This Christmas season did not start with joyful anticipation or holiday cheer. For this teacher, the workweek ended with another dreaded in-service day with upcoming plans for interdisciplinary units and recaps of testing scores for middle school students. While teachers chatted back and forth about this year’s upcoming combined lesson, all this teacher could think about was the stack of persuasive essays that needed to be graded and next year’s lessons that needed planning. To make matters worse, the day ended on a discouraging note with frustrated teachers who aired their differences and voiced their concerns. Everyone left, and everyone felt exhausted and overwhelmed. Continue reading “Christmas Joy? Bah Humbug!”
Category: Family Stories
Grandma, Tell me a Story!
Grandma, Tell me a Story
Grandma, Tell Me a Story
Whenever my family gathered with my grandparents, the day would always end with someone asking, “Grandma, tell me a story.” These were no ordinary stories. They were rich with history—tales of covered wagons heading west, real cowboys and cowgirls living on ranches in the foothills of Colorado. We’d hear about life on a ranch, sheep camps, and the spirit of family helping family. Although we no longer lived in that beautiful state by the time we were children, we couldn’t help but believe it was the most magical place on earth.
The adults—grandparents, aunts, uncles, mom, and dad—would settle into the couch or nearby chairs, while the grandchildren crowded the floor, eager to sit as close as possible to the woman we adored. No one wanted to miss a single word. Even though we’d heard these stories many times before, we listened intently every time. We loved hearing about the adventures of the past. Occasionally, one of the little ones would ask a question, or another adult would jump in to add their own version of events. Each story felt like a living, breathing connection to our past, and it gave us a sense of pride and direction as we learned how it all began.
Those precious moments tied us to a family history we hadn’t known but grew to cherish. We felt a deep connection to our heritage, passed down through generations, and we loved every story that came with it.
Today, I am blessed with my own little ones—grandchildren who call me Honey. And now, it’s my turn to keep the tradition alive, to share the old stories and create new ones for them to treasure in the years to come.
I dedicate this sweet journey to my beloved family: my daughter, Leslie, and her husband, Aaron, and to all my wonderful grandbabies—Mathew, Cameron, Sierra, Jessica, Kylie, Connor, and Jaxon. It’s my hope that you’ll enjoy these tales and learn a little about where it all began. Love you all!
Whenever my family would spend time with my grandparents, the gatherings always ended with someone asking, “Grandma, tell me a story.” These wonderful tales included accounts of covered wagons heading west and real cowboys and cowgirls living on ranches on the western slope of Colorado. We heard narratives about life on a ranch, sheep camps, and family helping family. Although the family no longer lived in that beautiful state at that time, as children we believed it had to be the most magical place to live!
The adults, grandparents, aunts, uncles, mom, and dad, would sit on the couch or remaining chairs while the grandchildren would sit on the floor, sitting as close as they could to the woman they adored. No one wanted to miss a single word. Although we often heard the same tales over and over, we would still sit quietly and listen; we loved hearing about…
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Goun Girls
Sometimes if we have been fortunate, we find friends who become family. Over the years, I have been blessed to meet some people who I have considered to be my family. Without a doubt, Barbara Lesesne Medlock has been part of my family now for over fifty years! We met when we were schoolgirls in the sixth grade. To this day, I do not know what I would ever do without my sweet friend and sister.
The Goun Girls
Against the Odds
And Then There was a Little Punkin
Today is my lovely daughter’s 35th birthday. How did that happen? Time flies that’s for sure. Still, I have had 35 amazing years watching my daughter grow into a remarkable woman. Continue reading “And Then There was a Little Punkin”
Happy Sibling Day
In honor of Sibling Day, I decided to write about growing up with my four brothers, Tommy, David, Keith, and Danny. As kids, we had a pretty great childhood. We lived in an old Victorian House in Alameda, California. It needed work, but it was the perfect place for a large family. Continue reading “Happy Sibling Day”
Dale Evans and Roy Rogers
Even today, I envy my mom’s childhood, for her stories about life in Hotchkiss, Colorado sounded like something straight out of a western movie. During the 1940’s, my grandparents, my mama, Aunt Jan, and my Aunt Barbara lived in a log cabin on their ranch out on Allen’s Mesa; the locals called it that since so many of the Allen family lived in the area. Mama would tell us how in the evenings the family would sit in the living room and listen to the radio, and I can still hear her laugh as she explained it was like watching TV without the picture. The girls were expected to be quiet as the family would listen to their favorite stories. Continue reading “Dale Evans and Roy Rogers”
Grandma, Tell me a Story!
Whenever my family gathered with my grandparents, the evening always ended the same way—someone would inevitably ask, “Grandma, tell me a story.”
Her enchanting tales carried us back through time. We heard about covered wagons heading west and real cowboys and cowgirls working the ranches along the western slope of Colorado. She told us about long days on the ranch, nights spent in sheep camps, and seasons when neighbors relied on one another. Even though our family no longer lived in that beautiful state, we children were convinced Colorado must have been the most magical place in the world.
The adults—Grandma and Grandpa, aunts and uncles, Mom and Dad—would settle onto the couches and remaining chairs, while all the grandchildren gathered on the floor as close as we could get to the woman we adored. No one wanted to miss a single word. Even when we heard the same stories time and time again, we listened with quiet anticipation; somehow, the adventures never lost their sparkle.
Occasionally, one of the little ones would interrupt with a curious question, or an adult would chime in to offer their side of the memory. Those evenings gave us more than entertainment—they gave us a sense of pride, belonging, and direction as we learned how it all began.
Those precious days connected us to an extended family line we had never met, yet somehow already loved. Our heritage lived in those stories, and through them, we understood who we were.
Over the years, Tales of a Family has grown. Today, this blog includes not only cherished family stories and histories but also short stories, reflections, and poetry inspired by the people and places that shaped us. I hope these pieces preserve the spirit of our past while creating new stories for future generations to treasure.
What’s the Word?
Words. I love words. I love reading words. I love writing words. Words make my heart beat faster.
By the time I turned four, my momma gave me a magical gift that literally changed my world; she taught me how to read. It all began with sight words and treasure hunts, and I can still remember running around our large Victorian home while frantically searching for the day’s treasure. Sweet notes read, “Go the lamp,” with a picture momma drew of a lamp. Next note, “Go to the….well..my treasure hunt adventure would continue until I found the note that sent me straight to my cherished gem. Some days I would discover a new set of fancy barrettes. Some days, I would find a sweet treat. Fun ways to learn words and their meanings. Continue reading “What’s the Word?”
Tales of a Family 