I lived next door to a family of five girls and three boys. Four of the girls were close to my age, the fifth was a little too young for me. Our houses were right next to a hill, and on top of the hill was the cemetary. Very often we would visit the cemetary to read the names and dates on the headstones. We would figure out how old they were when they died. We would wonder about them. The cemetary was a very peaceful place and we liked going there.
Often we would take a picnic up to the cemetary and sit on the grass and enjoy ourselves. I started out with peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches because that was the only kind of sandwich I knew about. My friends shared their sandwich ideas with me. One was butter and brown sugar. You put lots of butter on the bread, sprinkle lots of brown sugar on,then cover it with another piece of bread. Another sandwich was fried Spam. Spam comes in a can. It is ham that is all ground up and pressed back together again. I never heard of it before. You slice a piece about one fourth inch thick and fry it till it turns a little bit brown. Put the fried Spam on a piece of bread, pour lots of Ketchup over it and cover it with the other piece of bread. I learned about honey mixed with peanutbutter. I liked it better than jelly. I learned that you could fry an egg, break the yolk so it can spread all over the white, salt and pepper it, add lots of ketchup to it and eat it between two pieces of bread. It is good cold or warm.
I still make these sandwiches and really like them, but my favorite sandwich is a hamburger. I have many happy memories that involve sandwiches, so eating each one is an emotional feast,too.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Grandma "Annie Oakley"
One Sunday our family drove two hours to Helena, Montana, to Aunt Harriet's house. We went with them on a picnic to Gates of the Mountain. This is a place where you can get on a big boat and drive up from one lake to another. We were waiting for the boat, so Daddy brought out his .22 rifle and .22 pistol out. He set up some things to shoot at, and one of the things was a little cigarette packet with a round, red circle on it, just like a target. Everybody had a turn shooting at the targets. When it was my turn, Daddy held the rifle for me because I wasnt strong enough to hold it by myself. I was only six years old. He told me how to look down the top of the barrel and point it at the little cigarette packet. I did just what he said, squeezed the trigger that made the bullet fly toward the target. It was very loud. When they brought the target back, there was a little hole right in the middle. I had shot a bullseye! That is a very hard thing to do, and I was just a little girl. I guess I am a pretty good shot.
A Funny Thing
One day our family went on a picnic in the woods, near the little creek. It was hot that day, even in the mountains where we were. Mother and Daddy told us to go play while they took naps, but said that we should not go near the water.
My brother was about eleven or twelve years old. He was very skinny. He was playing near the creek and he lost his balance and fell in. The water was very cold. He climbed out but his clothes were as wet as a washcloth in bathwater. We didnt bring any extra clothes for any of us. We didnt have sweaters or jackets or blankets. The only blanket there was, was the one under Mama and Daddy.
Our parents woke up really fast and used the blanket to dry my brother a little, but his clothes were still very wet. My mother only had one thing that she considered "extra", her rubber girdle. A girdle was like really tight panties that held your tummy tight. It had little dangly things called garters that pantyhose attached to. She hid behind the car and took it off. My dad put Jim into the car and told him to take his clothes off. Then he took the girdle from Mama, handed it to Jim and told him to put it on till they could dry his clothes near the fire. When Jim came from the car, he was holding the white, rubber girdle by both hands and looking very disturbed. It was so big that two of him could have fit into it.
I couldnt help it, I started giggling, then burst out laughing and laughing. His skinny, white legs with knobby knees just looked soooo funny. And the look on his face was soooo funny. I still laugh and it is still fresh in my memory.
My brother was about eleven or twelve years old. He was very skinny. He was playing near the creek and he lost his balance and fell in. The water was very cold. He climbed out but his clothes were as wet as a washcloth in bathwater. We didnt bring any extra clothes for any of us. We didnt have sweaters or jackets or blankets. The only blanket there was, was the one under Mama and Daddy.
Our parents woke up really fast and used the blanket to dry my brother a little, but his clothes were still very wet. My mother only had one thing that she considered "extra", her rubber girdle. A girdle was like really tight panties that held your tummy tight. It had little dangly things called garters that pantyhose attached to. She hid behind the car and took it off. My dad put Jim into the car and told him to take his clothes off. Then he took the girdle from Mama, handed it to Jim and told him to put it on till they could dry his clothes near the fire. When Jim came from the car, he was holding the white, rubber girdle by both hands and looking very disturbed. It was so big that two of him could have fit into it.
I couldnt help it, I started giggling, then burst out laughing and laughing. His skinny, white legs with knobby knees just looked soooo funny. And the look on his face was soooo funny. I still laugh and it is still fresh in my memory.
A Scary Thing
One day we went on a picnic in the trees and near a small creek. After we sat around the fire a while, then had our picnic, Mother and Daddy lay down on the blanket to take naps. They told us to stay away from the creek because it was full and the water was really, really fast. There was a little bridge across the creek. Jim and I sat on the bridge for a while. I was a little afraid because the water was really fast and the noise was loud. I was glad when we left the bridge. It was more fun to find the ant paths and try to see where they were going.
Picnicking
When I was young, before Joyce and Jeanne were born, our family went on quite a few picnics. Mama would fry chicken and make potato salad. I dont remember a vegetable, but there probably was one. She would pack everything into the picnic basket. There would be plates and glasses and silverware. There would be a thermos full of coffee for her and Daddy. My brother and I didnt drink coffee because we were kids. I think we might have had homemade lemonade, or Orange Crush pop. Daddy would get the car ready. He would put gas in the tank and check the oil and tires. There was a blanket that we always had to lay on the ground. The places we had picnics didnt have tables, but there were firepits. The firepits werent maintained by Park Service, but had been there a long time because they were used by other picnickers.
Mother would lay out the blanket, Daddy would start the fire. We sat near the fire, sitting on logs that had been placed there. Everybody would sigh as they started to relax. They commented on how nice the fire was. I didnt think the fire was so nice. It seemed that anywhere I chose to sit, the smoke would follow me and I couldnt breathe. When I moved to a place where the smoke wasnt, as soon as I sat down, the smoke would find me.
Our picnic places were in places where the pine trees were very tall, and there was a small creek nearby. The air smelled like pine trees and pine needles mixed with the cold, clear, mineralized smell of rushing water. The sounds of the wind blowing through the pines, the shhhhhhhhh of the water flowing, and the birds chirping was very peaceful. I enjoyed watching the big black ants and the big red ants marching along the ground.
Mother and Daddy soon would lie down on the blanket and fall asleep. Jim and I were free to wander a little while we let them take their naps. Soon they would wake and it was time to go. After all the picnic things were loaded into the trunk, we would drive home, tired, relaxed, and ready for home.
Mother would lay out the blanket, Daddy would start the fire. We sat near the fire, sitting on logs that had been placed there. Everybody would sigh as they started to relax. They commented on how nice the fire was. I didnt think the fire was so nice. It seemed that anywhere I chose to sit, the smoke would follow me and I couldnt breathe. When I moved to a place where the smoke wasnt, as soon as I sat down, the smoke would find me.
Our picnic places were in places where the pine trees were very tall, and there was a small creek nearby. The air smelled like pine trees and pine needles mixed with the cold, clear, mineralized smell of rushing water. The sounds of the wind blowing through the pines, the shhhhhhhhh of the water flowing, and the birds chirping was very peaceful. I enjoyed watching the big black ants and the big red ants marching along the ground.
Mother and Daddy soon would lie down on the blanket and fall asleep. Jim and I were free to wander a little while we let them take their naps. Soon they would wake and it was time to go. After all the picnic things were loaded into the trunk, we would drive home, tired, relaxed, and ready for home.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Scared
I have twin sisters who are ten and a half years younger. One night I was assigned to babysit while my parents went out. I think Joyce and Jeanne were about three or four, so I would have been a young teen ager.
In my town was a copper smelter. At certain times of the day, there would be a very loud whistle coming from the smelter, telling the workers that it was time to change shifts, or eat lunch, or go home. Those times were 8:00, 12:00. and 4:00.
The night I was babysitting, I was still up and it was getting close to midnight. I didnt have anything to do and was standing in the living room. Suddenly, I heard the smelter whistle blow. It was so unusual, that I didnt identify it as the Whistle. It kept blowing and blowing. I started to worry. Maybe it was something bad. What should I do? Should I get the babies up and take them to the basement? If I did, they wouldnt go back to sleep and Mother and Daddy would be mad at me. I stood frozen for what seemed to be forever. Then I ducked down and sat under the piano. That is when I realized that it was just the Whistle. Mother and Daddy soon returned home, and by that time I was sitting on the couch. They were all smiles, didnt mention the Whistle, so I never knew why it blew.
In my town was a copper smelter. At certain times of the day, there would be a very loud whistle coming from the smelter, telling the workers that it was time to change shifts, or eat lunch, or go home. Those times were 8:00, 12:00. and 4:00.
The night I was babysitting, I was still up and it was getting close to midnight. I didnt have anything to do and was standing in the living room. Suddenly, I heard the smelter whistle blow. It was so unusual, that I didnt identify it as the Whistle. It kept blowing and blowing. I started to worry. Maybe it was something bad. What should I do? Should I get the babies up and take them to the basement? If I did, they wouldnt go back to sleep and Mother and Daddy would be mad at me. I stood frozen for what seemed to be forever. Then I ducked down and sat under the piano. That is when I realized that it was just the Whistle. Mother and Daddy soon returned home, and by that time I was sitting on the couch. They were all smiles, didnt mention the Whistle, so I never knew why it blew.
Visitors
When I was young, we had a few unusual visitors to our home. When I was about three or four, I was informed that we would have a guest named Hazel. I was sitting on the couch in our living room, all clean and dressed in a fresh dress. I was eating hazelnuts. I thought how funny that there was going to be a visitor with the same name as a nut. I wondered if she would be round like the nut, would she be brown, was she little? I was disappointed to see that she was just a normal person who just wanted to talk to my parents.
There was a man named Lou who periodically came to our home. He seemed to be a close friend of my mom and dad. He would drop by during the day time, around lunch time, when my parents would both be there. He was a very happy person, and would greet my brother and me. When he was about ready to leave, he would reach into his pocket and pull out a silver dollar and hand it to me. I really liked having Lou come.
My mother spoke a little French. She was actively involved in some local social organizations, and went to meetings frequently. One day she told me that a lady from France was coming for luncheon and that I was invited. This was a school day, and I always came home for lunch. Mother told me her name, I think it was Madam Bertillion, or something like that. I never could remember it. It sounded like the soup we had sometimes, buillon, so that is what I called her (but not when she was there). Again, I wondered what a lady would be like if she were named after soup. She turned out to be nice, but didnt talk or even look at me except when we were introduced. She talked funny, too, in a high, breathy voice.
There was a man named Lou who periodically came to our home. He seemed to be a close friend of my mom and dad. He would drop by during the day time, around lunch time, when my parents would both be there. He was a very happy person, and would greet my brother and me. When he was about ready to leave, he would reach into his pocket and pull out a silver dollar and hand it to me. I really liked having Lou come.
My mother spoke a little French. She was actively involved in some local social organizations, and went to meetings frequently. One day she told me that a lady from France was coming for luncheon and that I was invited. This was a school day, and I always came home for lunch. Mother told me her name, I think it was Madam Bertillion, or something like that. I never could remember it. It sounded like the soup we had sometimes, buillon, so that is what I called her (but not when she was there). Again, I wondered what a lady would be like if she were named after soup. She turned out to be nice, but didnt talk or even look at me except when we were introduced. She talked funny, too, in a high, breathy voice.
Sluffer
Lorna requested that I write stories of my life so that she can tell these stories to her children at bedtime.
When I was in grade school, we lived right across the street from school. I was a night owl, staying up till past midnight in my room with the door shut. In the morning, when leaving for work, my dad would do a little whistle to tell me it was time to wake up. I would sleepily answer that I was getting up, and then fall back asleep. A little later, I would wake again, look at the clock, and see that I had only ten minutes before school started. I would jump out of bed, throw on some clothes, brush my hair and run down the stairs. My mother would hand me a piece of toast and some orange juice for breakfast. I didnt want them because I didnt have time to eat. I would take one bite of the toast and one swallow of the juice, then run across the street, hurry to my classroom. I usually wasnt late, but I wasnt ready for school, either.
We moved three blocks away when I was eight years old. I hadnt changed my bedtime routine. But, since we lived farther away, I should have left home earlier. I didnt think of that. One morning, I hurried to school, made it on time, and was feeling pretty good about myself. About 30 minutes later, I reached up to scratch my head, and discovered that I hadnt brushed my hair before leaving the house. I was very embarassed. I thought about what to do. I raised my hand and asked the teacher if I could go to the bathroom. I walked down the hall toward the bathroom, but instead of turning in, I continued down the hall and walked out the other door. I ran all the way home, brushed my hair, then ran all the way back, hurried through the back door, into the classroom, and slid into my seat. I thought I had done a pretty good job of faking. Now I think how the teacher probably noticed my messy hair, how I was gone to the bathroom for a really long time, and how my hair was now nice. I think she knew that I had gone home. She didnt say anything to me, and I thought I had gotten away with it.
When I was in grade school, we lived right across the street from school. I was a night owl, staying up till past midnight in my room with the door shut. In the morning, when leaving for work, my dad would do a little whistle to tell me it was time to wake up. I would sleepily answer that I was getting up, and then fall back asleep. A little later, I would wake again, look at the clock, and see that I had only ten minutes before school started. I would jump out of bed, throw on some clothes, brush my hair and run down the stairs. My mother would hand me a piece of toast and some orange juice for breakfast. I didnt want them because I didnt have time to eat. I would take one bite of the toast and one swallow of the juice, then run across the street, hurry to my classroom. I usually wasnt late, but I wasnt ready for school, either.
We moved three blocks away when I was eight years old. I hadnt changed my bedtime routine. But, since we lived farther away, I should have left home earlier. I didnt think of that. One morning, I hurried to school, made it on time, and was feeling pretty good about myself. About 30 minutes later, I reached up to scratch my head, and discovered that I hadnt brushed my hair before leaving the house. I was very embarassed. I thought about what to do. I raised my hand and asked the teacher if I could go to the bathroom. I walked down the hall toward the bathroom, but instead of turning in, I continued down the hall and walked out the other door. I ran all the way home, brushed my hair, then ran all the way back, hurried through the back door, into the classroom, and slid into my seat. I thought I had done a pretty good job of faking. Now I think how the teacher probably noticed my messy hair, how I was gone to the bathroom for a really long time, and how my hair was now nice. I think she knew that I had gone home. She didnt say anything to me, and I thought I had gotten away with it.
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