By Delynda Pilon

There is a cold going around, which of course means I get to cough, sneeze and feel generally miserable for a week or so. After commiserating with a co-worker who was also suffering with a nasty cough, I learned that she had bronchitis a lot as a kid, but she didn’t mind because a bad cold meant coddling and ice cream in her family.

I told her when I was a kid, I was afraid to cough - especially around my Grandma French.

Grandma was an awesome woman, one of the world’s true ladies. She grew up during the depression and she could look into a cupboard anyone else would describe as bare and come up with a delicious meal.

She also strongly believed in home remedies.

When I was a kid, it seemed I caught every cold around (nope, things haven’t changed much). Grandma would hear me cough, then get to work in the kitchen, mixing several nasty ingredients into what she described as a cough syrup.

Thank goodness she never tried to market it. It made Buckley’s taste good.

She began with onions, mustard, garlic and apple cider vinegar. I remember looking on with horror as the concoction brewed, stifling whatever cough was attempting to erupt from my chest. I’d take shallow breaths, hold my breath and sometimes turn red in the face trying to suppress that cough. I never did get out of having to take a couple of spoon fulls of that ‘medicine’ though.

The next day mom would inevitably get a call from Grandma inquiring after my health.Me: (Pleading) I’m great. Tell her I’m great.

Grandma: (Knowingly) See. The medicine worked.

If that wasn’t bad enough, some of Grandma’s beliefs in home remedies were passed down to my mom. Though she didn’t know how to make the dreaded cough syrup, she did believe that every time you got a cold you should slather menthol rub on an old sock and pin it around your neck.

In case you are wondering, old socks don’t feel comfortable when pinned around the neck. I can absolutely attest to this fact. They did not make me fee better. Actually, they made me feel ridiculous and also a little grossed out. My co-worker asked me why it had to be an old sock. To this day I don’t have an answer for that one.

That kind of reminds me of the time I had pink eye, and a friend took off her wedding ring and told me to rub it on the infected area because the gold made pink eye better. I did it, but I still had pink eye the next day. You know what? So did my friend.

Anyway, I learned at a very young age to mistrust home remedies, and though I miss Grandma French dearly, I definitely do not miss that cold syrup.

By Delynda Pilon

I remember  holding my son when he was just a few months old, getting up for early morning feedings, learning the hard way that there is absolutely nothing worth watching on the tube at 3 a.m. and wondering if he would ever sleep in.

I enjoyed every moment of it - I really did, from going from a small purse to carting around everything from extra bottles and diapers to an extra shirt for myself because I’d inevitably get spit up on sometime during the day when we went out. The hardest times were walking the floor with my little fellow when he was crying and I couldn’t figure out why - he was fed, the diaper was changed and he’d been burped. He couldn’t tell me yet what was wrong, and I felt like the worst mom in the world cause I just couldn’t figure out the problem. He’d cry, and you know, sometimes I would too. Then mom or another relative would come along and he’d settle right down for them, and I’d be certain that one of the mothering genes had missed me somehow. Then my dad would tell me to enjoy it while I could, because before I knew it he’d be all grown up.

How many times have we all heard that one?

My boy turned 18 on Friday, and I finally get it. I even find myself saying the same thing to moms who look harried, having just shushed a young one who was fussing for whatever reason. And I know they hear me just like I heard my dad - with a small smile, a nod and a ‘ya, I know’ - but they don’t really hear me. They can’t. They are growing up too, right along with that child, and it is only in retrospect that you realize how precious every little second is, the good ones - like the first ‘love you mom’ and the bad ones - like when Dallas fell at the skating rink and his tooth went through his lip - or the summer I bought him a beebee gun and he shot holes in all of grandma’s planters.

That wonderful collection of memories is the glue that binds families together. From ‘do you remember the time...’ to ‘this reminds me of when...’ and the reminiscing begins. Of course, looking back every parent thinks of things they could have done better. Sometimes I feel like I would make a much better parent now that I can say I am actually an adult then I did back then, but I guess everyone feels that sting at one time or another. But then I take a look at my boy and the guy he has become - kind, loving, a good friend and someone who would never knowingly cause another pain - and I realize that love truly does conquer all, even our own occasional errors in judgment. I am so excited for him and all the adventures that await him, and I am so proud to be able to be a person he still confides in, still wants to spend time with and still influences him.

In the end, being a mom is really the best thing I have ever done - more fulfilling than any interview or story, any job I’ve had or even any other relationship I’ve enjoyed.

Now I can look forward to being a grandma. Someday. And, Dallas, I do mean someday....

By Jamie Rieger

It is always nice to take a bit of a breather, a few days off work with nothing to do but enjoy the lazy dog days of summer.

There was nothing I wanted more than to do exactly that and maybe do a little bit of daytripping and exploring along the way. But, like most plans, there is always something that gets changed and usually at the last minute.

I did get a few things accomplished during my days off. I got a few household projects done that should have been tackled ages ago, had a minor medical issue attended to and that too, should have been taken care of a long time ago, and I have had the sheer pleasure of getting to dog-sit during the overnight hours. Now, this is not a little puppy, but a huge four-year old Alaskan Malamute whose owners are in a transition of moving. What a beautiful, well-behaved and majestic creature this pooch is, too.

I had a few concerns about how he would get along with my two ferrets who are considerably smaller than the dog, but my worries were put to rest when all the three creatures did was a lot of sniffing of each other. Still,  when the dog is around, the ferrets are kept in their cage for their own safety.

On Sunday night, this massive dog laid completely across my living room, nose nestled against the patio doors and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the cool, gentle breeze that was blowing in.

Now, this is exactly what is meant by the dog days of summer; lounging in the  fresh air with not a care in the world, but getting fresh food and water, a walk or two, some play time and the occasional belly rub.

Well, maybe I did not need the belly rub, but the rest of it seems pretty accurate and not far off from how I spent this summer’s staycation. And, instead of finding me with my nose nestled against the patio door, mine was most likely up close and personal with my computer monitor as I got caught up on as many baseball games as I could squeeze in.

Now, as the dog continues with his dog days, mine have come to a close aand it is back to the daily routine and trying to enjoy what is left of the summer.

By Delynda Pilon

There is nothing so enchanting to a young man as a car, so when our own sports’ columnist, Rob Ficiur, offered his car to my son Dallas, he was thrilled.
Rob warned Dallas that this chariot needed some TLC. He told him it uses more oil than gas and that what’s left of the clutch tends to be cranky once in a while, but Dallas didn’t hear any of that. All he saw was that lovely little blue car lit up in beams of glory - and actually I think he heard choruses of angels singing too - or in his case, maybe it was choruses of electric guitars played by long-haired tattooed men - whichever.
Anyway, the battery was dead so moving the car took some work. Even with a boost, the battery wasn’t doing much especially with Dallas so impatient to get his new baby home. But, after about 20 minutes, everyone knew it just wasn’t happening right away. After borrowing a charger from another Rob (Burgess), the guys decided to push the car back up the slighly inclined drive so it would be off the street, leave it on the charger overnight, then try again in the morning.
Dallas’s disapointment was so thick it hung over him like a cloud. He sat behind the wheel of the car, long-faced.
“You know, it’s kind of tradition to let the girl drive while you push,” I said in an attempt to get him moving.
He glowered at me for a second then got his girlfriend, Kaitlyn, behind the wheel of the car while him and Rob got on the tail end, grunting and shoving with all their might to get it back up the small rocky incline.
I supervised the entire event.
After a few moments of straining, they got the car moving, red-faced as it rolled up about 20 feet.
Dallas: (to Kaitlyn) Brake!
The guys let go and the car began rolling with much more momemtum and force backwards. They both grabbed it, but it’s weight was greater than their strength, and it began pushing them.
Dallas: (to Kaitlyn) Brake! Brake!
Kaitlyn: Which brake???
Me: (Laughing uncontrollably.)
Dallas: The other brake! The other brake!
Kaitlyn, who had never been behind the wheel of a standard before finally realized she was pushing the clutch, not the brake, and after hitting the right pedal, the car stopped its decline.
Me: (Still laughing.)
Rob: Of course the one who’s laughing isn’t in danger of being run over.
Me: (Slowing to a giggle.) This is all good. I needed something for next week’s column.
Rob: That’s what worries me.
Anyway, eventually Dallas got his car home. Now him and his friends spend considerable time in the back boosting the car and letting her purr, making plans about rebuild kits and new clutches and all sorts of things. I don’t mind. At least when they start her up the smoke from the engine kills all the no-see-ums and mosquitos in our back yard.