{"id":49731,"date":"2025-12-07T19:15:00","date_gmt":"2025-12-08T00:15:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.westbendnews.net\/autonews\/?p=49731"},"modified":"2025-12-03T14:18:16","modified_gmt":"2025-12-03T19:18:16","slug":"go-ahead-make-my-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.westbendnews.net\/autonews\/go-ahead-make-my-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Go Ahead, Make My Day"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Dotting My Teas<\/strong> By: Marlene Oxender<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The last time someone made my day, she did so at 9:37 p.m. when I checked email. She\u2019d written something that was quite nice to read, and I thought to myself that my day had just been made. I looked at the clock on my computer and realized I didn\u2019t have much time left to enjoy the day that had been made.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wrote back to her and told her she\u2019d made my day, and since it was late, I would read her email again in the morning so tomorrow\u2019s day could be made.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few days later, I was shopping at a local flower shop when I stumbled upon a prayer plant. I felt as though I\u2019d found the perfect gift for a perfect friend, and I was going to make her day. Not wanting to be left out, I bought two prayer plants. One for me. One for my friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My family, like many, knows what it\u2019s like to pray for those in the military. My oldest brother Ed left for the service when he was 19 years old, and I was his     six-year-old little sister. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have plenty of memories of my big brother being somewhere far, far away. A place where it was probably too warm and somewhat jungle-like. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My older cousins were in the service as well as others from Edgerton. I was too young to know how very young those men were \u2013 many of them still teenagers. All I knew was how strong and capable they were. They knew how to drive, work on cars, and take us places when they were home. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For as long as I can remember, a world globe sat on a shelf in my parents\u2019 living room. We could find the little country where Ed was stationed by searching for it on the other side of the globe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember not being interested in knowing more about what was going on. I was glad to live in a small town where everything and everyone was just normal. I felt a sense of safety because I lived in modern times. No more of that war stuff after this one was over.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few years ago on a Sunday evening, I found a box of letters Ed had written home to his family. I sat in my parents\u2019 living room and started reading them one by one. In a letter dated January 5 of 1970, Ed began a paragraph with my name. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He wrote: \u201cMarlene, I don\u2019t know how to answer your question. I suppose he makes all the flowers. Is that all you have to write to me about? Jeanette, why haven\u2019t I got a letter from you, yet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The words Ed had penned decades ago stopped me in my tracks. Earlier in the day, I\u2019d been writing about the creation of flowers. About how they were designed with color. With form. With fragrance. With a frequency that really does heal the body. And to top it off, medicinal qualities were built right in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If we could read the letter I\u2019d sent him, we\u2019d see the handwriting of a seven-year-old little sister and the words she\u2019d used to ask a question about flowers. But Ed couldn\u2019t bring our letters home, because he\u2019d have needed an extra suitcase.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom had written a letter to him every single evening, letting him know what was happening at home. Back then, there was no easy button. No way of texting or sending photos. Letters were written in cursive and placed in an envelope. Postage stamps were affixed on the upper-right corner. The Post Office made the delivery. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you\u2019ve ever read a collection of letters written by one person, you\u2019ve read their questions. You\u2019ve read their answers. But the questions don\u2019t get answered in the letters, and the answers don\u2019t tell you what the question was. It\u2019s a real-life game of Jeopardy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In Ed\u2019s case, categories would be: What kind of car is Ed going to drive when he gets home? What\u2019s going on in Edgerton? Who is getting married? Who is already home?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I texted a picture of Ed\u2019s letter to Jeanette, and she pointed out that she was only four years old so she couldn\u2019t write a letter to him. But Ed was probably thinking that a colored picture with Jeanette\u2019s name on it would be the best. A good reminder to the rest of us: We can help the little ones with their coloring and letter-writing projects.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anyone who moves away, especially to the other side of the world, would be glad to find an envelope with their little sister\u2019s custom-made artwork enclosed. Children tend to draw the best pictures with things that perk us up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s fun to daydream of the ways we can build connections with those around us, to think about how deeply we care for them, and how they in return touched our lives in one way or another over the years. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are times in life when we think we don\u2019t know the answer. But maybe we do. And times we don\u2019t know what the question is. But maybe we do. We think that when we grow up, we\u2019ll have the answers. But we grow up and grow older and decide we don\u2019t know much. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s a song about not knowing much. A song that many of us don\u2019t mind singing along with. A song that tells us what a wonderful world this could be. A world where people are caught up in conspiracies to surprise one another. To enjoy life. To make someone\u2019s day. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents\u2019 estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her three published books, Picket Fences, Stevie and Grandma, You Already Am Old, are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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