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My sister was 8 years older than I. She and my brother had the bedrooms upstairs. I use to sneak upstairs and look around her room. She had some round music powder boxes that I loved. It was the artful carve and curve of the designs, the scent and softness of the powder, the tender lilt of the music when the lids were taken off...but mostly it was about my sister's womanliness that I so wanted to bud into myself.
I loved the things ontop of her dressers. But those music boxes were my favorites. And if I ever find them in the antique stores, I will buy them. My mother had a vanity and atop hers, was a gorgeous doll lamp with a full cloth skirt and a fan in her hand. I had never seen women like her before. I would sit at the vanity and put on my mother's rouge and her really red 50s lipstick and look wonderously at that lady. She had perfect bowed red lips and the most provacatively lined eyes...again, a testimony to womanliness. When my mother would put on make up, which was very rare for she was a true farmer's wife, I would sit on the chair in the room and watch my mother transform into someone I barely knew...someone who had a likeness to that woman of the lamp...and I so wanted to be a part of this wonderous club.... |
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I was 5 and just learned the joys of chewing gum. I asked everybody if they had any gum. I spent every moment I could with my grandpa, who did not chew gum. I would ask and ask like some sort of gum junkie. I think the day he got truly frustrated with it was the day we were eating lunch and he told my grandma that after lunch, he and I were going to town to get a pack of gum. I was SO excited until he told me I only got to have 4 pieces out of the pack. (trident original was all I was allowed to chew.) I knew enough not to question it, a special trip and all. I just wanted to know what was going to happen with the 5th piece. When we got back from town, he took one piece out and handed me the rest, "one a day, Pan. I'm gonna check." (he called me Pan because I was his shadow.) and he put the piece in his shirt pocket.
He woke me up for breakfast the next morning and when I got to the table, there sat the gum and an acorn next to my plate. As I looked at them, he said, "if you're going to chew that much gum, you're gonna need a gum tree. Eat up so we can go plant one." I never saw a gum tree before but, I knew that he knew his trees and I wasn't going to say a word. We walked out to the edge of the woods with a shovel, the acorn, and the single piece of gum. He gave me the shovel and told me to dig a hole for my "seeds" as he unwrapped the gum. We put them in the hole, covered them up and walked off to wait. I asked how long it would take for a gum tree to get gum. He said they grew fast and there should be gum by the weekend. I went home that afternoon and all I thought about for the rest of the week was if I had a gun tree or not yet. On Friday afternoon, my grandparents picked me up after I got home from school and away we went. I asked if the gum tree grew yet. I had to know! He said he thought it might have started sprouting the day before, I should check it when I got there. As soon as the car stopped by the barn, I was off like a shot to the woods to check my tree. I found it, oh boy, did I find it. There stood an oak tree, about 4 foot tall, with 6 packs of trident original gum hanging on it. Jack pot! I was the happiest boy alive at that moment. When grandpa caught up with me, he helped me get the packs off the tree and told me 6 was perfect. I could have 2 and I could give all my sisters one. (they're way older so they didn't really care about the gum anyway.) Each time, for two summers after that, when I went to their house, the tree had 6 packs on it. He did it the second year just for fun because my big mouthed sister told me he was doing it. I loved that tree, and that man. It wasn't until a few years later, he told me how it all took place. When I left that day, he went into the woods and dug and transplanted the small oak tree exactly where we put the "seeds". The packs were held on with green twist ties, I was so happy, I never noticed those. Some friends of mine live near my grandparents old farm. I can see my tree from the road now when I drive by. |
When I was 10, my favorite Uncle visited us during one summer. He was very handy and creative and just fun to do things with. My friends and me had this "car club" - we built "boxcar" type go carts from scrape metal, wood, old wheels.. anything we could get our hands on!
There was a neighborhood race we all were madly trying to build a cart that would win. My uncle helped me with mine and my best friend. He used some of the old hardwood flooring from our house that had been torn out because we had some termite work done for the frame and a bunch of other stuff we had around. It had an actual steering wheel (from an old '38 Ford he found at a junk yard). It was something! He waxed the floor boards with hardwood floor wax and everything! My best friend and I won the race!!! Damn near got killed while doing it because our "track" included a very steep hill we just flew down with nothing more than the old wood block kind of brakes and our sneakers. No thought of a helmut back then. But, we made it. We were convinced that my Uncle was the reason and we had never built such a cool go cart before- nothing like this one, ever! The other kids and me gave my Uncle a handmade "honorary" car club membership card. It was the size of a regular business card and had "Uncle Dominick, Go-Cart Builder" on it. It said he was a lifetime member of the Strawberry Point Girls Go-Cart Club. He put it in his wallet. I never saw him again as he went back to New Jersey and became ill but did live until I was 22. My Dad went to see him before he died and then for his funeral. When he returned, he took out the card and gave it to me. My Uncle had carried it in his wallet all that time. It was frayed, but could be read. The go-cart was passed down for years in my family and did finally wear out- but not after many years of great fun! |
Atlast, I wonder, do you still have that card? Cool story.
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My brother and I had a standard joke that we'd pull on anyone who went to our cabin for the first time.
We'd get them in the duckboat, which was always the hardest part of the prank because they always wanted to go somewhere in the speedboat or pontoon boat instead. Anyway, then we'd row it out to the middle of the lake and one of us would discreetly pull the plug out so the boat slowly began filling up with water. As water would begin swirling around our friend's ankles, we'd both have to fight not to laugh...and then we'd start in with the horrified screams and would tilt the boat to extremes out of "panic." Finally, we'd holler to get out of the sinking boat and keep in mind we were literally in the middle of a large lake. Then, we'd take dramatic leaps into the water. Later, when we'd all be talking/laughing about it, the friend would always say, "I wondered why we took THAT boat..." LOL! Whenever I remember the different friends we pulled this on, I laugh and laugh. |
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The summer after third grade I had to go to summer school for math. Tonight I remembered walking to school those mornings. God, being there was glorious in our small town. The mornings were crisp and perfect. I had no worries and life was full of fun. I didn't mind summer school at all. Afterward, my mom would have lunch ready and then we'd go swimming. That was the summer I read the Bobsy Twins and Nancy Drew. I rode a Red Chief bike, played with neighborhood boys every day and visited old Mrs. Getz because I liked her cats, Tillie and Murphy, and her cookies. Sometimes we'd play Old Maid. I played house with my first girl friend, Mary Jane. I was the dad. I really did have a terrific childhood....
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http://i489.photobucket.com/albums/r...onsman/7-1.jpg
Me at 7. The nuns were always calling my mother because I was always in trouble. We lived in a big two-story house that my mother decorated beautifully. It had a sitting room that nobody was allowed to go into because she said she was saving it for Kennedy. My aunt Judy, who was 17, came to live with us after high school, and we're still close after all these years. This was the year my dad taught me to ride a bike—the same bike my cousins rode down the steps and bent the hell out of. Our house had a big front yard with lilac bushes and irises and the change of seasons were wonderful. I think I'd give anything to back to that time for just one day.... |
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I was in second grade. My teacher would not let me go to the restroom because she said I should have gone when the whole group went. So I waited. Some time later I raise my hand and asked to go again, and of course she said no. I asked to go one last time and again she said no! I told her "If you don't let me go I am just gonna go here." There I was a determined little girl in a hot pink dress with highlighter green polka dots. She called my bluff and said no. I marched right up to her desk and PEED! :) I will never forget the look on her face. But hey, I gave her a fair warning :) I guess I have always been stubborn!
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whenever my adopted parents were out of town we would stay with someone in the church. oh god I loved it.. and HATED when they returned
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i was about 4 when we all were getting ready for church (me an 4 brothers) though how proud my mom would be of me getting all ready all by myself!!
we were all standing on the porch getting our pre church cleanleness inspection.. mom checkin theeth and ears and clothes.. i was so proud standing there in my lil dress an mary janes but when mom got to me she pulled up my lil dress to find i was wearing my brothers whitie tightie briefs an smaked my bottom "you go in there and take of you brothers underwear right now" so i went in an took um off but ended up going to church "comando" and no one ever knew! told mom about 20 yrs later. |
fishing....
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my favorite childhood memory was my yearly summer vacation trip to see my father in germany. It was a neat experience.Also, all the awesome trips my dad would take us on with my stepmom, step sister,and step brother. It was always an adventure
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I hated this back in the day, but I laugh about it now.
I hated—I mean hated— my bangs cut. My mom always cut my bangs and she always cut them uneven. So to get them straight, she'd cut until there was like nothing left. I'd sit on the toilet seat and cry... They were so short I walked around with my eyebrows raised so my bangs would look longer. I looked perpetually surprised and my mom would say,"stop that, your face is going to freeze that way!" I hated bangs most. Second, were those goddamn anklets she made me wear. God I miss her. |
Black magnum organ
White patten leatherboots, zipper up the side |
Summers at the cabin on the lake...
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bookmarking to come back later~
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I have always loved this story... wish I had known my grampa. This story always makes me want to turn one of my trees into a gum tree in your grampa's honor.
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When I was a kid my Gigi would come and pick me up on Friday afternoon, so I could go to the high school football game with her and my aunt. My aunt was 9 yrs older than I was.
We'd get home from the football game have a snack and off to bed we'd go. I always slept with my aunt. She was so patient with me, I'm sure I must have had more questions than Trivial Pursuit. As we lay in bed, she would try to ware me down by playing this game. She'd use her fingernail and write a letter on my back and I'd guess what it was, as I began to read she would write small words on my back for me to spell and guess and eventually she would write numbers or have me add numbers she wrote on my back. And yes I'd eventually fall asleep, and I'm sure she was glad when I did. She became a grandma for the first time this past Monday and as fate would have it that would have been her mother, my Gigi's 85th birthday had she lived, and it was a little girl. I know she will be a super duper wonderful grandma. |
grinding the fresh beef at my Grandma's
strange woman, my Grandma. |
Spending each and every moment with my grandmother.
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Something I've thought a lot about lately...
Luckily, I was able to spend a great deal of time with my grandparents. Months at a time. Things were easy there, organized, clean - it all just made sense. No chaos. No drinking. No fighting. My brother and I were kind of treasured, like a reason to do all the things that they would do anyway. I don’t know how to put that into words exactly. Time spent, spending time. Enjoying each other.
They were fond of walking. When they got home from work, we would eat dinner and then always go for a walk. (Unless it was snowing.) The things we discovered on those walks were amazing. So many turtles, hawks, snakes, boats, fish and those weird brown things that puff into smoke when you step on them. I wish I had a dollar for every dandelion bulb or bubble that was blown. The whole point was to see everything you could, walk as far as possible and collect all the pretty rocks along the way. They were fond of music and dancing. We learned how to square dance, polka, waltz, jitterbug, the Charleston, swing and Lindy Hop. I know all the words to The Three Little Fishes and the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. I can tell if I’m hearing Tommy Dorsey or Glenn Miller. I know that “The Shadow knows.” My grandfather always called me meisje and tried, to teach us all the Dutch he knew. (sigh) We watched the news, MASH, CHIPS, The Muppets, 60 Minutes, Magnum PI and Hee-Haw. Every single year for 12 years they took us to the State Fair, the pumpkin farm, and to pick strawberries. On Saturdays we went for daylong drives to nowhere and learned important things like where they sold the best chili dogs, how the 60s screwed up the world and to always dress like you had somewhere to go. We spent a lot of time in creeks and swimming holes too. Hours were spent turning over rocks looking for baby lobsters. (I was seriously upset the first time I heard someone call them crawfish.) We would sit in the yard because the sun was out. We’d put little bags in jar full of water where it would somehow magically turn into iced tea - every single time. Hours of pouring over old pictures. Sundays were spent watching football, baseball or playing rummy, 21, or spit. So much fun and laughter. I wish so badly that I could turn the damn hourglass over. |
I had a little white basket on my bike and I would ask my mother to give me things to put in it. I just hated when it was empty. I would pedal down my street begging any adult who was outside, for something to put in my basket. This sweet old lady named Mrs. Jenkins would bake special treats just for me. Like cookies or muffins. I actually thought she was Mrs. Santa Claus just pretending to be Mrs. Jenkins so no one would know. We would have a tea party on her front porch. She let me drink real hot tea.When I would head off to play again, she would wrap some cookies up in wax paper for me to eat while I played. It was always a mystery to my mother why I was never hungry for my lunch.
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There was a sweet old woman for me too. I used to sell pictures I had drawn and colored to my neighbors for $.05 - $.50. She always bought my pictures, invited me in, gave me hot tea & cookies.
When I got a little older, she would come and get me for our tea parties. She taught me to crotchet, cook, clean, iron, sew and many other little lessons that my mother had not taught me (my mom & dad worked full time and neither are domestic). Her husband was also a gentle soul, who taught me carpentry and introduced me to what the true meaning of chivalrous is. |
I have a sweet older woman story as well.
There was this woman that lived behind my house and she was just precious. Mom and Dad watched out for her and she had a key to our house. Mom says many times she would come home from work and Effie would be there with a dinner prepared. She was just an angel. I remember once, i think i was around 4ish, i was playing with my doll in the living room. I believe it was called "baby first-step", anyway, the doll had beautiful long blonde hair and i was brushing it. Effie commented on how pretty the doll's hair was. I remember my face burning and felt it turn red. I told her that mom had cut off some of my hair and glued it to the doll. I do believe it was my first little lie because i will never forget how that moment felt. Effie laughed and laughed which made me get redder and redder. The scene ended with her hugging me tight and telling me she loved me and my hair. She truly was a precious lady and i am blessed she was in my life. |
My dad (my hero) taught me many things about how to treat a woman. One of my favorite memories was when I was a kid I noticed that, when walking with my Mom, he always made sure to walk on theoutside nearest the street. I asked him why and he said that was to make sure that a car splashing water from a puddle or jumpimg the curb would hit him and not my Mom. A good lesson in "old school" manners and cherishing women.
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Standing ovations at my dance recitals... and being rewarded afterward with warm Krispy Kreme donuts and cold milk.
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My dad always treating me more like a son, my grandaddy driving me around in a '68 convertible, growing up between 3 states and a great summer home in Canada. i had the best childhood. i cant even begin to list my experiences. AND i try hard to give my son the BEST of both worlds to boot.
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Hmm favorite childhood memory I think the one that always pops into my mind is each and every family reunion I went to when my granny was alive. I can still on my saddest day think of something about her that will make me smile and even shake my head in disbelief but still smile or even laugh. From watching her crochet to enjoying the smell of real corn bread and beans cooking on a Sunday. To even watching this old lady that had 12 children pick up her spit can next to her recliner and spit her chew into it. Gross to think about but that was my granny and she did not care what anyone thought of her as long as her family was taken care of. I am sitting here right now shaking my head at all the memories and honestly missing the one member of my bio-family I am not embarrassed to admit to loving and missing during the holiday season. Nor too embarrassed to admit that was one little woman I feared and inspire to make proud even today.
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my best friend and all the things we did together, sledging, riding on our bogie, mini morobikes at the fair, jumping over the hedge, passing notes along string between our bedroom windows, lying with our feet out of the car window, eating sherbert that crackles and pops, taking turns kissing our shared boyfriend, sitting on the toilet together, fighting, crabbing, swimming - don't know what I would have done without her. From age 2 to 12 she was the love of my life.
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Jim Gaffigan - Holiday Traditions - Beyond the Pale
When I was a child our family would add a little levity to Christmas morning by getting a joke gift for each person, or wrapping some tiny thing in a gigantic box and then sit back to watch the puzzled response when it was opened (especially entertaining following pleads to open a giant package -- we fell for this year after year). It was fun.
In the spirit of that tradition here is a comedy bit about various holidays. Enjoy. |
My favorite childhood memories revolve around my maternal grandmother, Nannie.
I would get to go to my Nannie's apartment every weekend when we lived in NJ and got to spend Saturday nights with her. My brothers never did. I guess they stayed home with my parents. I honestly never thought about them and my spending weekends with Nannie until just now. She would always let me stay up and watch Perry Mason on Saturday nights. Since at home I watched almost zero TV and had to go to bed at 7:30 every night, staying at her house was such a treat! She was the best cook ever! She made awesome duck with the crispiest skin! I have tried in my life to replicate it but have never been able to make it like she did! We would always take the bus to go to the mall to go shopping. She could never afford to buy anything but we always had fun. Everything I did with Nannie was fun! It was like an out-of-prison pass for me each weekend. She always had parakeets and when one died, she would get another. Each one was named Peetie. As a kid, I just thought all birds lived forever. She would walk around the apartment with the bird on her shoulder. It always seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to do that. Even though she was Jewish, she always had a tiny Christmas tree on a tabletop for us kids. She somehow, always, knew to get each of us that one present that we really, really, wanted. She would talk to me for hours (except about the loss of her family from Austria in the Holocaust- she never spoke of it.) and she gave me frequent hugs. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she loved me. She probably saved my soul. She died at age 99 and I still miss her so. |
My Pa worked at night and was off on Monday and Tuesday instead of the weekend. Years ago we got Washingtons birthday and Lincoln's birthday off from school. I was always at Gigi and Papa's on the long weekends. Squirrel hunting on Friday afternoons and Saturdays and even Sunday mornings before church as long as I wasn't on Game Management land. But Mondays was the best day. On Mondays I went with Pa and my Uncle either rabbit hunting or bird hunting. I was always amazed at how my Pa and my Uncle could snag a bird as they took flight, two shots 2 sometimes 3 birds falling...nothing like the smell of gun powder after the shots ring out of a double barrel shotgun. Both he and my Uncle have passed on now, but the memories I have of them both, I still hold very close to my heart.
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Its appropriate for today...
One Easter when I was about 8, I got my first bike for Easter... It was pink with the old fashioned banana seat...my dad added a bell and sparkly tassles for me... It was definitely the best Easter ever... :) |
This is the first Easter since my gramma passed. When I was little, I always remember spending the morning of Easter Sunday with her. We'd go to church and she'd always slip me candy throughout mass. Then we'd go to her house for brunch, where we'd eat all the traditional Polish food that had been blessed the night before. And without fail, the Easter bunny would have left me a second basket at her house. :) Miss you g-ma!
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It's Easter Sunday so the first thing that comes to mind is spending Easter Sunday at my Grandma's with my Aunt's Uncles and cousins. Them hiding eggs for us most of the day. The Easter Bunny had been there of course. Food OMG food my Daddy's family sure could cook. Thing is it was most all home grown be it meat or veggies, except staples like rice
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