

When I got dressed to pay a visit to my nephew, Brandon, at Davis Hospital this morning, I decided he needed superhero support, so I wore my caped Superman socks and my cartoon BOOM! BANG! POP! BAM! comic book hero shirt. I tried to exude the vibe of superhero strength, which Bray will need for his physical therapy. The birthday balloons Bow Tie o’ the Day I’m wearing in this photo is in honor of his mother—my oldest sister, BT/Mercedes, whose birthday it happens to be. Brandon got a fancy new hip yesterday, and he is in a screaming state of pain today. There was nothing I could do for him beyond trying to distract him from the OUCH he’s going through. Before I left home this morning to head to the hospital, I told Suzanne I’m well aware I’m not a pro at attracting anything but mosquitoes, but I’m a flippin’ expert at the art of distracting. Brandon and I share a lot of personal struggles in common. We had a good, long chat today, which doesn’t happen nearly as often as I would like. In fact, I think the last time we had an extended chat, one-on-one, was when he was in a different hospital a few years ago after having to have the lower part of his right leg amputated. (Bray now makes a spot-on pirate! ) Brandon and I really do need to quit meeting like this. 🏥 🚑 💉

Day 3 Of My 3-Day Bachelorettehood

With Suzanne’s pending arrival only hours away, I had to think fast. Her long weekend with her Champagne Garden Club family had left me temporarily on my own for a few days, and I had nothing visible but a put-together puzzle to show for it. Panic set in. I needed to at least make it appear as if I had done something productive or at least noteworthy around the house with my time. I had to get some visible housework done. This lickety-split task would require near supernatural help. I turned to my over-bigly clown Bow Tie o’ the Day for inspiration, and I was certain I needed to wear a cape as I houseworked. I knew this was a job for my Frida Kahlo-head-with-skulls cape. I did laundry. I scrubbed kitchen counters. I dusted baseboards. I Swiffer-mopped the floors. I even cleaned the explosion mess I made weeks ago in the freezer when I had forgotten I’d put a can of flavored water in to chill for thirty minutes and I had mindlessly left it overnight. I tidied up so quickly that I was a nothing but a speedy blur through the house for a few hours. That Frida Kahlo cape had me moving like lightning. The kicker is this: when Suzanne finally arrived home safely Sunday afternoon, she was so tired she didn’t notice one clean or tidied thing. She did notice the new puzzle I had put together solo, and she chastised me for doing it without her. Folks, I see my future: I will be dismantling the Flying Fish puzzle, so we can put it together—together. And I am not complaining. 💀

Day 2 Of My 3-Day Bachelorettehood

On Saturday, the second day Suzanne was gone with her Champagne Garden Club, I planned to grab Skitter and drive up to Pleasant View to spend some time with my oldest sister and her hubby. I haven’t seen BT/Mercedes or Kent in person for months. But I thought I should accomplish something around the house before I left the house for the afternoon. I had the brilliant idea to organize the garage into something resembling order and tidiness. I figured it wouldn’t take me longer than the morning to knock out that chore. I should have known better. By mid-afternoon I knew there was no way I was going to be able to complete the job the way I envisioned, even if I spent the whole day on it. I texted my sister to tell her not to expect a visit from me that day, since I had made a mess that couldn’t stay a mess. I couldn’t leave the place all torn apart from my “organizing” all the stuff, or the garage would be unusable and un-navigable. So I had to spend that afternoon getting items mostly back where I had originally found them. My garage mission was a failure AND I didn’t get to visit my sister. But I was able to dream up a magnificent plan for when I next attempt real garage organization. It’s not that our garage is all that messy: it’s just that we have accumulated way too much stuff. Just look at my photo. There I am, holding a rainbow pinata and next to my left shoulder sits a cupcake pinata. I couldn’t find the pinata I have that’s shaped like a crown, but it’s there somewhere. Pinatas are not the kinds of items most people have taking up space in their garages, or in their 2-year supply (as we called it in the 70’s).

I have no earthly idea why I think we need pinatas, but I’m holding onto them. You never know. I’ll tell you this tidbit, too: a couple of years ago Suzanne texted me from work and asked if I still had the taco-shaped pinata I used as a prop for a Skitter photo on TIE O’ THE DAY. And if I did so, could she have it for a work party. Of course I still had it. She then texted and said, “So-and-so wants to know why you have a pinata around the house.” I had no answer for that question other than to say, “So-and-so clearly doesn’t yet know me very well, does she?” Then a while later that day, Suzanne texted and asked if I happened to have something with which to break the pinata open. Of course I did. I had a pinata stick. Later, she texted again to ask if I had candy for the pinata or did she need to assign someone to go get some. I texted back that not only did I have candy that would fit into the pinata, I had a bag of authentic pinata candy—right from the authentic pinata store. I let Suzanne have the taco pinata, pinata stick, and pinata candy. Her office had their little party. The taco pinata was hit with the pinata stick many times. It was hit—and it also was a hit. The pinata candy rained down on the office mates. While eating a piece of the fallen candy, Suzanne’s boss commented to her that the candy was very hard. I told Suzanne to tell her boss that old, hard candy is how you know the candy is authentic pinata candy. 🍬 🍬