From This Point Forward . . . .

We've reached the point on our calendar where the days will get longer.

I tried balancing an egg on the island this morning, only to learn later that I had not picked the exact moment for when that phenomenon is supposed to happen.

When the egg kept toppling over, I said to Bill, "Maybe next year I'll have it figured out." 

The egg went back into the refrigerator, and I went about my day.

For a lot of friends and family, their days are not going on as normal.

The chosen phenomenon of living in one's hometown forever and dealing with loss of familiar faces is striking again this week---big time.

So sad to deal with loss in what is supposed to by the joyous time of the year. 

I selected the photo above, taken during a walk yesterday, because it's a part of the gateway leading into my friend, classmate and neighbor Gary Finney's driveway.

Gary's life is taking a new direction on this day as he says good bye to his dad.

I did not know Bud Finney very well, just that he was a big strapping, good-looking fellow.  He died a few days ago, and I've been feeling sad for Gary ever since.

Haven't seen him, haven't heard his daily honks, but I did leave the annual Christmas plate in his mailbox yesterday. 

Gary will stop by one of these days, and we'll talk about another loss in his family. 

I did know Joe Venishnick and greatly admire his daughter, my dear friend and classmate, Andrea.  

Joe's wife Pat used to send me notes.  I still have a postcard here in my office which she sent when the couple were visiting Mark Twain's Connecticut home. 

The postcard sat in my school desk drawer for several years.

I told Bill yesterday that I'm almost sure Joe Venishnick was one of the fire fighters I saw in that never-to-be-forgotten scene when our house burned down Dec. 20, 1984.

Joe died this week---on Dec. 20.

He served his country and his community admirably.

He also served the forests of the Northwest, and my husband, the forester,  thought the world of him. 

When I saw a note on Facebook where Shelley Brooks mentioned already missing her mother, I looked further and found that Mary Lou had just died.

"She was one of a kind," I wrote on Shelley's Facebook wall.  "No doubt she's up there running the show in Heaven."

Mary Lou did a great job of that here on Earth.  

Plus, I always heard about her cinnamon rolls, served at Priest River High School.

Mary Lou strong-armed me into doing a few projects to help out among the many she performed throughout our county. 

I happily said yes because I'd known her for years and had never held it against her when she and her sister Cow Belles sat in the stands, giggling out loud as my cow Millie dragged me around the arena at the old fairgrounds.

My favorite story about Mary Lou deals with some folks who did hold it against her when she sat in the stands and yelled at the referees.  I heard that she and her friend Barbara Anselmo even got kicked out once. 

Yesterday I learned that another well-known person in our community---a former city councilman, father of of one of my students----died after a long struggle with brain cancer.

Bill worked with Chuck Spicklemire's dad at the IDL, and, for years, came home with Lowell Spicklemire stories.

Later, I came home with stories about how smart that Aaron Spicklemire--Chuck's son---was. Nice young man too.

And, anyone in town can tell you what a wonderful, upbeat lady Colleen Spicklemire is as she adds joy to the lives of all she meets. 

The families of all these people will set off in new directions as the rest of us Northern Hemisperites celebrate the Winter Solstice.

I wish them all well and feel deep sadness for their losses.