Ten Things - Trying Something Different at Another Blog

July 6, 2011

This blog is having a linky party: Go Fourth!  With Mrs. Owens.   Go  over to the site to see what she's doing, asking for others to tell ten things about themselves.

Top Ten  Things About Myself


10.  I've been married for 46 years.


9.  I have two grandchildren and one soon to be here.


8.  I have two terrific children who are married to two wonderful people.


7.  I taught first grade, then moved to middle school aged students.


6.  Now I'm a literacy coach, at the same school for 22 years.


5.  I love the ocean and go there as much as possible, but live in the Rockies.


4.  I've had many pets through the years, but a favorite is a dalmatian named Sophie.


3.  My favorite drink is iced chai from Starbucks.  (I try not to go too often.)


2.  I'm one of the few people in my extended family who don't live in the same place.


1.  I am an avid reader, like almost every teacher I know. 

A Tribute To My Aunts

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Aunt Carol and Aunt Barb

The two young women in the photo are my mother’s two younger sisters, strong female influences in my life.  I am grateful to them both for their time and wisdom.  I wrote about my Aunt Barb in an earlier post, and here is a brief memory of my Aunt Carol. 

         My mother’s youngest sibling, my Aunt Carol, was like an older sibling to me, only 12 years older.  In my teen years she lived across the street from me, and became a confidant when my mother and I weren’t so close.  I could run across to her house to tell her of the latest problem with friends, the recent boy I thought was cute, or to ask her opinion of an outfit I wanted to wear to a party.  She was young herself, yet already busy raising three children, one boy and twin girls, but was ever ready to listen to my wonderings about high school life, the angst of a teenaged girl.  She interceded for me sometimes when my parents said no to activities, giving wise advice to me to calm down and take the argument one step at a time instead of retreating to my room with door slammed.  She and I were also buddy readers.  She was most influential in my reading habits outside school, and a special memory is reading and discussing Gone With The Wind together.  I helped her by babysitting my cousins sometimes and she helped me in those ways described above, most helpful to a teenager.  Everyone needs an Aunt Carol nearby for extra support.

Remembering Past Independence Days

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Because I’ve been writing about memories, today I’ve thought about the ways we used to celebrate Independence Day.  I seem to have an onslaught of different memories from all different places, but much of it surrounds those picnic days of family gatherings. 

We have a quiet day today here at home.  We live by a park where teens appear, set off a pack of firecrackers, and then disappear.  The firecrackers flash into the air, the dogs along the park bark, then quiet moves in again.  I have food ready, because my son and family are coming in for the week, so we’ll have a good meal tonight, and decide what to cook tomorrow, and where to go to watch fireworks tomorrow night.  My daughter and her family will come out to visit, but that’s about all the family.  Others live too far away.

In the days of many family members living near, we prepared well ahead the picnic food for the big day.  Family members traveled on Independence Day morning to different homes, mostly those with some acreage, for the holiday.  They brought boxes of sandwiches-pre-made, like pimento cheese, ham and roast beef.  There was also fried chicken and potato salad, slaw, homemade pickles, watermelon and pies.  Sometimes, if lucky, one great-uncle came with his ice cream maker, ice and rock salt, and we cranked up several gallons of homemade ice cream, always vanilla, but berries and chocolate syrup came along too. 

During the day, we set up volleyball and badminton, and some of the men played horseshoes.  We kids were allowed the teeny firecrackers, with the punk smelling awful, but we were told to use it, not matches.  We also had a slew of sparklers ready for the early evening, and there were other kinds of fireworks that some of the older kids were allowed to set off, like fountains, and those that spun on the ground, sometimes chasing you around as you ran screaming. 

At the same time, some of the men made a big deal about the fireworks they brought for when it became full dark.  They had invested some good money for a few ‘big’ ones, they said, and were discussing them, putting them on a special table, and sharing what they had.   Looking back now, I think they only had about ten things, but it was a big deal to all of us then, anticipating the thrill of what we’d see in the sky after dark. 

When it was considered dark enough, we’d drag all our chairs together for the best viewing spot, and settle in to watch.  I can hear the murmurs of the women settling the kids, saying things like “Where’s Amy? Come over here to the quilt, John.  Did you pack up everything in the car already, Bill?”  Older kids sat on their own blankets.  The men hovered around near the table with the fireworks, deciding what was first.  And then, there it was, the stars and streams of color lighting up our sky, the ohs and ahs from hidden voices, and finally, the last one.  It was dark, a long and wonderful day ended.  We walked to the cars, calling goodbyes, making sure no fire had been started in the field.  I crawled in the back with my brother, falling asleep with my parents talking low in the front seat.  It had been a grand day visiting and playing and watching that magic in the sky.

One Special Birthday

Saturday, July 2, 2011
         One of my grandfather’s birthdays is today.  He is long passed on, born on July 2, 1900.  I connect him sometimes to my grandson, who was born in 2001, 101 years later.  Someday he too might have someone writing about him as a grandpa born at the beginning of a century!

         My grandfather was not particularly bent to a warm relationship, I would say.  I saw him most of the time in the summers, because he and my grandmother didn’t live close to my home, and these were the parents of my father who was killed in World War Two.  I was lucky enough to know these grandparents every summer for a couple of weeks.  They ran a full working farm, with a huge garden, fields of corn and other crops, places where blackberries grew, a creek for wading, chickens, horses, a few milk cows, sheep and mules.  My grandfather’s outside work was that he was a mule trader, and when I visited, I got to meet a lot of men who dropped by to trade or buy or sell mules.  I was not afraid of these creatures, and Grandfather didn’t ride them, only bought or sold for others to use, mostly to pull wagons.  I also had the privilege of owning my own pony at this farm; a pinto named Silver, and I rode every day with my grandfather on his horse, Lady, down through the pasture to bring the cows home.  He helped me learn to ride in his quiet way, and our relationship was built on need.  He showed me how to catch, bridle and ride the pony, with gentle hands and gentle words; and how to shell corn for the chickens, because that helped with my grandmother’s chores.  He showed me how to start the windmill pumping so we could fill the water tank for the cattle, and how to toss hay for the horses' feed.  

        In the evenings, we three would sit and read, and sometimes listen to a big, brown, beautifully polished radio (I don’t remember what kind).  We might listen to music or a boxing match or a comedy show for just a little while.  Then I remember my grandfather saying, “that’s enough now, got to get back to the reading.”  Isn’t it interesting that however much they must have loved connecting up with others over the radio, they knew that reading was important to keep up with also?  I have so many memories of this time on that farm, but today, it’s time to remember a birthday.

Summer Memories - Again

Friday, July 1, 2011

     I was the oldest cousin in a rather large family, and often spent weeks in the summer with various grandparents and aunts and uncles.  One of those aunts was my Aunt Barb, who married a farmer, and when I was young, lived in two rooms on the second floor of her in-laws’ house.  During that time, there was no bathroom, only an outhouse, no running water, and she was raising three young girls in those rooms.  As I reflect on this part of her life, I am astounded that she let me visit for at least a week at a time, and we had such fun.  I had always had in-house plumbing in my own home, and my own bedroom, but I don’t remember being crowded, or missing a bathroom.  What I do remember is swimming in her pond, picnics down by the creek ending with servings of her yummy chocolate cake, and reading stories at night before bedtime.  She was a dramatic reader, and I loved hearing her read from the books available.   Taking care of her chores, both inside and outside; along with mothering her children that included sewing all their clothes, and cooking amazingly wonderful meals can’t have been accomplished easily in her circumstances, yet she made me know that I was a loved niece and welcome always in her home.   As a housewife who has griped about unloading the dishwasher, I wonder about her resilience, and about mine.  How did she accomplish so much with so little?  It’s a reflection to ponder.