When I grow up I want to be just like my Grandma Geiser. Grandma is a spunky 96 year old One of the perks of being 96 is you can pretty much say whatever you are thinking without getting in too much trouble although Grandma has always said exactly what's on her mind.
Geiser's have a tendency to tell the same stories over and over. Most of us can probably repeat most of their trucking and football stories verbatim. There is one story that Grandma tells all the time and every time it touches my heart and brings a tear to my eye. Grandma and Grandpa Geiser raised seven boys and one girl and long before it was fashionable they worked side by side on the ranch,driving trucks and raising their family. Grandpa died many many years ago and Grandma still misses him like it was yesterday. She goes to his grave to update him on everything going on and she still feels his presence. She had this dream that they were at a dance and the music playing was very beautiful. Grandpa walks up to her, smiles and holds out his hand so they can dance to the song together. She stands up ready to dance with him and just as she is about to grab his hand she wakes up. Grandma wonders what would have happened if she would have grabbed his hand before she woke up and my heart flutters every time at the thought. Then she says, "We didn't have much but we had enough." Grandma is a tough lady but the loss of her husband and partner of many years is something she still has not recovered from.
She tells the best stories and my blog will be an attempt to record them for I regret not doing the same with my Grandma Tina and Grandma Rita. If we don't remember them and pass them down, they are forgotten and they shouldn't be as memories are some of the most valuable moments in our lives and in the lives of our relatives before us. More Grandma Geiser stories to follow. :)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Social Marketing
So this guy gave a presentation in our sales meeting today about social marketing. Basically, the pitch was to Facebook and Tweet to generate clients. I understand that I can use my blog to establish myself as an expert in marketing and to give advise on how to generate more customers. However, I enjoy Facebook as it offers the opportunity to keep in touch with family and friends in a way we have never been able to. You can literally stay in touch with people on a daily basis and you know how they feel, what they've been doing and the "complicated" relationship status. I like being able to joke about something without worrying about who we might offend. I like complaining about the Broncos. I don't think that work should pervade our lives so much that we can not be ourselves. As it is I can't watch TV, read a newspaper or drive around town without prospecting or observing marketing campaigns and some of it really amuses me.
Marketing articles, books and lectures discuss how businesses can use Facebook to generate more business and maybe it does but frankly I am going to eat at a restaurant because they have good food and good service. I go to certain stores because their selection and prices are right. I'm not going to join their Fan Page on Facebook--that doesn't matter to me. I know because of the business I am in that it is getting harder and harder to reach and motivate the consumer but the latest greatest isn't always effective. Like the internet it isn't going away but most businesses need to focus on their product first.
Marketing articles, books and lectures discuss how businesses can use Facebook to generate more business and maybe it does but frankly I am going to eat at a restaurant because they have good food and good service. I go to certain stores because their selection and prices are right. I'm not going to join their Fan Page on Facebook--that doesn't matter to me. I know because of the business I am in that it is getting harder and harder to reach and motivate the consumer but the latest greatest isn't always effective. Like the internet it isn't going away but most businesses need to focus on their product first.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Sisters
There are many of my relatives that have died and gone to heaven so I would like to continue remembering. I know that you are able to learn a little about me as well as your own memories that might be recalled from these postings. When we were little we had another sister, her name was Jeanette. Annette and Jeanette were only two years apart in age and inseperable. We were together all of the time and we often wore matching outfits. Although we weren't twins it was almost like we were for we sometimes filled in the blanks in each of our conversations. Mom tells a story of the two of us watching our Dad work on his truck, I can't remember who started the conversation but it went like this, Girl one,"Daddy is so handsome." Girl two, "Uh huh." I can vaguely remember the glances and giggles of two little girls who created our own games and clues, playing in our sandbox or running across the street to visit Mr and Mrs Drum.
When Jeanette was five and I was seven, there was something wrong with her eye and our Mom took her to the doctor. A simple malady resulted in a diagnosis of leukemia. We lived in a small town, with no stop lights, no fast food and no hospital. For two years, our Mom and Dad took Jeanette to many doctor appointments, many hospital stays. She endured chemotherapy, painful spinal taps and seperation from each other as I had to stay home with Grandma and Granpa to go to school. The chemotherapy made her puffy and she lost her beautiful black hair. She hated wearing the wigs and we really hated being apart form each other. I look at pictues of each other, my sandy blonde hair and her dark hair and I can see the twinkle in her eye. She really was a little angel.
Jeanette was in the hospital and my Uncle Jim was going to take me to see her in the hospital. I was sleeping on the couch at Grandma's house and when I woke up I heard the adults crying in the kitchen. I knew then that she was gone and that I would never see her again. All of the social activity that goes with the death of a relative and the funeral seemed so surreal to me. I could not cry at the church, I could not cry at her grave, I was numb. I remember Father Kennedy, Jeanette loved him so much. I remember him playing his guitar and singing "How Great Thou Art." I'm still so sad that I couldn't tell her good-bye. I still miss her.
I can not imagine the pain and devastation my Mom and Dad felt during her illness and after her death. Many many years later, my Dad told us that their marriage almost did not survive the tragedy. Today I can't imagine them being apart but Dad said that they stuck it out for us kids. Sometimes I wonder why God takes young children or young adults from this world. Unfullfilled dreams and kind souls who leave their parents, brothers, sisters and all of their families. After they leave it always seems like something is missing. It has been many years and I can still see the pain in my Mom's eyes. When Jeanette died, Laurie was a baby and we are as close as Jeanette and I were. I tell her all of my secrets. We love and protect each other and our own. I can only imagine how much fun the three of us would have had if Jeanette were still here. Sisters are so special, I am so glad that Jeanette was a part of my life, even if it was for a short time. I still miss her and I always will.
When Jeanette was five and I was seven, there was something wrong with her eye and our Mom took her to the doctor. A simple malady resulted in a diagnosis of leukemia. We lived in a small town, with no stop lights, no fast food and no hospital. For two years, our Mom and Dad took Jeanette to many doctor appointments, many hospital stays. She endured chemotherapy, painful spinal taps and seperation from each other as I had to stay home with Grandma and Granpa to go to school. The chemotherapy made her puffy and she lost her beautiful black hair. She hated wearing the wigs and we really hated being apart form each other. I look at pictues of each other, my sandy blonde hair and her dark hair and I can see the twinkle in her eye. She really was a little angel.
Jeanette was in the hospital and my Uncle Jim was going to take me to see her in the hospital. I was sleeping on the couch at Grandma's house and when I woke up I heard the adults crying in the kitchen. I knew then that she was gone and that I would never see her again. All of the social activity that goes with the death of a relative and the funeral seemed so surreal to me. I could not cry at the church, I could not cry at her grave, I was numb. I remember Father Kennedy, Jeanette loved him so much. I remember him playing his guitar and singing "How Great Thou Art." I'm still so sad that I couldn't tell her good-bye. I still miss her.
I can not imagine the pain and devastation my Mom and Dad felt during her illness and after her death. Many many years later, my Dad told us that their marriage almost did not survive the tragedy. Today I can't imagine them being apart but Dad said that they stuck it out for us kids. Sometimes I wonder why God takes young children or young adults from this world. Unfullfilled dreams and kind souls who leave their parents, brothers, sisters and all of their families. After they leave it always seems like something is missing. It has been many years and I can still see the pain in my Mom's eyes. When Jeanette died, Laurie was a baby and we are as close as Jeanette and I were. I tell her all of my secrets. We love and protect each other and our own. I can only imagine how much fun the three of us would have had if Jeanette were still here. Sisters are so special, I am so glad that Jeanette was a part of my life, even if it was for a short time. I still miss her and I always will.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Dias de los Muertos
Yesterday we went to Pueblo to watch my neices perform for Dia de los Muertos. I was VERY impressed by the fact that they could dance with a REAL candle on their heads. Dia de los Muertos is a three day Mexican holiday to celebrate and honor our loved ones that have passed away. The best way to honor deceased loved ones is by remembering them. In remembering them, we honor them. Today, in my blog, I would like to honor my maternal grandfather, George Galvan.
My grandfather died when I was nine years old so my memory of him is the sketchy memory of a child who lost two loved ones within a few short months. My cousins, brothers and sisters did not get to know him like I did for they were very young when he died and that was truely a tragedy as he loved his children and he loved and indulged his grandchildren. My Grandpa Galvan fought in World War II and one of my favorite pictures of him is in his uniform in a gold regal frame. He looked very handsome and it made me very proud knowing that he fought for our country.
We basically grew up on "the hill" which is Grandpa and Grandma Galvan's home as well as Grandma Tina and Grandpa Frank's who were across the street and a few feet down the hill. I remember my Dad calling it "the hill". We were there most of the time with our cousins who were like brothers and sisters as we were together all of the time. My Dad felt that I was spoiled rotten by the grandparents and the aunts and uncles and I probably was as the oldest grandchild on my Mom's side. I remember loving Grandpa Galvan VERY much. He was a hard worker and he was very jovial. He had a great smile but if he got mad--watch out! I remember him spanking me once and I was very unhappy with him--he actually apologized but I wouldn't forgive him. When he died, I felt very guilty about that. He was very religious and went to church every Friday for the Rosary and on Sunday and I always went with him.
Grandpa liked to go hunting and he would hunt for rabbits and Grandma would cook them. It was pretty good. Sometimes after work, he would go to the bar in town to have some drinks with his buddies and Grandma would read him the riot act. He would smile and kiss her but that didn't work--Little Rita had a temper.
The day he died, he was going to take me to Walsenburg to buy some new shoes for Easter. For some reason, I had the feeling that he wouldn't buy me those shoes although he had never let me down. My Uncle George came to get me out of school early because Grandpa had died that day. He was operating a grator on a steep road, it tipped over and trapped him underneath and he wasn't found until it was too late. At Grandpa's funeral I saw my Dad cry for the very first time. I remember seeing Grandpa in the casket and while it looked like him, it didn't feel like it was really him because he wasn't smiling at me and I knew then why my stoic Father was crying. He was a good man and God took him too soon but while he was alive he made a difference in my life and I still miss him. I wish my cousins, brothers and sister could have had the time with him that I did and I know that he is one of my guardian angels watching over me and smiling down at me. I love you Grandpa.
My grandfather died when I was nine years old so my memory of him is the sketchy memory of a child who lost two loved ones within a few short months. My cousins, brothers and sisters did not get to know him like I did for they were very young when he died and that was truely a tragedy as he loved his children and he loved and indulged his grandchildren. My Grandpa Galvan fought in World War II and one of my favorite pictures of him is in his uniform in a gold regal frame. He looked very handsome and it made me very proud knowing that he fought for our country.
We basically grew up on "the hill" which is Grandpa and Grandma Galvan's home as well as Grandma Tina and Grandpa Frank's who were across the street and a few feet down the hill. I remember my Dad calling it "the hill". We were there most of the time with our cousins who were like brothers and sisters as we were together all of the time. My Dad felt that I was spoiled rotten by the grandparents and the aunts and uncles and I probably was as the oldest grandchild on my Mom's side. I remember loving Grandpa Galvan VERY much. He was a hard worker and he was very jovial. He had a great smile but if he got mad--watch out! I remember him spanking me once and I was very unhappy with him--he actually apologized but I wouldn't forgive him. When he died, I felt very guilty about that. He was very religious and went to church every Friday for the Rosary and on Sunday and I always went with him.
Grandpa liked to go hunting and he would hunt for rabbits and Grandma would cook them. It was pretty good. Sometimes after work, he would go to the bar in town to have some drinks with his buddies and Grandma would read him the riot act. He would smile and kiss her but that didn't work--Little Rita had a temper.
The day he died, he was going to take me to Walsenburg to buy some new shoes for Easter. For some reason, I had the feeling that he wouldn't buy me those shoes although he had never let me down. My Uncle George came to get me out of school early because Grandpa had died that day. He was operating a grator on a steep road, it tipped over and trapped him underneath and he wasn't found until it was too late. At Grandpa's funeral I saw my Dad cry for the very first time. I remember seeing Grandpa in the casket and while it looked like him, it didn't feel like it was really him because he wasn't smiling at me and I knew then why my stoic Father was crying. He was a good man and God took him too soon but while he was alive he made a difference in my life and I still miss him. I wish my cousins, brothers and sister could have had the time with him that I did and I know that he is one of my guardian angels watching over me and smiling down at me. I love you Grandpa.
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