Building Strong Children

It's been a bad week, huh?

We'll never understand the reason behind Sunday night's tragedy in Law Vegas, and frankly I wondered if I even had anything to write about this morning. Sunday night has left me sad, uninspired and wanting terribly to just be with my family in our living room. 

Then I saw someone on Facebook share a video showing exactly what the shooter's hotel room looked like when he opened fire. It was a virtual tour of the setting he was in when he made a horrific decision. 
I don't want to see that. 
I don't want to be in his element. 
I don't want to hear about his life, his buying history or his girlfriend. 
I don't want to know anymore about him. 
He was a terribly broken human being. 

I want to think about moving forward. 

This quote has been on my mind all week. 
(As I write this, it's only Tuesday. Jesus, take the wheel.)

"It is easier to build strong children 
than to repair broken men." 

- Frederick Douglass

So starting now, 

lets focus on building strong children. 

This means setting an example in how you treat other people, whether that be at the school pick-up line, on the sports field, at home or in a restaurant. 
This means setting an example in how you use your words to encourage, discipline or guide.
This means setting an example in how you honor your spouse, your parents and others that you consider family. 
This means setting an example in how you take care of yourself; your body, your mind and your faith. 
This means setting an example in how you take care of things around you, leaving things better than how you found them. 
This means setting an example in how you make choices, taking into account the the things that matter, against the ones that don't. 
This means setting an example in how you determine and honor your priorities. 
This means setting an example in how you spend your "free" time. 
This means setting an example in how you value your daily work. 

Who knows? Maybe it won't be only children you influence by living well. Those around you may begin to emulate your example, one by one, building a character of integrity in a world that desperately needs it. 

People on this earth are broken, some certainly more so than others. Let's commit today to do everything in our power to grow a population that values one another. By being kind, extending grace and loving one another, let's show the rest of the world that we value human life. 

Even when it brings us to our knees. 

What We Can All Learn From Ken Bone

All I wanted was to fold our towels and washcloths alone upstairs in our bedroom, put them away in the bathroom, and avoid any heated argument. 

It didn't work. 

My plan to avoid the presidential debate was foiled when I carried the full load of clean towels downstairs and across the living room. 

I stopped briefly to check on Cody and Caroline in the recliner and turned to face the television just in time to hear Anderson Cooper introduce Ken Bone. 

What a name, I thought to myself. 

If you recognize the name Ken Bone you likely watched the debate, also. 

If you recognize this face you have likely watched television in the last two days. 

I don't know too much about this guy other than he captivated the country by bringing a fresh face and a red sweater to a vicious conversation between two enemies. It's as though the world stopped spinning and the dust settled a bit when that white tie and mustache took center stage. 

He is the first guy I've ever seen wear a white tie with no plans of getting married in less than an hour. 

I do know - while studying him in the media briefly in over the last 48 hours - that we can all learn a thing or three from the one and only Ken Bone. 

1. Flexibility pays off greatly in the long run

I'm actually not talking about running, at all. 

Ken made a split (pun so intended) decision to address a major issue and it ended up in his favor. He packed a lovely olive suit but had to wear a second string red sweater because of a last-minute catastrophe. His ability to evaluate a situation and act differently than planned put this guy on the map. It made him the absolute highlight of a nationally broadcasted train wreck. 

If you could just accept the fact that your plan may not be perfectly working out, what kind of reward might be waiting for you in the end?

2. Live in the Moment

This idea can be transformed into such a cliche, but Ken Bone can not. 

This is actual footage of Ken in a moment in time where he seized an opportunity. 

With a disposable camera. 

Like, the kind made of plastic and paper that comes in a foil wrapper. 

From a gas station. 

But because Ken had the 

1) confidence to wander aimlessly and alone around a set and 

2) determination to get a good shot and 

3) ingenuity to bring a disposal camera to a debate where cellular devices were banned 

he now has a keepsake photo (or 32) to commemorate the worst election in the history of our country and the night he broke the internet. You all know I believe in the power of film cameras. Seeing Ken take these photos sure brought a smile (giggle) to my face. 

When the credits roll, is your family going to have any record of the days you really lived, or will they all be one your cell phone or hard drive?

3. Be Unapologetically You

This is the most important thing we can learn from Ken Bone. 

Interview - after interview - after interview:

Ken doesn't apologize for his awkward last minute outfit change.

Ken doesn't hesitate to mention his beloved family (he mentions his grandfather, his grandmother and his mother). 

Ken doesn't pretend to abandon his real life responsibilities because every news channel in America came knocking. 

Ken remains solid, true to himself, confident and quirky as all get out. 

And I absolutely adore that about this stranger. 

In Caroline's nursery hangs this sign that I read every single day (or, night). It's not something my parents every said to me, but it is certainly something they taught me. They instilled this strong desire to never lose my unique, personal identity. This is the exact reason why I didn't over-pluck my eyebrows down to pencil thin lines like 73% of gals, ages 14 - 22, did in 2001.

In this entire world - this entire history - this entire galaxy:

God created only one you. 

Why (Why? Why? Why?) would you ever want to be like someone else?

Nothing about you is accidental. 

And no one in this entire world has the amazing ability to be you.

Be Unapologetically you.  

I could have folded laundry Sunday night in our living room with the two snooze buckets in the recliner but I wanted to remove myself from any negativity that may lie ahead. Instead, I walked in on a perfect life lesson from some guy I'll never have the opportunity to meet. 

One thing is certain: I'll take some random guy in a red sweater who loves his grandma blowing up my media feed any day over politics.

The world needs more Ken Bone. 

A Warm, Glowing Fiasco

We never say the words, but every so often Momma and I ask for opportunities to be miserable. 

We’re alike in that there is no place we’d rather be than home. On any given Friday night we’re happiest at home with a box of Triscuits, sharp cheddar cheese and a 2-hour Dateline Special. With the deadbolt locked…and taking turns checking it during every commercial break. But sometimes we do leave home and venture into what one might call situations.

We once sat in line for four hours during  Tire Drop Off Day. You want a good glimpse of the people in your tiny part of the world? Go ahead and tell the public they can dispose of all tires for free during one Saturday only. Then sit in a parked truck for four hours and watch. That’s a blog for another week. We survived, but it was the only time I seriously thought my Momma might consider leaving Dad. He had sent us to town that day in the farm truck with a bed full of dry rot tires, some stale airplane peanuts in the console and two cookbooks. Like I said, a story for another time. 

Momma and I are on the right. 

She called me Sunday morning:

“Can I call you back when I get in the car? I’m trying to get out the door to church,” I asked in haste.

“Well I’m walking into church now (her way of revealing that my time is no more valuable than hers). Do you want to go to Warm Glow after church?” Momma asked.

I knew what I wanted to do, but I also knew the timing couldn’t be any worse: this was Christmas open house weekend at possibly the largest public attraction in our area: Warm Glow.

 

I grew up just minutes from Warm Glow, a candle shop once the size of a two-car garage that has more recently expanded into 80,000 square feet of candles, signage, home décor, beer, wine, hand crafted soaps and other wild things that I’m certain your brain could never even dream up. It’s every most women’s dreamland and every man’s nightmarish hell. 

Check out the amazing products at  Lonely Windmill Farm 

In my life B. C. (before Cody) I invested a small fortune into Warm Glow turning my first house into a beautiful little home. Now A.C. (you get it) those scented candle rings and sparkly burlap lampshades hide in mouse-proof (I do the best I can) Rubbermaid tubs while I now prefer to decorate with anything that can be rinsed off with a garden hose. Guys are gross.

Anyhow…

Knowing that this weekend was the biggest shopping weekend for Warm Glow (like, thousands flock to this place), I accepted the challenge and told Momma I’d meet her at BSG after church and we’d carpool the 4.7 miles to Warm Glow for an afternoon of shopping for things that will be in Rubbermaid in 25 days.

I drove over I-70 and our grand idea of self-inflicted pain really struck; the parking lot was packed, the lawn was covered by vehicles and cars were winding down the long driveway, parking by the road.

“Well this was stupid,” Momma said. I kept driving. Misery loves company and I was about to rub elbows with 1,500 of my very best friends. Once inside she told me we didn’t need a cart since we’d be here only 20 minutes. I knew better and grabbed a cart then threw my purse and coat inside. Might as well get comfy. I should have worn yogas.

We were on a (suicide) mission to find only a few, very specific things:

Momma: 1 Red, 1 White and 1 Green candle for a centerpiece.

Me: Two candles for upcoming gift exchanges.

BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE

I got my steps in, though my Fitbit was resting peacefully on my nightstand. We actually walked the entire width of the store three times looking for a damn peppermint candle – the white in Momma’s festive trio. We couldn't do Evening Mocha or Coconut Cream or Creamy Vanilla Bean. Nope. Nothing smells like Christmas like a Merry Mint candle burning next to a Northern Pine burning next to a Cranberry Stardust. At one point I didn't know if we were going by color or the fact that Momma made her list on an empty stomach.

However, during our voyage for the perfect Merry Mint, we visited with:

1 old nursing colleague

2 high school classmates

 1 FFA friend

3 people we tried to avoid for the sake of time

8 Facebook friends, one of which I asked how wedding planning was going only to learn there would be none. Jean’s Boots Lesson #1,271: If you can’t recall many Facebook posts about said wedding planning, best to not even mention it.

And 378 children looking for

Santa, Mrs. Claus and….Elsa.

Momma got more excited about Elsa being at Warm Glow than a 60-something should. It’s the Grammie in her, I guess. She asked me to wait in line to see Elsa so I could get my picture with her to send to my niece Marlee (6).

I found a few holes in this proposal:

I’m 30-something and have frankly never seen Frozen.

I forgot my Frozen costume.

I’m 30-something.

I couldn’t see the end of the line.

I’m 30-something.

If I did stand in line looking like Buddy the Elf compared to everyone else, who in the heck was going to take the picture? 

Momma got an iPhone just over a month ago and has Facetimed me something like 68 times since. There was no way I was going to teach her how to use the camera today. 

I came up with a better solution and asked Elsa to pose for a solo photo in between toddler hugs. The only thing that could have made this more awkward for this amazing sport of a gal would be if I were a 57-year-old male.

We then found the bird display and stocked up on birds for Momma’s old bird tree, which sits at the top of the landing and terrifies every grandchild old enough to focus their eyes (Georgia is just so very young, give it time). I’m including pictures for my friend Cheyanne.

 

When the day was said and done, in our cart we had 14 candles, 6 candle plates, 4 creepy birds, 3 bags of candle chips, 1 Christmas present I can’t discuss and a box of wine. Yes, on a Sunday. There was a winery on display in the corner of the Watering Can (Warm Glow’s garden center) and Momma somehow found them while looking through the Fairy Gardens. 

Who am I kidding? We were as lost as last year’s Easter egg and that card table with a wine display seemed like a mirage. But it was real! Twelve bottles, real.

If you’ve never been to Warm Glow, it’s a must-see attraction while traveling I-70 between Indiana and Ohio. The concept of the perfect candle began in a couple’s basement just down the road from BSG and has grown into this really incredible shop tucked away in rows of Indiana corn. At the same exit is a Dairy Queen, so you can spend your kids’ inheritance on hearth candles then blow your last $15 cash on Blizzards just across the way. That’s assuming you didn’t eat Warm Glow ice-cream while shopping.

The afternoon turned out well and Momma and I left feeling as tired and broke as we did after Tire Drop Off Day. Our legs and pocketbooks hurt, but we reconfirmed something that day:

We just weren't cut out for 

some social events unless they involve 

cheese and  Keith Morrison. 

Daddy's Store

The passing of time makes room for the birth of change.

From the time I met Cody's paternal grandmother Melva Jean, she has talked about her Daddy's store. This store she often speaks of cultivated her own path in Kansas and now the memories of it saturate her mind. 

It was announced this week that Shepler's Western Wear in Wichita, Kansas is being sold to Boot Barn Holdings and will in turn lose the Shepler name. Another day in Kansas business news to thousands, but a sad day for Melva Jean. 

You see, her Daddy, Harry Shepler, started that store as Harry Shepler Saddles and Leather on February 16, 1946. 

Then

Daddy's store is, in fact, now Shepler's.

(They are having a huge online sale at the time of this blog, by the way)

Now

In the spirit of reminiscing, preservation and heritage, I reached out to Melva and asked questions about the original Shepler’s store. She admitted she’s quite sad about the transition. Though she married years ago and took the Sankey name, there is still a connection for Melva on Kellog Street in Wichita.

From here I’ll let Melva’s answers tell the story of a historic western store and her Daddy's vision.

Harry Shepler

“You asked how Daddy acquired the store...

When he was in his late twenties and early thirties he found that he had Parkinson Disease. At that time he was the youngest person they knew who had it. Anyway, he knew before long he would be disabled so he had to find something to do. He sold the ranch at Piedmont, KS and bought the J W Gibson Harness Shop. He carried $40,000.00 cash in a paper sack to pay Mr. Gibson. He then renamed it Harry Shepler Saddles and Leather. That was February 16, 1946. 

A Harry Shepler Saddle 

Note the signature latigo holder

Then he expanded in 1949 to include clothing, boots, etc. This was called "The Westerner". Then in 1961 he built a 10,000 square foot building and moved west out on West Kellogg Street. This is where Shepler’s is today (the original store on Kellogg Street is still standing, but is now the warehouse). Everyone told him he was making a big big mistake but he believed it was the right thing to do...and, it was. Thats how the store got started.

You asked what was my favorite part of Daddy’s store…

You know I loved it all. I loved the people that came in; I loved visiting with them. I loved - and still do - the western life.  Of course I really loved having all the new fashions as they came into the store! My mother and I always got the new things because Daddy thought it was good advertisement. But that also could be dangerous...I remember one time we had a new hat that was a different color than any others and I got it! Daddy produced rodeos every summer and we had more people at our place than in the whole town of Piedmont! Anyway, I wore that hat to one of Daddy’s Wichita rodeos and was really proud of that hat when a cowboy went over and asked Daddy if there were anymore…and of course there wasn't. So Daddy called me over and had this man try it on; it fit him so Daddy sold the hat off my head. I was a little upset, but then I asked him what if it had been my shirt? My mother quickly assured me he would never take the shirt off my back!

Not long ago a lady said she always liked to go to the rodeos and horse shows to see what my mother was wearing cause she always looked so great. Didn't say anything about me!

You asked what was my least favorite thing about working at Daddy’s store...

In fact there were two things. One: I had to wrap all packages and to this day I hate to wrap packages. I was stuck in the back room where I could not see or talk to anyone. I hated it. 

Then when Daddy moved the store out west and I had married and left home he put a wrapping table out in front where people could visit and pick out the paper they wanted etc. I asked him how come he didn't do that when I was home. He just grinned and said "Sis, you liked to visit too much and it would take you twice as long to get the work done.”

The second thing I didn't like was "Inventory".  All the ladies working in the store were older than me so I got to do all the counting down under the counters where I could not see anyone. I did not like that...especially if the customers were the cute young men!

You asked about my fondest memories…

I think that would be the people. I so enjoyed visiting with all that came in. So many times today I will read about some rancher, cattleman, farmer, etc. in today’s papers and magazines I think I know him and remember visiting with him.

Another thing was Daddy’s generosity. He was always trying to help someone. Cowboys would come into the store and need something for a big rodeo but did not have the money at the time so Daddy would say take what you need and pay when you can. I remember one year about Christmas time I was in this store buying gifts and this gentleman came up and said aren't you the Shepler girl? When I said yes he proceeded to tell me about what Daddy did to help him. Made me very proud. 

Then the one story that is dear to my heart...There was a little boy who lived north of the store and he was always walking the street and he would come by the store and look longingly at the boots and other things in the window. There was a toy holster set that he drooled over. I had gotten acquainted with him and learned a little bout his background. We had a  holster set in the back room we were sending back because it had  something wrong with it and I asked Daddy if we could give it to him. Daddy said “Sis don't give him a broken one...”. When the little boy left he had the gun holster set, plus boots, shirt, jeans, and I think a hat. Now that was Christmas Eve years and years ago and I have never forgotten how happy that little boy was. It still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it. 

You asked about any notable people who came to the store… 

Yes there were quite a few who came to the rodeos that Daddy sponsored. I remember Smiley Burnett (I still come across the picture of him and I every once in a while), Rex Allen, Tex Ritter, Hank Williams and Ben Johnson.  Then if I saw them on a show or something I would always remember them being here. There were lots more but I can't remember their name. There have been a lot of today’s country stars but that would be after Daddy's time. 

Smiley

       Rex

Tex

Hank

Ben

I guess I better get busy. I am going to make some TV Snack.

Hey, there is one thing I think people should know about Daddy.

With his Parkinson’s disease he shuffled when he walked and sometimes fell down; we were told in no uncertain terms we were not to help him up "he would do it himself".  If he fell off a horse you did not help him; he did it on his own. People would criticize us but if they offered to help he always turned them down. Daddy was a very determined man. He was also told he would be in a wheelchair but he said no; and he wasn't till they retired and I started taking them on trips. They always wanted to take Hal to Texas to the big Six Flags Over Texas so we went. I told daddy he had to be in a wheelchair cause there was too much walking and he agreed. Well we were always taken straight up to the front of the line because of his wheelchair and I told him then and there from now on whenever and wherever we went his chair went with us!! He laughingly agreed.

Remember if you have more questions just let me know. I love remembering.  But probably boring you to death!

Melva and (almost all of) her grandkids

Luv u, 

Melva Jean"

Harry succumbed to Parkinson's at age 61. Today you can get on the internet and search Shepler's and find modern "western" wear and stores nationwide. If you continue to search deep enough, and make some phone calls, you can still find the heart and soul of the original shop - Harry's leather goods - spread throughout North America. It is those pieces that will remain true to the Shepler brand and weather the generations far past the sparkle jeans and graphic t-shirts. 

Melva continues to energetically tell her story to the next generation and pass her Daddy's legacy on. Even in her eighties she still takes great pride in wearing good cowboys boots and is always - always - wearing turquoise. What more could I ask for in a grandmother-in-law? Just a couple months ago while cleaning out things at her home she found the original contract between her Daddy and JW Gibson. She is a historian and passer of stories, no doubt. 

Every family - every single one - has a story worth telling. One of love, regret, adventure, heroism, mischief, integrity or more. Are you asking the oldest living generation those questions that will tell your family's story? 

Ask them. Call them. Email them. Visit them. 

Then write it down - with pen and paper - write it down.

It's a lot less expensive, far more entertaining and much more accurate than a membership to  Ancestry.com.  

Side Note: I'm in search of an authentic Harry Shepler saddle. Do you know of anyone who might have one?