Gratitude – Suzy Cornflakes

I had no idea that the last time I posted was January of 2023. Not that anyone has perhaps noticed, but I’m surprised. I thought it had been a year, since about the time that we moved in June of 2023. We bought this house because it was so close to one of our daughters. As “city” as it gets for me, but it is really a beautiful suburb.

We continued to live on Fort Leavenworth in early 2023, while the kids finished school. It has been quite the change from a farm in rural Atchison, but it makes sense and it is good. We were here when our sixth grandchild was born. And in truth, our daughter has been here for us during my health challenges. I think I’m on the upswing now, it’s been two years since my cancer diagnosis, and a year and a half since surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation. It took a lot out of me.

Anti-hormone therapy and a chemo-like pill took even more. I tried the medicines for a year and it seems I’m in that third of patients who quit them due to debilitating adverse effects. I won’t call them side effects because for me, they heaped more damage on my body and deteriorated any quality of life. It’s ok, my family is supportive and well, I tried the “gold standards.” I’ve a greater chance of cancer returning than someone with Stage 1 or 2, but I have no metastasis. At Stage 3 there is no known cancer in my body and I’ve changed my eating habits and am exercising more. I even joined a gym!

My goals are living each day as best as I can, and living in the moment with gratitude. I think I am honestly succeeding at these more than ever before. Like every person, I’m here on this Earth to better it somehow, especially for my family.

Hoping not to take a year and a half to write again. With love, Suzy.

I’ve been asked, “Why Suzy Cornflakes?”

While I do live in a household full of Dad-jokes and corny jokes (thanks to my witty hubby and sons), the reference is actually to a cereal box from the early 1970s. I’ve searched online to find images of it, but with no luck.

Before even that box, in the 1960s the cereal called “Wheaties” became very popular. Full of whole wheat goodness, it was dubbed “The Breakfast of Champions.” Many may still remember the great sports heroes featured on the front of the boxes over the years. Prior to the famous folk, the boxes held images of cute little children because the cereal was marketed to parents who wanted a healthy breakfast for their kids. One of the children pictured was a cute little strawberry blond girl with freckles. The resemblance to me was not missed by my brothers, and one of my very first nicknames in life was: Wheatie.

A few years later we moved to Northern Baltimore County in Maryland, a very rural area with thousands of acres of farmland. One of our neighbors (I have mentioned him before) was Mr. Ballard. We went to the same church as his family, and worked together on the local, church-organized horseshows. His children were excellent riders and older than me. When I was a teen, and they were grown or in college, I helped clean Mr. and Mrs. Ballard’s house each week. At 16 I had sold my own pony, and by 18 I began to exercise his hunters. That subject is book-worthy, for I will never, ever forget the many experiences riding horses for and with “Mr. B.” He was more than an icon; in many ways he was my hero.

In the 1980s with Spindrift, Rathkeale and Justin

Back to cornflakes. Generic products became prolific with inflation of the 1970s, and big-name brands became too expensive for many household budgets. The market flourished with identical products, but in plainer packaging and cheaper pricing. Sometimes the manufacturer was one-in-the-same with the name brand, as is common today with store-brands. Popular “Kellogg’s Cornflakes” was rivaled by a generic box that I only remember as light-blue on the front, with the face of yet another adorable, strawberry-blonde, freckled little girl. Mr. B immediately nicknamed me: “Suzy Cornflakes.”

Halcion days, walking to and from the bus with my brother.

My brothers still call me Wheatie from time to time, but no one calls me Suzy Cornflakes anymore, since Mr. Ballard passed away several years ago. He was close to the age of 90 and I smile to think that he was probably on horseback not long before his passing. I will always remember him, grateful for the rides and the advice and support that only a very special and sage human being can gift to another…to a talkative, freckle-faced, strawberry-blonde adolescent.

Suzy Cornflakes will forever remember Mr. B.

Tag: Gratitude

Not A Concept

Corny