The Fredonia Censor Forestville Personals

Despite appearances to the contrary, I have not abandoned this blog.  The heart has been willing and I don't really have a good reason except to say it is not because I've lost interest.That is definitely not the case.  As soon as I can figure out how to transfer the nearly complete (and genius) blog entries that I compose as I'm driving to this screen, you should hang on to your hats!  There are no fewer than a dozen complete entries floating around inside my head that can't seem to find their way to my fingers at the appropriate time.  

One day when I was fooling around (searching professionally and with great purpose), I came across The Fredonia Censor November 8 1956 because it mentioned Dad and Forestville in the same article.  I was very intrigued to find this listing:

This seems to say that Dad lived in Forestville when I was born.  Well, I assume Dad lived there while Mom lived in Olean because I am quite certain "we" lived in Olean when I was born.  I think perhaps the Ellicottville job and living arrangement was not the first time Dad lived separately from his family for the sake of work.  I guess I did not put together that Dad worked in Forestville the year I was born even though "we" lived in Olean.  I am constantly surprised by the new things I learn about what I thought I knew very well, thank you very much.

A little further down the page was another tidbit:

This one did not surprise me one bit.

We visited Amy this weekend.  It's been too long since I've put my arms around her.  The weather wasn't too pretty on Sunday so we went shopping at the outlets.  On Monday we got a tour of the zoo -- always a treat.  We stepped into some new territory when Amy offered to pay for our meal.  I was reluctant to allow it but quickly remembered how I felt the first time I paid for Mom and Dad's meal.  It made me feel so grown up and responsible.  It puts that parent/child relationship onto a new plateau.  So, Miss Amy, thank you for breakfast!  We love you.

I don't know how this happens, but it seems the same with Ryan.  You probably know he recently got a tattoo and I expect you know that Jim and I aren't really in favor of that for our children.  But it's one of those times when parents need to allow their children to make their own decisions complete with the knowledge that Mom and Dad aren't on board.  This relationship also has reached a new level.  I now have (nearly) grown up children.  Sigh.  

When they were very young, moving from one developmental step to another always brought joy at the same level as wistfulness.  So I find myself sighing heavily with a slight smile on my heart.