Laurel Elisabeth Stevens

Summer travels took a detour this year, and in July the kids and I wended our way through hilly back roads of Missouri and found Laura and Almanzo Wilder’s little house in the Ozarks .  I’d heard a long time ago that there was a museum there, but I thought, “Missouri?  Laura never lived in Missouri!”  But she did.  It was not a move taken lightly.  After their marriage, written about in These Happy Golden Years , Laura and Almanzo suffered greatly in De Smet, South Dakota: they had lost an infant son, lost their livelihood in a drought, and their property in a fire.  So when their daughter Rose was seven years old, and Laura had saved $100 from sewing jobs, Laura and her husband packed up what was left, said tender farewells to Laura’s parents, and began the long trek to Mansfield, Missouri. In the house in Mansfield there is a picture of Laura and Almanzo taken in 1942.  Laura is 75 and Almanzo is 85.  Since they are the only two in the p...

Dear Mom and Dad, A week and two days ago the packers came to your house in Houston.  All your piles of belongings, sorted for “air,” “sea,” or “storage” were boxed up and labeled.  And tonight you will spend your third night in your new home in London.   Your two-day stay with us was wonderful.  I didn’t think about you leaving.  I just enjoyed having you here. As I mentally prepared for your move, I keep thinking about my last sight of you as you left for Vietnam in 2003.  I was seven months pregnant, wondering how you could leave me as my hour of need approached.  But really I knew why.  You went with your husband.  You belonged to each other and I, for nearly three years at that point, belonged to another.  And it was good.   Of course, you could hardly stand not being there when Elisabeth was born.  We called you on the phone somehow, and Dad, newly christened “Grandpère” jumped out of bed in his excitemen...

My daughter has told me repeatedly over the last few weeks that she wants Silly Putty for Christmas.  That should be with a little trademark R next to it. But I cannot buy her Silly Putty.  The stretchy flesh colored stuff of our childhood for me holds a memory, laughable now, but still all to clear, though it is more than two years old. Waiting in line at the Celle train station, trying to figure out what kind of monthly pass I need in order to get Elisabeth to school every day.  Unable to speak in German, still jetlagged, wishing that I didn't have to be there by myself with the kids, angry with John for working and leaving this mess to me, angry that we had to be so far away from the school, drowning in my little sea of sorrows and self pity, adding an additional 100 Euro to the tally of wasted money spent out of ignorance on the wrong train pass . . .and the children are playing with Silly Putty.   Oh first it was good.  Indeed, it was gre...

This Sunday in The Woodlands The weather got a little cooler here in the Houston area . . .for a couple of days.  It was already warming back to the 80s today.  But on Sunday we got to wear sweaters and realize that no, we won’t be able to wear sandals all year long. At church I spoke with a friend who was asking how our transition was going, saying that he felt for us, having to leave Germany after just two years.  It nearly made me cry, but at the same time I was grateful for his understanding.  He knows from personal experience the work it takes to move and adjust overseas.   I’ve been looking over my notes and writings from the last two Octobers and Novembers.  Wow--the seasons are really different!  It does feel like continual summer here and, well, I’m not minding it.  Not right now, at least! The entry below was mostly written on a Sunday in November, 2011, when John was in the U.S. for about two weeks.  It was ...

Editor’s note: I typed this on my iPhone en route from Houston to Hannover in August of 2011.  At the end of this flight, in the Munich airport Henry ran a few steps to sit by me, but ended up hitting his head on the row of metal seats.  A trip by airport ambulance to the airport clinic added an extra stop and meant missing our connecting flight.  That’s another story.  Indulge me in reliving some thoughts from over a year ago . . . Wednesday, August 17 2011 Sitting on airplane at 10 pm Houston time. Both kids are asleep with their heads on my lap. It is picturesque, but it only happened after I refused to get Henry a snack because I had just fallen asleep when he woke me to say his movie was done. "I want something to eat!" It should come as a relief that he is hungry, but I was hoping to regain my sleep state and told him he'd have to wait. Really this has been an easy trip so far. But it started with some anxiety. We woke up this morning at 6:3...

I just realized that I was already logged in to Blogger, and the words were all in English.  It didn't say "Jetzt anmelden" anymore. Someone I had just met last week asked me, "Aren't you just thrilled to be back?"  How to explain in a sentence the mixture of emotions and memories and thoughts within? This container traveled over the ocean: Hannover, Bremerhaven, Port of Houston, The Woodlands We're moved in to our new home.  There's a long story there, but I don't want to rehash it anymore, except to say that in the last couple of months we've had too many moments of realizing that lots and lots of things have gone wrong for us.  We took turns telling each other that it is simply part of the process.  It's a big transition.  But often we really felt besieged.  And frustrated and irritated and wanting to blame someone.  Really most of it wasn't our fault.  But some of it was our fault.  And sometimes there wasn't anyone to...

Tomorrow will be the 2 week mark of our re-entry to the U.S.   I would like to be writing more, but in the meantime, here are just a few of my re-entry quandaries: Even the laundry detergent is proud to be American.  I'm finally used to identifying myself when I answer the phone, the German way, but when I answer the phone here as "Stevens" or "This is Laurel" there is always a long pause while the caller orients himself.  Much like I was orienting myself over the last 2 years. I tend to yield to traffic coming from the right. I have at least once opened the freezer door to cool myself off. I crave recycling. When the kids tasted the tap water (Leitungswasser) in the apartment they both exclaimed, "Cool!  The water is sweet!"  Um, glad you think so, kids.  Tastes rather minerally (or worse) to me. I found it is easier to speak German than Pig Latin. I get nervous at restaurants, afraid that they'll bring the check too early and ruin t...

I woke up this morning (Saturday) before 6 AM suddenly remembering "Our internet is being cut off today!"  I nearly jumped out of bed and ran to the computer.  I needed to write.  (and post).  Our computer will be packed up on Monday, so losing these two things brings me right back to where I was in those early days in Celle, except not quite.  I still have my iPhone.  But that brings up the age gap--I just don't see myself blogging from my iPhone.  But who knows.  The need to post our progress might just drive me to it.  Usually, however, it is better if I put a little bit of distance between the actual events and the blog post--it's more fun for you to read. This week has been quite an emotional roller coaster, not so much the nostalgic kind, but the kind of emotion that comes when everything seems to be going wrong.  Most of the problems have to do with leaving this house and getting to the next one.  But we have a lot of good ...