my grandma Sheila.

You know how some people are just meant to be certain things? Like this person was meant to be a nurse and this person was meant to be a teacher?

My grandma Sheila was meant to be a grandma.

Her picture is probably next to the word “grandma” in the dictionary.

She was only 56 when I was born, but she’s been a little old lady in my entire memory. White hair, 4’11”, big smile, twinkly blue eyes.

If you lived in or around Arlington from 1931 to 2019ish, you probably knew Sheila. Grandma Sheila did a lot of things in her life - 92 years, after all - but among my peers, her legacy lies in the Arlington school lunchroom. 

Grandma Sheila worked as a lunch lady for years - she was there when I began kindergarten and there when I graduated high school. Her spot was at the dishwasher window. Kids would bring their dishes to the window, and Grandma would greet each and every one of them by name. 

It is a complete mystery to me how she managed to remember the names of hundreds of kids over decades, but she did it.

When I started school, it didn't take long for word to spread the sweet lady at the dishwasher window was my grandma. 

No joke, I became famous by association.

Grandma Sheila passed away earlier this week, and the messages we've been getting are absolutely heartwarming. There are countless notes about how she made someone's day in the lunchroom with her smile; how she always made you feel like you were the most special person in the world. 

When you lose a grandparent, people understand - many of us have lost grandparents, after all. Grandma Sheila passing away has been different. When my other grandparents passed away, people would say things like "I'm so sorry" and "losing a grandparent is hard," which are absolutely fine things to say. But this time, people say, "I'm so sorry! I remember how she used to give me a big hug every time she saw me" or "her smile lit up a room." Everyone knew my grandma, and she knew them. She was everyone's grandma, and how neat is it for us (her kids and grandkids) to hear from all these people with fond memories.

I have no memories of my grandma without a smile on her face. To my knowledge, I have only truly disappointed her one time: by failing to give her a red-haired great-grandchild. She loved Phineas, but the first time she met him, she said, “Oh, I really wanted a redhead!” But with a smile.

the first time they met

Phineas loved her, too. He asked about "gweat gwamma" fairly often, and he was thrilled to see her at family gatherings. Phineas is only three, but I hope he'll have some memories of her. I have an overwhelming sadness that our second child will never meet her, but I also have confidence we've got plenty of stories to paint a picture of who she was.

four generations.

Every year, Grandma Sheila sent birthday cards to everyone she knew who shared her birthday. 

As my dad likes to say, she turned her cinnamon bread into currency. She lived in the small town of Badger, SD for about 25 years, and she paid the guys at the gas station a block away in treats.

When I went to college, she gave me a "magic cookie tin." I was to bring that cookie tin back with me every time I visited home, and it would "magically" refill with cookies.

When I myself am a little old lady, I hope I can be like Grandma Sheila. I trend more towards the “better not go near her house; she’s probably a witch” old lady vibe (which honestly sounds kind of great), but Grandma Sheila was certainly the “oh I love her, she’s always so sweet and has treats” type of old lady. Something to aspire to.

At the end, it doesn’t matter how much money you have or where you’ve been. All that really counts is how you’ve treated people. You would be hard-pressed to find someone who knew my grandma who didn’t feel loved by her. She made everyone feel special, no matter how short the interaction. Even if you met her just once, she remembered you.

myths about atheists.

Atheists have a bad reputation. When James and I first moved to town ten years ago, one of the first questions we'd get asked was "what church do you go to?" You should've seen the looks we got when the answer was "none." We didn't even say we were atheists - just that we didn't to go church.

In the interim years, I've had a baby and am about to have another one. My casual atheism has become something more serious as James and I discuss how we're going to raise them. 

The answer: as good people, but not in church.

James and I are not vehemently opposed to religion and church. We'll go to church with my parents, especially because my dad keeps luring James there with promises of trumpet-playing. (James will do anything if he gets to play trumpet.) If Phineas tells us someday he wants to try church, we'll take him. But we're not going to force our kids into something we don't believe ourselves.

Didn't even believe it back then.

I could talk forever about why and how I arrived at the conclusions I did. But that's not why I'm writing this post. It's about that bad reputation I mentioned. 

I read somewhere that a huge majority of Americans would not consider voting for a political candidate who identifies as an atheist. 

And that's really a shame, because all the atheists I know are super good people.

I can speak only for myself, but allow me to debunk some common myths about atheists. 

Atheists believe life is meaningless.

On the contrary. I believe we get one life to live and when it's over, it's over. That means we only have one chance to live life to the fullest, appreciate our loved ones, and do good things for the world around us. But not all atheists believe there's no existence after this life - like I said, I can only speak for myself.

Atheists are not spiritual.

Some of the most spiritual people I know are atheists. This is quite common, but I feel most at peace when I'm in nature - specifically in/on/near the water. There's a profound sense of calm and wonder that washes over me. To some, this is equivalent to the presence of God. For me, it's becoming immersed in the beauty around us and stopping to take it all in.

Atheists don't know anything about religion.

Almost every atheist I know grew up going to church. My parents brought me to church every Sunday from the beginning of my memory. I was the kid with perfect attendance at Sunday school. I went through confirmation and ended up teaching Sunday school myself. I've read the whole Bible. The more I learned about the Bible and Christianity, the deeper my doubts became. It took me until my late 20s to truly consider myself an atheist, but I had years' worth of information leading up to that point.

Atheists hate religion.

As long as your religion isn't hurting anyone, I am completely fine with it. I will also respect your religion when I'm on your territory - if I'm visiting a mosque, I'll cover my head. If I'm visiting a church, I'll stand up and sit down when I'm supposed to. I do have a problem with religion when it's used as an exclusionary tool or as a way to suppress any one person or group of people. Same goes for the Bible. It's all fine until it's used as a weapon. 

Atheists have no basis for morality/aren't good people.

One of the more common questions atheists get is "if you don't believe in God, what stops you from stealing, murdering, etc?" Penn Jillette said it best - I'm paraphrasing, but he essentially said he murders as much as he wants - which is not at all. If a person doesn't understand why murdering is wrong, there's no amount of religion that can fix that. You don't have to believe in God to be a good person. As an atheist, I do good things because I want to - not because it will get me into heaven.

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Those are the myths. Here is the most important truth about atheists:

While we don't have faith in unseen deities, we do have faith in our fellow human beings. To live as a person in this world, I think you need to have faith in each other - God or no God. If we don't have faith in each other, what do we have that is worth having?

Midwesterners and their clothes.

Midwesterners are kind of hilarious about their clothes.

Compliment someone from on their Midwest on their shirt and see what happens.

Chances are you'll get one of three responses:

"Thanks! I got it for $2!"

(note: a Midwesterner will never brag about how expensive something they are wearing is, but they WILL brag about how little they paid for it.)

"Thanks! I got it in Maine!"

(note: Midwesterners gladly will tell you about the origin of their clothing if it is somewhere interesting and/or inexpensive, ie, Target.)

(When they go on vacation, my parents like to wear their shirts that say "South Dakota" or "Minnesota Twins" or whatever in hopes of sparking conversation with a stranger who is either also from the Midwest or has an affinity for the Midwest.)

"Thanks! My sister gave it to me!"

(note: Midwesterners are quick to give credit where credit is due, especially when it comes to clothing choices.)

Here's what you will NEVER hear:

"Thanks."

As a Midwesterner, I too am guilty of this. Something just feels wrong about simply taking the compliment. It's ingrained in our DNA to elaborate. Just thinking about this fictional interaction ending right at "thanks" is making me a little uncomfortable.

If complimenting someone on a dress or a skirt, you may hear "Thanks! It has pockets." This is not unique to the Midwest - you will garner this response from anyone in a skirt or a dress that has previously suffered through pocket-less or pathetically pocketed garments. There's nothing like making a move to put something in your pants pocket only to discover THERE IS NO PANTS POCKET.

Or if the pocket is there, it may not be deep enough to fit anything larger than a Chapstick. If that.

My three-year-old's clothing has deeper and more plentiful pockets than my clothing.

It did when he was a TINY BABY, too.

WHAT DOES A TINY BABY NEED TO CARRY AROUND THAT I DON'T.

Anyway.

Back to Midwesterners.

My clothing is almost exclusively from two types of places: consignment/secondhand stores and small businesses. Compliment me on whatever I'm wearing, and I'll tell you which one. 

At this exact moment in time, here's the rundown:

shirt: secondhand

skirt: secondhand

shoes: small business

bracelet: small business

ring: I made

earrings: I made

necklace: I made

Honestly, it's going to be pretty much the same on any given day. Just switch the order around.

This is part through conscious effort, part through me being cheap. Over the last four years, I've been pregnant three times, resulting in one three-year-old and another baby due in just a couple of months. 

This means four plus years of no consistent clothing size. 

If you're buying new stuff all the time to try and maintain some sort of functioning closet, that adds up FAST. 

It adds up even faster if you need clothes for different situations, such as workwear.

I am obviously not buying all new stuff. During my first pregnancy, I bought a couple of brand-new pairs of maternity jeans from Target, so they were like $25 apiece. I was ANNOYED spending THAT MUCH MONEY on items of clothing that I really didn't want in the first place but knew I needed... but worst of all, knew I wasn't going to use in the long-haul. 

During this pregnancy, I was annoyed again at the prospect of purchasing maternity shorts and swimwear (as my previous pregnancy seasons didn't line up with this one). But then it hit me - swimsuits are stretchy for a REASON. I just bought a cheap one from Amazon in a size bigger than usual, which should serve me well in the coming years. I got maternity shorts from a consignment site called ThredUP.

Overall, I kind of think maternity clothes are a scam. Jeans, maybe not. There's no way I'm going to find a pair of regular jeans that fits me, no matter what size I choose. I do have some ultra-stretchy shorts that will work, though, and the aforementioned swimsuit. I also have plenty of elastic-waisted skirts and dresses that will see me through to the end and beyond. Almost no special maternity clothes necessary.

This is thanks in no small part to oversized/flowy clothing being more in style for the past handful of years. If I had been pregnant during the late 90s to mid 2000s with the short shirts and the low-rise jeans, I most certainly wouldn't be able to rely on anything I already had. Thankfully (for many reasons), the tide has turned.

That was kind of a long aside, but I have switched to purchasing more secondhand not just because of my fluctuating clothing needs, but because it's not only better for the environment, but because I can find clothing I like more at a better price than I can in your run-of-the-mill mall store.

I also do my best to shop at small businesses because they are just that: small businesses. When you buy from a small business, you're helping someone fulfill their dream. You're buying from a real person. When you buy from Amazon, you're just helping Jeff Bezos buy another yacht or steal some more souls or whatever it is he does. (I am totally guilty of using Amazon more than I should, but I'm doing my best to cut back.) Small businesses keep our downtowns alive.

This post didn't really end up where I had intended when I started it, but the sentiment remains true: Midwesterners will tell you all sorts of stuff about their clothes - namely how good we are at NOT spending money.