Taylored Memorial Creations

  I am an avid coffee drinker.   Growing up, my mom always had a pot brewing and I have memories of different people visiting with us, sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee. Family and friends planning to hunt in the woods behind our property would stop in and drink coffee at our house before they headed out. When they returned, they were warmed with a hot cup of coffee. I have fond memories of talking with family and friends around the dining room table, drinking coffee. A social event, I started drinking coffee at an early age.   I eventually gained a cupboard full of coffee mugs stacked two deep. Over decades of living and buying coffee mugs, or receiving gifts of coffee mugs, I had accumulated an incredible amount of coffee mugs. I was very proud of that huge collection of coffee mugs and loved picking one out to use when someone joined me for a cup of coffee.   If coffee mugs were gold, I would have been rich beyond measure. I owned coffee mugs from d

 Chapter 3 I met Ed while in the Army stationed at Ft. Riley, Kansas, through a series of events where I had no control. I was designated as the interim driver and became armed with a military learner's permit and subsequently, a military driver's license. Yes, you read that right. Although my mom allowed me attend Driver's Education in high school, I never earned my driver's license. My mom would not let me driver her car (a special thanks to my two, older sisters!) so I never saw any reason to pursue my license. After a short time of driving with a military learner’s permit, I finally earned my military driver’s license. I became the driver for the Sergeant Major for our section at the main headquarters armed with my first license at age 19, and thus began my foray into hands-on learning solo driving! I was assigned to drive a big, military “CUCV”--basically a diesel Blazer. Now this beast was so tall (to me), that in order to scrape ice from the windshiel

Chapter 2 My minimalism journey began when I joined the Army. I joined fresh out of high school with no idea what to bring with me. I shipped out from the Detroit MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) with a gym bag full of a few articles of clothing—a couple pair of jeans, t-shirts, and some underwear; and a small suitcase containing all my toiletries—soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, blow dryer, hairspray and make up. Armed with this minimal amount of “stuff” I shipped out to serve my country. The truth is the only reason these items were all I packed was because I thought that was all I could bring. Or all I should take. I was joining the Army. Didn’t that mean I would be running around in those dress green uniforms all day? Housed in barracks with rows and rows of bunk beds. I didn’t need anything else, and I didn’t have room for anything else. Also, it was all I could carry. At 5’, 100 pounds, I really couldn’t carry a large amount of luggage with m

     I picked up another item from the dusty box. It was a thin, ½-inch, blue notebook. I opened it and inside were pages and pages of different colored movie ticket stubs stapled to lined, notebook pages. There were easily 40-50 movie stubs stapled to each side of each page. You know the old movie tickets, where you go to the movie theater and the theater attendant has an enormous roll of tickets. They tear one off for you as your proof to enter into the movie world of your choice.      I paged through, glancing at all the movie stubs carefully lined up. Each page brought a fresh whiff of a musty odor. The idea that my late husband had painstakingly collected these movie tickets and stapled them symmetrically in rows and rows and put them together in this notebook--the time he spent on it, attending the movies, collecting and meticulously stapling. The incredible number of hours he dedicated to something he loved.      It was nothing but old movie tickets in a notebook to the outs