As always, something I say, do, hear, or see, triggers a precious memory of my childhood. A couple weeks ago my grand children came to spend the night with us and this time it was my grandson, Aidan, acting silly,(in which he is famous for) when he said..."I want cake! I want cake! Lets bake a cake!" I was in the middle of making taco's for supper, and immediately my mind hurled back once again to a hot summer day in the late 1960's.
If you have read any of my previous stories in the 'Moody and Me' saga, then you know how we always spent those precious summer months at each others house. This particular time it was her turn to be at my house.
Mom and dad were at work so that left two teenage girls, unsupervised, with way too much time on their hands. My mom worked a swing shift at the local nursing home, and this was her week to work 'mornings'. It was also house cleaning day for Moody and me. It was my job in the summer months to keep the house clean while Mom worked.....Sooooo with the old box radio tuned in to KDEX, and 'Joy to the World' blaring as loud as possible we started our daily housecleaning chores. Now with music like that playing, making beds, sweeping, dusting, and mopping the floors was a breeze. We soon had the whole house gleaming and smelling like Pine Sol and lemon wax. We had worked really hard and Mom was going to be proud of our efforts for sure...
With the house work behind us, it was time to laze around for a couple hours, as most teens do. I suppose a hunger pain struck when one of us made mention of "sure wish we had something sweet to eat". When the other says.."I know, lets bake a cake!" (Since this was like 45 years ago, I am assuming that we were making a homemade cake, and NOT a cake mix in a box.) Moody might can tell you more of the details than I. I don't remember if it was white,yellow, or chocolate, never the less, we started out with a very serious attempt to bake this cake.
Everything was going great in our cake making adventure, until.........wheather it was a flick of the wrist with a batter drenched spatula, or one of us brought the mixer beaters up to fast, but all of a sudden we were both sprayed with cake batter.............and.........THE FIGHT WAS ON!!!!!!!!!! Not a real fight of course, but a cake batter fight! We started out flicking it at each other and before long we were throwing that stuff with spoons, spatulas, mixer beaters, and handfuls. Jumping, running, dodging and not giving a second thought as to just where it all was landing. Laughing and screaming like two real idiots, chasing each other throughout the house and even out the front door, all while the radio was still blaring as loud as possible. I am sure that anyone that happened to be walking down the sidewalk in front of the house, thought that we had lost our minds.
After we had demolished the whole bowl of batter, and our laughter began to subside somewhat, reality then set in...............I will never forget the first words out of her mouth..........'HHHOOOLLLYYY SSS*****TTTT'..........Still makes me laugh today to remember the look on her face and the colorful obscenities!! MY first thought of course was, 'Mom is gonna kill us both'. We both looked at each other, did a very quick 360, and then at the clock at the exact same time. Our minds racing trying to figure out just how much time we had to clean the mess up before Mom walked in the door. I don't remember the exact amount, but lets just say that we had to work like two speed demons to get it all cleaned up with not a minute to spare.
In walks my Mom, all hot, tired and red faced from a hard days work, and here we sat like two little precious angels with the house smelling from the stench of pine sol (AGAIN) so fresh and potent, and swet dripping from our brow. She sang our praise for what a wonderful job we had done with the house cleaning and how very much she appreciated our efforts. All the while we were trying our darnedest to keep straight faces. Then one of us looked up! Huge eyeballs! Big gulp! There on the ceiling of the kitchen was a big glob of cake batter. Getting ready to make its debut! And that wasn't counting all of the little splats we seen! WE LOST IT AGAIN, Laughter overwhelmed us! Out the front door we went in a hysterical fit. Mom just thought we were two very silly teenage girls. We had to catch mom in the bathroom or outside before we could hop up in a chair and clean the ceiling off, before she seen it too!
I really don't remember if we ever got that cake baked or not. If we did, we were probably more careful, but one thing I am sure of, we were laughing all the while we made it. ........
OH MY! what a precious memory! I don't bake cakes very often anymore. My husband loves cake but he is a diabetic, and not suppose to eat much sweets. But I can tell you this, that when I do bake one, the thought of 'cake on the ceiling' always crosses my mind and puts a smile on my face. So to my Moody I say, 'It was one of the most fun filled times that we ever had together.' One that is etched in my memory forever.... Soooo Have a piece a cake, and think about me, as I will you, Always!......
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Moody and Me..............."Just a Swingin"
We, Moody and I were about 12 years old, and at the age where kids like to experiment with all sorts of things that their parents don't know about. I have often wondered why kids do things when they know if they get caught, it isn't going to be pretty. Maybe it is rebellion to a certain degree, maybe just the thrill of knowing you have defied your parents. Maybe a 'dare' 'double dare' type of thing. I suppose that most all of us have had this little honory streak in us at one time or another, nevertheless, in the summer of 1965, I found myself faced with one of these decisions, and I confess, I chose honory.....................................
My mom and dad had leased the old Bell City Pool Hall/Cafe and they both worked very long hours. Sometimes, more often than not, I was what I would call 'less than supervised.' I just kind of wondered around and took care of myself, especially in the summer months when school was out. Although I was normally a good kid, somewhere along the way I decided that I needed a new form of entertainment. So nothing due but I try my hand at smoking cigarettes. I don't know how the idea got into my head. Maybe from watching all of the teens coming in the cafe and seeing them smoke. After all my dad smoked. My brothers smoked. My sister in laws smoked. Some of my aunts and uncles smoked. My cousins smoked....... well, you get the picture. Or maybe I just wanted to feel grown up like all of those teenagers I would see doing it........Never the less, there was a special spot underneath the cash register where mom and dad kept all of the tobacco inventory. It was open and easy to get to, so I had no trouble at all catching mom in the kitchen and 'sneaking' a pack or two of my favorite brands. I think through those summer months that I tried every kind they made at one time or another. I got really good at it too, with sneaking them out, and puffing. It got to where it didn't even make me sick anymore.
Thus enters my dear cousin, Moody.................. Now, I had to teach Moody all about cigarette smoking. I think she was quite the rookie. I am thinking that she was a little intimidated at first, but it wasn't long until she could puff with the best of them. I also had to teach her how to sneak in and catch the parents not looking and swipe a pack or two from underneath the counter. We would grab and run!!!! And laugh all the way to one of our favorite places which was on top of Brown's Hill. Talking about privacy!! We could be sheltered behind a couple of big rocks and not one soul would know that we were there...we didn't think about all of the smoke floating around in the air. I am pretty sure that I remember Mr. B. Rust running us off of that hill a time or two.
Another one of our favorite places to 'hide' and smoke was behind the cafe. The Shell station, a thriving business at the time, had four really, really big gas tanks behind the cafe building.. There was this little shed that held four long thick hoses, probably 4 or 6 inches thick, with a nozzle at the end. The two Mr Trophs would drive their gas trucks over and fill them up out of these large tanks. It didn't take Moody and I long to discover that these hoses made great swings. We would literally sit on the hoses, 8 or 10 feet in the air and swing, swing, swing. So that became our next favorite smoking spot............OH YES!! IT WAS!!! Looking back, I am sure that there was a band of angels that kept their hands over the two of us.. It is a wonder we didn't blow up the whole town!! I guarantee you, being kids, we were not careful with it either....never gave it a second thought. I have no idea how many times we would sit up on those hoses for hours and smoke, laugh, and swing. I can assure you this, if my dad would have caught us, I probably would not be sitting here writing this story. I am quite sure I would have had the same result if either one of the Mr Trophs would have caught us too.
Our smoking adventures continued for the next few years. When we were at her house we would sneak out to the old outhouse and light one up. Thinking we were hid of course, not realizing again that our smoke was escaping right through the big cracks in the walls.. I remember that Moody's sister caught us one time. She seen the smoke escaping from the cracks and sneaked up on us. We had to beg her and promise that we would NEVER do it again if she would only have mercy on us and not tell her mom and dad....... WE LIED!!! We smoked every time we got the chance. We would ride the bicycles down to the hog pen back in the woods and sit on the fence and blow our smoke...... AWWWWW SWEET SMELL, cigarette smoke and hog manure!!!!!!! Later years when mom and dad didn't have the cafe any longer, we would throw our nickels and dimes together and try to get enough money to buy us a pack. If that wasn't feasible, then we would look around the house and dig 'butts' out of the ashtrays where my dad had smoked previously...YES WE DID!! Now that is pretty dang GROSS!!! And so it went until somewhere along the way it wasn't much fun anymore...I never continued with the habit in my adult years, don't know if she did or not. But we sure had a lot of fun experimenting with it.
I know that some of you are asking,"why in the world would smoking be such a precious memory." I really don't know, other than it was time spent with my best friend. A time when, once again, we were young and carefree, with not a worry in the world (other than getting caught of course.) When life was an adventure, and everything we did was a laugh. Not just a laugh, but a 'laugh till you hurt' kind of laugh. As I reminisce back on it, I can still see us sitting there on our swings, she facing one way, and me the other. That way we had each other's back, just in case someone came around the corner and surprised us. But most of all it was just another summer day when two cousins shared another bond and a promise of 'cross your heart until you die' secret that no one could ever drag from our lips......................................................................................
My mom and dad had leased the old Bell City Pool Hall/Cafe and they both worked very long hours. Sometimes, more often than not, I was what I would call 'less than supervised.' I just kind of wondered around and took care of myself, especially in the summer months when school was out. Although I was normally a good kid, somewhere along the way I decided that I needed a new form of entertainment. So nothing due but I try my hand at smoking cigarettes. I don't know how the idea got into my head. Maybe from watching all of the teens coming in the cafe and seeing them smoke. After all my dad smoked. My brothers smoked. My sister in laws smoked. Some of my aunts and uncles smoked. My cousins smoked....... well, you get the picture. Or maybe I just wanted to feel grown up like all of those teenagers I would see doing it........Never the less, there was a special spot underneath the cash register where mom and dad kept all of the tobacco inventory. It was open and easy to get to, so I had no trouble at all catching mom in the kitchen and 'sneaking' a pack or two of my favorite brands. I think through those summer months that I tried every kind they made at one time or another. I got really good at it too, with sneaking them out, and puffing. It got to where it didn't even make me sick anymore.
Thus enters my dear cousin, Moody.................. Now, I had to teach Moody all about cigarette smoking. I think she was quite the rookie. I am thinking that she was a little intimidated at first, but it wasn't long until she could puff with the best of them. I also had to teach her how to sneak in and catch the parents not looking and swipe a pack or two from underneath the counter. We would grab and run!!!! And laugh all the way to one of our favorite places which was on top of Brown's Hill. Talking about privacy!! We could be sheltered behind a couple of big rocks and not one soul would know that we were there...we didn't think about all of the smoke floating around in the air. I am pretty sure that I remember Mr. B. Rust running us off of that hill a time or two.
Another one of our favorite places to 'hide' and smoke was behind the cafe. The Shell station, a thriving business at the time, had four really, really big gas tanks behind the cafe building.. There was this little shed that held four long thick hoses, probably 4 or 6 inches thick, with a nozzle at the end. The two Mr Trophs would drive their gas trucks over and fill them up out of these large tanks. It didn't take Moody and I long to discover that these hoses made great swings. We would literally sit on the hoses, 8 or 10 feet in the air and swing, swing, swing. So that became our next favorite smoking spot............OH YES!! IT WAS!!! Looking back, I am sure that there was a band of angels that kept their hands over the two of us.. It is a wonder we didn't blow up the whole town!! I guarantee you, being kids, we were not careful with it either....never gave it a second thought. I have no idea how many times we would sit up on those hoses for hours and smoke, laugh, and swing. I can assure you this, if my dad would have caught us, I probably would not be sitting here writing this story. I am quite sure I would have had the same result if either one of the Mr Trophs would have caught us too.
Our smoking adventures continued for the next few years. When we were at her house we would sneak out to the old outhouse and light one up. Thinking we were hid of course, not realizing again that our smoke was escaping right through the big cracks in the walls.. I remember that Moody's sister caught us one time. She seen the smoke escaping from the cracks and sneaked up on us. We had to beg her and promise that we would NEVER do it again if she would only have mercy on us and not tell her mom and dad....... WE LIED!!! We smoked every time we got the chance. We would ride the bicycles down to the hog pen back in the woods and sit on the fence and blow our smoke...... AWWWWW SWEET SMELL, cigarette smoke and hog manure!!!!!!! Later years when mom and dad didn't have the cafe any longer, we would throw our nickels and dimes together and try to get enough money to buy us a pack. If that wasn't feasible, then we would look around the house and dig 'butts' out of the ashtrays where my dad had smoked previously...YES WE DID!! Now that is pretty dang GROSS!!! And so it went until somewhere along the way it wasn't much fun anymore...I never continued with the habit in my adult years, don't know if she did or not. But we sure had a lot of fun experimenting with it.
I know that some of you are asking,"why in the world would smoking be such a precious memory." I really don't know, other than it was time spent with my best friend. A time when, once again, we were young and carefree, with not a worry in the world (other than getting caught of course.) When life was an adventure, and everything we did was a laugh. Not just a laugh, but a 'laugh till you hurt' kind of laugh. As I reminisce back on it, I can still see us sitting there on our swings, she facing one way, and me the other. That way we had each other's back, just in case someone came around the corner and surprised us. But most of all it was just another summer day when two cousins shared another bond and a promise of 'cross your heart until you die' secret that no one could ever drag from our lips......................................................................................
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Moody and Me- No Ordinary TeePee
I opened the bedroom door to find that my three oldest grand children had taken the quilt and blanket off the bed and had it stretched out over the furniture. I said, "What in the WooRRRlllddd are you guys doing?" they answered, "We are building a fort Mama, come look". I get down on my hands and knees and peek through the small opening. They had all the pillows piled around, their army men and all of their 'weapons' laid out neat and tidy. The oldest one, Alison, says..."We can't get this side to stay closed"........ I smiled. "I'll be right back," I said. I went in the kitchen pulled out a drawer and grabbed a handful of clothes pins.... back to the bedroom and leaned down with a huge smile on my face and said... "I bet these would work"..........."AWESOME" they said, and nostalgia hit me hard......
1 Strong Clothes Line
+5 Quilts/Blankets (or 50 burlap sacks)
+100 Clothes Pins
________
= 1 Fine Tent
I am guessing that we, Moody and I, were about 11 or 12 years old. It was one of the many times that I was visiting with her for a week or so when we came up with the idea of how much fun it would be to 'camp out' in her back yard. You have to remember that this was back before the days of Walmart, Kmart, Target, TOYS R US etc. Back when life was simple, when kids made up their own games, and couldn't just run to a store and buy whatever they wanted....such as a tent. Back when parents never gave a second thought to letting their kids sleep outside on the ground in a home made tent. When kidnapping or child molestation was something you never heard of.
So Moody and I set out to build us a tent. My dear Aunt Bernice supplied us with everything necessary to put it together, even instructing us on how to lap the quilts over the clothesline and pin it together with clothespins. After a few times of it falling down on top of us, we finally perfected the construction of it and we could make it so tight that an ant could not have crawled in. We loved sleeping in our tent and for the next 5 years or so we spent very few 'summer' nights in her house. If we did, it was only because the weather wouldn't let us stay outside. We pretty much made that tent our summer home. It was the very first thing that we would do when I would get to her house. Grab the quilts, and build our tent.... The very last thing that we would do before I went home.....take the tent down and pile the quilts on the back porch.
I am thinking that my aunt might have got very tired of washing these quilts on a wringer washing machine and hanging them out on the clothesline to dry, just so that we could mess them up again in a week or so. Because this one summer she surprised us with the idea of making our own tent out of 'tow sacks'(burlap feed sacks). She took us out to the backyard and showed us how to unravel the chain stitch in order to lay the sacks out flat. We were given two very large darning needles, and a spool of twine thread..... I know that we had to have sewn at least 50 of these babies together.. the result was huge..and it took us all day to finish the project. But when we got done, we had ONE FINE TENT. We had all four walls and the floor in one big piece. We could just throw it over the clothesline and then clothespin up the sides.. A genius of an idea!! (I am quite sure that our Native ancestors would have been quite proud of us!!!) Now when it came time for me to go home, we would just fold the tent up, stuff it down into another tow sack, and hang it on a nail on the back porch... ready and waiting for the next visit.....
We would pile all of our possessions in our tent. Our purses, our barbie dolls, books, pillows, blankets even snack foods. Anything we thought we might need, would be in the tent with us. We would make cabinets and tables out of cardboard boxes... Yep, we had made ONE FINE TENT.
I can not begin to tell you how many times through the years I have reminisced over that tent. Attached to it are some of my most fondest childhood memories....It was our fort...our playhouse...our sanctuary...our summer home. The place where Moody and I would laugh and talk and stay up half of the night with only a flashlight, telling each other our deepest kept secrets. As I sit here writing this I can still smell the burlap sacks that enclosed us. The smell of the damp soybean field just 20 feet or so from where we lay. The grassy smell of the green carpet beneath us. A whiff of motor oil coming from my uncles garage...even the smell of the hogs down in the pasture back in the woods. I remember so distinctly laying there in the middle of the night smelling all of these smells mingled together.
I don't know if I ever told my dear aunt 'thank you' for putting up with me all of those summers as a kid. Don't know if I told her 'thank you' for helping us and showing us how to sew our tent. I hope that I did. I hope that she knew how much it all meant to me...
I can only pray that my grandchildren can make great memories together too, so that some day they too can look back and realize how bitter sweet it all was. Weather it be at their own houses or back yards or even if it is making a fort in Mama's bedroom floor........................Seems like only yesterday it was us... Moody and ME..........................................................
1 Strong Clothes Line
+5 Quilts/Blankets (or 50 burlap sacks)
+100 Clothes Pins
________
= 1 Fine Tent
I am guessing that we, Moody and I, were about 11 or 12 years old. It was one of the many times that I was visiting with her for a week or so when we came up with the idea of how much fun it would be to 'camp out' in her back yard. You have to remember that this was back before the days of Walmart, Kmart, Target, TOYS R US etc. Back when life was simple, when kids made up their own games, and couldn't just run to a store and buy whatever they wanted....such as a tent. Back when parents never gave a second thought to letting their kids sleep outside on the ground in a home made tent. When kidnapping or child molestation was something you never heard of.
So Moody and I set out to build us a tent. My dear Aunt Bernice supplied us with everything necessary to put it together, even instructing us on how to lap the quilts over the clothesline and pin it together with clothespins. After a few times of it falling down on top of us, we finally perfected the construction of it and we could make it so tight that an ant could not have crawled in. We loved sleeping in our tent and for the next 5 years or so we spent very few 'summer' nights in her house. If we did, it was only because the weather wouldn't let us stay outside. We pretty much made that tent our summer home. It was the very first thing that we would do when I would get to her house. Grab the quilts, and build our tent.... The very last thing that we would do before I went home.....take the tent down and pile the quilts on the back porch.
I am thinking that my aunt might have got very tired of washing these quilts on a wringer washing machine and hanging them out on the clothesline to dry, just so that we could mess them up again in a week or so. Because this one summer she surprised us with the idea of making our own tent out of 'tow sacks'(burlap feed sacks). She took us out to the backyard and showed us how to unravel the chain stitch in order to lay the sacks out flat. We were given two very large darning needles, and a spool of twine thread..... I know that we had to have sewn at least 50 of these babies together.. the result was huge..and it took us all day to finish the project. But when we got done, we had ONE FINE TENT. We had all four walls and the floor in one big piece. We could just throw it over the clothesline and then clothespin up the sides.. A genius of an idea!! (I am quite sure that our Native ancestors would have been quite proud of us!!!) Now when it came time for me to go home, we would just fold the tent up, stuff it down into another tow sack, and hang it on a nail on the back porch... ready and waiting for the next visit.....
We would pile all of our possessions in our tent. Our purses, our barbie dolls, books, pillows, blankets even snack foods. Anything we thought we might need, would be in the tent with us. We would make cabinets and tables out of cardboard boxes... Yep, we had made ONE FINE TENT.
I can not begin to tell you how many times through the years I have reminisced over that tent. Attached to it are some of my most fondest childhood memories....It was our fort...our playhouse...our sanctuary...our summer home. The place where Moody and I would laugh and talk and stay up half of the night with only a flashlight, telling each other our deepest kept secrets. As I sit here writing this I can still smell the burlap sacks that enclosed us. The smell of the damp soybean field just 20 feet or so from where we lay. The grassy smell of the green carpet beneath us. A whiff of motor oil coming from my uncles garage...even the smell of the hogs down in the pasture back in the woods. I remember so distinctly laying there in the middle of the night smelling all of these smells mingled together.
I don't know if I ever told my dear aunt 'thank you' for putting up with me all of those summers as a kid. Don't know if I told her 'thank you' for helping us and showing us how to sew our tent. I hope that I did. I hope that she knew how much it all meant to me...
I can only pray that my grandchildren can make great memories together too, so that some day they too can look back and realize how bitter sweet it all was. Weather it be at their own houses or back yards or even if it is making a fort in Mama's bedroom floor........................Seems like only yesterday it was us... Moody and ME..........................................................
Friday, December 24, 2010
Moody and Me- California, Here We Come
I was in my own little 6 year old world, swinging, at my aunt and uncles house, when this chubby little blonde haired girl came up to me and said, "Hey! we are cousins." I had never seen this girl before in my life, that I could remember anyways, so I had to go ask my mom if this was true....with the little blonde following behind me. Sure enough, she was right and we were definitely cousins. She said to me, "My name is Moody, what's yours?" I replied with "Lainie" ( my nickname as a child, hailed from my middle name 'Elaine'.) She grabbed my hand and said "lets go play"......my friend for life!!!!!!
Moody and her family lived in Michigan at the time and had came home to our uncle's funeral, my dads' brother, her.. mothers' brother. I suppose that is why I didn't remember ever seeing her before since she lived so far away. A few weeks after the funeral her family moved back to Missouri and settled in a small town just 10 miles from where I lived, so our families visited quite often and Moody and I became the very best of friends. When we discovered that we were the same age, that just made our friendship stronger. After all she was only 6 weeks older than me. We went to different schools but every time we got a chance we would spend the night with each other. In the summer months we took turns spending weeks. She would come to my house for a week and I would go home with her for a week. This went on for the next 10 to 12 years.
There are several stories that involved the two of us that I plan on sharing......she was so very much a part of my childhood... We shared many many laughs together. When you are a kid seems like everything you say or do is funny. We don't get to see each other very often anymore, mostly at funerals .... I hope that she remembers those days together as fondly as I do....for they will always be in my heart. So come ride along with us as Moody and me journey to California!!!................
CALIFORNIA HERE WE COME
Moody had moved to a small farm outside of Advance. I loved going to her house..There was so many fun things to do there. I lived in town and so going to the farm was a real treat for me. She lived in a big old two story house and we would play upstairs for hours. She and her sister had bicycles,which I didn't have at home and although I didn't know how to ride one at first, (That will be another story) I finally did learn. She had real Barbie dolls, and a little toy piano, the best climbing tree in the whole world. Then there were the cars.....
Her dad was an auto mechanic and had lots of old cars parked everywhere.. I guess they had been wrecked or just needed repaired. Some of them he just used as 'parts'. So on the times when I got to go to her house for a few days we would plan our trip to California...She would grab a favorite doll or two and so would I, we would pack a little overnight case filled with our babies clothes and anything else we thought we might need on our trip and go out to the 'car lot' and pick out our favorite car. Sometimes we would drive separate cars, but most of the time we would ride together, and take turns driving. Our husbands would be with us of course, and this would be whoever we might have a crush on at the time. Subject to change at any given moment.
As I sit behind that stirring wheel and 'drive' us, we pretend that we see all sorts of things. We cross over the mountains and over long bridges, sometimes we change our minds mid trip and decide to go to New york, or drive to Hawaii or maybe England. We are in the middle of a storm so we have to turn the wipers on. We honk the horn ( which doesn't work) to just say 'Hi' to someone we pass, or to tell someone to get out of our way......Sometimes we would stop at a 'store' or 'restaurant' and have to go in and get a snack or something cold to drink.. we never tarried long, we would always be in a big hurry to get back on the road. We would see the sights of the whole world through the dirty, dust covered, broken windshields........there were times when my uncle would sell one of our favorites, and we would be sad as we would stand and watch someone hook on to it and pull it off. But we would just look around and pick out another one that we liked.
Yes, we traveled at least a million miles during those summer months, never leaving her back yard...For a couple years, that was our favorite thing to do, from daylight to dark, was ride and drive those old cars, to nowhere, and everywhere....
I have thought about those old cars often in my adult life and the fun that we had as kids. In our own innocent world, believing that we owned it. Young and carefree, pretending that we were all grown up and all the while not realizing that at the time we were making precious memories that we would be thinking about 50 years later.....
I never made it to California for real...don't know if she did or not...I hope so...Maybe I should put that on my bucket list...when I get around to making one. We never know what tomorrow brings, maybe someday......but I think I will fly when I do go..just so I don't get side tracked and end up in England or somewhere else...................................
Moody and her family lived in Michigan at the time and had came home to our uncle's funeral, my dads' brother, her.. mothers' brother. I suppose that is why I didn't remember ever seeing her before since she lived so far away. A few weeks after the funeral her family moved back to Missouri and settled in a small town just 10 miles from where I lived, so our families visited quite often and Moody and I became the very best of friends. When we discovered that we were the same age, that just made our friendship stronger. After all she was only 6 weeks older than me. We went to different schools but every time we got a chance we would spend the night with each other. In the summer months we took turns spending weeks. She would come to my house for a week and I would go home with her for a week. This went on for the next 10 to 12 years.
There are several stories that involved the two of us that I plan on sharing......she was so very much a part of my childhood... We shared many many laughs together. When you are a kid seems like everything you say or do is funny. We don't get to see each other very often anymore, mostly at funerals .... I hope that she remembers those days together as fondly as I do....for they will always be in my heart. So come ride along with us as Moody and me journey to California!!!................
CALIFORNIA HERE WE COME
Moody had moved to a small farm outside of Advance. I loved going to her house..There was so many fun things to do there. I lived in town and so going to the farm was a real treat for me. She lived in a big old two story house and we would play upstairs for hours. She and her sister had bicycles,which I didn't have at home and although I didn't know how to ride one at first, (That will be another story) I finally did learn. She had real Barbie dolls, and a little toy piano, the best climbing tree in the whole world. Then there were the cars.....
Her dad was an auto mechanic and had lots of old cars parked everywhere.. I guess they had been wrecked or just needed repaired. Some of them he just used as 'parts'. So on the times when I got to go to her house for a few days we would plan our trip to California...She would grab a favorite doll or two and so would I, we would pack a little overnight case filled with our babies clothes and anything else we thought we might need on our trip and go out to the 'car lot' and pick out our favorite car. Sometimes we would drive separate cars, but most of the time we would ride together, and take turns driving. Our husbands would be with us of course, and this would be whoever we might have a crush on at the time. Subject to change at any given moment.
As I sit behind that stirring wheel and 'drive' us, we pretend that we see all sorts of things. We cross over the mountains and over long bridges, sometimes we change our minds mid trip and decide to go to New york, or drive to Hawaii or maybe England. We are in the middle of a storm so we have to turn the wipers on. We honk the horn ( which doesn't work) to just say 'Hi' to someone we pass, or to tell someone to get out of our way......Sometimes we would stop at a 'store' or 'restaurant' and have to go in and get a snack or something cold to drink.. we never tarried long, we would always be in a big hurry to get back on the road. We would see the sights of the whole world through the dirty, dust covered, broken windshields........there were times when my uncle would sell one of our favorites, and we would be sad as we would stand and watch someone hook on to it and pull it off. But we would just look around and pick out another one that we liked.
Yes, we traveled at least a million miles during those summer months, never leaving her back yard...For a couple years, that was our favorite thing to do, from daylight to dark, was ride and drive those old cars, to nowhere, and everywhere....
I have thought about those old cars often in my adult life and the fun that we had as kids. In our own innocent world, believing that we owned it. Young and carefree, pretending that we were all grown up and all the while not realizing that at the time we were making precious memories that we would be thinking about 50 years later.....
I never made it to California for real...don't know if she did or not...I hope so...Maybe I should put that on my bucket list...when I get around to making one. We never know what tomorrow brings, maybe someday......but I think I will fly when I do go..just so I don't get side tracked and end up in England or somewhere else...................................
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
My Dad..........March 2, 1911 - Dec.5th, 1974
December 7th, 2010
Today has been a sad day for me, as this calendar day has been for the last 36 years. Dec.7th, not only is it Pearl Harbor Day, but it marks the day that my dad was laid to rest, in a very small cemetery, on top of a hill, in the town where I grew up in. Near the place where he was born and raised his family. Seems impossible that it has been that long ago.
I was almost 21 years old. I had been married for nearly 3 years, and had a 10 month old baby girl. My life absolutely revolved around my husband and daughter. When looking back, I can't help but think how young and naive I truly was, and so very selfish. I did not realize the finality of death. That when one takes that last breath, it is over, the end of life as we know it, gone. I have so often wished that I had been older and more mature, before he passed from us. I wished that I had talked to him. I mean really talked to him. I wish that I would have known his thoughts and wishes. Where he was 'coming from'. I wish I had asked him more about his life as a young man. I wish that I had realized that mom needed help in caring for him. Many wishes, many thoughts, many regrets.
I always said that Raymond Finney was ONE STRANGE BIRD. Don says that "'he was what he was." But truthfully, he had some very strange ways. For instance, he thought boys and girls lived by two totally separate set of rules. There are 5 of us kids. 3 girls and 2 boys. The boys were just expected to drink, smoke, cuss, and stay out late (after they got older of course.) I have heard him say more than once that, "boys will be boys." For us girls, it was a whole different story. I have to say that I had it better than my two older sisters, even though he still had some strict rules, lucky for me, times changed and so did he. He had a dress code that the older girls lived by, and wearing shorts was NOT in it. So playing sports in school was not an option for them. Fifteen years later when I was in high school he had mellowed out some and I got to play volleyball, and I wore shorts. You could forget about being a cheerleader. His thought was "you are NOT going to get out there and turn flips for those boys and show your underwear." Period.
He did not attend any of our weddings. He said that he had only been to one wedding in his life and that is all he intended on going to. When Don and I got married, he chose to sit over on the "liars bench" in front of the cafe/pool hall until the wedding was over . He did however come in time to share the wedding cake with us, and enjoyed being with all of the people. Again, One Strange Bird!!
He had many other ways and thoughts that at the time I just took for granted, but as an adult, I indeed think they were strange.
I can only speak for myself here....
I was almost like an only child. There are 8 years between me and my brother closest to me in age, so by the time I got to be 10 or 12 years old, the other 4 were married and having kids of their own. So a lot of time was spent with just dad, mom, and me in the house. The sad part of that is that I feel like I never really knew him. To me he was an authoritative figure, that simply ruled the house, and I do mean ruled. Always telling me "you are not going there" or "you are not doing that" or "you are not running around with that girl" "you are not going out with that boy" etc. We never really had any conversations at all, and I remember thinking that my life would be so much better if he wasn't in it. Again, so young, naive, and selfish I was.
I have often thought about Reba McEntyre's song, "The Greatest Man I Never New". Some of the song fits so perfectly with the way I felt during those young days. I always new that dad loved us kids, even though he never said the words, at least not to me. There were never any "I love you's", kisses, or hugs from him. He just didn't know how to show any affection or emotion. Although as I said previously, I knew that he did. Maybe this is why I always tell my girls that I love them when I am leaving them or hanging up the phone from talking with them... I want them to KNOW that I love them. I never want them to doubt it or question it.
The letters...........
I suppose work was hard to find in the days before I was born, and afterward, because sometimes during the winter months dad would go to my uncle's houses in New York, or Florida, and work and send the money back home to mom. It was his way of keeping food on the table and trying to provide for us..... After my mom passed away I was going through an old suitcase filled with some old memorabilia of their lives together and I found some old letters that dad had written to her while on these work trips. Which shocked me to the core. First of all, I really didn't think dad could read or write much, other than to write his name. He always had mom do that kind of stuff. I was mystified to see he could actually write pretty intelligently.
As I held these letters in my hand and read the words for the first time in my life, tears flowed down my cheeks. It was so sad that 30 plus years after he was dead and gone, I saw a glimpse of a man I never knew existed. He spoke of how much he missed mom and us kids. He would say things like "Now you have the boys help you get the wood in"...at one point I guess one of my sisters was gone with someone for a few days because one letter said something like..."I want Gerry home as soon as possible, I don't like her being away from home, " With the later letters he would always end it by saying.."Give that little ole baby girl a kiss for me"...Which meant me....As I sat there reading these letters I literally saw a side of him that I had never seen in the 21 years that I knew him, and it tore me up inside. I will cherish those letters until the day I am laid to rest.
Dad found out he had lung cancer on Sept 5th, 1974. He lived exactly 4 months to the day from when he found out. After he got sick, he became a Christian, and got baptized. He laid on his death bed with his arms straight up in the air. Praying. He told someone that he wasn't afraid to die, he knew he was going to a better place. The only thing that bothered him was that he didn't want to leave his kids and grand kids in this world, the way that it was. Wonder what he would think if he could see it now!!
So, this is the story. I know that it may seem like a sad story to some, and maybe it is. I harbor no ill feelings toward him at all, for as Don said "He was what he was". I know that he loved us, he just wasn't good with words. Sometimes, I find myself in that same situation. I am just not good with words, but I love deeply and wholeheartedly. I look forward to someday being able to sit down with him and 'really' talk to him. There is so much I want to say and so many questions I want to ask... Until then, every once in a while, I will dig out the old letters and read the scribbled words, and ponder the bitter sweetness of knowing that even
even though he never spoke the words out loud to us, that down deep in his heart... He loved us all......................
Today has been a sad day for me, as this calendar day has been for the last 36 years. Dec.7th, not only is it Pearl Harbor Day, but it marks the day that my dad was laid to rest, in a very small cemetery, on top of a hill, in the town where I grew up in. Near the place where he was born and raised his family. Seems impossible that it has been that long ago.
I was almost 21 years old. I had been married for nearly 3 years, and had a 10 month old baby girl. My life absolutely revolved around my husband and daughter. When looking back, I can't help but think how young and naive I truly was, and so very selfish. I did not realize the finality of death. That when one takes that last breath, it is over, the end of life as we know it, gone. I have so often wished that I had been older and more mature, before he passed from us. I wished that I had talked to him. I mean really talked to him. I wish that I would have known his thoughts and wishes. Where he was 'coming from'. I wish I had asked him more about his life as a young man. I wish that I had realized that mom needed help in caring for him. Many wishes, many thoughts, many regrets.
I always said that Raymond Finney was ONE STRANGE BIRD. Don says that "'he was what he was." But truthfully, he had some very strange ways. For instance, he thought boys and girls lived by two totally separate set of rules. There are 5 of us kids. 3 girls and 2 boys. The boys were just expected to drink, smoke, cuss, and stay out late (after they got older of course.) I have heard him say more than once that, "boys will be boys." For us girls, it was a whole different story. I have to say that I had it better than my two older sisters, even though he still had some strict rules, lucky for me, times changed and so did he. He had a dress code that the older girls lived by, and wearing shorts was NOT in it. So playing sports in school was not an option for them. Fifteen years later when I was in high school he had mellowed out some and I got to play volleyball, and I wore shorts. You could forget about being a cheerleader. His thought was "you are NOT going to get out there and turn flips for those boys and show your underwear." Period.
He did not attend any of our weddings. He said that he had only been to one wedding in his life and that is all he intended on going to. When Don and I got married, he chose to sit over on the "liars bench" in front of the cafe/pool hall until the wedding was over . He did however come in time to share the wedding cake with us, and enjoyed being with all of the people. Again, One Strange Bird!!
He had many other ways and thoughts that at the time I just took for granted, but as an adult, I indeed think they were strange.
I can only speak for myself here....
I was almost like an only child. There are 8 years between me and my brother closest to me in age, so by the time I got to be 10 or 12 years old, the other 4 were married and having kids of their own. So a lot of time was spent with just dad, mom, and me in the house. The sad part of that is that I feel like I never really knew him. To me he was an authoritative figure, that simply ruled the house, and I do mean ruled. Always telling me "you are not going there" or "you are not doing that" or "you are not running around with that girl" "you are not going out with that boy" etc. We never really had any conversations at all, and I remember thinking that my life would be so much better if he wasn't in it. Again, so young, naive, and selfish I was.
I have often thought about Reba McEntyre's song, "The Greatest Man I Never New". Some of the song fits so perfectly with the way I felt during those young days. I always new that dad loved us kids, even though he never said the words, at least not to me. There were never any "I love you's", kisses, or hugs from him. He just didn't know how to show any affection or emotion. Although as I said previously, I knew that he did. Maybe this is why I always tell my girls that I love them when I am leaving them or hanging up the phone from talking with them... I want them to KNOW that I love them. I never want them to doubt it or question it.
The letters...........
I suppose work was hard to find in the days before I was born, and afterward, because sometimes during the winter months dad would go to my uncle's houses in New York, or Florida, and work and send the money back home to mom. It was his way of keeping food on the table and trying to provide for us..... After my mom passed away I was going through an old suitcase filled with some old memorabilia of their lives together and I found some old letters that dad had written to her while on these work trips. Which shocked me to the core. First of all, I really didn't think dad could read or write much, other than to write his name. He always had mom do that kind of stuff. I was mystified to see he could actually write pretty intelligently.
As I held these letters in my hand and read the words for the first time in my life, tears flowed down my cheeks. It was so sad that 30 plus years after he was dead and gone, I saw a glimpse of a man I never knew existed. He spoke of how much he missed mom and us kids. He would say things like "Now you have the boys help you get the wood in"...at one point I guess one of my sisters was gone with someone for a few days because one letter said something like..."I want Gerry home as soon as possible, I don't like her being away from home, " With the later letters he would always end it by saying.."Give that little ole baby girl a kiss for me"...Which meant me....As I sat there reading these letters I literally saw a side of him that I had never seen in the 21 years that I knew him, and it tore me up inside. I will cherish those letters until the day I am laid to rest.
Dad found out he had lung cancer on Sept 5th, 1974. He lived exactly 4 months to the day from when he found out. After he got sick, he became a Christian, and got baptized. He laid on his death bed with his arms straight up in the air. Praying. He told someone that he wasn't afraid to die, he knew he was going to a better place. The only thing that bothered him was that he didn't want to leave his kids and grand kids in this world, the way that it was. Wonder what he would think if he could see it now!!
So, this is the story. I know that it may seem like a sad story to some, and maybe it is. I harbor no ill feelings toward him at all, for as Don said "He was what he was". I know that he loved us, he just wasn't good with words. Sometimes, I find myself in that same situation. I am just not good with words, but I love deeply and wholeheartedly. I look forward to someday being able to sit down with him and 'really' talk to him. There is so much I want to say and so many questions I want to ask... Until then, every once in a while, I will dig out the old letters and read the scribbled words, and ponder the bitter sweetness of knowing that even
even though he never spoke the words out loud to us, that down deep in his heart... He loved us all......................
Sunday, October 3, 2010
"SHUT UP BABY, I'M TRYING TO SANG" title taken from Ray Stevens- Gitarzan
I know that I have said this before, but I will tell you again that the older I get, the more nostalgic I become. I don't know if it is the fact of knowing that I am no doubt NOT going to live as long as I have already, or just the all consuming wish that I could go back to being young again just so that I could live it one more time. Never-the-less, this morning I found myself back there again, another time, another place in my life, where everything was simple, and it didn't take much to be entertained.
I have this part time job of cleaning the offices where I work. I usually do this early on Saturday morning. So, here I was early this morning, before dawn, cleaning. There is a radio in the break room, so I thought, "what the heck". When I first turned it on, there was this 'rap' music on, which I don't particularly care for. So, I just hit the scan button and then......OH MY GOODNESS!!! what came on, you will never guess! What a Blessing this was! It was a gospel station and evidently on Saturday mornings they play nothing but Southern Gospel! YES! (You don't hear much of that here in the city) They were playing some very good oldie, but goodies..... I was ecstatic..... blaring from the box was the old quartet, The Inspirations, and they were singing "Touring that City"........well, you know me.. here I went back in time.....................
It was the year of about 1975-ish and Don and I was going to the Assembly of God Church on a regular basis. The pastor there, Bro. Sidney Razor, always played the guitar and sang in church with his wife. Don was so fascinated by this. I don't think he had ever seen anyone play the guitar in church before, at least not much. He announced to me one day that he had decided that he wanted to learn to play the guitar too! He had gotten a real desire to want to play in church like Bro Razor. Knowing that he was serious about learning, I had a brilliant idea! Since it was close to Christmas..I would buy him a guitar for his gift.This was going to be so good! So a few months later, here I go to the music store! Well...... I had no idea that guitars were so expensive! Right away I knew that my $50.00 wasn't going to buy anything but a string or two! I was beyond shocked. So, I went back home with a broken heart for thinking he would not be getting his guitar for Christmas that year..... He did get one however, but he had to go pick it out himself and use what little money we had saved to pay for it. After a couple months of being woke up at 2:00 a.m. to the tunes of 'Clementine' and 'Long, Long, Ago', and 'She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain', I was wishing that I had never laid my eyes on stupid guitar.... SERIOUSLY?
Our good friend, Billie, was going to church with us about this same era in time that Don was learning to play his guitar. She decided that if Don could learn how to play one then so could she. I can not explain to you the hilarity of these two trying to learn to play together. Fingers so sore they would nearly bleed, aggravation would be an understatement, and a whole lot of frustration! But however, I have to give credit where credit is due, they both persevered until they actually got to the place that they could play very well. They finally became good enough to change the chords easily enough and we all started singing to the tune. Before we knew it........we were headed for the big times. (Yeah right) We then discovered that my sister in law, Dorothy, wasn't a bad singer either, so..... Well, we decided that we would just make us up a quartet! We sang and sang and practiced many many hours until we got pretty good, so WE thought!
Somehow the word got out in the area that we were 'singers' and so we were invited down to this local church to sing at one of their special services. Neither Don nor Billie were confident enough yet with their playing to bring their guitars out in front of a crowd of people, so we asked Bro Razor to help us out along with another preacher friend that we knew... aka...Jerry Coleman... Oh, yes, and nothing do, but we had to have dresses alike. ALL of the gospel singers in those days dressed alike or at least their clothing matched, and we HAD to look the part! So I volunteered to take on the job of making us the dresses. Looking back, they were the most hideous looking things I have ever seen. You know how in the movie 'Gone With The Wind' Scarlet yanks the curtains down off of the windows and makes herself a dress out of it????? Well, let me tell you, Katy Scarlett O'Hara had nothing over on us! Our dresses were floor length, bright yellow with BIG BLUE flowers all over and a big tie bow in the back....Don in his light blue leisure suit, we girls in our big blue flower dresses, Yep, WE LOOKED GOOD!!! Don't remember the song we tried to sing, although I am sure that one of the other three could probably tell you, but needless to say... it was a disaster! Bro Razor, and Bro Jerry's guitars weren't tuned together. I ask you, have you ever tried to sing when the music was out of tune? IT AIN"T PRETTY! We couldn't even get started on our song..Our guitar players weren't together with each other, and neither one of them was in tune with us.... We finally just all gave up, the guitars stopped playing and we sang the song acappella. No telling how many shades of red our faces turned before that fiasco was over with. (Thinking I'm embarrassed just telling the story!) We swore we would never sing in public again.
Looking back on it, it is one of the most memorable times in my life. Yes, we did sing again many many times after that... They both learned to play guitar very well and we spent many, many nights, sitting up late, singing songs that were popular at the time. We would sing songs out of the old church hymn books, we found ourselves writing a few songs and singing those too, and then songs like " Touring that City".
Yes, I miss those days, I miss the pure innocence of those days... I miss my kids being small and falling asleep in the floor, while we four sang our hearts out. I miss the laughter, of... "I can't reach that key," and "lets just skip that E chord", and "Why can't I do that?"
As I cleaned the break room and these old gospel classics were being played on the radio, I thought to myself, "How did I get here? What happened to me? Where did I go?" and "Where did we go?" "Where did time go?" That was only yesterday........................
This story was written a few years ago. Yesterday morning we received news that our dear friend, our partner, our confidant, our alto singer, closed her eyes for the last time here on this earth. She is no doubt in that place that we so often sang about, the one she wrote about, in that Land of Sweet Retreat....Here is a song written sometime in the late 1970's by none other than Billie Day Lee...entitled..."Land of Sweet Retreat"
I'm traveling through this troublesome world,
singing as I go
Something's about to happen,
I can feel it in my soul.
According to the scriptures,
a rapture there will be.
I'm crossing over Jordan,
to a Land of Sweet Retreat.
chorus
I'll be crossing any day now,
my redemption's drawing nigh
I'll keep my eyes upon the Lord,
toward the eastern sky.
For that sky is gonna burst wide open,
and all the glory there will be ,
beyond the clouds of Heaven,
to a Land of Sweet Retreat.
I'm going to be walking those green pastures,
and trodding those streets of gold,
Join with all the other saints,
marching around God's throne.
I'll smile the sweetest smile,
and live in perfect peace,
I'm crossing over Jordan,
to the Land of Sweet Retreat......
Yes, I'm crossing over Jordan
to that Land of Sweet Retreat....Sweet Retreat!!!!!
I have this part time job of cleaning the offices where I work. I usually do this early on Saturday morning. So, here I was early this morning, before dawn, cleaning. There is a radio in the break room, so I thought, "what the heck". When I first turned it on, there was this 'rap' music on, which I don't particularly care for. So, I just hit the scan button and then......OH MY GOODNESS!!! what came on, you will never guess! What a Blessing this was! It was a gospel station and evidently on Saturday mornings they play nothing but Southern Gospel! YES! (You don't hear much of that here in the city) They were playing some very good oldie, but goodies..... I was ecstatic..... blaring from the box was the old quartet, The Inspirations, and they were singing "Touring that City"........well, you know me.. here I went back in time.....................
It was the year of about 1975-ish and Don and I was going to the Assembly of God Church on a regular basis. The pastor there, Bro. Sidney Razor, always played the guitar and sang in church with his wife. Don was so fascinated by this. I don't think he had ever seen anyone play the guitar in church before, at least not much. He announced to me one day that he had decided that he wanted to learn to play the guitar too! He had gotten a real desire to want to play in church like Bro Razor. Knowing that he was serious about learning, I had a brilliant idea! Since it was close to Christmas..I would buy him a guitar for his gift.This was going to be so good! So a few months later, here I go to the music store! Well...... I had no idea that guitars were so expensive! Right away I knew that my $50.00 wasn't going to buy anything but a string or two! I was beyond shocked. So, I went back home with a broken heart for thinking he would not be getting his guitar for Christmas that year..... He did get one however, but he had to go pick it out himself and use what little money we had saved to pay for it. After a couple months of being woke up at 2:00 a.m. to the tunes of 'Clementine' and 'Long, Long, Ago', and 'She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain', I was wishing that I had never laid my eyes on stupid guitar.... SERIOUSLY?
Our good friend, Billie, was going to church with us about this same era in time that Don was learning to play his guitar. She decided that if Don could learn how to play one then so could she. I can not explain to you the hilarity of these two trying to learn to play together. Fingers so sore they would nearly bleed, aggravation would be an understatement, and a whole lot of frustration! But however, I have to give credit where credit is due, they both persevered until they actually got to the place that they could play very well. They finally became good enough to change the chords easily enough and we all started singing to the tune. Before we knew it........we were headed for the big times. (Yeah right) We then discovered that my sister in law, Dorothy, wasn't a bad singer either, so..... Well, we decided that we would just make us up a quartet! We sang and sang and practiced many many hours until we got pretty good, so WE thought!
Somehow the word got out in the area that we were 'singers' and so we were invited down to this local church to sing at one of their special services. Neither Don nor Billie were confident enough yet with their playing to bring their guitars out in front of a crowd of people, so we asked Bro Razor to help us out along with another preacher friend that we knew... aka...Jerry Coleman... Oh, yes, and nothing do, but we had to have dresses alike. ALL of the gospel singers in those days dressed alike or at least their clothing matched, and we HAD to look the part! So I volunteered to take on the job of making us the dresses. Looking back, they were the most hideous looking things I have ever seen. You know how in the movie 'Gone With The Wind' Scarlet yanks the curtains down off of the windows and makes herself a dress out of it????? Well, let me tell you, Katy Scarlett O'Hara had nothing over on us! Our dresses were floor length, bright yellow with BIG BLUE flowers all over and a big tie bow in the back....Don in his light blue leisure suit, we girls in our big blue flower dresses, Yep, WE LOOKED GOOD!!! Don't remember the song we tried to sing, although I am sure that one of the other three could probably tell you, but needless to say... it was a disaster! Bro Razor, and Bro Jerry's guitars weren't tuned together. I ask you, have you ever tried to sing when the music was out of tune? IT AIN"T PRETTY! We couldn't even get started on our song..Our guitar players weren't together with each other, and neither one of them was in tune with us.... We finally just all gave up, the guitars stopped playing and we sang the song acappella. No telling how many shades of red our faces turned before that fiasco was over with. (Thinking I'm embarrassed just telling the story!) We swore we would never sing in public again.
Looking back on it, it is one of the most memorable times in my life. Yes, we did sing again many many times after that... They both learned to play guitar very well and we spent many, many nights, sitting up late, singing songs that were popular at the time. We would sing songs out of the old church hymn books, we found ourselves writing a few songs and singing those too, and then songs like " Touring that City".
Yes, I miss those days, I miss the pure innocence of those days... I miss my kids being small and falling asleep in the floor, while we four sang our hearts out. I miss the laughter, of... "I can't reach that key," and "lets just skip that E chord", and "Why can't I do that?"
As I cleaned the break room and these old gospel classics were being played on the radio, I thought to myself, "How did I get here? What happened to me? Where did I go?" and "Where did we go?" "Where did time go?" That was only yesterday........................
This story was written a few years ago. Yesterday morning we received news that our dear friend, our partner, our confidant, our alto singer, closed her eyes for the last time here on this earth. She is no doubt in that place that we so often sang about, the one she wrote about, in that Land of Sweet Retreat....Here is a song written sometime in the late 1970's by none other than Billie Day Lee...entitled..."Land of Sweet Retreat"
I'm traveling through this troublesome world,
singing as I go
Something's about to happen,
I can feel it in my soul.
According to the scriptures,
a rapture there will be.
I'm crossing over Jordan,
to a Land of Sweet Retreat.
chorus
I'll be crossing any day now,
my redemption's drawing nigh
I'll keep my eyes upon the Lord,
toward the eastern sky.
For that sky is gonna burst wide open,
and all the glory there will be ,
beyond the clouds of Heaven,
to a Land of Sweet Retreat.
I'm going to be walking those green pastures,
and trodding those streets of gold,
Join with all the other saints,
marching around God's throne.
I'll smile the sweetest smile,
and live in perfect peace,
I'm crossing over Jordan,
to the Land of Sweet Retreat......
Yes, I'm crossing over Jordan
to that Land of Sweet Retreat....Sweet Retreat!!!!!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Goob Gets New Teeth!!
This story is one that I have pondered over in my mind for a couple of months now. I believe that it is one of those stories that possibly you would just had to have been there to get the real hilarity of it. I will try my best to do justice to the incident. As in most of my stories thus for, I have to tell a story or two in order to get down to the story that I actually want to tell, so please be patient in your reading, there is a story here....
Anyone near or around Bell City and knew my dad, knows that he liked his drink. Beer was his drink of choice, although he did usually keep a pint of peach brandy in his top dresser drawer (and that will be another story someday).
I wouldn't go as far as to say he was an alcoholic, he was a road grader man for Pike Township and worked every day that the weather permitted, but about every couple of weeks he would get up on Saturday morning and announce that he was going to get a 'haircut'. Which in short meant he was going to Vanduser or Hilltop, or to 'the beer joint' as mom used to call it.
He would usually stay all day and when he came home late in the afternoon he would be rather 'soused'. He never was mean to us kids or mom when he drank, rather the contrary. When I was sixteen and just got my drivers license, I would pray that dad would go drinking, because when he came home he would pitch me the car keys and $10.00 or $20.00. I have felt very guilty as i've gotten older when I remember this, not so much at taking the car as much as taking the money, I know that mom probably cringed when I would grab the money and run, because looking back, I know that it was money that they desperately needed.
When dad would go spend all day getting his "haircut" we all knew what was coming when he finally came home. Mom was waiting on him! He would sit down at the kitchen table and drink his coffee, and mom would fuss and fuss at him. Mainly about spending money that we needed. He would just sit there, and listen to her and not say anything at all. After a while of drinking coffee and listening to her rant he would get up and say "I have heard about all of this I want to hear" and go to bed. That would make mom madder than ever. I think if she would have had a gun she probably would have shot him right where he sat.
On this one particular Saturday, dad got up and made the announcement that it was time to get his haircut..... yep, he was going to the tavern. He, of course, stayed all day and when he came home late that afternoon, and made his way to the kitchen table, he looked at mom and me and 'tried' to tell us that he was trying out some teeth. (He and mom had both had their teeth pulled a few years before, and they always said they were going to get some false teeth whenever they could afford to.) But this pair of false teeth that he had in his mouth was way too big, and every time he tried to talk, they would go sideways, and nearly fall out. I thought I was going to die from laughing so hard at him. When asked where in the world he got these teeth he proudly announced that "Hank let him try them to see if he liked them." OH YES!! he had someone else's teeth in his mouth!!! Mom was furious with him for being gone all day anyway, much less coming home with someone else's teeth in his mouth. She would fuss at him a minute or so and then turn her back and laugh, fuss a little, laugh a little. Every time he opened his mouth these teeth would nearly fall out. He would say "damn things won't stay in." OH MY GOSH, I was nearly on the floor laughing so hard at him. This went on for at least an hour, while mom tried to keep a straight face while talking to him. He finally gave up, took the teeth out of his mouth, and put them in his pocket, and went to bed. Mom and I rolled with laughter. The story has been told, that the next day he got up early and went up to the 'pool hall' to have his morning coffee, as was his habit as long as I can remember. Hank comes in the cafe and sits down by him on a stool. Hank says, "damn,Goob! I don't know what happened yesterday, or what we did, but I've lost my false teeth." Dad starts laughing and reaches in his shirt pocket and says, "Well Hank, I think I found them."
'
Needless to say these two friends never lived this story down as long as they both lived. Dad left this world in 1974 still toothless. Before he died, he made his peace with the Lord, and even after the Dr.s told him that it would help his kidneys if he would drink a beer a day, he would not touch one. I remember thinking, how ironic, he has drank his whole life, and now that he is on his deathbed and it might actually help him, he would not have any part of it. Hank, or Henry, used to come in the cafe when Don and I owned it in the 90's and he still would laugh about the day when he and dad shared a pair of false teeth. Henry has been gone several years too.
Although, I think this sharing of the teeth was about the most gross thing I have ever witnessed, it was also the most hilarious moment of my childhood. Mom and I would talk about it for years after dad was gone and I still think about it quite often, it always puts a smile on my face. I will forever remember that proud look on his face as he showed us his teeth and also the despair on my mom's face. As mad as she was at him she couldn't keep a straight face either...........
As I said at the beginning of the story, I am sure the total hilarity can not be written down on paper, I am positive that you had to witness the sight in order to really appreciate it. It is a sight that I will never, ever forget........
draft
Anyone near or around Bell City and knew my dad, knows that he liked his drink. Beer was his drink of choice, although he did usually keep a pint of peach brandy in his top dresser drawer (and that will be another story someday).
I wouldn't go as far as to say he was an alcoholic, he was a road grader man for Pike Township and worked every day that the weather permitted, but about every couple of weeks he would get up on Saturday morning and announce that he was going to get a 'haircut'. Which in short meant he was going to Vanduser or Hilltop, or to 'the beer joint' as mom used to call it.
He would usually stay all day and when he came home late in the afternoon he would be rather 'soused'. He never was mean to us kids or mom when he drank, rather the contrary. When I was sixteen and just got my drivers license, I would pray that dad would go drinking, because when he came home he would pitch me the car keys and $10.00 or $20.00. I have felt very guilty as i've gotten older when I remember this, not so much at taking the car as much as taking the money, I know that mom probably cringed when I would grab the money and run, because looking back, I know that it was money that they desperately needed.
When dad would go spend all day getting his "haircut" we all knew what was coming when he finally came home. Mom was waiting on him! He would sit down at the kitchen table and drink his coffee, and mom would fuss and fuss at him. Mainly about spending money that we needed. He would just sit there, and listen to her and not say anything at all. After a while of drinking coffee and listening to her rant he would get up and say "I have heard about all of this I want to hear" and go to bed. That would make mom madder than ever. I think if she would have had a gun she probably would have shot him right where he sat.
On this one particular Saturday, dad got up and made the announcement that it was time to get his haircut..... yep, he was going to the tavern. He, of course, stayed all day and when he came home late that afternoon, and made his way to the kitchen table, he looked at mom and me and 'tried' to tell us that he was trying out some teeth. (He and mom had both had their teeth pulled a few years before, and they always said they were going to get some false teeth whenever they could afford to.) But this pair of false teeth that he had in his mouth was way too big, and every time he tried to talk, they would go sideways, and nearly fall out. I thought I was going to die from laughing so hard at him. When asked where in the world he got these teeth he proudly announced that "Hank let him try them to see if he liked them." OH YES!! he had someone else's teeth in his mouth!!! Mom was furious with him for being gone all day anyway, much less coming home with someone else's teeth in his mouth. She would fuss at him a minute or so and then turn her back and laugh, fuss a little, laugh a little. Every time he opened his mouth these teeth would nearly fall out. He would say "damn things won't stay in." OH MY GOSH, I was nearly on the floor laughing so hard at him. This went on for at least an hour, while mom tried to keep a straight face while talking to him. He finally gave up, took the teeth out of his mouth, and put them in his pocket, and went to bed. Mom and I rolled with laughter. The story has been told, that the next day he got up early and went up to the 'pool hall' to have his morning coffee, as was his habit as long as I can remember. Hank comes in the cafe and sits down by him on a stool. Hank says, "damn,Goob! I don't know what happened yesterday, or what we did, but I've lost my false teeth." Dad starts laughing and reaches in his shirt pocket and says, "Well Hank, I think I found them."
'
Needless to say these two friends never lived this story down as long as they both lived. Dad left this world in 1974 still toothless. Before he died, he made his peace with the Lord, and even after the Dr.s told him that it would help his kidneys if he would drink a beer a day, he would not touch one. I remember thinking, how ironic, he has drank his whole life, and now that he is on his deathbed and it might actually help him, he would not have any part of it. Hank, or Henry, used to come in the cafe when Don and I owned it in the 90's and he still would laugh about the day when he and dad shared a pair of false teeth. Henry has been gone several years too.
Although, I think this sharing of the teeth was about the most gross thing I have ever witnessed, it was also the most hilarious moment of my childhood. Mom and I would talk about it for years after dad was gone and I still think about it quite often, it always puts a smile on my face. I will forever remember that proud look on his face as he showed us his teeth and also the despair on my mom's face. As mad as she was at him she couldn't keep a straight face either...........
As I said at the beginning of the story, I am sure the total hilarity can not be written down on paper, I am positive that you had to witness the sight in order to really appreciate it. It is a sight that I will never, ever forget........
draft
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