R is for Readin', 'Ritin', and 'Rithmetic

 

I am in the process of sorting through everything in my parents' home, and in so doing, I have been looking through all my childhood memorabilia, the majority of which I hadn't seen since my parents packed up my belongings and moved them from the home I grew up in to this house some 45 years ago. My 2024 A to Z Challenge theme is based on the treasures I have found in the boxes and the drawers and closets. Join me on my bittersweet journey back to my childhood.

I was never much for 'rithmetic. As I wrote in M is for McDonalds, I hid my hand and counted on my fingers when I had to add up an order back in the days before computers when we had to use an order pad, a pencil, and a tax chart. I was terrible at memorizing multiplication facts, and when we did the timed tests, like, every single freakin' day of fourth grade, my friend Liz and I would trade papers when we graded them and write in each other's missed answers.  I didn't know how to do long division correctly until I taught fourth grade and had a teacher's manual. I barely passed Algebra I and II in high school, and when no one made me take more math than that, I filled my schedule with English classes and drama classes and lightweight social studies classes such as Psychology and Sociology.

I always loved readin', although I hated when we had to read aloud in class, as I didn't like everyone looking at me. I loved the Ginny and Geneva books and the Cathy books by Catherine Wooley, as well as Jean Little's books. When I was in fourth grade, the librarian introduced me to the Laura Ingalls Wilder series, and I loved them so much, I bought the entire series, book by book. I still have them, and my kids read them and loved them, too. 

And 'ritin'? If I was predestined to be a teacher, then I was also predestined to be a writer, because I reveled in writing papers in my literature classes. I began keeping a journal in 8th grade and wrote in one nearly daily for almost 20 years.

In my cedar chest in my old room, I found this story from one of the English classes I took to avoid math:

"Z was once a piece of zinc, tinky, winky, blinky, tinky, tinkly, minky piece of zinc."

"Read it again!"

Grandma cast her eyes heavenward.

"Just one more time, please? Pretty please, with sugar and cinnamon on top?"

Grandma groaned, "All right, one more time, but that's all for today."

She began reading, with the little girl snuggled against her, "A was once an apple pie, pidy, widy, tidy, pidy, nice insidy, apple pie...."

As the little girl listened to her grandmother's smooth voice reading the alphabet, she thought about her grandma. When she was about three years old, she received a doll, a beautiful, baby doll named Cindy. Dyanne was sure Cindy was a real baby; well, sometimes, anyway. She was so sure, she had her grandma show her how to hold Cindy like mommies hold their babies. Grandma showed her once, but sometimes, Dyanne forgot how, and Grandma would show her again and again.

"H was once a little hen, henny, chenny, tenny, henny, eggsy-any little hen?"

Grandma knew how to do real baby things with Cindy. She taught Dyanne how to wrap a blanket around Cindy and how to burp her. Grandma showed her how to do these once, twice, again and again.

"N was once a little needle, needly, tweedly, threedly, needly, wisky, wheedly, little needle."

Every time Grandma came for a visit, she was confronted with Cindy and The Nonsense Alphabet Book. Every time, again and again. However, when Dyanne was seven years old, her Grandma died of cancer. She didn't understand very much, just that Grandma wouldn't be back to read to her, or show her how to hold Cindy the right way, not ever again. She didn't think about her Grandma a lot until several weeks later. She woke up in the night, crying, and her mother came to comfort her. Although she was seven, she understood the sense of never. It was a deep, dark, unreachable hole, untouchable to all.

"Z was once a piece of zinc, tinky, winky, blinky, tinky, tinkly, minky, piece of zinc."

My mom had kept a mimeographed copy of this little story that I had forgotten all about until now. Note: one thing I left out of the story is my grandma being there when I gave Cindy a haircut. I remember her saying, "Why did you cut off all Cindy's pretty hair?" And why? Because I thought it would grow back, of course!

Not my actual copy; mine looks much worse.

Cindy has been with me always. She has moved to apartments and houses
all over the country, spending her retirement in my little rocking chair. 
She is wearing my baby shoes, but some 30 years ago, I bought her 
a dress to replace the tattered one of mine she used to wear.
Photo cred to my husband, because I was out of town and needed
 a photo, and he nailed the shot in one try, although in all fairness,
Cindy is a pretty compliant model....

Q is for Quilt

 

I am in the process of sorting through everything in my parents' home, and in so doing, I have been looking through all my childhood memorabilia, the majority of which I hadn't seen since my parents packed up my belongings and moved them from the home I grew up in to this house some 45 years ago. My 2024 A to Z Challenge theme is based on the treasures I have found in the boxes and the drawers and closets. Join me on my bittersweet journey back to my childhood.

My mother hated to sew.

Her aunt Edith (Ecie, as she was called by the family) was a beautiful seamstress. She made clothes for herself and her sister Daisy, as well as making clothes for my mom, including her wedding dress, which she made from a drawing my mom made of what she envisioned, and for me.

My mom did not get the sewing gene from Ecie, but in the 70s, probably as a cost-saving measure, she made herself some clothes. She put her sewing machine on the living room floor, so she could watch "Edge of Night" and "One Life To Live" as she worked, and she sat on the floor and operated the foot pedal with an outstretched leg. There was much snarling and swearing as she worked, but she did turn out some double-knit tank tops in all their glorious 1970s patterns and colors.

Quilting got a resurgence in the 1980s. My mom loved quilts, and she had many that had been pieced and quilted by her mother and Ecie, as well as some that dated back even further. These quilts were made with scrap fabrics left from making the family's clothing, as well as from feed sacks. The 1980s quilts were made with calico fabric in 1980s shades that had been selected and purchased just for the quilt project and were not made from random materials.

I do not know how she managed it, but a one of my mom's friends talked her into taking a quilting class. I believe the friend was able to convince her to take the class because, instead of piecing and sewing the design and stitching all of it together, and then quilting this voluminous  amount of fabric, they would be making a quilt one square at a time and quilting it as they went along, sewing each square together when all the squares were completed. How hard could it be?

My mom bought yards and yards of coordinated calico fabrics and cotton batting. She purchased a special wooden frame for making the quilt squares, and she set out to work.

Some time into the first square, and only a few days after starting the class and the initial excitement of making a quilt with the exact colors and patterns she had chosen, my mom remembered how much she hated sewing. Hated it. HATED it.

I found the quilt rack and fabric (already cut out into pieces and just waiting for her to sew them together) in a plastic bag in the back of my old bedroom closet a couple of weeks ago. I know she had high hopes of turning out a handmade quilt, and she meant well when she signed up for the class, but let's face it, she was NEVER going to make that quilt. She got mad and frustrated when she sewed a simple tank top with two seams and a hem!

The first (and last) square. She gets a lot of
credit for putting all the pieces together!

Perhaps the straw (or stitch) that finally broke
the camel's back....

This is how far she got with quilting the square....

My mom was no quitter. But she definitely wasn't a quilter, either!

P is for Picture Perfect

 

I am in the process of sorting through everything in my parents' home, and in so doing, I have been looking through all my childhood memorabilia, the majority of which I hadn't seen since my parents packed up my belongings and moved them from the home I grew up in to this house some 45 years ago. My 2024 A to Z Challenge theme is based on the treasures I have found in the boxes and the drawers and closets. Join me on my bittersweet journey back to my childhood.

There were very few formal studio photos taken of me and my brother as kids, but I found two sets in the closet that are pretty perfect.*

Example 1 is from 1962. I was two years old; my brother was five:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

These photos were taken in 1973 or 1974, and I only know this because I remember having that dress in 8th grade, since I have ZERO independent recollection of having the photos done. They might have been taken during a session for a new pictorial directory at our church. I was 13 years old, and my brother was 16 or 17:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Approximately ten years later, in 1983, my brother and I had this photo taken as a gift for our parents. 

Could we have BEEN more 1983?! I'm wearing what was my favorite blouse and sporting a Pat Benetar-esque bi-level haircut. And yes, we color coordinated on purpose. My mom loved it, and it has been hanging in my parents' bedroom ever since.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So then who the damn hell are these two old people, anyway?

Ahhh, pretty as a picture!

*photo scanning cred to Nikki, because she will only read blog posts if she is in them

O is for Ouch!

 

I am in the process of sorting through everything in my parents' home, and in so doing, I have been looking through all my childhood memorabilia, the majority of which I hadn't seen since my parents packed up my belongings and moved them from the home I grew up in to this house some 45 years ago. My 2024 A to Z Challenge theme is based on the treasures I have found in the boxes and the drawers and closets. Join me on my bittersweet journey back to my childhood.

My brother is really good at gift giving. He always finds clever and unique items for me. I have several quirky pins that he gave me over the years that I still wear, and a pair of earrings that I love that are art pieces. This past Christmas, he got me this awesome t-shirt that has the phone number we grew up with printed on it:

I was in late junior high or early high school when my brother gave me a wax seal stamp with my initial on it, along with two sealing wax sticks, one yellow and one pink. As you might imagine from someone who was a voracious note writer in school, I also wrote letters to friends and family who lived afar, so this was an awesome gift! My brother showed me how to use it, lighting the wax stick, letting it drip onto the envelope, then quickly pressing the stamp into it. I loved it!

At some point, the wax sticks and the stamp got stuck away in a box and forgotten about, but one afternoon when I was probably a senior in high school, I found the items while cleaning my room. Unable to resist, I pulled out some matches, touched one to the wick on the wax stick, and before I could get a piece of paper ready, the wax dripped onto my bare thigh.

YOWWWWWW!!!

The drop of melted wax on my thigh was about the size of a pencil eraser but burned like it was as big as a dinner plate. I quickly slipped my fingernail under the edge and pulled it off my thigh. It peeled right off, taking with it MANY layers of my skin.

OW OW OW OW OW OW OWWWWW!!!

I had a raw, bloody, pencil eraser-sized divot on my thigh, and it REALLY REALLY HURT.

I limped downstairs to show my mom and get a little sympathy, but instead, all I got was laughter and a bandaid. The burn remained ouchie for weeks (I'm telling you, it was DEEP), and when it finally healed, I had nice little white scar the size of pencil eraser about five inches above my knee that, although barely noticeable, is still there to this day.

Signed, sealed, and delivered.

I wasn't going to replicate this by using actual sealing wax (besides, I didn't have any), so
I tried using the seal on playdough, but it was an obvious fail.

I got some satisfaction from using sticky tack putty (used for damage-
free hanging of posters or photos or the like on walls).

N is for Newspapers

 

I am in the process of sorting through everything in my parents' home, and in so doing, I have been looking through all my childhood memorabilia, the majority of which I hadn't seen since my parents packed up my belongings and moved them from the home I grew up in to this house some 45 years ago. My 2024 A to Z Challenge theme is based on the treasures I have found in the boxes and the drawers and closets. Join me on my bittersweet journey back to my childhood.

There's an old Southern saying that a lady's name should only appear in the newspaper three times: when she is born, when she is married, and when she dies.

I found these newspaper articles from when I was young that either prove that statement is false or that I apparently am no lady.

My senior year in high school, I was cast in the play Arsenic and Old Lace. We had a good many talented girls who auditioned, so the director made the decision to have a split cast, meaning each female role was played by two different casts. Each cast of girls performed for two nights with the boys performing all four nights. I played Martha Brewster, one of the two elderly sisters who made elderberry wine that was laced with arsenic and a pinch of strychnine and served it to unsuspecting gentlemen callers.

Front page of the Ruskin Highlight, baby!

Close up: Mike, Kenna, and me

That no being enough, I qualified to go to the State forensics competition, along with three others from our school's tournament forensics program. I competed in an area called Prose (also known as Storytelling) with a story from a book of parables called The Way of the Wolf that I loved. I performed a story called "Barrington Bunny."

Becky (still in contact with her), Tim, Nancy, me

I made the school newspaper twice when I taught elementary school in a very small town in the Ozarks. Kindergarten all the way through high school was housed in different wings of the same building, and since we were so close in proximity (and didn't have a newspaper of our own), the monthly high school newspaper always included an item or two about the elementary school as well. When I was first hired, I was interviewed as one of three new teachers in the building. Another time, I was pictured in a group of female teachers doing a dance routine at a benefit basketball game.

Teaching 4th grade. They were a great group.

I'm always the tall one.

Last, I found a photo of me and my co-worker that was submitted to the local newspaper when we were officers for our school's MSTA (Missouri State Teachers Association) chapter.

I have no idea who these men were, although I think the one
on the right may have been the state president. My co-worker
Patty and me in back (see? always the tall one)

Contact my publicist for interviews....

M is for McDonalds

 

I am in the process of sorting through everything in my parents' home, and in so doing, I have been looking through all my childhood memorabilia, the majority of which I hadn't seen since my parents packed up my belongings and moved them from the home I grew up in to this house some 45 years ago. My 2024 A to Z Challenge theme is based on the treasures I have found in the boxes and the drawers and closets. Join me on my bittersweet journey back to my childhood.

My best friend Jane and I always looked forward to Friday nights when we were in high school. During school, Jane and I would discuss (through note passing, of course) who was driving, who we hoped to see while we were out, what we were wearing, etc., then later that evening, one of us would drive to the other's house and pick her up. 

No matter what we were doing that night, like going to a movie or a football or basketball game, we ended it by going to McDonalds, along with a large number of others from our school. Before we could go to McDonalds, however, we had to cruise through the Burger King parking lot to see which guys were there showing off their muscle cars that were backed into parking spaces around the perimeter of the parking lot, windows rolled down. Burger King's rule was they could park there, but they couldn't get out of their cars (no loitering, you know). I don't know how the place stayed in business, because none of the guys ever went in and bought anything, and there weren't many spaces to spare for diners to park and walk in (this was the days before drive-thrus). 

After checking out Burger King, we would drive the block or so down the road to McDonalds. We always took a lap through the parking lot before going inside, checking to see whose car was there and whose wasn't. Once inside, the place was popping. The rule at McDonalds was that you had to be sitting down in a booth and couldn't stand and talk (no loitering again), and I think you had to buy something, but my memory is sketchy on that. Doesn't matter, because we always got food: hamburger, small fry, medium Dr Pepper for me for $.94 (Jane's was $.99 because she got a cheeseburger). It was almost always crowded, and we would table hop, scooting into booths to visit with friends that we had just seen at school. It was our favorite social activity.

When I graduated from high school and found out my parents actually expected me to get a JOB, I figured I might as well work at McDonalds, because why not? Instead of applying at the one less than a mile from my house, however, I picked one 10 miles away, because I didn't want anyone I knew to come in while I was working. Jane then applied, too, and we worked together all that summer. It was my first job. 

We worked hard. There were no computerized cash registers then; we had an order pad, a pencil, and a tax chart, and I would hide my hand under the edge of the counter and count on my fingers when I was totaling an order. We had something like a minute to take an order, ring it up, and fill the order, and we were often timed by managers. Need a shake? Unless it was during the lunch rush, you had to make it yourself. MAKE it. Ice cream, milk, syrup in a cup, fit it on the mixer, and bzzzzzz it until it was smooth. It felt like it took forever AND YOU WERE BEING TIMED. The uniform was a hideous lime green, double knit fabric, and it always smelled like french fries.

I quit working at that McDonalds that fall when I moved to Springfield to go to college three hours away, but the following summer, I got another job at McDonalds, this time in Springfield, and I continued to work there until I graduated. Navy blue uniforms this time (much better), but it still smelled like a french fry. Most of the employees were college or high school students, and we had a lot of fun together, both at work and after. The store opened its first drive-thru right after I started, and they had computerized cash registers, so no more order pads and counting on my fingers! The first promotional game came out that first summer, with game pieces handed out with each order. Many of the game pieces held instant winner prizes of free food, so we stuck handfuls of game pieces in our socks while at work to open later at home (the managers were less subtle; they sat in the office and ripped them open, looking for free food prizes). Happy Meals had just come out, and we all had collections of the toys (socks again), and no, I don't have any of those anymore, but I did find this in a box in my bedroom closet:

And I don't care what anyone else says, sometimes NOTHING tastes better than a regular McDonalds hamburger and fries, and you won't make me change my mind. 

Frankly, My Dear and Other Thankfuls

April is halfway over tomorrow. Already! It's been a busy bloggy month with the A to Z Challenge AND the TToT, but I'm still hanging in there (barely) with both. If April is the cruelest month, it's only because it's BUSY.

1. The eclipse was pretty cool, and I'm thankful we lived in an area where we got 95% coverage. It didn't get as dark as I expected it would, given the dire warnings on all the news sources, but it did look like it was about to storm at the peak of the eclipse.

2. I'm thankful for the timing of the eclipse (thanks, Sun and Moon, for coordinating that), because it was during nap time at school. We gave every worker who wished to experience it the time to go outside and take in the view, and we had plenty of glasses to share.

Nikki and I enjoying how nice our necks look with
our heads tipped up like this to view the eclipse

3. Eclipse glasses reminds me to be thankful for my husband for going on the search for them the week before the eclipse, so we weren't scrambling to find them or getting price gouged over them.

4. I'm thankful for my friend Nikki for SOOOO many reasons, but this week, it was for helping with what turned out to be practically nothing but that I had built up to gargantuan proportions.

5. I'm also thankful she is going to go with me to get our toes did this week (you reading this, Nikki? My chips have chips!).

6. I got the opportunity to see "Gone With The Wind" at the movie theater this week, and I convinced three of my co-workers to go with me. If you've only seen it on a tv, you have no idea how spectacular this movie is on the big screen! It was Nikki's first time to see it at all, and she was not a fan of Scarlett O'Hara. Turns out, two of us were and two of us were not. Do you know which one I am? By the way, if you want to read about the FIRST time I saw Gone With The Wind, you can read it right here.

As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!

Roll film, we're ready!

7. My class can drive me NUTS, but then there are other times when they make my heart melt. This week, as we were transitioning from lunch and potty time to our cots for naps (chaotic at BEST), a couple of them started singing, then a few more chimed in, and before I knew it, the sweet sounds of their voices filled the room. I asked them if they would like to sing a few songs every day before we turn out the lights and hear our bedtime story, and they unanimously said yes. Their favorite songs? Itsy, Bitsy Spider, Down By The Station, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Five Little Ducks. You know, typical children's songs. Oh, and the Mickey Mouse Club Theme Song. They have no idea what the Mickey Mouse Club was (and it was before my time, too, but I saw it in re-runs), but they LOVE it. So stinkin' cute!

8. My son and daughter in law celebrated their third wedding anniversary this week. I'm so thankful they found each other! 

9. My husband and I are in Kansas City this weekend to cat sit our grandcat Calvin while our daughter is out of town. We left our three cats home alone to come take care of the Little Prince. It was a good excuse to spend the weekend in KC and attend church in person, though, so we will come up and cat sit any time we can! 

10. Saturday, my husband and I spent the day going to thrift stores and looking for treasures, after a stop at Target for underpants because someone forgot to pack any and was NOT comfortable  going commando any longer than it took to go to the store, buy the underpants, and put them on in the women's bathroom.... We also had a fabulous Italian meal for lunch. KC friends - go to Nico & Ana's in Overland Park the first chance you get!

Baked rigatoni. Ahhh!

There is still plenty of time to join the Ten Things of Thankful blog hop. It doesn't end until midnight tonight! Let's go!

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter