Hello Dolly!

When I was about 4 years old, Uncle Howard, gave me a doll for Christmas.  This doll was about an inch taller than I was, with black curly hair, blue eyes, red lips, long black eye lashes, a pretty black velvet vest over a white cotton topped dress that had a red skirt, and she had on white socks with black velvety shoes.  She was my best friend, and I called her Judy.  We played together all the time, there were tea parties, play school, reading lessons, she played against me in many games, she was my daughter, babysitter for my other dolls when I was away, and many more things.  She was the little sister I never had and I didn't pick on her or treat her mean.  She could even wear my clothes.  When someone gave mom childrens clothes to pass on, if they were the sizes Judy wore, I pulled them out for her.  Within a few years, Judy had a small suitcase of clothes and underwear (she came with her own underwear I forgot to mention).  As I was growing up, and being afraid of the attic in the upstairs where I slept, many nights when Diane was gone, I put Judy in her pajama's to sleep with me, along with a few of my other dolls.  They slept in the front of the bed as I was in back by the wall.  My theory was if a ghost or burglar came to get me, Judy was my decoy!  They would think she was me, feel past her to find more dolls, and it either gave me time to jump out of bed and run down the stairs, or they would think the bed was just full of stupid dolls.  I was sure if I got scared enough it would not be hard to play dead, stiff, or pretend to be a toy.  Guess what??  Nobody ever got me, thanks to Judy and my ingenuity to fake them out.  Diane didn't like Judy, but it did not matter, she was my friend, and my doll.  Diane never played with dolls anyway.  She slept with a teddy bear that had a plastic face, (cute) that grandpa had given her before he died and I was born.  That was about all she ever wanted, not any type of doll at all.  It was fun for me to play with dolls, cause Diane didn't like to play with me either.  My dolls range from one and a half inches up to Judy who was about 3 feet tall.   Once I watched a program when I was younger called "Twilight Zone".  It was about a doll left behind in an abandoned house, when a new family moves in with children who play with this doll.  They find out the doll is real, it talks, and it is mean.  They discover the doll killed the previous owners, so the doll has to kill them too!  In the end you see a doll on the stairs left behind with yet another new family looking to purchase the house as the realtor explains that the last family mysteriously up and left without any notice.  The young girl picks up the doll to claim as hers, as she puts the doll up to her shoulder, the camera shows the dolls face as it's eyes open, eyebrows raise with a real wicked smile.  Now that made me think twice about being alone with some of my dolls for awhile, but decided my dolls were friendly not fiendish.  Today I still have every single doll I was ever given in my attic.  Still have my bike, chalkboard, table and chairs etc... from my childhood.  I took real good care of my stuff, and when it was necessary to share them with others, I just supervised how the kids treated the dolls to make sure they were not hurt. 

Bike Fright

My godparents were my Uncle Howard and Aunt Viola, both siblings of my mother.  A person could not have asked for more loving people to watch over me if anything happened to my folks.  When I was 9years old Uncle Howard wanted to get me a bicycle for my birthday, but my mom said absolutely a big fat no!  Diane's godparents, Uncle Cecil and Aunt Catherine, did not ever give her anything for her birthday, so since she did not have any bike neither should I get one.  Mom said we would fight over it anyway.  Well one day Uncle Howard came out in his work van, he was a carpet layer, and told mom he had something outside for me that we should all step out to his van.  Mom warned him, it better not be what she thought!  We walked to the back of his van, we told me to close my eyes as he opened the doors.  When I opened my eyes, it was beautiful, a brand new 2 wheel blue with white stripes, a big wire basket in front with a big light to ride at night.  What a surprise, I did not know mom and Uncle Howard had even talked about a bike.  Wow!!  But I did not know how to ride a 2 wheeler, and it looked way bigger than me.  He would stay until I learned how to ride, with my dad's help.  Man was I excited!!  Diane asked mom if she could ride it first, since she knew how.  Uncle Howard and my folks agreed we had to learn to share anyway, might as well start now.  So as Di got on, She stuck her tongue out at me, and gave me a very low Na, Na,-Na- Na, Na!  Boy I was irked, I was going to share with her, but after that display of arrogance I never wanted her to ride my bike again and she knew it.  She was doing so well going up and down the road.  Across the side street from our house was the village park, and as you enter there was at least a 14 foot circle of cement with a metal door on top for the fire engine to fill up with water, I guess it was the village water well.  Anyway, Di was riding into the park across this cement circle when all of a sudden the front wheel of the bike caught the edge of the cement and unexpectedly Di and the bike went down onto the cement.  Right before my eyes, on the first trip out, my bike was having an accident, before I got a chance to ride???   We all went running over, the adults to see if Di was hurt, but me to see if my bike was alright!!  Crap!!  Neither made it unscathed.  Diane skinned her knee and palm of her hand, not bad enough for me.  Standing in total disbelief, shock, and anger, I inventoried the bikes injuries.  One my word, the basket was all bent up as well as some of the silver scratched off, and my big wonderful light was twisted and never got a chance to shine at night or during the day.  The soft white pad on the right handle bar had 3 deep gouges in it.  MY NEW BIKE!!  After a few hundred minutes, I got over the shock and decided it was still a bike and I was willing to learn to ride.  My dad put me up in the seat, my feet just touched the pedals and my lesson began.  Dad said to pedal and steer while he held on to my bike seat to steady me.  All was going well, since I was learning on the busy road in front of our house, until Uncle Howard shouted to ask me where my dad was!!  As I turned my head to look, no dad!!!  He was way behind me, he never said he would let go at any point!  All of a sudden, I had no balance and fell with the bike in front of a car.  The driver was going real slow since I was in the middle of the road, thank goodness.  I had sense enough to land under the bike to save it from harm, nay, it was just luck!  So dad ran up to me picked up the bike and me to walk us home.  Everyone tried to reassure me that now I could ride a 2 wheeler, but I knew more practice up and down the driveway would be necessary!  So Di and I learned to share the bike, or maybe I learned to share with Diane.  She never asked to ride it, she just took off and wasn't as careful about handling or riding as I was.  She always reminded me it was her bike too, and that I should not forget it either, or mom would take it away from both of us.  Needless to say she was a brat, someday I will be bigger than her, so look out Diane your day is coming!!!!

Lucky Me!

In the summer months when I was probably 3-5 years old, we would go swimming.  Except nobody in my family knew how to swim or even dog paddle!!  So as you can guess, my parents did not take us out very far.  Sometimes we would go with Aunt Fern's and her 9 kids to Quanicassee.  It was not to far from the bay, I think.  As we drove out towards the water it was all sandy until we parked our cars to walk the rest of the way.  We wore our suits and each took a towel, as we neared the water the sand was wet and cold.  In some places it was mucky, a mix of sand and clay similiar to sticky mud!  Also as we got closer to the water there was tall thin blades of grass that my cousins called seaweed. Some was under the water and felt like an octupus was grabbing your legs and with the mucky bottom, you thought the octupus was winning the battle.  I hated going in this water!!  It smelled like dead fish!  The water was murky from all the sand and mud our feet churnned up!!  So it was hard to tell if it was suckers (fish) or what was moving around your legs and feet!!  That seaweed grass sometimes would get tangled around your feet and legs,  tangled so bad you had to yell for help getting it off your legs!!!!  Once in awhile there was some soft, slimmy, green, squichy stuff in places and you didn't know if it was fish you could be stepping on or what!!  Usually each time we went everyone was alright after playing in the water, except me!!  I was the only person to get what is called swimmers itch with a good sunburn every time!!   Lucky me!!!   When a person is little they don't have a say as to where your parents take you, at least back then we didn't!  A few years ago I went with my sister and brother-in-law out to Quanicassee to try fishing for fun.  It still smells, and looks the same, so that brought all the bad memories to mind.  I am not a fisherman!  The fish I catch are specials on the menu of restaurants.  So far, I have not had to throw any back, they were delicious and everyone a keeper!!! 

Wet One

Some people are so weird it makes you wonder what made them that way.  My cousins just loved to tickle me until I wet my pants.  They would laugh and laugh, and when I got in trouble for it they would stick out their lips and say "poor thing".  Why would someone find that amusing???    They did from the time I could walk until I was 12 years old.  Mom always yelled at me in front of them and usually I had to just wear the wet underwear till we returned home.  One day my cousin, Jackie, Diane and I were playing Mouse Trap, a fun board game, so when I started winning, they devised a plan to get rid of me.  They both moved over to  tickle me till I wet not only my pants, but Aunt Fern's pink blanket on the couch.  Boy did I get in trouble!!  Mom was so doggone mad at me she could have killed me with just her look alone.  Of course neither Jackie or Diane was yelled at for causing the incident, they just rolled over laughing so hard their stomach's hurt.  They laughed at me and called me a baby because I wet my pants, the blanket, was really in trouble, and I cried.  Mom would not listen to me about how it happened.  She told me I was old enough to make it to the bathroom!!  When will I learn never to play with them?  Anyway, I still to this day, cannot understand the fun, or giggles they had tickling me till I wet.  It isn't anything I would do to another person.  Today we have pull ups for people of every age group.  Can you imagine, if I would or could have thought that up in the 50's 60's, who would have had the last laugh?? 

Dog Gone Fish

My girlfriend, Rosanne, and her family were going fishing, so they invited me to join them.  Since I had not a clue as to what it was about, I thought why not?  We fished along the bank of the bay on a nice pleasant sunny day.  As I was about to set my chair next to Rosie's mom, she in no certain terms told me to get my own spot this was hers!  Man, what a grouch!  So I went to set next to Rose and she basically said the same exact thing!  Did I not tell them this was my first time fishing?  Doesn't that mean I have no idea how to fish, pick a spot, use the pole, or bait the hook???  Her brother Buster was at least nice enough to bait my hook and cast my line out into the bay!  Thank you Buster!!  So I ignored all of them and just sat there holding this stupid pole, sitting in a chair next to water I was sure might be extremely deep.  What an exciting afternoon!  What more could I ask for besides a little chit chat or kind words.  Why in the world did they ask me to come along??  About and hour must have passed, when my pole took a big jerk down towards the water.  It scared the crap out of me, but what do I do next?  So I yelled HELP!!  Buster came running over since he was the closest to my fishing spot.  He talked me through reeling it in.  He said it must be a big one the way it was fighting.  Everyone came over to see the action.  Just as Buster was going into the water with a big net, the fish took a leap up out of the water.  What??  I dropped my pole and started to walk away when Rosie's mom ask where the ---- do you think your going?  It was the biggest ugliest fish I had ever seen, it looked like half animal.  I wanted no part of such an awful looking thing.  Buster rescued the pole and lost the fish. Thank goodness!!  Someone identified the fish as being called a dog fish!!  Dog fish?  I never heard of a fish named that.  Replying to Rosie's mom, I said that was one ugly huge fish, it was not a keeper, it was too ugly to touch, and if the fish was staying, I wasn't watching.  Needless to say fishing is not my forte.  Poking a worm 2 or 3 times with a hook, setting on the edge of dark deep water, not knowing what is under the water, ripping a hook out of a fishes mouth, setting in the sun getting sunburned, and riding in a car that smells of smoke, fish, worms, and people who expel gas for fun to see who smells the worst, is a waste of my time.  Not what I call fun or interesting! Do you?

Hoe---ha!

One day my cousins wanted me to spend the night, this was at Uncle Raymond's house, of course.  So when my folks dropped off the stayed to visit while all the kids went out to play.  We were playing in the corn crib with dolls, probably I was maybe 7 years old.  After mom and dad left, one of the kids did something to get into trouble.  At Uncle Raymond's it did not take much to be in trouble.  If you looked grumpy, he would tell his kids to stop dragging their damn lip on the floor before they tripped over it.  Sometimes he asked what the heck(*&**) was up their butt to make such a face and if it did not change it was a literal kick in the pants and to bed with them.  This day, I can't even remember what was done that set Uncle Raymond into orbit,  he hollered for all of us to come to the house.  We were outside and he made us stand in a straight line facing him.  He warned us if we lied we would be in bigger trouble than we were in now.  Whatever that meant??  So he asked which of us had done this wrongful thing.  Nobody admitted to the crime which infuriated Uncle Raymond, and he stopped at each one of us, me included, grabbed our chin rather too tightly, I thought, pulled our face up to look directly into those anger blazing eyes.  He asked us directly if we were the one who had done it, and again warned us of the consequences, which was a good beating on the backside.  All I knew for sure was neither I or the cousin I was playing with had any part of the incident.  Since nobody owned up to the act, we all, each and every one of us, had our butts whipped really  really hard!!!!!!!  We then were told to go to bed till dinner, except for the boys who had chores to finish.  When dinner was over we girls had to do dishes, clean the table, and take out the slop pail to the pigs, yuk!  Since there was still no confession, instead of watching T.V. and getting homemade ice cream, we had to go back to bed for the night.  He made sure we understood there was to be No noise, whispering, laughter or anything of the kind or he would line us all up for a second helping of butt warming.  No thank you!!  In the morning after breakfast, he loaded us into the station wagon with hoes, and a jug of ice water, we were off for a day of hoeing sugar beets.  Man those rows are long when you are 7 years old!  It takes forever to get to the other end, just to come back down 2 different rows looking for weeds.  He yelled at me several times cause I kept hoeing the beets out not the weeds.  Crap, they all looked the same to me, green!!!  After twice down and twice back then down again I had to go to the bathroom.  We did not even have the water out with us, it was back in the car and I was thirsty!!  So I asked Uncle Raymond if I could get a drink and use the bathroom at Mr. Laudy's house.  We knew him and got eggs from him sometimes, I really nice gentle man that spoke slowly and quietly, but liked to joke around with us.  Uncle Raymond stood up straight and told me I could go the the bathroom after we hoed at least 6 to 8 more rows.  WHAT!!  I had to really go!!  After we finished these 8 rows, we could get a drink and use the restroom, and then finish the field to get lunch.  Was this the twilight zone?  My parents never treated us like this, they were nice and fun and would let us use the bathroom when we needed to.   Sure they had tempers, but I really tried not to ignite that fuse very often!!  So, I stood in my half finished row looking at him in disbelief.  I had enough of this treatment, I dropped my hoe in the row, and proceeded to walk up to Mr. Laudy's house at the risk of another spanking.  I had to go potty for real!  He was just yelling  at the top of his lungs for me to stop, get my little tail(*&*) back in my row, pick up that hoe and finish as I was told.  I did not stop, turn around, acknowledge his orders, or even hesitate, I was determined to poop!!  Mr. Laudy was surprised to see me, he knew Uncle Raymond's drill.  I thanked him for letting me use his facilities and instead of returning to the field, I got a long drink of cold refreshing water and decided to take a nap in the back seat.  I knew they would be out in the field for sometime, so I relaxed, waiting for the spanking that was stirring inside Uncle Raymond's mind.  I was in trouble anyway, so why not make it worth the effort Uncle Raymond was going to put into my punishment.  When they finished the field, I was well rested and quite happy to see everyone, I was bored, hot and ready for mom and dad to pick me up.  Never again did I spend the night in that house or ever was punished by Uncle Raymond!  I am not sure if he was too upset at me when he returned to the car, or if he worked out his anger hacking at the weeds, but that day I did not get a spanking or punished in any shape or form for leaving the field.  His kids were in 3rd degree shock that I did not get whaled on or punished for my actions.  I told Uncle Raymond he could do whatever he wanted to me, but when I say I need the restroom, I WILL use the restroom., so spank away!  He had no comment.  My future career was not in agriculture for sure!!

Smells Fishy!

Bay Port was a small town on the bay that sold fresh fish.  When we wanted fish, there wasn't any messing around with poles, hooks, worms, bait or sinkers, we got in the car and took a nice ride to Bay Port.  There was a big building that looked like a garage with the dock doors that went up and down.  Before you got close to the place is smelled fishy.  Since they were so close to the bay, there was usually a strong breeze blowing.  On a hot day it felt good.  Inside were cement floors that were always wet from being hosed down to keep it clean, wash away excess ice, fish scales and fish waste.  Men working here wore rubber overalls, and tall rubber boots, also gloves.  Because of all the ice the fish layed on it was very cold inside.  There were several huge bins as tall as I was, being 6 years old wasn't much to measure by.  On top of the ice were tons of fish, all kinds and sizes, some were still flopping around trying to get away.  You could tell they were slippery that is the reason for the gloves when the men handled them.  At my age you get a closer look into their eyes, they have tiny eyes that follow you everywhere.  I went in but was afraid of falling on the slippery floor, tripping over a hose, or getting fish goo on me, yuk!!  Hanging from the ceiling were scales to weigh the fish, pay per pound.  Mom and dad walked around for awhile shopping, and when they decided on an order, they got the attention of a worker which gathered our catch of the day.  He threw them into the scale to get the weight, and then tore off a big piece of freezer paper to wrap for transport.  There was a big table, wet of course, and bolted to the table was a 40 inch long, thick roll of freezer paper threaded under a blade like a saw, to make a clean straight cut to wrap the orders.  If you wanted, each could be individually wrapped, what ever you requested, and marked with a grease pencil to let us know what was inside and what it cost.  Most of the time, we got an order of fresh smoked fish for the ride home, not in the car, but at a roadside table.  Smoked fish was good but had fine bones in it so you had to eat it cautiously.  once I choked on a bone and coughed so hard I wet my pants and that was it for the day, no more smoked fish.  Grandma loved to ride to Bay Port with us and was a big fan of smoked fish.  When we got home, I thought we smelled like fish the rest of the day, it's smell that permeates everything and if I close my eyes it's easy to remember the trip, even that smell.  

Roadside Fun

In the summer months, on weekends, we often went  for rides in the country.  Grandma, the one who lived with us, just loved to go for car rides.  She sat in front with her window down and her arm always rested on the rolled down section of the door.  She loved to have her hair blow in the breeze.  Her hair was white, soft and she was fair, light complected.  We never left home without food or drink.  Usually the gallon Coleman jug held iced tea, water, or kool-aid.  In the trunk we often packed the Coleman cooler with things like homemade potato salad, sandwiches, pop, coleslaw, chicken, bologna,cheese and crackers, pie, cookies and what ever mom wanted to pack.  Once in a while, we had a bag of Cheetos or chips in the car as we traveled to munch.  In those days it was easy to find roadside picnic tables, or roadside parks.  The parks had several picnic tables, usually small grills, a pump for fresh cold water, and his and her restrooms.  I guess you could call them restrooms.  They generally had a wooden structure that had a turn or two so anyone outside could not see you use the facilities.  Sometimes there was a roof and inside a cement floor and was usually a one seater.  That is the same as an outhouse.  These had a huge hole dug in the ground that smelled horrible and don't look inside, yuk!!  Some had a wooden bench built over the hole with a hole or two cut into the top to sit on and go.  Some had a toilet that sat on top of the hole for convenience because it did not flush, it was just the seat section, not the tank part.  Either way it was gross but necessary.  Mom would get so upset with me, I took so long before setting down.  Well, I wanted to look things over real good for bugs, bees, spiders and things like that.  Even inside the hole!  I wanted no surprises!  If it did not look safe, I would pee on the cement in front of mom while she watched for bugs.  You had to bring your own toilet paper and paper towels to dry your hands after washing them at the pump in cold water.  Sometimes I refused to go at all, because it was to unclean or buggy.  Some had enough mosquitoes to carry little kids away, I swear.  Once, we got KFC took it to a roadside table, sat down to eat, and at first there was a wasp or two.  Suddenly we were swarmed with bees, I was the first one in the car.  That day the bee's had the picnic, we could not salvage anything that was opened.  It was funny to see the adults hurrying to the car swatting at the bees, until they had to get in the car.  Man I prayed no bees would get inside with us and thank the Lord they did not.  So we stopped at a store for bologna, crackers and cheese.  Going home mom and dad would stop at roadside stands that sold fruit and veggies in season for canning.  We all enjoyed these little get aways, we never stayed overnight, unless we were on vacation, but it was always fun.  It was a family activity and of course the price of gas was 20 cents to 25 cents a gallon.  Which back then was high compared to dad's wages.  Thanks mom and dad and grandma for giving us such good warm memories.  Maybe I could be a tour guide when I grow up?? Certainly not a bee keeper!!! 

In The Hood

When I was younger, the winters were much worse then they are currently.  One winter we went down to Uncle Raymond's for another (out of my mind) exciting ski-doo fun!!  Well, this day my uncle had other plans, he thought would be a blast.  He hooked up an old car hood that had wood seats built inside behind the snow machine for a road trip to his in laws.  The same ones that had the cabin up north where Diane was thrown into the lake.!!  Sounds fun?  The plan was for my mom, dad, and Aunt Betty to follow in our car, since it was illegal to travel on the roads in a car hood, and to make sure all went well.  Uncle Raymond drove the ski-doo with one of his kids riding just behind him.  The other 4 kids, Diane and myself were assigned seats in the car hood.  Since Di was the oldest, she got to ride on the wooden seat at the widest part of the hood.  Since I was lucky enough to be her sister, my seat was same row next to Di. While our uncles 4 smaller kids rode either on the short wooden seat at the narrowest section or were fortunate enough to set in the floor of the hood.  We made it out of the yard onto the road, then my uncle got a (brain fart) brilliant idea, he thought.  We could stay just off the road by running back and forth across the ditches for the next 3 to 4 miles.  He knew the snow machine would be no problem, because he had done that before.  What he did not anticipate, was how an old metal car hood (the part that covered the engine) might react tied behind him with rope going 15 mph or so, up and done uneven snow and icy surfaces.  It may have been wise to let us kids know was the route to expect, we were told we would be riding on the road, not through or over those big, wide, deep ditches!!!!!   The very first bank we tackled to ride over the first ditch did not go well.  The hood could not be steered nor did we have brakes!  Up went the hood, up went the kids, down came the hood , down came 4 kids in the front of the hood, 2 were missing.  Poor Diane flew so high in the air, since we had no warning about the new route, Di was hanging on to me setting beside her and I was hanging on to her scared to death.  I did not want to go in the first place.  Uncle Raymond told me not to be such a baby, his kids weren't complaining!!  Anyway, Di went up and came down head first into the big ditch packed solid with snow and ice.  Just her knees to her boots were showing.  Dad came to a sliding halt on the road to help her get out.  When our uncle finally looked back to check the hood, he saw dad and Di's legs trashing back and forth.  She could not see or hear dad was trying to help her.  Hello!!  When it all came to a complete stop (amen)  they discovered that I had half fallen out and my face was dragging on the snow behind the hood.  My foot had gotten jammed under the wooden seat and I flew backwards as Di and I were still trying to hang on to each other.  But centrifugal force over powered her strength and we were torn apart.  She went up and I went over.  When dad finally recovered Diane, she was wet, frightened, and ticked off!  Diane was about 11 years old and I was 5.  They put Di and I back in the hood had told us to hang onto the seat.  Why did we not hold on?  If we knew the hood could get air borne we probably would hang on real tight.  What a FUN trip!  Between the freezing cold wind and the snow the machine spit in our faces you could say we had a blast!  My face was raw and bleeding and Diane was frozen from wet clothes.  When we arrived at the Wilson's, the kids were expected to play outside with that stupid snow machine.  Oh joy, a new empty field to go around and around in, will the fun ever stop?????   What the best part was, leaving!!  Since dad had driven our car over, we were able to go right home from that house.  Uncle Raymond, Aunt Betty and the kids had to ride the ski-doo back home in the dark, don't worry they had a headlight to drive with.  Lucky them, to get all that fresh air both ways!!!  Never, did we travel in the hood again.  Any chance I might have become an Olympian in winter sports, were dashed in that one experience.  Oh boo hoo!!

Suprise!

One day Di and I were on the front porch playing with dirt and water, making mud pies.  We had aluminum dishes from pot pies to mix and make the pies.  We were playing so good together and having fun getting dirty.  When we had a pie or two we took them into mom and grandma and they pretended to eat it all up.  They told us it was so delicious we just had to make more, so we hopped back outside to whip up another batch.  This particular day was cloudy and dreary but no sign of a storm, or so we thought!  Across the street from us was the village park and just behind that was the grain elevator and railroad tracks.  We were involved in making some of our best pies, when out of nowhere a bolt of lightening hit so close and it was so bright it gave Di and I a tingle up our spines and we high tailed it for the front door of the house!!!  Once inside we ran to the kitchen where mom and grandma had been doing dishes.  We stopped dead in our tracks at the doorway to the kitchen.  Mom was down on her knees with soap suds on her hands, and her arms and hands were still up by the sink.  Grandma had been sitting in a kitchen chair drying the dishes before, and now she was slumped over the towel on the floor as well as the dish she was drying.  We ran over to see what happened and if we could help.  Mom told us the lightening had ricochet off the elevator and went straight through the back door through the kitchen, and out the bathroom window out of the house.  They both had gotten a bit more of the tingling feeling than Di and I did on the porch.  Thank the good Lord they were alright, shaken up but alright!!  Then we heard the deepest rumbling of thunder, it vibrated everything in the house including us.  Next we heard the rain, an absolute sheer down pour.  Mom and grandma stopped doing dishes and we all set huddled together in the living room, until dad got home from work.  The storm was wicked, awful lightening and deep thunder rolling across the sky.  To this day neither Di or I has ever made another mud pie.  Diane is terribly afraid of storms, especially thunder and lightening!!  So when I play golf, if the sky looks weird, I do not take any chances, I head back to the clubhouse.  Well, let's cross off being an electrician as a career choice as well as meteorologist.  Maybe I should cross off baker also, do you think??

Win or Lose

My sister, Diane, and I sometimes played board games together when we were young.  My sister was not a good loser!  Every single time we played and it looked like she was going to lose, she would knock the board off the table.  If she was the one winning we finished the game, otherwise, I had to pick all the pieces up and put the game away.  She got up and walked away, laughing at me saying "ha, ha you didn't win"!  That was alright I didn't mind, but it did bother me that she would never help put the game away or pick it up.  Lots of times mom and dad would play games with us, even grandma, that was so fun!!  If any arguing started or complaining, our folks threatened to put the game away.  Di usually was the instigator of this as I mentioned before, she did not like to lose.  But she can't win every time either.  A few times she got so unruly mom or dad gave her a spanking  to try to teach her to be a good sport.  She never learned to just play for the fun of playing together.  Di was very stubborn and would not listen to anyone, it was her way or no way.  Today however, she does much better at playing games.  When she wins, she just loves to rub it in and sing, or dance right in front of me saying things like "nae, nae I win", or "gotcha, you didn't win this one"!  She can be rather funny sometimes but it still does not bother me when she says that, at least we have gotten past pushing everything on the floor or tipping over the board.  It is still hard for her to lose several in a row, but now she will suggest we change the game or she says she doesn't want to play anymore.  See, she has learned to control her temper better and communicate verbally, in a nice way, she is done playing. 

Finger Beware

After the laundry mom had 1 or 2 baskets of ironing.  Because I liked to help and learn new things, I asked mom if I could do some ironing for her.  She thought I was old enough to do some things like dad's handkerchiefs, pillow cases, and dollies.  This was going to be fun for an eight year old little girl.  So she showed me all that was necessary for me to begin.  Little did I know just how heavy that iron was to work with because it was filled with water for steam.  So here I go with my first ever handkerchief for dad.  You start out by putting it on the ironing board, which mom lowered to my height, and straighten it out with your hands to get it ready to press.  Mom always had a tall coke bottle full of water that had a silver cork like top with holes to wet the dry pieces then it is easier to get out the wrinkles.  Mom thought this was safer for me than using the steam form the iron.  So, now it is straightened, wet and ready, here comes the iron.  I am so excited to help!!  As you iron you are supposed to pull a little on the other end to help stretch the item some to help get out the wrinkles.  Well, all was going swell until I forgot to move my finger from the corner and ironed right over it.  OUCH!!  Man that iron is hot, hot, hot!  After my blood curdling scream, mom came running, to find me with my finger in my mouth.  When I showed her my finger, she told me that next time I will remember to move them out of the way.  It would have been nice to learn that before I started!  She said anyone with a brain would know to move their finger.  Then I did not want to iron anymore, but mom told me if I start something I need to finish it, so get right back in there and finish.  Because it was finish or get hit with the strap, I finished  with a sniffle and a few tears, and lots of butter on my finger.  The butter did not seem the help my finger feel any better, but it felt better under cold water.  Every once in awhile my finger would get touched by the iron, but not like that first time, and no matter how many times I ironed it the wrinkles in that finger never came out.  Guess I am not a very good ironer.  Thank goodness in today's world the clothes are perma press or have that wrinkly look.  Check another career choice off the list, no laundry or dry cleaning work!

Dairy Air!

While I am thinking about the previous page on eggs,it reminds me of another trip we made to the opposite end of town.  About a mile outside of town, there was a dairy farm called Palmrueters.  They had literally tons of milking cows and sold if to anyone that came to pick it up.  They had some machinery that I guess processed it somehow.  Mom and I would go there and she would send me in with the glass gallon jars to get milk.  Now being right from the cow, it is not as pure white as it is in the stores.  It is not as cold as the store milk.  It was a grayish creamy color with a thick layer of lighter creamy colored stuff at the top.  It was the cream from the milk, mom took that off for cooking or use in coffee. The milk itself was not thick at all, it was like drinking colored water, and the taste was different from store bought milk.  Of course, I don't believe that it had been pasteurized yet, but I could be wrong!  My sister and I hated drinking the milk like that so she would get either powdered milk or skim milk to mix it with.  Well, it was better, not by much but tolerable to eat on cereal and stuff like that.  This is why I love to drink water so much!!  At all my meals I had either water or kool aid and sometimes a small glass of milk, but a real small glass!!  At Palmruters there wasn't any cute people or cattle to see.  When you drove by you saw them in the fields, but not in the barn section you bought the milk from.  It was extremely sterile on the inside all the silver vats shined so bright, because the morning sunlight came through the upper windows to make it look little cheery.  It gave mom and me quiet time to talk and be together, that was the best part!! 

Egg-cited

Just outside the village limits of our hometown, was a big chicken farm.  The Anderson family lived there and raised chickens to sell but mostly they sold eggs to our local store or anyone who stopped by.  We always bought our eggs fresh from them every 2 weeks.  Mom always took me with her to go in to get the eggs.  We drove past the house to the chicken building.  It was really long, big and stinky!  When you go inside, there was a machine that eggs came out of and was manually packed into the egg cartons.  We would return the cartons every time we went for new eggs.  Look, we were recycling before anyone thought " go green"!!!  Anyway, there was a big window just to your left that you could see thousands of chickens.  They were clucking, crowing, eating, laying, and pooping all right there in that long long building!  Even with the window you could hear them, man they were noisy critters!  Well, I did not mind going in for the eggs because one of the Anderson boys usually worked in there sorting eggs.  He was very cute, I thought, was nice, friendly, and patted me on the shoulder or head as I would leave.  At that time I was so blasted shy I could barely look up at home without my face turning 80 shades of red.   Mom didn't know that was why I did not mind going in for her or she would have teased me to no end!  Sometimes when mom cracked an egg it had a double yolk, and I thought it would have been twins, AH, Yum!!  Eggs now days do not taste as good or fresh as Anderson's, but an egg is an egg. 

Birth

Grandma lived with us and one day I must have asked about babies or boys and girls.  She told me that we were born at home they put the baby in a basket and placed them behind the old oil stove or heater in the dining room.  After being there so long they came to check on us to see if we became a boy or a girl.  She said upon removing us from the basket to unwrap the blanket, they check to see if we cracked or not.  If you cracked you were a girl and if you did not crack you were a boy.  It was as simple as that, cause grandma told me so!  Later as I grew up, different people would tell stories about being brought by a stork.  That must have been scary and cold!  Some would say they were born in a cabbage patch.  The question in my mind is did they dig them up or pluck them off a vine, or do they come up like a head of cabbage??  Is it when the leaves of the cabbage open the baby is inside and then comes out?  Some say they fell from heaven!  Is there holes in the clouds to fall down through?  Do you get pushed off a cloud or something to fall so far?  Wouldn't you be scared?  There were so many questions in my mind about this topic of birth, but sure glad grandma cleared it up and told me how it really happens.  Thank goodness we had the oil stove!!!  

Chickens

One day my folks bought a bunch of chickens from a local farmer so they would be fresh.  They were so fresh they were still clucking, literally, walking, clucking, pecking smelly chickens!!  It was gross, at least I thought so, until, they talked about  wringing their necks and plucking feathers, which was even more gross!!  My sister Diane, wanted to help dad kill those birds.  Dad had me come behind the house with Di and he was going to show us how to kill a chicken.  Seeing the first one was all I could tolerate, so I ran back into the house and cried to mom.  She told me to stop the crying, they are only chickens for goodness sake.  Well even for chickens it was allot of blood.  Diane could not have been happier, helping to ring somethings neck.  At least she had some else to pester than me for a while.  Dad would get hold of a chicken hold it down, he had Di grab it's neck and pull while he chopped off its head.  Diane danced around with her chicken heads like they were her best friends.  Enough of that gruesome picture.  Dad brought the chickens in and mom then boiled them with their feathers on, pew, the smell of wet, hot feathers boiling is very very gross!  Dad put newspaper on the kitchen table to pluck the feathers.  Mom made me try to help pull them out which was not easy.  At the end of the feathers part you pulled was a  sharp pointy end.  Just pulling that out of the skin of the chicken made me so sick to my stomach.  I had to go to the park to get away from the smell and the whole process.  Once they finished plucking, was the cooking part, then the canning, or freezing.  When we ate them they were delicious, but I don't care to know what happens or how they prepare it for human consumpstion.  My career choice would difinitely not be chicken farmer!!   

Grand Theft

In our small town there was a grocery store called Ferzog's.  Mr. and Mrs. Ferzog, an older German couple, owned and operated it.  There were old creaky wood floors, dim lighting, and a very tall ceiling.  In the front of the store was a single door with a square window on the inside.  In the summer months this door was usually propped open with a brick and the screen door let in fresh air, and was squeaky when it opened.  Also one big window took up the rest of the front part of the store which lite up the front half on the inside.  Where they had the cash register was long glass cases. Glass on top, on the front and on the back were glass sliding doors, all in wood frames.  At the back of the store they had refrigerated cases to keep the meat, eggs, milk, etc.. cool and fresh.  they were all white with higher windows and also had lights inside to see the items and prices.  In the very back was a big walk-in freezer, Mr Ferzog cut up sides of beef and pork.  He made fresh ground beef and pork sausage.  It smelled good, all that fresh meat and it was extremely clean.  In the back room was a kitchen table, chairs, and looked like an average house kitchen.  The Ferzog's lived upstairs above the store and if you really needed something but they were closed, we could walk up the outside steps to there home.  They happily would let you in to purchase the item.  Other groceries lined each wall and they had everything you could want or need.  Inside the glass cases in front displayed all the penny candy, candy bars or candy in bulk to buy per pound.  At this time I was maybe 2 years old, with bright red hair, and a big smile that was framed by bright pink chubby cheeks.  To Mr. Ferzog, I was adorable!  Each and every time mom and I came in, he picked me up swung me around and usually held me or played with me until mom was ready to leave.  Each time he put 5 or 6 pieces of candy in this tiny brown paper bag and gave it to me free.  Mom told him not to spoil me, but he did not listen.  One particular day we went to get groceries and Mr. Ferzog was busy at the meat counter with 2 or 3 customers and didn't have time to give me any candy.  So I went behind the counter slid open the glass door and took only 2 tootsie rolls.  They were small so I put them in my pocket, closed the door and went to find my mom.  Once we were back in the car with the groceries, I remember standing in the front seat next to mom as I reached in my pocket, opened the tootsie roll and started to chew on it.  Mom stopped the car before we left the parking lot and asked me where did I get the candy.  I said as best I could, Ferzog's!  She ask if one of the Ferzog's had handed it to me, and I shook my head, no.  So she asked me how I got it, and as I showed her the other tootsie roll in my pocket, and said that I had gotten them myself.  OH NO!  Her eyes became as big as apples, and I knew somehow I was in trouble!  She had me take the candy out of my mouth re wrap it and after a good spanking for stealing, she marched me right back inside to tell Mr. and Mrs. Ferzog what I had done!  I was crying so hard they probably could not understand what I was saying, but mom gave them the condensed version.  They were stolen!!  Mr. Ferzog came around squatted in front of me, wiped my eyes with his big finger, picked me up gave me a kiss and hug. He told my mom it was alright, because it was his fault, he forgot to give me my tiny bag of candy he was too busy.  She told him not to let me off so easy or I would do it again.  He took me around the counter set me on top of the glass as he got out a tiny bag and put in some candy for me to take home and make me feel better.  He even opened the wrapper back up to give the tootsie roll I had been chewing earlier.  When I got home I got another spanking but not the candy.  Mom said I did not deserve to be rewarded.  So nap time here I come again.  After a good cry sleep comes so quickly and then it's time to wake up and start all over.  Sure learned that lesson!  Crossed off my list of career choices was burglar and thief. 

Sleepless Nights

Yesterday I was reminiscing about visiting Aunt Myrtle, grandma's sister.  She had a sofa that now we would call a photon bed I think.  By day a sofa, and at night mom and dad slept on it by pulling the bottom up so the back of the couch would unlatch and turned into a double bed.  It was comfortable if you were short, but poor dad, I don't think he slept well.  The arms of the sofa didn't move, so it was hard to stretch out his legs.  If you were able to stretch them out, the sofa set about 6 or 7 inches from the wall.  Grandma slept down the narrow hall that lead to the back room.  To the left, in the wall of the hall, was a built in single bed, just across from the tiny bathroom.  If there was any activity in the bathroom throughout the night, grandma couldn't sleep either.  I'm not sure if it was the light in the bathroom that blinded her or woke her up when someone went in or out, or the noise of the toilet flushing and sound of the water running to wash our hands, or the noise of coming into the kitchen from the squeaky push door.  Diane and I slept on the floor as I told you, with me closest to the gigantic man eating leaves that loomed over me waiting for me to close my eyes to have a snack.  We had to sleep so close to the plants because in the middle of A. Myrt's living room floor was a big grate in the floor from the furnace.  It had to have been at least 3 feet by 2and a half feet, with wide grates that hurt your feet just walking over it. So I always walked around it for fear of falling into the basement.  Since the living room was small, because of the excessive accumulation of plants, sleeping on the floor so close to this register was not comfortable because  the heat  poured out of it.  Aunt Myrt liked it warm, real warm!  We did not need extra blankets, but I used one so the plant ate it before me, strategy!!  The dining room was next to the sofa and it had plants, stands with plants, a table with 6 chairs and on 3 walls there must have been over one hundred plates hanging.  She had plates of all sizes, shapes, and colors from all the places she visited, or plates she just loved to look at!  Thinking to myself, when I am able to travel to any place when I grow up, I am going to be like A. Myrt. and collect plates!  Well, I did that for a while, but it puts allot of holes in the wall and it needs dusting too much to enjoy.  But, I do have a collection of plates!  Right after breakfast, A. Myrt. was rubbing her hands together to get the poker game started for the day, all day!  Good thing there wasn't any casino's at that time near by.  Just starting to think she might have had a gambling problem with pennies!!  She may have had an addiction for plants.  Since it was so boring, I had to be creative to find ways to entertain myself.  Anyway, going to see Aunt Myrtle was not a sacrifice, it was worth it to see how happy grandma was to see her sister.  Grandma never asked for much and was always easy to get along with and easy to please.  Also, she was easy to love, cause she loved everyone and was very grateful for her blessings.  I miss you grandma!!!

Oh Snap!

My grandma on mom's side, had a sister named Myrtle.  She lived by her self in a two story house, living in the bottom half and renting the upstairs as one unit.  We would go down to Aunt Myrt's allot, to visit and help paint or wallpaper the apartment before a new tenant moved in.  Now A. Myrt had her own kids, but my mom and her sisters usually ended up doing the hard work.  I remember the paste they used on the wallpaper was warm, gooey, and thick, sometimes lumpy and I loved to play in it, which mom didn't want us doing.  They would put boards on the rungs of 2 ladders to get the paper on the walls.  We always had a blast working together with mom and her sisters, Fern and Viola.  Grandma didn't climb stairs well so she enjoyed visiting with her sister, A. Myrt.  When we had to help with the apartment, that meant we usually stayed overnight since it was over an hour drive to get there.  Aunt Myrt was almost blind, I was told, but that woman played poker and seemed to see quite well during the game!!  They played for pennies and she was serious about winning and seriously not good at losing.  She did not let any kids play either.  So that left my sister and I to entertain ourselves.  We were ordered not to touch any of her plants, big or small.  One way she kept us from bothering her plants, she told us they were snapping plants.  They could take off a finger if you got too close.  The house even smelled like soil there were so many, and I wondered,.
 if she could not see, how did she water all of them.  Her bedroom was off limits as well, because of all her medication.  She did not want us messing around with her pills, not that we ever would or had even considered such a thing.  Her bedroom smelled of a strong real strong Ben-Gay cream.  The kitchen was very small, not big enough for more than 3 people.  It had a gas stove that you could smell the gas when we cooked, even the food had a sort of gassy taste at times.  If we did not bring anything to play with, all A. Myrt had in toys was one tin or metal horse with a tin Indian riding it.  You could wind it up and the horse would make little hops around in a circle.  She had a front porch and a cigar tree as we called it, and we played every game you could think to play with the cigar like pods.  If we really got bored there was a push lawn mower in the garage.  We called it a garage, but it was a big back room down the hall off the kitchen.  If we took it outside we could only push it if we planned on doing the entire yard.  So we usually pushed it around that back room.  The highlight of each visit was listening for the sound of the ice cream man on his bike.  He would ring his bell and we would run in to announce his arrival and beg for pennies from the poker pile of mom or dad to pay for the treat.  Once in awhile A. Myrt would through us some change just to get us out of their hair, they were playing serious no peek baseball poker.  Of course there was plenty of times we were told NO!  If dad got bored playing poker, we could walk one block to the party store, Yippee!!  Dad brought some of his winnings, so I got the red candy lipstick wrapped in gold foil, yum!  Diane sometimes would get a six pack of little wax pop bottles that had a swallow of colored liquid inside.  At night Di and I had to sleep on the floor by the finger eating plants.  We, or at least I didn't get much sleep, Di made me sleep closest to the biggest plant whose leaves were bigger than my hand.  I was scared it might snack on me if I feel asleep.  There is much more to tell about visiting A. Myrt's but my space is running out so for now this will be all, but look for a follow-up later.  One thing I can cross off my list of career choices is a horticulturist, I don't want to work with plants, who knows which ones really do bite??

The Fort

Before attending kindergarten, I was given a vaccination that hurt and  made a big scab on my upper arm.  That would mean I was either 4 or 5 years old.  One day the neighbors had a stove delivered in a huge box.  The kids in the area asked if they could play with the box to create a fort.  Wow!  This sounded fun, so I joined in to help.  The neighbor and Diane my sister said they needed me to get in the box to see where the windows should go as well as the door.  I was the shortest and youngest, the box was taller than me.  Everyone picked up the box and put it over me, now I was inside!  But it was totally dark, I could not see anything!  As I tried to move the box, it would not move.  Everyone started to laugh and hit the sides of the thing.  Now I was really getting scared!!  The more I yelled to let me out the harder they laughed.  When I began to cry, my sister told me they were sitting on top and would never let me out.  Suddenly, I heard something!  It was a knife being pushed into the cardboard, to make a door and let me out I was told.  Were they crazy!!  That could have stabbed me, cut me, poked out my eye because they did not know where I was setting!  As they sawed with the knife light began to flicker inside.  No sooner than the door was made, I burst out of that thing so fast it scared the kids on the outside.  Determined to escape, I did not realize until I was safe in our house, that the big scab on my arm had been ripped off.  Mom asked why I was crying, so between sobs, I explained what happened.  My arm was bleeding so hard, mom put on some mecuracomb (pink liquid that stung and stained for days) and a band aid.  She told me to go lay down till I calmed down, which meant nap time.  It was alright to me, I was safe at home.  How do you know when to trust someone?  Like Shakespeare, to trust or not to trust that is the question, or something like that.  Now this could explain my fear of dark closed in places, claustrophobia!  Guess I will check architecture and interior design off my career list. 

Dead Indians (continued)

The other was under the stairs where a nail had safely been secluded to hang the key for the freezer.  Relatives, who can trust them when it comes to food?  Actually, Aunt Fern's family on occasion would come and take what they needed when they were low on money.  So we hid that key under the stairs, clever?  When mom needed something from the basement she would ask Di or I to go down.  Diane being older usually made me go, because she had to get stuff out of the attic, so the basement was my job.  Anyone knows you make more tips to the basement than the attic because the need for food and laundry.  Many times mom ask me to get something out of the freezer.  Because of the spiders and cobwebs, I would stand for minutes on end starring at that key patiently waiting for a spider to move off the key.  Those crazy spiders really loved crawling around that blasted key!  Sometimes I would take so long, mom yelled down to tell me to hurry or ask what was taking me so long!!  She often told me that they were just spiders, or that I was bigger than they were.  YEA!  But they had more legs than me and ran faster!!   Getting the key was the hard part, putting it back was a cinch!!  I cannot understand why putting it back was easier and faster?  Anyway the next hurdle was getting back up the stairs without the Indians grabbing me!  If you back up and time it just right, get a running start, I out foxed those Indians every time.  I may not be faster then a spider, but I was faster then a dead Indian!! Yea!!  So long story short, Di and I survived yet another traumatic experience.  Because we lived to write this now you know how to out maneuver dead Indians!!  You are welcome!!  Oh, I forgot to tell you that in the middle of the basement built upon a 2 foot cement square was the furnace.  When either the water or sub pump, or furnace would kick on they scared the baageebee's out of us, we thought it was an Indian getting us.  We hated the attic and basement, which is why I bought a house without either!!

Dead Indians

Our house with grandma had a basement.  I can barely remember my dad and relatives putting in the cement floor.  To enter the basement, there was a door (with a hook and latch to secure it) off the kitchen.  When the door opened there was a small landing with old wood floors.  Behind the door is where we stored the brooms, mops, pails and next to the light switch hung the strap.  From the landing the steps lead down into the actual basement.  They were a slight bit wobbly at times.  At the foot of the stairs were to interesting things.  First was the water pump, since we had well water, that was none  to small and a pipe that went from the pump under the steps and into the far wall.  Now the water pump would turn on and off periodically.  Usually at a time when you least expected it and scare the living daylights right out of you!!!  The second thing of interest was a rectangle whole in the cement wall just before you reached the last two steps and right before the pump motor.  The whole was like a window in size, and occasionally one had to crawl into it to retrieve canning jars or what ever they stored in there.  Creepy!!  If you would look into the window it was filled with dirt to about 2 feet below the opening.  We were told that years ago Indians were buried in that section.  Needless to say, I was terrified that a spirit of and Indian would reach out grab me and pull be inside and that nobody could hear me scream!!  Just for your info, Diane was as scared as it would happen to her as well.  So when we had to go down to get home canned items, we always stopped a step before the opening, look in (it did not ever have a door or covering) check for Indians or feathers and run down the last 2 steps as fast as we could.  By the time we took the 5 or 6 steps to the homemade wooden shelves to get the canned goods, we were exasperated and our heart rate was at least 140 beats a minute.  It felt like that, fear can make you move really fast!!  Past the pump was the ringer washer, a large porcelain sink for soaking laundry, and a stool that had a huge galvanized tub to rinse the laundry before running it back through the ringer to mom.  She would shake it to get the shape back then put it in the laundry basket to either hang outside on the line or we had clothes lines in the basement to hang them in bad weather or in winter months.  We had a clothespin canvas bag that we used to hang the clothes on the line.  Immediately behind the tub for rinsing as another opening in the cement wall but it had a wooden door with a round ring to pull it open and the inside was identical to the other opening, sand and more Indians!  Next to that opening was the 6 or 7 wooden shelves dad built for us to store all the home canned fruit, vegetables, potatoes, beef and things like that.  Just in front of these shelves about 4 feet was our electric dryer that we used if it was too damp for the clothes to dry by hanging.  Then there wasn't anything until you came to the corner of the basement where there was a big freezer that we kept locked.  Relatives who can trust them??  We had meat and the usual frozen items as well as homemade pies and breads.  We always had company that needed to be feed lots of food.  So Diane and I made many heart throbbing trips to the basement and each time we out smarted those dead Indians, HA!!  Now at this end of the basement were the only 2 small windows that you could see outside.  They were too high to actually look out of, but you could see the sky and the wheels of any car parked in the driveway.  Just to the other side of these windows was a dark corner that had more than its share of cobwebs and spiders of all sizes and speeds.  In the corner was a hole in the floor for the sub pump to pump any water that accumulated on the floor to prevent flooding.  Which it did not always do very good.  Dad many times would have to go down in his boots to sweep water into the hole, shovel water into a 10 gallon pail to dump outside, or connect a big long rubber hose to the sub pump to pump the water out the basement window into the driveway.  Poor dad he worked so hard then came home to keep the basement dry. We have made a circle around the basement because after the sub pump was the under side of the steps to back upstairs to safety.  Yet, under the stairs were 2 things.  One was a ledge where the potatoes were stored to keep them from spoiling because it was dark and cold in the basement even in the summer.