Ponderosa Pinings

Starting Over

2011-07-01T15:08:00.000-06:00

It's been over a year since Kit left, and I am finally starting to breathe again. It's strange how you can get so lost in a relationship, that you cease to exist. I was too flexible, passive, loving, and trusting. After 30 years, I never expected him to file for divorce. I was committed - invested - all in. I always believed in making it work. I found out I couldn't do it alone. I couldn't love enough for both of us and live with a growing pile of rules and expectations. My all wasn't enough. There was no credit for trying - even when I ran my health into the ground.
So now, I spend most of my days alone with God and my two animals. Maybe I can catch the dream I once had and fully become the person I was meant to be. I have been exploring my options, and enjoying the freedom in God that I once had. No pressure to perform - but total acceptance. Freedom to serve God alone.
Alone.

Hey there!

2009-12-13T18:23:00.005-07:00

It has been ages since I posted here. I have become very attached to Facebook - especially Restaurant City! M, my oldest, and I swap food and water each other's gardens. We are also Ninja's, but I haven't been able to get anyone to join my Dojo in Ninja Warriors, so I get beat up every day. . .but I'm rich!

Cleaning and getting ready for Christmas. Can't wait for the girls, my new son-in-law, and various friends to come for the holidays. Selecting recipes for cookies, and planning a Christmas Tea. . .now to just get off the computer. . .

Fabric Design

2009-04-09T16:02:00.005-06:00

Ok, here's my latest obsession: Fabric Design.

I resigned from my job in early March. New manager - guy - with no sewing experience was making life miserable for a lot of the ladies. After dismantling most of the processes (how things had been done), and complaining about my time in the office (trying to catch up the loads of paperwork) - I decided it was time to let him learn to swim on his own. (They weren't paying me enough to train him and everyone else.)

I am working on teaching some sewing classes there, if I can ever iron out the details with the mgr.

So, as a woman with options, I have been exploring my creative side. Sewing, writing, cleaning (oops - organizing), and playing on the computer.

I always wanted to try my hand at fabric design. . .so here ya go! (most of my experiments haven't been made public yet, but if you have a notion to design: Check it out. . .

http://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/sandie'sfacinations

Additionally, I will add a pic of my newest sweetie cat: Lady Catherine

Pondering my age

2009-01-05T00:36:00.002-07:00

Okay - so I published a few posts that have been sitting on my list for nearly a year.

I have been enjoying my 3 daughter's this holiday season. Can't believe "the baby" with be 21 years old in Feb '09. In her 3rd year at University of Idaho. Middle daughter a senior at Idaho State, and their oldest sister, also attending ISU.

Me? I'm Assistant Manager at the fabric store again, after an eight week stint as "acting manager" - much nicer to be supporting someone who has all the responsibility. . .Wait - - -I'm doing most of the work while he's in training. Having a blast.

I had foot problems last year - broke a couple of bones, but now doing well for my age. Hate to admit it, but I will enter the Senior citizen category on my next birthday (this month).

Don't act my age, so no one believes me at work. If they'd look closely, they could see the tell-tale signs under my chin. . .

2008-05-19T10:02:00.001-06:00

A couple of summers ago, I took ballet for the first time. I always wanted to be a dancer. . .
However, my ballet career didn't last long, and now you can see why. . .

The Post I NEVER Wanted to Write

2008-04-21T15:22:00.006-06:00

Dated 4/28/08

It is amazing how perusing my yearbooks brings back memories of my teen years. Coupled with scanning photos of my Mom before she got sick, made the memories take a twisted turn. Some things you don't want to remember. . .cause the truth still hurts.

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In High School, one of my classmates made a comment about one of her worst photos, "It's a face only a mother could love." I wasn't sure what she meant. I mean the picture was BAD. Would a mother love a face like that???

I didn't understand what a comment like that could mean, because I didn't have such a face.

The fact is, my mother didn't like me. Oh, she loved me because I was her child - but she didn't like me, and made great efforts to demonstrate that fact. When your mom doesn't like you - it can feel like she doesn't love you, either.

Side note

2008-03-18T17:28:00.002-06:00

Most of you missed my "Worst Date Ever" I squeaked it in behind "Family Favorite" and dated it Feb 29th.

How many can you name?

2008-03-18T17:17:00.009-06:00

Since I'm on an old picture kick. . .I thought I'd show this pic of my Second Grade class at Silver King Grade School. See how many kids you remember. . .

I can name 16 out of 21.

He's still the one.

2008-03-18T00:21:00.009-06:00

Here's a pic of the Hunk from November 1982. He was competing for the first time in a Body Building contest. This one was held in Lewiston, and he came in third place.

A lot of his friends from the University of Idaho, including the Cooper Brothers who were the reigning Mr. Idaho and Jr. Mr. Idaho, thought he got ripped off. His body was more "balanced" than the guy who won. Even Rachel McLish, the former Ms. Universe, and guest poser, told him he should have won.

The next year, he was ready! He competed at Washington State University and won FIRST Place. Whoa, Baby! I was really proud of him. (He could have been a model!) Oh, well, he became an engineer instead!

Someone did a write up about him after this contest in the Kellogg Evening News. So he had a little noteriety in the Silver Valley.

He's still my Hunk, today!

Competition or Completion?

2008-03-16T18:08:00.009-06:00

He's at it again. My husband is obsessed with a younger woman. . .

. . .the younger version of me. He keeps finding old pictures and scanning them to remind him of "what a catch he got." Great! How can the old me compare with the younger version???

Well, first of all, I am still the same person, but the packaging has changed. I am no longer cute and petite. However, the younger me was very self-conscious, depressed, and didn't feel as if I deserved to have anyone love me. Now, I don't feel that way at all. After all, I know who I am, and I like myself, finally. (The depression meds really help.) I am older, wiser, more confident, and I have accomplished a great deal in my life with the help of the Hunk and our Savior, Jesus.

We have been married nearly 28 years, weathered a lot of storms (mostly financial) and now I finally hear him say how much he appreciates me. I am past my bloom, but he realizes that I waited for him, chose him, loved him, raised our girls, finished my education (for him) and have remained devoted to him.

Well, all I can say is "He's stuck with me now!" (And we're both happy about that.)

Family Favorite

2008-03-03T08:33:00.007-07:00

Ok. After looking at this picture on my husband's computer screen day after day, and on his study wall ---I have decided to share it with my friends.

But first, I want to share some background to the photo. The year was 1984. I had read that book in my teens, and I was scared to face "Big Brother." But the real 1984 was nothing like the book. . .at least in my experience.

The Hunk had just graduated from the University of Idaho the previous December with his Bachelor of Science in Mining Engineering. (Not long after most of the major producing mines in the Silver Valley had closed.) He had spent the remainder of December, January and February looking for a job in mining, but found none. He was so depressed, that I quipped to a friend, "I'm gonna need a pancake turner just to get him off the floor." He didn't want to socialize - he just wanted a job.

Our first, and at that time, only child, M had just turned 2 in the fall. I had become the dreaded age of 30. (Remember the phrase: "Don't trust anyone over 30?") I felt old inside, but I had to keep encouraging the man I married that God had not abandoned us, but would provide a job.

In late February, he got a call to interview at the Crescent Mine (the silver producing portion of Ol' Uncle Bunker) located across the street from the famed Sunshine Mining Company. The position was for a Junior Engineer, and he was hired. We were so elated! Not only had God answered our prayers for a job in mining engineering, but he had answered my prayers to be back in the "Valley."

We told our families, packed our goods, and moved in with my parents (again) - until we found a house to rent in Kellogg. That summer, as we visited my folks in Pinehurst, my mom snapped this photo of our little family. It has become one of our favorites.

Summer of '84

The Worst Date Ever

2008-02-29T13:19:00.003-07:00

I originally posted this piece on my classmates.com site. I thought I'd put it here for a bit of entertainment.

It was a "blind" date in the sense that I had not met this guy prior to our "date." I don't know how he got my number, but he called me when I was attending Bible School and visited with me for an extended period of time. We had love of Algebra and Greek in common, so he asked me to attend church with him the following Sunday.
On Sunday he picked me up for church and we drove across town to the "sister church" to the one I was attending. He wasn't bad looking, but things went downhill from there. First of all, he sang louder than the rest of the congregation put together. I didn't know if this was typical, or if he was trying to impress me -but I was embarrassed for him and to be seen with him.
After church he invited me to his place for lunch, and I thought "Well, that's kind of sweet - he's gonna cook for me." So I said sure. When he started to turn into the Funeral Home, I laughed. (At least he had a sense of humor).
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.
"Because it's a Funeral Home," I chuckled, letting him know I thought the joke was funny.
"I live here." he replied -not laughing or even smiling.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"No, I work here, and live upstairs," he explained as we pulled into the back of the home and parked. I was too dumfounded to say anything.
His apt was small and nice, but I turned down his invitation to tour the Funeral Home. He turned on his TV to some football game, and said I could watch TV while he phoned the Sunday School kids from his class that hadn't made it to Sunday School that morning. (I hated football - but thought - I'll be a good sport.)
After about 20- 30 minutes - Yea - He took a short break from phone calling to see if I wanted to start lunch. (What? I am thinking. He's not going to cook?) He asked me if I would heat up a can of Dinty Moore Stew, while he finished his phone calls.
"I don't know how to make Dinty Moore Stew." I said (I'd never even heard of it.) Don't get me wrong, I could cook - but mostly from scratch and this stuff was in a can.
He was exasperated, "You just dump it in a pan and heat it up." (Now I was angry. . .he brought me to his place to entertain myself with a football game he wanted to watch, but wasn't. . .and to cook him lunch while he made a bazillion phone calls. . .)
I didn't want to go through his cupboards looking for a pan and "the stew" and play "the little woman" while he tried to impress me with how great a Sunday School teacher he was. So I said, "I've never made stew from a can, and I don't know where anything is."
He stormed into the kitchen, opened the can, and dumped it into the pan. He turned on the stove and said, "Do you think you can watch it, so it doesn't burn, while I finish my phone calls."
I wish I had had the nerve to ask him to just take me home, but my blood sugar was low and I was getting shaky. So I mumbled, "Yes."
The lunch time was strained, the stew was awful, and we didn't talk much through lunch or when he drove me home. Thankfully, he never called again. I guess I wasn't what he was looking for - and he certainly wasn't my idea of anyone I'd want to see again.

Assistant Manager - finally!

2008-02-22T10:56:00.004-07:00

Yesterday was the Big Day. . .well - no "hats and horns" no cake, balloons, or fanfare :( But I did officially become the Assistant Manager of our store! Woo Hoo!

The invitation was first presented to me last May or June. I was apprehensive (since I only started working there in March). So in August, when I returned from vacation, I became one of three supervisors with the view toward the Assistant Manager position. My biggest asset is that I am good with people - both employees and customers.

I was told I would become AM around the Holidays, but I made a BIG mistake in Oct-Nov -when I failed to open the store one Saturday. (I thought I was working the night shift, but Oops - I was scheduled to open.) So, it was back to "probation" - while still remaining a supervisor.

Then it was to be after the Holidays, then during Inventory in early February. . .then on Tues this week - or Wednesday - finally Thursday. I signed the paperwork, which included a raise to my surprise and great pleasure. . .(now I am making more than the starting workers at Fiesta Ole').

The cool thing is that the Hunk took me out to dinner to celebrate! He's proud of my accomplishment and says it is a great resume builder. (He forgets that I am likely too old to be hired by a company that pays more. . .despite my education, experience, and accomplishments.)

No matter - my fall back is my writing (as is his). Now if one of us could just get published!

See: Ponderosa Pinings: New Year for info on my writing.

Quirky Meme

2008-02-19T21:32:00.007-07:00

The Rules:

Link to the person that tagged you.
Post the rules on your blog.
Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

I was tagged by Inland Empire Girl at Gathering Around the Table to do this meme.

Number One Quirk: I like to wear my pajamas around the house on my days off. (So don't stop by unannounced. I won't answer the door.)

Number Two Quirk: On my days off, I start the day by feeding the dog, drinking tea and playing on the computer. On the days I work mornings, I still feed the dog and drink tea, but I daresn't turn on the computer!

Number Three Quirk: I read myself to sleep every night. I usually have to wait for the hunk to fall asleep first, because he can't fall asleep with a light on. I can't read anything exciting, because it revs me up instead of winding me down. Right now I am reading "Great Expectations" by Dickens. It's quite good, but not a real "page turner."

Number Four Quirk: All my shoes are black leather. I only have a three or four pair including one dressy pair. They are all comfortable and go with all my outfits.
Number Five Quirk: I take my own pillow while traveling, and use it every place I sleep. This way, I sleep better and don't get sick from latent cigarette smoke lurking in someone else's pillow feathers.

Number Six Quirk: I don't tolerate guilt. I was raised on it, didn't like the taste of it, and I don't dish it out.

Bonus Quirk: I often use some of my Dad's lingo when I talk. It enlivens the conversation and gets a few laughs - except when I have to explain it.

Feel free to do this meme. I decided not to tag anyone in particular, since I haven't been writing much lately, and who knows if anyone is reading my doggerel.

All Your Favorite Websites!

2008-02-09T19:00:00.000-07:00

I just got this link from my cousin Karen: http://www.allmyfaves.com/ Someone sure has taken a lot of time building this site. Don't forget to check out the tabs, too!

Crazy: snow, computers, Dimwit's

2008-02-06T21:13:00.000-07:00

Been crazy lately. I gave one of my daughter's (V) my computer to take to school with her when she moved to Pocatello last week. So I've been "sharing" my husband's computer. . . He gets it in the evening, and I get it any other time, as long as I am not working.

The snow here is quite deep - just like I remember as a child. I shoveled the path to the dog's corner (latrine), and to the Hunk's boat out back today. I wasn't planning to shovel in front, until my oldest daughter M called to say she was stuck in the driveway. I moved my truck out - LOVE the 4 Wheel Drive! And she shoveled enough to drive into the spot where the truck had been. The rest of the driveway was abt 6" deep. I parked the truck out front, and shoveled a path to the front door. Our street hadn't been plowed since the first snowfall. . . The ruts in our street were about 8" deep, and changing - as the snow was deep, but not frozen solid.

M came in to print some information for her Astronomy class. Then she left to take a test.

About a half-hour after she left, our street was plowed. The city sent 3 snowplows to do the job. It's crazy down here. They sent an entire crew to plow, and then complain about the cost. I guess the good part is that they don't leave a berm in front of our driveways.

I had a headache it was heading for a migrane, so I stayed home from work tonight. Now, I think it was caused by all the glare from the sunshine bouncing off the snow, as it seemed to get better as darkness approached.
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On a different note, has anyone out there read The Dimwit's Dictionary: 5,000 Overused Words and Phrases and Alternatives to Them by Robert Hartwell Fiske? I just ran across it the other day while doing research on some of Dad's verbage. Sounds like a real interesting book for writers. Guess I'll have to snag a copy and peruse it. Might be something for my library of source material.

Dad's Ditties

2008-01-24T15:01:00.001-07:00

After writing about one of the books I have been working on. . .I couldn't go to sleep last night. I began writing more funny expressions my Dad says, and I wrote several pages before my husband woke up and asked me if I was reading.

"No, writing." I responded. "I keep thinking of things Dad says. Do you want me to turn out the light so you can sleep?"

"That would be nice."

"Okay."

So I turned out the light, and lay in bed thinking of more stuff that I could have written down. If it hadn't been for my hair appt - to "get my hair wrinkled" as Dad would say - I would have gotten up and written a bit longer. I only hoped I'd be able to remember what I hadn't written down this morning. . .

No problem. I woke up, wrote down a few more Dadisms and went to my hair appt with notebook in hand. There, I wrote a few pages while waiting for my hair to "wrinkle."

I have carried that notebook around most of the day - remembering - writing - remembering and writing. I even remembered some of Dad's antics. For example, when Barney's Sooper Market was built in Pinehurst in '67 or '68, they had the first automatic doors I had ever seen. You would step on a rubber mat leading to the door, and voila' the door opened for you. Dad would walk up to the door, grab the handle, and let the door fling him inside stumbling with atonishment on his face. My sister and I would laugh our heads off (not literally) each and every time Dad pretended not to know that the doors were automatic. He did this for years, as long as he had an "audience" - namely us. I don't think he ever did it when he went to the store alone, with Mom, or with anyone else. It was primarily for our entertainment.

Today, I wondered if any of the checkers ever saw him fly into the store (more than once) and wondered about his sanity. If they ever did, they didn't tell anyone. The town was too small for something like that to go unheard.

Dad doesn't "goof off" now when he enters a store. After a hip-replacement, with a walking cane - to help stablize him when he "teeters." He lets his quips and wits be the source of entertainment.

New Year

2008-01-23T22:27:00.000-07:00

So busy. So much to do.

Okay, so I have spent my free time playing computer games and sewing a quilt.

I have not only avoided my blog, but I have stopped writing on two books I have been working on. The first book is a primer on spiritual warfare ministry. The second is a biography of sorts about my Dad and his proclivity to embelish the English language with humorous finesse.
The books are polar opposites. . .ranging from the very serious to the nearly ridiculous.

I have a couple other books in the works. . .but they are barely outlined.

"Landlords from Helena" (about renting)
"When Worlds Collide" - (about early marriage)

They, too are, oxymoronic genres. (Perhaps someday I will find the genre that suits me. . .but so far I can be extrememly serious and unusually daft. Sometimes simultaneously.)

I am looking for illustrations for "spiritual warfare" and "landlords" - later I may need some for "collide." As for "dad's bio" - I can always use more material, but you have to know my dad to supply his words for this work.

Wow! I wasn't sure what I would write when I began, but now you know. My brain is somewhat tied up. . .hence the need for computer games to decompress.

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd write a few lines. I guess I have had "post-boredom," and haven't felt like writing. Work has been a nightmare, but sales are slowing as we approach Christmas. Guess most people want to get their fabric early enough to complete their projects. (I thought I had, but - we'll see). [Not quite]. . .

We are finally getting some snow, and S is home from the University of Idaho for break. I told the Hunk that once she came home, it started to "feel" like Christmas to me. S & V are in my husband's study laughing their guts out! It's so nice to have them enjoy their time together.

They had an UGLY sweater contest at "Freedom" on Tues night, and the pictures are hillarious! Each contestant had to "pose" for the judges, and the pictures are really telling. Of course, S added captions that set the girls off!

V & M are finishing finals at Idaho State University, then we'll all celebrate by having dinner together at the Olive Garden Sunday evening. Last time we went together, our waiter was soooo funny - and he really hammed it up in front of our gorgeous girls.

Well, its actually Christmas now. 2:05 am here. I need to hit the sack- but just wanted to say Thank You to Inland Empire Girl for the awesome card and Silver Valley Girl for the good wishes for the HOLYday.

Merry CHRISTmas to all and Hope to see some of you in Northern Idaho (The Silver Valley) this coming weekend.

Happy Birthday - M - a day late

2007-10-26T20:54:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, was my oldest daughter's birthday. Let's just say she's catching up to the age I "feel" like I should be. . .

Today, after work, V took M and I to the movies. We saw "Dan in Real Life". I thought it was a really good movie. Laughed my guts out in several places. (This is why theater's are dark - so no one can recognize the laughing idiot after the show.) Steve Carell was both a sweetheart and a hoot in the roll! I got sick of the way his family picked on him, but he was the best of the bunch! One of my favorite lines is when someone asks him what his talent is, and he says, "The murderer of love." Well, don't want to spoil it for anyone, but I will say that I would see this one again.

After the movie, V and I watched M open her gifts then bit her adieu as M needed to get her homework done. V and I went shopping after that, and bought a few necessities for the house - and a couple of non-essentials.

I called my husband, and he said, "You got a package from Japan. Were you expecting that?"

"Yes, I was."

"Wow, did you buy something on ebay - or some other place?"

"Yea, I bought something on etsy.com."

(But I can't say what I bought or for whom - as Christmas cometh, and there are many secrets to keep.) I can say that I bought something for myself -but that's all I can say.

What???

2007-10-24T17:27:00.000-06:00

The Regional Manager arrived last night, and began to cut fabric for customers. Several of us moved in to find out who was takin' over the store. . .

Actually, he was very nice to all of us including our store manager. She said to me later, "I've never met that man before!" Apparently, he was a changed man - for some reason - and we were all happy about that!

Today I worked at lifting the old scalloped cement edging from around my tree in the front yard and replacing it with newer "mondo" block. I wore a sweater, because it was only in the 50s. I was working in and out of the shade, so I got mighty warm. The dog was assisting me, by hanging around on her chain, but she soon got restless to go inside.

I still haven't moved all of my previous bulbs out of that flowerbed, so I turned over a couple of shovels of dirt and roots before packing in the shovel, bulb box, old scallops. Maybe we'll have a few more dry and sunny days before the snow flies again.

Completion

2007-10-23T14:52:00.000-06:00

Today I finished making the dog bed. Yesterday, I glued the two pieces of foam together and gave them time to "cure." Today, I marked, cut, sewed the vinyl into shape and stuffed the foam inside. I gave myself a B+ - because the work wasn't perfect, but it fits well, and the dog won't care.

I had to get "gussied up" for work tonight. The Regional manager is coming tonight, or tomorrow morning with the District manager. For the past week, we have been cleaning, organizing, and "froo frooing" up the store. My boss is beside herself - she's been telling all of us that she's gonna be fired. I said, "Well, if he fires you tell him you fired me first." (This was after she said they'd make me store manager - a position for which I am not ready.)

Apparently, he has threatened to fire her numerous times. . .but has yet to do so. I think he uses intimidation to get his way, but of course, I haven't met him yet. . .so I guess I should wait and see. I am not impressed by anyone who uses anger (or tantrums) to control people. Not professional, and not true leadership.

Been a great day. Sunshine, project completion, hubby loved dinner last night, and yea, I get to hang out at the fabric store and make some money. . .

Transitions

2007-10-22T18:04:00.000-06:00

Late October -

Already???
Where has the time gone?
Preparing to plant bulbs -
but the snows came.
Moving my crafts and sewing to the basement -

I am sidetracked by the need to make a new dog bed
and prepare
dinner.

Can't wait to see his face
when he realizes I have been domestic today.

He usually cooks for me.
Breakfast in bed on the weekends.
Tea on Sundays.
Dinner when I am working.

When did we switch places?
Between college and launching the girls.
I began to work outside,
and he began to work inside.

Our lives have merged in many ways
transitioned through the years.
Today in the autumn of our lives
we are partners in every sense of the word.

I can't wait to see him today.
My best friend,
my husband,
my lover,
my partner.

He's here
I've got to go.

The Slump

2007-10-09T14:28:00.000-06:00

I haven't been blogging lately. I think I'm in a slump. I'm not too interested in continuing my life story in the Silver Valley for now. Don't have much going on right now except for work. Can't talk about the projects I'm working on (mostly Christmas presents).

The rest of my time I have been playing bubble shooter and watching the first 3 seasons of The Office in random order. (Can't seem to find all of any one season at the rental place at any one time.)

I am wondering if I am getting depressed again. Obsessive game playing on the computer - very little desire to call friends (could be that I am saving my minutes now that the home phone is kaput) - shorter days that bring feelings of melancholy - no desire to write on the book I started last October - don't want to get dressed on my days off -

The most exciting thing that has happened lately is that I bought a couple of new pillows for the Hunk and I to sleep on. They are really nice and comfortable. At the same store, the Hunk bought me 4 (FOUR!) cute hooks for my soon to be craft room downstairs. They look like dress forms with various corsets on them done in cream and black with a bit of a distressed look. They were $10 each - so I was surprised when he bought me all four of them! (Now I just have to wait for V to paint over the lime and orange paint in her former room, so I have crisp clean ultra-white walls on which to display my hooks!) I like the ultra-white walls for my Mary Kay room (natural light for matching foundations) and I want it in my craft/sewing room for matching colors.

Maybe I'm not depressed - just in a holding pattern. . .a bit overwhelmed by some of the changes that have been taking place lately. Additional work hours and responsibilities, losing the cat, losing the house phone, adjusting to cooler weather. . .waiting for Christmas, waiting for my youngest to come home from school, waiting for my new craft room, waiting for some new inspiration. . .

Trashing Traditional Telephone

2007-09-19T21:53:00.000-06:00

Tradition is a difficult thing to release. We all get attached to what is, and fear that which is unknown. We want things to remain the same, and we want our children to understand how life was for us. . .back then. . .

In the 1950s we had a heavy black telephone with a 5-digit number. 2-2922. Sunset 2-2922. The moniker was probably used when making long distant calls via the local operator who sat at a switchboard and literally connected the calls with plugs on wires.

1960s, when we moved back to Pinehurst, our number was Sunset 2-2862. We were on a "party line" of 4. "Parties" were households of people, not events for hanging out and eating goodies. Party lines included the home numbers of several neighbors, so when you picked up the phone you could encounter someone else on the line. It was like the home phones when you picked up the phone, and someone in the family was already using it. Technology hadn't advanced enough, and there wasn't enough wire strung to give everyone a "private line." (Hence the need to listen for a dial tone before calling. If there wasn't a dial tone, someone was probably already on the line.)

People had to pay more money for less "parties." We were lucky, with only 4 parties on the line, there was a good chance the line wasn't in use when you wanted to make a call. Calls had to be short, though, in case someone else needed to use the line. Phone etiquette indicated that if someone was on the party line, you were to quietly hang up, and wait 10 to 15 minutes or more before checking the to see if the line was free.

One of my friends was on a 10 party line - which was the most common. It was difficult to make calls at certain times of the day with so many families using the same line. Kids were not allowed to be on the phone for more than 5 to 10 minutes - even when doing homework. The rule was you make the call, get to the point, and get off the phone. When we were in Jr. High, my friend's next-door-neighbor boyfriend was on the same party line. They could pick up the phone and talk over the dial-tone, or if one of them called a friend the other could listen in on the conversations. I'm sure there was a lot of covert listening to know whether or not the other was "cheating" on their relationship.

I had a friend who lived in another state, who's party line rang into each person's home. The rings were different for each number, so you could tell which call was for you. One ring might be "one long" another "two short" and another "one long-one short" etc. If you were not going to be home, you could ask the neighbor to answer your calls and send along the message, or take messages for you. I guess this system worked well in the 1960s in the rural area where they lived. When I stayed with them, I had to learn not to answer the phone every time it rang. . .

We also had only one phone. It was beige. Phones came in colors, if you your local telephone company carried them. The phones at that time belonged to the company, and customers "rented" the phones. Later in the 60s, one could purchase a phone, and "plug" it into a wall outlet, similar to the ones we have today. When phone ownership was possible you could buy phones in all sorts of colors: turquoise, green, blue, pink, yellow, and in new styles - such as the Princess phone. . .(A phone I always wanted as a child, but never had. . .)

In 1963, long distance was anywhere outside of a few close towns, usually the closest ones on either side of your town. It was amazing to me when in the 1970s when you could call anyone in the Silver Valley without charge.

In the early days, our phone was in the living room. When it rang, my sister and I would run to see who could answer it first. My mom was probably grateful for this, since she was usually tied up in the kitchen, far from the phone. (It was amazing to me, that as we raised our kids, none of them were eager to answer the phone. Maybe it was because it rang so often, it wasn't much of a novelty to them.) In the late 60s or early 70s, we got a second phone for the kitchen. It was a wall-phone, and had a long chord, so we could answer it and still keep cooking or doing dishes. Ours was white or yellow.

Now we had two options for telephone chat, seated in the living room, or standing in the kitchen. We were still supposed to keep conversations short, although now we were on a "private line." We didn't have to be courteous to strangers who may need to use the phone, but Dad still wanted us to keep calls short and to the point. I was a teenager and liked to talk to my friends about boys, dances, school, etc. I could spend more time on the phone when he worked night shift and Mom was bowling. One afternoon, however, when Dad was home, a friend of mine called to chat. I was standing in the kitchen talking on the wall phone. My friend didn't have anything important to say, and was doing a monologue - or should I say monotonous one-sided conversation. She ran out of things to tell me, and was reading the advertisements from the newspaper to me over the phone. Dad noticed that I hadn't said a word for a loooooong time, so he said, "If you don't have anything to say, get off the phone." I tried to tell him, between my "u-huhs" to my friend that she was reading something to me. I think he just reached up and hit the receiver button. Dad's did that in those days.

When I started, I didn't plan to give a chronology of telephonology. . .so I will get to my point. . .today The Hunk shut off our wire line. No more home phone. No more running to the phone. No more, "It's for you" being hollered through the house. No more "Will somebody get the phone?" And no more "We're in the phone book." We are trashing the tradition. We've gone cellular.

So if you need to call me - email me first, and I'll give you my number.

Goodbye, Sweet Kitty

2007-09-16T20:21:00.000-06:00

The Hunk salutes the Colonel

On Friday we had Colonel euthanized. He was 14 years old. We had gotten him when he was a kitten shortly after we had moved into our house here on Peggy's Lane. And for the next 14 years he was a celebrity member of our family: a feisty, dynamic, strong-willed, mouse hunter/killer and fearless defender of our home territory. On more than one occasion I witnessed him attack dogs -- many times his own size -- that had carelessly wandered into our yard (before our fence was complete). Once a stray pigeon tried taking up residence in our back yard. That was short lived. I've never known a cat quite like him. Many of our friends had said the same.

Over the last year, however, Colonel's health began deteriorating. He started losing weight and getting thin -- dangerously thin. The vet diagnosed it as diabetes. A few months later he started having trouble walking, particularly the use of his hind legs. Steadily he got worse. As a consequence he became more sedentary. His outdoor time became less and less. He began using his litter box almost exclusively, but eventually even that became problematic. He then showed signs of having trouble feeding himself. It was sad. Colonel was dying.

Realizing the inevitable, Sandie made the appointment with the vet. On Friday I took him in. While I was in the vet's office waiting a voice in my head kept saying 'No - you don't have to. He'll get better. Take him home.' I fought the urge; it was just wishful thinking. The vet entered. After a short discussion I gave him permission to proceed.

I brought Colonel's body home to a grave site I had prepared in our backyard. After carefully laying his shoe-box casket in it, I filled in the void space with dirt and folded the grass blanket back over the site. I then sat down in a lawn chair a few feet away and reflected. Dang this is painful. For 5 years I had kept in my gun safe a bottle of Russian cognac that Kim had gotten me when she, Pete and Mom were in Russia. Sitting under the tree that day, I finally opened it and took a shot.

Farewell Colonel.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here are some pics of Colonel in better days. . .

'67 - Summer of Love (3)

2007-09-12T09:48:00.000-06:00

(I changed the name of the Vacation (10) post to '67 Summer of Love (2) - as the title was more appropriate, and it happened all the same year. So this post picks up - that same summer - before my 8th grade year.)

We returned from Vacation early in July. Even though my crush was no longer interested, there was plenty of summer left.

In July and August the creeks and rivers of Northern Idaho are warm enough for swimming, and even though I was not old enough to swim alone, Dad would take me to the creek to swim.

This summer, someone had dammed up the creek near the south end of Weir Gulch. This made the creek near the Bauman Addition too shallow for swimming, but created a better swimming hole behind the Assembly of God Church at the end of Division Street. All the kids my age were going there to swim in a great green pool of water.

Dad took me there a few times, and that is where I met Tom. (Now Tom was his real name, and I decided to use it, because he has been deceased for quite a number of years now. I don't know the reason for his early demise, but it could have been the result of an accident or disease.)

Tom was a great looking kid with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. (Ok, so his hair was red, but a soft redish-brown, and bleached by the sun. It's not that I have anything against red-haired guys, but I think my repulsion of Howdy Doody didn't help.) Tom was a year older than I, and for some strange reason he took a liking to me. I was a bit shy in those days, so he must have been the first one to swim over and introduce himself. I was fascinated by the fact that he was interested in me when he could have had a lot of girls after him.

The one event that sticks out in my mind was the day at the creek, when he scooped me up into his arms and hollered at my Dad, "Hey, Mr. Lewis, do you mind if I throw your daughter in the water?" Before I could process the fact that he lifted me up, my dad was saying, "Go ahead," and I was flying through the air toward the middle of the green pool.

Nearly every afternoon for the rest of the summer, I would go to the swimming hole. Dad didn't go with me all summer. I think he started to realize that I could swim pretty well, and that there weren't any creepy people to be wary of. I think as long as I had at least one friend along, I could go. Sometimes the Carver brothers would come down to the swimming hole, and I would feel safe, because they were all like brothers to me.

I never had to worry about Tom, and neither did my parents. He was a gentleman. He started coming over to my place to visit, and always spent time interacting with my parents. He'd usually say, "Hi" to me and continue on into the kitchen to ask my mom if she needed help with the dishes or whatever she was doing. Mom used to tease me by saying, "I think he likes me more than he likes you." But I knew that wasn't true!

Meme

2007-09-10T15:27:00.000-06:00

Inland Empire Girl from Gathering Around the Table sent this meme challenge to me. . .

01. If you could have super powers what would they be and what would you do with them?

Ability to allow people to distinguish truth from error.

Ablility to keep people from saying hurtful things to the innocent.

Ablility to fly - because it would be fun!

I'd use the first two on everyone I came into contact with. I think they would help people to make better decisions and stop creating victims - especially of children.

The third I would use for my own recreation and entertainment.

02. Were you to find yourself stranded on an island with a CD player...it could happen...what would your top 10 bloggers island discs be?

9 Wow Worship CDs
Michael W. Smith's Worship Album

My focus would be on the Lord, since He would be the only one I could talk to (and hear from). Any other music would just make me sad for another time and place.

03. If you were a smell what would it be?

Vanilla sugar. Good smell that anyone would enjoy being around.

04. What bird would you most like to be?

Sorry, no bird. Their brains are too small and their lives are boring. . .but if I had to be one, I'd be a humming bird. Who doesn't love 'em?

05. If you were a bird who's head would you poo on?

Please, it's bad enough I have nightmares about bodily functions. I wouldn't want to poo anywhere, at anytime, for anyone to see - let alone. . .feel.

06. Are there any foods that your body craves?

Chocolate, mostly. Sometimes vegetables, if I haven't been eating properly. Sometimes beef.

07. What's your favorite time of year?

Spring and Autumn - just because the weather is more temperate and there is plenty of daylight. Love warm days and cool nights. I love the Winter snow, but not the short daylight. Love the Summer daylight, but not the heat.

08. What's your favorite time of day?

Evening. No more pressure to perform household tasks. I can rest without guilt, visit with my family, play on the computer, watch TV, work on craft and sewing projects, go out for tea and dessert, and sit on the porch to watch the sunset change colors. (Interesting to note, it is also temperate at that time of day. . .)

09. If a rest is as good as a change which would you choose?

Rest. Change is more stressful, even if it is good change. (I love variety, as in a work setting, but change - not so much. We used to move a lot, and at first it was very exciting. I finally got tired of always being "the new person" at church, in the community, etc. There is something to be said for longevity in place and among a group of people.)

10. If you could have a dinner party and invite any 5 people from the past or present who would they be (living or deceased)?

Jesus (my Savior, to be the guest of honor and to explain the questions of life), my husband (best friend), my dad (second favorite man in my life), Emeril (to cook -He's one of my dad's favorite chef's, and Rachel Ray is too cute and perky), and you (whosoever will, may come).

Pinehurst: Eighth Grade

2007-09-04T21:07:00.000-06:00

Is is true blondes have more fun?

Blonde was in. Summer Blonde. Born Blonde. Clairol Blonde.

Remember the commercial?

"Is is true blondes have more fun?
Why not be a blonde and see?"
[music]
"A lady Clariol Blonde, that silky, shiny blonde
a lady Clairol blonde.
Is it true Blondes have more fun?" [fade]

Blonde was back. . .Marilyn Blonde. Jane Mansfield Blonde. And now it was my turn. . .
I went blonde.

'67 - Summer of Love (2)

2007-08-28T14:30:00.000-06:00

Something happened the year I turned 13. I got a crush on an older kid. He rode his bicycle past my house everyday that summer of '67, and I was smitten. I sat out on the front porch in the evenings and listened to the radio play the latest rock tunes. Early one evening, he rode his bike past the house and stopped across the street at the street corner. He called to me to come over to talk with him. I was so excited, and so scared. (What if he tried to kiss me?)

I left the security of the porch and strode across the lawn and the street to the corner, by the stop sign, where he stood with his bike, under the branches of the neighbor's tree. He had leaned his bicycle against their fence, and was waiting for me. His eyes were blue and his hair blonde, and I thought he was the best looking guy I had seen in a long time. I was nervous to be standing near him.

We made small talk, then he asked me what I was going to be doing the next few days. "We are leaving on vacation in the morning," I confessed, wondering if he would try to kiss me good-bye.
He didn't move closer, but wanted to know where I was going and how long I would be gone. (He must really like me, I thought.) Soon the conversation ended. I don't remember if I was called into the house, or if he had to go, but he took off on his bike, and I sauntered home -glowing, I think.

I finished packing and went to bed early, because we were leaving the next morning. I remember getting in the car, and wishing I didn't have to go. I wanted to stay. Just when things were getting interesting - I was off for Utah for three weeks. I laid in the backseat and stared up at the telephone poles outside the car window. The telephone lines went up one pole and swooped down to the next. Up and down, up and down, just like the emotions in my heart. I had been so encouraged, so excited, and now I was down, down, down.

I probably cried off and on, but disguising my sadness from the family. We were not the kind of family that showed our emotions. . .especially sorrow and disappointment. How could I stand the wait - 3 whole weeks - before I would see him again. It just wasn't fair!

I don't remember any of the particulars about that vacation, except that my cousins were out pacing me in their experiences. My cousin, LD, who was two years younger, told me about kissing boys behind some curtains at her school. Good grief! She just finished the 5th grade! Another cousin who lived in Las Vegas, and was a few months older than I was going to parties where there was a lot of drinking and older guys. I felt inexperienced, but safe. I was glad I didn't have to deal with such pressure.

I probably had a lot of fun on vacation despite my sorrow. LD and I usually went swimming at the public pool in Provo, shopping, and to the 4th of July parade and carnival. We were old enough now that we didn't need to stay with the family all the time, and were venturing out on our own more. At the swimming pool, there were always guys who like to show off for us, and that was a distraction from my beau back home.

Finally, the day came for us to load up and drive home. I couldn't wait to get there. I was excited to find out what the future would hold for this "biker-guy" and I. We arrived home, and as always, I sat out on the front porch in the evening. I waited, and waited for him to drive by on his bike. . .but he did not. The next day, or two or three, I rode my bike to the store, past his house, just for a glimpse of him. . .

For some reason, only known to young almost women, I thought I could impress him by making him think I could eat anything I wanted, and never gain weight. I would walk past his house eating ice cream from the Tall Pine, and then refuse to eat sweets at any other time. I made at least one trip past his house everyday. I was sure as soon as he saw I was back from vacation, that he would ride his bike past my house around sunset, and stop to talk - or call me over to the corner. . .but it was not to be. I don't think I saw him again that summer. And while I was entering 8th grade at Pinehurst in the fall, he would be going to High School in Kellogg.

Looking back, he may have obtained his driver's license while I was gone or found someone else older and more interesting, who wasn't going on vacation. Maybe he realized I was just a kid, and he was a young man. Regardless, our "love" was a short-lived. For several years, I blamed the end of it on an ill timed vacation.

College, fatigue, adventure

2007-08-26T22:39:00.000-06:00

College

Last week, S, our youngest started classes at UI, and tomorrow V begins her semester at Idaho State. M, our oldest, will be taking night classes again through the ISU campus here in Idaho Falls. Tomorrow is also V's 22nd birthday, and my sister and her husband's 30th Wedding Anniversary. Whew! I have a morning appt, then I work tomorrow night.

Fatigue

Today, Sunday, was a short day - 6 hours. . .but it seemed long, because I was really tired. The store manager came in for a while and showed me how to do some of the weekly reports since the district manager needed them to be done today instead of tomorrow. I took notes to help me remember and to give me something to follow next time I need to do them. She began to show me some more stuff, but I think she noticed my eyes were glazing over. . .so she stopped there.

I am hoping to rest up between now and Wed, when I work the morning shift and we do the "mailer." (The mailer entails taking down signs from the last sale, and putting up the new signs for the "mailer" that will start on Thurs.) It seems like an easy task, but it takes several hours because of the size of our store, and the number of items we have on sale. (Sometimes we have to re-locate a particular kind of fabric that is sorted by color to an a new location for the sale.)

Tomorrow night, I need to inventory the fleece and mark the kinds we will need to order this week. Sorry, this sounds like my "to do" list, and not a regular post. These are the things that are on my mind tonight.

Adventure

The Hunk took his 750 Honda for a ride into Wyoming today. Its the furthest he has ridden since his brother gave him the bike some years ago. I guess he had a great time enjoying his weekend and the nice weather. He also went boating Saturday evening, but I stayed home and tried to relax. He's been skiing on one ski this year, and has been getting in as much practice as he can. Early in the season, he biffed it really bad, and pulled some muscles and bruised his ribs, but he said they didn't bother him at all last evening (nor today).

Supervising & Quilting

2007-08-24T10:39:00.000-06:00

Supervising

I have been replete with my blogging duties. I hit the ground running when I came home, doubling my hours at work and learning my new Supervisory Duties. It is so much fun, but it is taking a while for my body to get used to standing/running 32 hours a week. Ah, sometimes I pine for the young body I used to have, but I am thankful for Ibuprofen - that keeps the pain at bay. . .

Of course, when I was younger, we couldn't afford for me to work for such small pay. . .

For those who care. . .I have been learning how to "open," "close," stock, display, supervise, make deposits and do special orders. I have been put in charge of ordering "fleece" for the time being - which is no small job, since we sell numerous bolts of it every week. We have the largest and best selection in this area.

Yesterday, I listed the tasks I thought that needed to be done around the store as well as a few the store manager and other supervisor listed and assigned them to the day workers in addition to the regular tasks of cutting fabric and running the register. It was fun. I got to pitch in and help where I wanted, pulled some bolts of fleece off the storage wall shelves and put them out. We rearranged some Home Decor, put out new bolts of fabric, and moved around displays. We got a lot done the past 2 days.

Tonight I work the evening shift, which is usually less demanding - except when customers come in right before closing and are looking to outfit their new homes with curtains for various rooms. . . I am planning to take a quilting class in the morning to learn some of the new quilting techniques so I can better assist customers in that area.

Quilting

Most of my quilting expertise was learned growing up. During the summers, I would quilt with my mom, her sisters and their mother out in the shade next to Grandma's house. Most of the cutting, piecing (putting the smaller pieces of cloth together), and or embroidery (for quilts that had embroidered blocks) were already done. So I didn't do those things until later. I have made several quilts through the years of different kinds, but I want to learn more about cutting the fabric with the use of the cutting mat and various plastic guides that make the piecing quicker and the quilts more exact. (Growing up, we used cardboard for "patterns." My Grandma Smith made star quilts for each of her 40 something grandchildren, and traced her pattern over and over. Since there were several cousins between the ages of my sister and I, by the time she made my sister's quilt, the diamond pieces used to make the star had grown in size by nearly a third, making her star and her quilt much larger than mine.

When I was in my early 20s. I cut my "patterns" from clear lids to avoid the distortion one gets from using a cardboard pattern over and over. I would place the lid over the pattern and trace it with a permanent marker, then cut it out using industrial scissors. I was proud of my ingenuity, but my crude "patterns" are nothing compared to the precise pattern one can get from the factories these days. Additionally, I had to trace and cut each piece out individually, which was very time consuming (but I found rather relaxing.) With cutting mats, rotary cutters, and the plastic guides, one can cut several layers of fabric with one "swoosh" of the cutter, and cut 10s and 20s of a piece in the same time it used to take me to cut one - all without tracing anything.

But for now, I will go. Many things to do before work tonight. I have found it easier to catch up on reading blogs than writing - but I will try to do better on my day's off. . .

Picture Post: To Victoria

2007-08-11T08:36:00.000-06:00

Driving to the coast

Riding the ferry to Victoria

Coming into Orchas, San Juan Islands

Friday Harbor

Victoria, BC: Tea & Gardens

2007-08-10T10:44:00.000-06:00

High Tea at the Empress Hotel

The Hunk and I beginning our tea time. I love tea parties, and this was a great experience. The setting was English, the tea was a mild to medium blend, the fruit, sandwiches, scones, cakes, cookies and candies were delicious! Best of all, I got to share it with the love of my life, and he enjoyed it also.

We had a male waiter, who served our tea with sugar (and cream for the Hunk). We drank out of special tea cups and saucers created by Royal Doulton for the Empress Hotel. The colors were my favorite: blues, purples and fuchsias. There was a crown on the inside of the cups on both the front and back. I thought about purchasing a cup and saucer as memento of the occasion, but changed my mind when they gave each of us a tin of The Empress Tea to bring home. (I will likely look online and see if I can still purchase a set, as I wish I had one now to drink from and show to my friends.)

The hunk likes to tell the story, but he embellishes it by telling the amount he paid for the experience. It was a lot, but I am just glad he did it for and with me.

Butchart Gardens

Oh, my goodness. . .55 acres of flowers, trees, shrubs, fountains, and ponds. Don't I wish I could get the weeds out of my wee "Victorian garden." I was inspired by the beauty of the gardens. My favorite part was the Sunken Garden. Mrs. Butchart - with the help of her head gardener and others - transformed an old quarry into an amazing land of ivy, flowers, trees, paths, benches, stairs, etc. I hope you can get a small idea of it's size from the picture. (Just look past the large lady and find the little people on the ground below. . .) There is a large rock formation in the center of the old quarry above my arm. It was covered by Mrs. Butchart hand planting ivy between the rocks. We were able to walk upon it, via a staircase, and over look the entire sunken garden 360 degrees around us. Below the dangling hand, you can see the heads of a couple who are part way down the stairs to the garden below. This shot was taken prior to entering the garden. I wish the Hunk would have taken a shot of just the garden, but he thought I should be in it. : (

Here's a few shots of the Fountain near the exit to the Sunken Garden. It was in a deep pool and kept changing "shape" as we watched it.

Can you believe this hedge? I love the way it is cut around the wooden arch. . .Can I have one???

One more picture to give you an idea of how beautiful Victoria was. This time it's a pic of the Hunk by the harbor. We were very fortunate to have clear skies and warm weather while we were there. I imagine that being on the tip of Vancouver Island, Victoria probably gets a lot of rain, like Seattle.

All in all - we had an amazing time. Please don't think I'm bragging - it took 24 years of marriage before we took our first "real" vacation, and this is only our third.

I have a few more pictures of the area, architecture, and our trip back on the ferry - but I will spare those who dislike travelogues from further angst. (Please don't offer to show me your pics of grand kids to pay me back!)

Reunion Reprise

2007-08-07T12:59:00.000-06:00

Thank you to all who planned and hosted the reunion this year. I wasn't able to attend all of the events, but I sure enjoyed the time I had with everyone at the park.

Steve Roth took some amazing photos. My favorite was the one of (right to left) Pert, the Deke, MW, and myself laughing our heads off. Wish I could show you the picture, but you'll have to go here: '71-'72-'73 Multi-Class Reunion and look at picture # 17. I'm not sure what we were discussing at that time, but we had some great conversations.

I really enjoyed talking with numerous classmates. It was great to hear where they were living, working, and how their lives have grown since we were kids. We reminisced a lot, and told (or heard) some stories about those times that some of us never knew before. It was a great time, and I wished I could have stuck around for more.

I'm Home

2007-08-05T19:33:00.000-06:00

Just got back this evening. Will begin posting again soon.

Moscow

2007-07-23T00:24:00.000-06:00

Just a few lines from the University city of Moscow. After a rip-roaring weekend of fun. . .I have returned my daughter, S, to the place she loves.

Thurs. horrific bus ride. The good part, however was that I was adopted by 23 yr old kid and 70+ yr old woman. It was like having a whole new family.

Fri - drove to Moscow. Sat returned to my Dad's with daughter and shot the breeze with classmates - some I haven't seen in - goodness, since High School. Great time, but cut short by promises to meet family for dinner. (Actually, the family was my out in case no one talked to me). Had fun, but not enough time to catch up with some of the people I have missed. Told my husband that it was mostly the guys who spoke to me, but that hasn't changed since High School.

Sunday - Church at Silver Valley Girl's church, Birthday BBQ for my Dad with family, Driving daughter back to Moscow.

Time to sack out. Drive back to valley in the morning to hang out with my sister on her day off. No computer until - who knows when. I'm going through withdrawl, I tell ya.

PS. If anyone talks to Mike W, tell him it was my dad he spoke to at the Boat.

North Idaho: Here I Come!

2007-07-18T20:26:00.000-06:00

Leaving tomorrow via bus (not my favorite form of transportation, but if I want to go early. . .). Be in No. Idaho in the late evening.

Hope to see you all soon.

Summer of Love (according to some) '67

2007-07-16T17:00:00.000-06:00

The Year: 1967
The Place: San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair) by Scott McKenzie
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/forrestgump/sanfranciscobesuretowearsomeflowersinyourhair.htm

Some call it The Summer of Love. It was the summer I became a believer in the change. It must have been part puberty, and part maturity - but I needed S-P-A-C-E. I wanted to think about things and I wanted to be alone. I started spending my evenings on the front porch, or inside my dad's pickup, listening to the radio. I was beginning the process of brainwashing.

If you're going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you're going to San Francisco
You're gonna meet some gentle people there

What was going on in San Francisco? Why was I in Idaho. Nothing was changing here, but in San Francisco, there was a movement that would change the world. I wanted to be a part of it.

All across the nation such a strange vibration
People in motion

This chorus hit me emotionally. Somebody was going to San Francisco. They were called the "flower children" and they were doing something that had never been done before. They were going to change the world.

There's a whole generation with a new explanation
People in motion people in motion

But hey, I was part of this "New Generation" I was a part of what was going to be "right" with this world. I felt empowered. I inhaled and meditated on the words. I was going to change the world.

Even though I didn't believe in "free-love" - I did believe in Love. Loving everybody. I soaked up all the "Love" Songs. I soaked up all the "live off the land" songs. I hated the establishment (what's love got to do with that?) and bought into the idea that poverty was superior to wealth. I wanted to be a liberated woman, in charge of my destiny. I would find someone who loved me, and we would live in a van and wear flowers in our hair. We didn't need jobs, or money, or position. We just needed love. Now, I just had to find someone who felt the same way.

Pinehurst:: Seventh Grade

2007-07-15T19:55:00.000-06:00

WHISTLE

It was early in the school year, and may have been the first week. I was going somewhere, and needed to walk past the school. I was just reaching the breezeway, when I heard a "wolf-whistle." So I turned to see what was going on. A ninth grade guy, was standing by the doorway. He turned to his friend and said something about the "new" seventh-graders. I can't remember exactly what it was, but I had the distinct impression it was about my anatomy. I was mortified. (In those days you were.) I couldn't stand the sight of that kid from that day on, and if I went to the Tall Pine for lunch with friends, and any of the upper class men were there, I could not eat. I had to get my food to go.

BLOCK

In the seventh grade, at Pinehurst Jr. High, which was at one end of the grade school, I only had 3 different teachers. The first 3 hours was called "block" and it included English, Literature, Grammar, Writing, and Social Studies - or some combination thereof. Mrs. Clark was our teacher. She was a short lady who wore extremely high, high heels and a wig. She wasn't very old, but she must have had thin hair, because we never saw her without her wig.

I really liked her class. My favorite day was Friday, because we would play games and if we "won" we got a candy bar from her closet. I loved it when we took long words or phrases like "Merry Christmas" and had to make as many words as possible out of it in an alloted time. I usually won those contests! That's when I always picked a "Mountain Bar" - cherry or plain - it didn't matter. My second choice was either a Hershey Bar or something else chocolate.

In her class, we learned about prepositions. One day, I turned the tide on my enjoyment of her class. Now you have to realize I was a very curious student, and also very precise. If I was going to learn something, I wanted to learn it the right way the first time.

That day, she was teaching on the difference between the uses of "in" and "into." She said that one would use the word "into" when they were passing through a doorway or opening of some kind. I raised my hand to ask a question to clarify what she had just said. "So every time someone or something goes through a doorway, you use the word into?"

"Yes" she stated as a matter-of-fact.

"But you can't go into the outdoors, can you?" I asked trying to clarify her point.

She snapped, "Well, you don't have to act so superior!"

I was stunned. Did I act "so superior"? To whom? I was only 12 or 13. At the time, I was crushed, because she raised her voice and told me off in front of the entire class. Now I look back and wonder if she was intimidated by her students, and I just happened to hit on an exposed nerve.

My other classes were Science with E. Johnson, and Math and Study hall with W. Gilman. Now, Science class was okay, until we reached the chapter on reproduction. We were studying plants, but I thought that subject was "taboo" and was mortified that the word was in our books. One day when I was reading aloud, the word was there - right in the middle of my paragraph. I approached it cautiously, but when it was time to read "reproduction" I froze.

"Reproduction," Mr. Johnson said, as if I couldn't pronounce the word.

Quickly, I spat, "reproduction" and continued with the sentence. I probably turned 6 shades of red, also. Fortunately, I don't think any of my classmates noticed, as they had their heads buried in their books, afraid to look around.

My parents were somewhat concerned about me being in W. Gilman's class. I had known him my whole life, and they were afraid I'd call him "Wally" instead of Mr. Gilman, but I didn't. I was very respectful, even though he had dropped me on my head one time at Rose Lake when I was five. (He had given me a piggy-back ride down to the lake, and tripped. We both flew forward and I lost a chunk of hair out of my head. For a five year old, I was mad, and didn't want him to carry me ever again!) I didn't bring it up in class, however, or study hall either.

I don't remember if I had a study hall past the 7th grade. It may have been mandatory in 8th grade also, but I never took it in High School. I felt it was a waste of time. I wanted to get on with the schoolwork!

DANCES

I was excited about being in Jr. High and getting to go to the dances. Some dances were held in the cafeteria, and some were held in the gymnasium. When they were held in the cafeteria, there was volleyball set up in the gymnasium. Most of the girls hated it when the dances were in the cafeteria, that meant all the seventh grade boys and some of the older ones were going to play volleyball all night, and there wouldn't be anyone to dance with. I don't think I was asked to dance more than once or twice each time I went, and sometimes not at all, but I still went because it was the happening place in Jr. High.

When a class "put on" (sponsored) a dance, members of the class volunteered to take care of the details. Some decorated, some "set-up" and some "cleaned-up." We also had volunteers who made cookies to sell at the dance, so the class could make some money. I used to make chocolate cake-like cookies with frosting on them. (The recipe was from D. Boje, who was an excellent cook, and raised a few great cooks). Those cookies were usually the first to go.

GIRLS' SERVICE

My seventh grade year, I was tapped for "Service Girls." Only 2 seventh graders were asked, and the positions were selected by a group of teachers or the principal or somebody "up there."
I felt honored and said, "Yes." C. Clemens was also a Service Girl and President that year. I was happy to serve with her and the other upper class girls. The other seventh grader was T. Cooper. Her mom was the school secretary, and I wondered if that is why she was chosen. I figured I was chosen for my grades. (Maybe we were chosen because we each lived about a block from the school! Now that I think about it, the Service girls that I remember all lived within the city limits and within 4-5 blocks of the school grounds!)

As a service girl, we got to wear cool green sweaters with Pirates on them - signifying our mascot - Pinehurst Pirates. They were similar to the cheerleader's sweaters, but their sweaters had a megaphone or a large "P" on them. We also had the "Girl's Service" insignia on our the upper part of our sleeves. I had to have a white pleated skirt made for me. I think it was Mrs. Weeks who did that. All she needed was my waist measurement. I wondered how she would know how many pleats to put into the skirt, but she did a great job. We also wore knee socks and saddle shoes.

I was so excited, because I got to go to all the basketball games free! We took money for tickets and stood at the doors to show people where they could sit. It didn't bother me that we couldn't sit in the stands until the 4th quarter - if there was any room! We may have taken tickets for other events, such as dances, but I don't remember.

I was a "Service Girl" for all three years of Jr. High. My freshman year, I was the President of Girls' Service as well as class President. One time, I was called upon by the Principal to escort a kid from first grade to the clinic in Kellogg for his immunizations. We rode on a school bus, just the two of us with the driver. I was astonished that they trusted me enough to go with him "out of town," and see that he got his shots. The kid was a hoot. I think he talked the whole way there, all the time we were waiting at the clinic. He made voices and acted out some really funny stuff. I don't remember the trip back to school, but I thought about him later when I was substitute teaching and thought he must have been a handful for the teachers.

Boating last Saturday

2007-07-12T00:01:00.000-06:00

The Hunk sent me some pictures from his computer that were taken on our latest boating excursion. Too bad we didn't have any pictures of the 3 or 4 waves that washed over my head as we ploughed through some very LARGE wakes caused by the wind and GIGANTIC boats.

Here's The Hunk water skiing. Notice the lush (NOT) hillsides around Ririe Reservoir.

Next shot shows a happy Hunk in the water.

Lastly, the fat old lady, who is 1) not photogenic under the best circumstances, 2) who was nearly washed overboard by a giant wake on the way to this remote spot, 3) finds herself sitting on a dock in the hot sun with some guests who seem to be enjoying themselves, 4) notices her husband with the camera poised, and 5) asks the question on everyone's mind, "Are we having fun yet?"

Immunizations: Then & Now

2007-07-10T11:22:00.000-06:00

Pinehurst: Shots

Does anyone remember lining up for "Shots" - these were not gun shots, and not drink shots, but immunization shots. Everyone who was due for their shots were lined up and herded to the nurses office. There the nurse or two and a doctor would be waiting with huge hypodermic needles long enough to stick "clear through" a grade-schooler's arm. Some kids would start whimpering along the way, other's would wait until it was their turn, and pass out.

I noticed early on that a lot of kids dreaded those shots. I didn't. To me it was no big deal - a little pin prick, a band-aid, and it was over. I must have felt badly for the scared kids - especially the boys. They weren't supposed to cry or faint, but some of them did. I don't know when I started, but I would volunteer to go first. FIRST!

Some of the guys ahead of me would sigh "Relief" - because they didn't have to set the example for the rest of the class. It was the only time I was heroic. I'm not sure that anyone else saw it that way, but I figured if I went first, and said, "There's nothing to it." It would embolden the boys - after all, I was just a girl. It would also put me through first, so I wouldn't be there to witness the tears and fainting of any classmates who followed. (Especially the boys.)

Now-a-days, they don't give immunizations at school. I'm not sure why. Maybe they had to stop when they had to give up corporal punishment. Maybe it wasn't allowed, because it humiliated some of the kids and adults were no longer allowed to do that. Maybe the doctors got greedy, and decided it was best for them to charge an office visit and mega-bucks for each shot. The kids could come to them instead of them taking a day to hang out at the school for hours shooting hundreds of frightened, whiny kids.

Maybe they stopped because of the "free" immunizations clinics that sprung up all over in the '70s with the planned parenting freebies. Now, instead of a doctor doing "school" calls, he could let the kids come to him with their parents and all their siblings to get their booster shots. Now the parents could deal with their own kids passing out and crying. No more humiliation in front of their peers. No more nurses trying to drag the children close to the doctor. No more red eyes in the classroom. . .

Instead, the parents are humiliated. Have you ever gone to a county clinic for "free" shots? The worst one I ever went to was in California - San Bernadino County. I can't remember where it was located, but there must have been 30 people - mostly women and children, stuffed into a warm room about 10' x 15' all waiting for hours to see the doctor.

Now when mom's take their child to get an immunization, they have to drag along all the other babies and pre-schoolers in the family. This place was packed with crying, screeching, yelling kids. I thought I would lose my mind. I only had 2 with me; the under 1 yr old shot-ee and her 3 yr old sister. I checked us in, and looked for a seat. There were a few seats filled with people and stuff. There were bodies everywhere, and no place for an adult to sit down. Finally, someone got up to go to the back, and I was able to secure one chair for the 3 of us.

I am not fond of my kids playing on the floor of a public place with a hundred other snotty nosed children. We came to prevent disease, not to pick it up, but the odds were against us. I mean, there were kids drooling and sneezing and wiping their noses on anything available, then touching, touching, touching everything and everyone within reach. I tried to keep my two as close to me as possible in the over heated room. (There should have been air-conditioning, but either it wasn't working - or the combined bodies with all their BTUs stuffed into such a small space was over powering the system.) It was sticky and fragrant, but not in a good way.

We waited and we waited. More people came, but no one left. I think the doctor and nurses had all gone to a leisurely lunch at a posh restaurant with great air-conditioning and quiet ambiance. They were sipping on cool drinks and taking small bites of gourmet cuisine and chewing and chewing and chewing each bite. I went up to the little window and asked, "How much longer?"

"You'll just have to wait your turn."

Fortunately, the girls had held my seat. I sat down and let them wallow on my lap. It was hot. I was tired. No one was moving out. More people were coming in. Finally, one large family went back, and others quickly scooped up their territory. And we waited.

We were there about an hour and a half before we were called back for the 5 minute procedure. Why did it take sooooo long? I had a migraine, and I determined then and there - that I would NEVER, EVER, go to a public immunization clinic again.

I was so determined to avoid that place, that my youngest got behind in her immunizations. I even had a doctor chew me out when I went to catch her up before vacation. I don't know why some people chew you out - after you have decided to do the right thing. I mean, I was there, in his office for her to get her shots, and he's chewing me out! So, we got her boosters, and I changed doctors. From that time on - I avoided the clinics. . .until we moved to Idaho. At least the clinic here is spacious, and you can't get lost in the crowd. The wait is only about a half-hour, and they don't chew you out for coming. Regardless, most of the immunizations we have obtained have been in a private doctor's office. Sure, they charge a lot more than a clinic, but we are paying for the ambiance.

Smelterville: Frontier Days

2007-07-06T12:28:00.001-06:00

Photo was taken (prob by my mom) behind the Wayside Market in Smelterville - circa mid-1960s. Left: Iona Huber, Center: Hazel Noyen, Right: Ralia Berry .

Frontier Days started as a celebration of the Wild West and the town of Smelterville. Since my mom worked in Smelterville, we would go to the festivities when we were young. There was always a carnival that came to town, with all the cotton candy, hot dogs, games, rides. It was really something for a kid to look forward to. In the early years, the employees of the various businesses dressed up in Western attire and everyone got into the mood of the Wild West. Sometimes the Old Time Fiddler's would play in one of the metal buildings near the Carnival on Washington Street.

During the day, the arena hosted various equestrian events, such as barrel racing, but on one night the highlight would be the Demolition Derby. Local people would paint their junker cars and enter them in the contest. The cars would be crashed into one another in an every "man" for himself bumper car [sans bumpers] contest. The last car running would be the winner.

As I got older, I went to the Frontier Days activities with my friends. I attended the horse events one year when Cheryl Spoor competed - probably in '74, as we had become friends at NIC during her first year. I think that was the same year, I accidentally dropped my pocket Bible in the middle of the Carnival area, and a classmate (whom I had once has a crush on) saw me pick it up. He said, "I don't talk to people who read the Bible." It hurt my feelings, but I felt even worse for him. I wondered what had happened in his life to give him such strong feelings against the most published and read book of all time.

Nineteen seventy-four was also a year of great change in my life. I had become a Christian in May of '73, but by the summer of '74 I no longer drank. It really gave me a different perspective on life in the Valley. Events that had one been "must" be there and participate had deteriorated in my eyes. Smelterville's early Frontier Days of the Wild West were gone: it had degenerated into a city-wide drunk.

Pinehurst: Sixth Grade (2)

2007-07-03T20:05:00.000-06:00

Someone wrote me an email that had nothing to do with this post, but I had some flashes of memory that made me think I could do part II.

My favorite song in the sixth grade was "Yesterday," by the Beatles. I learned it quickly, and the words ran through my head all the time. I sang it in the bathroom one day, when I was alone, and thought to myself. . .someday this is going to be yesterday for me. I will probably look back and think about this time and the fact that I don't (didn't) have any troubles. I will probably wish I was a kid again. (I don't, but it was interesting to me that I marked time with such moments knowing that I would remember later what I was thinking and how I felt at those moments. Also knowing, I could never go back.)

The second thing I remembered about 6th grade were the Christmas trees we made out of milk cartons and laundry soap. We added water and green food coloring to the laundry detergent (soap flakes?) so it became a thick paste. Then we covered the milk cartons in the goo and let them dry. After they had dried, we stacked them beginning with a large circle, and each successive circle being a bit smaller. It seems like we just made one big tree, but we may have made individual trees. I just remember the smell of the soap, the minty green color and Christmas all lumped together.

The third thing I remember about the sixth grade were the math contests we had at the board. Two students of similar intellect were asked to go to the board, Mr. Turner would give us a problem to write and solve. Whomever solved it first was the winner. One time I was called to the board with G. Carver. Now I had known him for a number of years (6), but had never been in the same class with him. I knew a lot about him, as we were friends, and I decided to use my knowledge to my advantage.

We were standing at the board with chalk in hand when Mr. Turner gave us the problem to work. I wrote the problem down, then reached up and scratched the chalk board with my fingernails. While G recoiled at the screeching noise, I worked the problem. It was sinister, but successful. I won that contest.

Pinehurst: Sixth Grade

2007-07-01T17:09:00.000-06:00

Some of my readers are weary of my travels, so I will resume my incredibly long and uneventful years of schooling.

Male Teacher

In the sixth grade at Pinehurst elementary school, I had my first male teacher: Mr. Turner. I thought he was very old, but he was probably in his late 20s. In those days, teachers had to dress-up for school, and so while the ladies wore a variety of dresses, Mr. Turner wore a suit, jacket and all. He had an easy-going style, but was a no-nonsense kind of guy when it came to the boys acting up in the class.

Super-sized

I think they put all the problem kids in that class. Not that all who were in there were difficult, but we did have our share of second-year sixth graders. (Or Super-Sixth graders as my kids would say - if grade school kids were held back these days. They do call the second and third year Seniors "Super Seniors.").

We had at least one kid who was very poor, and also not so swift, I'll call him J. Then we had one Super Sixth-grader who was nearly too big for his desk, I'll call him B. Then there was another Super Sixth-grader who was pretty average - except when we had a substitute teacher - then he went psycho. (One substitute, a retired school teacher, locked this kid in the closet and called the Principal to remove him from class.)

Now J had red hair, and used to tease me unmercifully during recess. Once he threw an orange at me, and it exploded into the back of my coat. He got reamed for that. I got back at him (as I was vindictive then) by gathering together a "gang of girls" and we beat up the boys. It became our favorite recess activity. He was one of my favorite targets for my girls to "get." (Poor use of leadership skills during a time when the girls were actually bigger and stronger than some of the boys.)

Super-sized Boots

B, was a hoot. One day while the teacher stepped out of the room, B. was sitting in his desk (his knees scrunched up under the writing surface) and he began to sing "These Boots were Made for Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra. When he got to the chorus, "One of these days these boots are gonna' walk all over you" - he'd point at someone. Then he said, "My boots are going to walk on you, (and point at someone), and you (and point at someone else), and you (same indicator). Then he looked at J , pointed and said, "But not you, cause you'd get 'em all dirty." For some reason, as much as I am embarrassed to admit, I laughed.

Teacher's Helper

I used to work fast and well in sixth grade. I was always trying to be the first one done with all my work. Mr. Turner rewarded me often, by allowing me to write things on the board for him. The kids probably thought I was teacher's pet, but he also let others do things around the classroom when they were done with their work.

Birthday Cupcakes

One of my favorite things about Mr. Turner's class was the way we celebrated our birthdays in his class. There wasn't a big party or a lot of hoopla, but on each child's birthday, he would present him or her with a special Birthday Cupcake. The cupcakes were homemade by his wife, and she would frost the girls' cupcakes with pink frosting, and the boys with blue. Each cupcake had a single Birthday candle in the center, which was lit. When he brought out the cupcake(s). We'd all sing "Happy Birthday" to the lucky recipient(s). I waited a long time to get my cupcake, as my birthday was after Christmas break.

(Can you imagine homemade treats and a lit candle - what were they thinking?)

Vacations (9) - The Lewis Side 2

2007-06-29T17:45:00.000-06:00

Grandma and Grandpa Lewis shared their lives with us. Even though we only saw them once a year, I know more about them than most all my other relatives put together.

Story-tellers

Grandma was a story-teller. (Now this does not mean she made up things to tell, but that she told stories about the family and the events that made her who she was: that made us all who we are.) She liked to talk about her growing up years, how she met and married my Grandpa, about my dad and Aunt C when they were children, about their lives, the Depression, etc. My dad has filled in a lot of the details that I had missed or didn't remember, because, you see, he is also a story-teller. And, just in case you hadn't noticed. . .I like to pass along stories about our family, too.

Poetry, Songs, & Welsh

In addition to the verbal history, my Grandma, and Grandpa too for that matter, memorized and recited a lot of poetry. They were really big on Robert W. Service and memorized some of his epic poems: "The Shooting of Dan McGrew," the "Cremation of Sam McGee." (I particularly remember the latter.) Grandma also knew some of the poems by Lewis Carroll and taught me "Jabberwocky" (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872) when I was a young teen. It wasn't until years later that I found a copy and read it.

Grandma & Grandpa knew all kinds of songs and ditties, from years gone by, and would burst into song on occasion to accentuate a story or to convey an idea. My dad and I do the same, but it wasn't until recently that I realized it was a family trait. (I just know that songs pop into my head at the strangest times. And a few years back, when I was teaching in a private school, one of my students dubbed me "The Master of Extrapolation" - which I had to look up - because I was always relating the subject matter to this song or that. But back to the elder Lewis').

Grandma used to say some rhymes and phrases that had originated in Wales. I only remember one, but in the telling, after several generations, it wouldn't likely translate back into recognizable Welsh.

Handcarts, Polygamy & Sugar bowls

Grandma's Great-Grandparents had migrated from Wales to join the Mormon Church. Her Great-grandfather took 2 additional wives (my Ggggrandmother being his first wife, as my grandmother was quick to point out), and the four of them, and any children at that time, came across the US in the hand-cart migrations. There are two sugar bowls in the family, that made the trip in hand-carts, and my sister and I each have one. (I let her have the one that is complete, and mine is either missing a handle or cracked in some way. It has been awhile since I have mine stored.) I don't know which Ggggrandmother either sugar bowl belonged to, but they are still precious to me.

Other handmade gifts:

When my sister and I were in grade school, Grandma & Grandpa Lewis made us a couple of chairs. They measured our lower legs to custom fit the height of the seats. The chair frames were made from thick branches, that Grandpa whittled smooth, and the seats were made of jute or some kind of thick string woven across the frame. The backs were entirely made from wood, and I think they were whittled flat to make the backs more comfortable.The cross bars between the legs were nailed on. I remember this because on the trip home, one of the crossbars got loose and scratched my leg from about my ankle to my knee.

Shopping

Every year when the entire family stayed at the Lewis Grandparents, Grandma & Grandpa would take my sister and I shopping in downtown Lehi. The downtown was only a few blocks long, and they would take us to Pennys (not J.C. Penny's) but a small "five & dime" where my sister and I were allowed to pick out a toy or game. We may have been given a set amount of money - or a limit, but we could get anything we wanted. One time I bought a stick-on paper-doll set. Where the clothes were made out of a plastic that stuck to the dolls. Another time, either my sister or I bought some "sewing cards" with the holes around the edges that you could "sew" yarn through in a running stitch or cross-stitch. When I was older, I bought a bottle of Blue Waltz perfume. I can still "smell" it. It was a really sweet perfume & I'd love to have some now.

Vacations (8) - the Lewis Side

2007-06-28T11:00:00.000-06:00

Dad's Parents

I have already blogged about my dad being a goof-ball, but he didn't fall far from the family tree. My Lewis Grandparent's were a kick, and a lot of fun to be around. While we stayed at Grandma & Grandpa Smith's in Provo, for most of our vacation. Our family would always stay a night or two at my Grandparent's in Lehi, Utah, too. Now mom preferred to stay in Provo with her family, but would acquiesce to a night at the Lewis'. Dad always spent more time at his folk's place, and when he would head to Lehi, I'd go with him.

Commonalities

I loved to play with my cousins in Provo, but I couldn't wait to spend a few days with Grandma & Grandpa Lewis. Grandma and I had a lot in common. She sewed, I sewed. She crocheted, I crocheted. She danced, I danced. She sparkled. . .I hope I do, too. I truly believed that if we had been the same age, and lived near one-another, we would have been best friends. (I think I wrote and told her that when I was in college.)

Crafts and Puzzles

When my sister and I were about 10 & 5, Grandma and Grandpa Lewis made furniture for our Barbies for Christmas. They made each of us a chair, a couch, an afghan, and an oval rug. I thought they were the best! About the time I was 12 or 13, Grandma gave me all her yarn when I went to see her. I was ecstatic! She couldn't crochet anymore, because of arthritis - but she knew I loved to make things. I felt so privileged that she would give her stuff to me! She even showed me how to wrap the yarn so that it would feed from the middle, like purchased yarn. That way it didn't roll all over the place when you used it.

Grandma Lewis let me play the top 40 tunes when I stayed at their place, and she told me that used to teach dance when she was younger. She taught the Fox-trot and the Charleston. I later learned how to Fox-trot, and a wee bit of Charleston. I must get my moves from her. . .
While Grandma and I sat in the kitchen talking and listening to the radio, Dad and Grandpa would be sitting in the living room playing Cribbage. If they weren't playing Cribbage or Casino or some other card game, Grandpa would be playing solitaire. I think I got my love for games from that side of the family, too. Grandma taught me several solitaire games, so I wouldn't get bored with my small repertoire.

Grandma & Grandpa Lewis always had puzzles to play. They had 3-D store-bought puzzles, like wooden cubes or spheres that came apart and you had to put them together. They had puzzles made out of small twisted metal rods that came apart and went back together, but only if you figured out how to do it. They also had some homemade puzzles-games, like the one Grandpa made from a piece of wood, three nails and some circular disks. He had pounded the nails across the board at intervals, so the nail points stuck up. Then he made the circular disks out of thin wood and put holes in their centers, so they stacked small on top to large on bottom on the first nail. The object of the game or puzzle was to move the disks across the middle nail to the far nail one at a time. You could move them backwards, but you weren't to place a larger disk on top of a smaller disk in the process. The game ended successfully when you had all disks restacked on the third nail exactly like they were on the first nail when you started. It took me a while to master that one!

Grandpa Lewis was a rock hound, and picked up agates and all kinds of rocks here and there. He tumbled the rocks when I was younger. It seems like he had a tie clasp for a "Western" style tie -(String with two metal tips that the clasp moved up and down) that he had made out of a brown specked rock. I have always loved rocks, and wanted a tumbler at one time, so I could make them smooth, like semi-precious stones for jewelry. I wonder if I got the idea from him? Grandpa Lewis also liked to whittle. He carved me a bunch of different sized crochet hooks from various kinds of wood. I used one to make a rug from old jeans when I was in my teens. I still have them, and my daughters and I use them on occasion still.

He also made my sister and I "quarter rings." Now these rings were fashioned from actual quarter dollars, minted in the years we were born. The quarters back then were primarily silver and highly malleable. He measured our finger size with steel rings (like they have at a jewelers) then found a button that easily fit inside the steel ring that corresponded to our size. Then he took a hammer and began to tap the edge of the quarter turning it as he went. This caused the silver rim to spread out to each side and become smooth. It also made the writing inside the quarter lay over to the inside of the ring - on each side. When the quarter's new rim fit around the button, he cut out the center and polished it smooth. We still have our rings.

Vacations (7) - Provo Canyon Reunion

2007-06-27T20:00:00.000-06:00

One of the Family reunions I remember best was the year we all went camping up Provo Canyon. I was about 5 yrs. old. My parents have movies from that trip taken with Dad's old 8mm camera. It's interesting to watch the film and see myself and older cousins all as young kids. Our parents were young - 20s and 30s, and our Grandparents were still in pretty good shape.

Night

I think we only stayed one night, but it was eventful. I don't think anyone had any tents, but some of the adults built a huge wall and overhang out of tarps. All the bedding was laid out under the "half tent" side by side, so it made one huge sleeping area, with everyone's heads next to the tarp wall. The kids all slept next to their own parents, so there wasn't any giggling, etc. Sometime during the night, Uncle J snuck away from the tent and threw Grandma Smith's fur coat over his head. He came back to the tent area, growling and rustling the bushes and scared the you-know-what out of a lot of adults.

Day

One day, whether it was the previous day -or the next day, I can't recall. . .but something happened that I will never forget. You see, Aunt D, my mom's eldest full-sister had a weak bladder, and the fact of this was well known by family members and others. There was a story, that she actually "lost her grip" (as my dad would say) years earlier when she was sitting on the lap of one of her dates.

It just so happened that there was a playground near the campsite and all of us cousins liked to play there. Well, my mom and her 3 full-sisters decided to play on the teeter-totter. Now when you are 5 yrs. old, and your mom and a bunch of "old" ladies start playing on the toys - you want to watch, and I did.

The teeter-totters in those days were made of a plank of wood with half moon cutouts for one's legs on either side about a foot from the ends. They were fastened to a wood or metal device in the middle so riders could move up and down with ease. (I think there were two half-circles of pipe that were bolted to the top of the board on each side of the middle with the curve running under the pipe or wood that held the plank up at the middle.) Regardless, for those of us who grew up in the 60s, these teeter-totters were common. [When I was in grade school, I used to play at the school on the weekends, and I loved to run up the teeter-totter, and stand in the middle and make the sides go up and down - Or run up one side and tip it so I could run down the other.]

Back to the ladies. They were trying to decide who would sit where. (And none of the other 3 wanted to sit by Aunt D, because they knew if she started to laugh, she would also leak.) Finally, it was decided that my mom and one of the other Aunts would sit opposite of Aunt D & the other Aunt. I can't remember which of the other two Aunts sat where. I was glad my mom wasn't sitting next to Aunt D, because when you are 5 yrs old, you know better than to wet your pants and you are old enough to be embarrassed by such "accidents."

So the ladies started to teeter-totter. Up and down they went. I felt sorry for the Aunt who was sitting behind Aunt D, because they had all started laughing. Up and down. Laughing and laughing and laughing. I was standing close by my mom's side of the teeter-totter, and I was laughing right along with them. Then my mom and her sister, who were on the side opposite of Aunt D, decided to hold her up in the air. They knew that would really get her going - and it did.

There was one thing they didn't count on. They were laughing so hard, they couldn't push their end up into the air. Next thing I knew, a trickle started down the teeter-totter. It followed the grain of the wooden plank and slowly snaked toward Mom and her sister. I kept thinking - "You need to push up. You need to push up." They saw it coming closer and closer, but they kept laughing harder and harder, and trying to push up with their legs. It was too late. They couldn't get off the ground, and both of them were soaked through!

Finally, one of them crawled off and let the other side down. The Aunt who sat behind Aunt D, climbed off before the water reversed itself, and was the only dry one. She had been forced to sit with Aunt D, but escaped the consequences, because she sat behind her and water runs downhill.

Vacations (6)

2007-06-26T16:15:00.000-06:00

The Fourth of July - in Provo, Utah.

Nearly every summer we went on vacation, we spent July 4th in Utah. When I was younger we would stay at Grandma Smith's and wake up to the sound of cannon fire. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! (I think they had a cannon situated on each side of town, North, East, South, and West, and they took turns firing to welcome Independence Day.

In the late morning, there would be a parade down one of the main streets. Just before the start of the parade, a group of jets would fly over the parade route and get our hearts pumping. Then the parade would start. These parades were good sized as they lasted about an hour - and hour and a half. There were numerous large floats, bands, etc. My favorite times of going to the parade was when I was a teenager, and my cousin Lee Dawn and I would walk along parade route displaying our latest fashion and attitude.

Speaking of Parades

One year, some of my cousins came to Pinehurst for either July 4th or Pinehurst Days. We had a parade that year that started at the Creek and came past our house on Main St. We set up lawn chairs, and waited for the parade to begin. Our parades usually started with the sirens of the local fire department or police, followed by the color guard. We heard the sirens and looked up the street. "Here comes the parade!" we yelled to our parents, who were waiting inside. "Here it comes!"

Our parents came out to the lawn and sat comfortably awaiting their front row view of Pinehurst's parade. I think we had one float that year. . .and my Aunt D. could see the end from the beginning. She was astounded. The entire parade was only 1 block long. We could literally see the end of the parade from the beginning, and she started laughing. She thought it was the funniest thing she had ever seen. People were sitting out, waiting for a 1-block long parade. She has never let us hear the end of it. "You call that a parade?" She would taunt us. Then she would tell anyone who would listen about all the hoopla surrounding our 5-minute, one float parade.

Back to Provo's 4th of July celebration

Along with the parade, Provo also hosted a very large carnival for Independence Day. We would go and spend a lot of money on rides, toys, treats, and a great time. It was there I first rode an elephant, went on a mini-ferris wheel with enclosed baskets to sit in, one a prize at a booth, and ate cotton candy. I loved the carnival.

In the evening, My cousins and I would sit on either Grandma Smith's porch, Aunt H's porch (one block closer), eat watermelon, and wait for the 4th of July Fireworks to be set off at the BYU campus. It was the highlight of our vacation in Utah. When we were teens, we'd walk to the fence just outside the area where they were shooting them off. It was my first look at fireworks from underneath, where they were literally falling on us.

Vacations (5)

2007-06-23T20:00:00.000-06:00

Ruth Leone Taylor Hoover Boren Smith family reunion

When we were kids, my closest cousins and I played in Grandma Smith's backyard. See Vacations (1). In addition to hanging out at Grandma's we also had a family reunion every year at Grandma Smith's house. Usually all of our Aunts, Uncles, and cousins would be there. Since Grandma had had 8 children, and many of them had at least 5 kids of their own - the reunion gatherings were huge. Sometimes Grandpa Smith's sons and families joined us, and that made even more fun.

Water Fight

The defining event of the reunion was usually a huge water fight among all the family members. I don't remember exactly who started them, or how they became a tradition, but once the fight started it was every man, woman, and child for him or herself. Sometimes people would scoop water from the little canal running along side Grandma's place, others would grab the hoses around the house, and some even used pitchers, bowls and buckets. The main objective was to see how long you could hold out by not getting wet.

Some people would sneak around to the back of the house and surprise and unsuspecting relative who was focused on avoiding those in the front of the house. Sometimes the soak-er would tip-toe up behind someone on the porch and pour an entire receptacle full of icy water on a unsuspecting Aunt or Uncle. Sometimes two or three wet relatives would gang up on a dry one and hold them down while another drenched them.

As kids, it was fun to watch the adults blast each other. . .but eventually we all became a part of the fun. It was against the rules to hide in Grandma's house - so unless you ran into the street, there was no place you could go to evade the inevitable soaking.

Handcuffed

When I was still fairly young, my Uncle J. was on the Las Vegas police force, then later worked for the FBI. His favorite thing to do, was to grab one of his sisters and handcuff them to the nearest immobile object - such as a street light pole or car handle. Usually, he'd just grab them, pick them up, and plant them next to the object of choice, and before they could get away. . .they were handcuffed tight. While handcuffed the aunt or Mom, would plead on deaf ears to be released for one reason or another. I think all of us kids thought it was really funny. (I was glad he never handcuffed any of us kids - or I would have been terrified.)

Eating watermelon

As kids, my cousins and I would sit on the front porch at Grandma Smith's and eat watermelon pieces. The sticky juice would roll down our arms and drip off our chins. We didn't care, because the watermelon tasted so good at the end of a hot day. We'd also spit or seeds onto Grandma's lawn. She was pretty fastidious about her home, but maybe she didn't care about the watermelon juice, cause they could hose off the porch, and the seeds would just add fertilizer for the lawn.

Vacations (4): Summer of '66

2007-06-20T22:11:00.000-06:00

For some reason the trip that sticks out most in my mind, was the summer of '66. I think we left shortly after Dad came home from work and drove all night. The next morning we were able to pick up one of the gigantic rock stations in Salt Lake City. We listened to the top forty hits, and as the sun came up over the Wasatch range, the song "Red Rubber Ball" by The Cyrkle was playing (lyrics here). It became one of my favorite songs of the summer.

Of course, when you listen to a top 40 station, they play the same songs over and over again. I memorized "Red Rubber Ball" as well as "Paperback Writer" by The Beatles. Now "Paperback Writer" was one of those songs that was difficult to learn the lyrics to because it moved fast except on the chorus. Dad memorized the song, also. He said, "What are they singing? Pay forThat Rifle?"

I told him it was "Paperback Writer," but he began to sing the chorus "Pay for That Rifle, Pay for That Rifle, Pay for That Rifle." (I never really liked that song, anyway. . .) "Paperback Writer" - lyrics here. Sometimes I still tease him about that.

Senior Pic

2007-06-19T14:49:00.000-06:00

My High School Graduation Photo

My Dad's Humor

2007-06-17T14:38:00.000-06:00

My dad doesn't have a computer, so it is not likely that he will see this blog. Regardless, I have to say he is and has been the best Dad ever!

Dad has an amazing sense of humor that has popped up at unexpected times as well, as the expected ones. For example, one time we were walking along the streets of downtown Spokane, and my dad asked my mom to hold his hand. She took his hand, and he began to walk a step or two behind her, doing his gorilla imitation. My sister and I started to laugh, so my mom turned and seeing his antics, threw his hand from hers and said, "Now stop that!" She was mortified. I don't know if we laughed harder at her response, but that was the way life was with Mom and Dad. He was the goof-ball, and she was the unsuspecting "straight man."

When we would go to the grocery store, Dad would invariably pretend he was going to run the cart into the grocery shelves or displays. "BAM!" He would say, as he heaved the cart toward this side or that side of the aisle, stopping just short of hitting something. "BAM! BAM!" As we went up and down the aisles. One time, his depth perception was just a little off - and he knocked down a stack of cans or boxes. We laughed at his embarrassment, but that was okay with him. He knew we were laughing with - not at - him.

When I was away at college, my sister introduced a young girl to my parents who was looking for a new foster home. My parents took her in. After she became comfortable living with my family, my dad took B with him to the grocery store. When he started BAMMING and acting off to embarrass her, she turned to him and said, "If you don't straighten up, I'm never coming to the store with you again." So Dad complied. I guess her personality was a lot like Mom's, and Dad only acted up when someone thought he was funny.

My sister and I can attribute our sense of humor to Dad. Although we didn't inherit his love of public displays of goofiness, we like to banter, joke, and do plays on words. We so "get" each other's humor, that sometimes we don't have to finish saying something, before we are both laughing so hard we can't stop. We have thus far evaded disaster at Barney's Sooper Market [how they spell it] by retreating to different aisles in hopes we don't hear each other's snorts, guffaws, or snickers. Someday, if we aren't careful, we will hear, "Clean up on aisle 6 - - -and aisle 7."

I can see Dad's humor in my daughter's also. Each one has a little different style, but they are all funny. Sometimes it isn't evident to them how much they share the same sense of humor, until a friend will say. . ."What's so funny?" (while my girls are practically falling out of their seats with laughter.)

Thanks, Dad, for the sense of humor that you inherited from your parents and passed along to us. You are the best Dad ever, and this is only one reason why. . .

Rambling eccentricities

2007-06-17T12:04:00.000-06:00

I had another dream about Pinehurst last night. Usually the dreams center around living in my parents house, and this one did. There wasn't anything noteworthy about the dream. . .just that it took place in Pinehurst.

I did have a Pinehurst dream a few weeks back, where I was about Jr. High age, was riding my bike home from the Pinehurst school, and thinking about some boy I liked. We were getting ready to leave on vacation. (Could have been prompted by my recent writings about vacation.) I wasn't excited about going, and I think it had something to do with the guy I liked. (Funny, this dream was fairly realistic, but didn't mirror my actual experience. However the ideas came from a real-life incident - that I will likely write about in the near future.)

The Sunday Scribblings people are blogging on Eccentricity. I sent Myrtle Beached Whale a couple of examples of eccentric people that I will share with you here (with minor modifications). . .although I am not really writing on eccentricity. . .

Maybe the scribblings aren’t speaking to you, because it’s a fantasy piece. . .”How eccentric do you feel?”

I take myself too seriously to “pretend” to be eccentric, although I do like to act goofy once in a while. I think there’s a fine line between eccentricity and insanity. . .

Take “The Blue Lady” from Kellogg, for example: When I was going to beauty school at Millie’s in the late 70s – there was this woman who used to be a school teacher. She called herself “The Blue Lady.” She wore blue, she drove a blue van, (prob. Lived in a blue house), colored her silver hair blue “baby blue”, and even drew on her eyebrows with a baby blue eye liner. Every time she came to the school, Millie would say, “Tell her we don’t have any “Blue Mood” (temporary blue coloring). This was because she would pick up a bottle from us ever so often to keep up her image. (Now, she was eccentric.)

Another lady that came into the beauty school, would come without her teeth. She was probably in her 40s or 50s at that time. It was really difficult to carry on a conversation with her, because I couldn't keep from looking at her mouth. (Now she was’t eccentric, just weird.)

When you are in beauty school, one of the first things you learn is that the customer can see your facial expressions. It isn't part of the course, but if you have any scruples at all, you can figure it out pretty quickly. So when someone sits in the chair, you can't make faces behind their back, show surprise at something that has gone awry, or indicate that you are frustrated, scared, or anything that will tip her off to something you do not want her to know.

One day the toothless lady came in for a set and style. The student stylist had set TL's hair up in rollers except the bottom edge in the back, as it was too short to roll. The stylist secured the hair with pink hair tape to keep it smooth while TL was sitting under the dryer. Now the stylist always said the same thing to her customers when she pulled the tape off of the dried hair. It was "Grit your teeth!"

Forgetting who was in the chair, she said her usual warning, then remembered this lady wasn't wearing any teeth. As she was telling the story to us later, we all started laughing as she described not only what she had said, but how she ducked down behind the lady's chair - so TL wouldn't see her silently laughing.

Vacations (3)

2007-06-16T00:35:00.000-06:00

Route Through Salmon

Sometimes instead of going clear to Butte, Mt, we turned South at Missoula and traveled through Salmon to Idaho Falls.

I liked going through Missoula. It was a unique city and the road followed the river through town. Somewhere around the old hospital - a building I always looked for, we would turn and go South - if we were going through Salmon, instead of Butte.

Mother Goose Land

One such trip, we stopped at a place called "Mother Goose Land" near Lolo, Mt. My sister and I were so excited! We rarely stopped on our vacations, except to eat and use restrooms, so this was a real treat. I thought it was a great place! There were Nursery Rhymes on large bill-boards and either statues or cut-outs of characters from each rhyme. Near the middle of M.G.Land, there was a playground and my sister and I got to swing and slide. (They may have had a pop machine there also, but I don't really remember.)

Years later, my mom gave her perspective on the place. She had not been impressed, because all we did was walk around, read signs, and play on a small playground. For her, the expense wasn't worth it. (Of course, my sister and I always wanted to go through Salmon in hopes we would stop there again sometime.)

Mosquito Barrage

One time we went through Salmon – and it could have been on the same trip. We were leaving Salmon around sundown, and the shadows were lying across the road. As we wound down through the mountains just south of town, we hit the largest swarm of mosquitoes we had ever encountered! Now swarming mosquitoes aren’t usually a problem when you are in a car, and no, they didn’t get in the car. However, these mosquitoes had been feasting on some kind of animals, because they were bulging with blood. Now just imagine a swarm of bulging bloody mosquitoes all hitting the windshield at about 25 – 35 mph. The windshield was a mess. My dad tried to use the wipers and he may have had washer fluid, but all that happened was the red smeared with the dust already on the windows and it became a muddy, bloody mess. We had to pull over to the side of the road, and creep our way down the mountain for miles. Because of this episode, my parents were really reluctant to ever go through Salmon at dusk again.

Vacations (2)

2007-06-15T22:19:00.000-06:00

A Long Trip

As I mentioned before, we only vacationed in Utah when I was growing up. In the early years, from the time my parents were married (in Sept of 1952) until the freeway was constructed (sometime in the 60s), the trip took 18 hours. Now my mom was young (16), when she married my dad, and was anxious to get "home" to see her parents and siblings. My dad told me they made 2 or 3 trips the first year, and even settled for a time in American Fork. Dad wasn't making as much money in Utah as he had in the mines of Northern Idaho, and they were really strapped for cash. He told me a story about that time, that ended with my mom saying she wanted to go back home. "Home?" my dad asked her, "Where is home?" "North Idaho." she replied, and they moved back to the place where I would be born and raised. I think Dad was relieved that mom trusted him to provide for her, even though they would not be living close to her "family."

How to travel with kids

When I was in grade school, the trip had shortened to a mere 14 hours, due to the sections of freeway that were built along the route. Mom would pack the "jockey box" full of lifesavers and such, to keep us occupied, and we would often play the "Alphabet Game" on the way down the road. When we were really young, we would leave around 1:00 am [not long after Dad came home from working "swing shift" (3-11pm)], so my sister and I would sleep the first 8-10 hours or so. This meant that there was less time of us saying, "How much longer until we're there?"

The usual route & music – or lack thereof

Most of the time, we left No. Idaho - heading East on Interstate 90 [Old US 10]. After we came out of the mountains, there were fields of cattle here and there in Montana. When R was really little, she called them kitty-cows, and I thought that was really funny. Usually, we turned South just outside of Butte, MT, and travelled I-15 [old US 91] all the way to Provo, UT.

In the 60s, much of the road was still 2 lanes, and nearly all the radio stations in Montana (that we could pick up) were AM stations that played Country music. (I hated Country music - and if you have ever heard early Country - you may have had the same feelings.) Most of the time, we couldn't get any music on the radio - or what we did pick up was full of static (or static-y, as we would call it.)

I didn’t care much for sagebrush scenery, and from Butte south, that’s about all you see until you reach the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. I certainly got my fill of Country music and sagebrush on the trip. (For this reason, as soon as I was old enough, I would bring numerous books to read, puzzle books to play with, and my all time favorite summer treat: Summer Weekly Reader! I loved the games and puzzles in there and there was always something interesting to read about.

The longest stretch

In the days of the two lane road, the longest stretch of road was between Dubois and Roberts, because there were no turns or distinguishing landmarks. One trip when I was about 5-7 yrs old, we hit that stretch late at night. Mom had decided to climb in the backseat and sleep and I climbed into the front seat to keep my dad awake. He suggested we count the number of dead jackrabbits on the road. I don't know how many we saw (and there were a lot), but I do remember the feelings of importance I had in talking to my dad and keeping him awake along that stretch of road.

Favorite Eating Places

My parents had some favorite places to stop and eat along the way. If we were going through Butte, we often stopped in Deer Lodge, and ate breakfast at a restaurant kitty-corner from the Old Prison - (which was still being used at that time). I was fascinated by the stone structure with its guard walks and turrets, but I was always nervous that someone might escape when we were there.

For lunch, we'd stop at Doc's on Broadway in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Although the restaurant was no longer there, the building was still standing when my husband and I moved to town 16 yrs ago. Recently, the building was torn down. It was located somewhere near the new Wendy's and the road beside it are located on Broadway, across from Boozer's truck stop. Dad thought it was pretty cool when the freeway went in, because we could take the Broadway exit, go about one block to Doc's to eat and get right back on the freeway. Our third stopping place was in Tremonton, Ut. We'd go to a little cafe on the main drag as we passed through town. It seems to me, the place there was named after some bears. . . or there was a sign with bears on it, but I can't remember the name.

Vacations (1)

2007-06-12T18:11:00.000-06:00

Every year that we took a vacation, we always went to the same place: Utah. No Disneyland, no Sea World, never a World's Fair, nor a ski trip to Banff, BC. Always Utah. Not that I'm complaining. When it's all you know, what can you compare it to?

Of course I don't remember the trips when I was a baby. Toddlerhood, not really, but pre-school, naw. About the time I reached grade school, things started following a certain pattern. First of all we stayed at Grandma Smith's in Provo. She had a three or four bedroom house, albeit small - and we took up two of her bedrooms.

Grandma & Grandpa Smith lived on 6th West, about a block from the Provo Hospital. (Grandma had worked there as a nurse for some time, but was retired by the time I remember. Their house was a painted white, and had a long porch that went the full length of the house. There were two doors on the front side of the house. The one on the left, which we were not allowed to use, went directly into the living room. The one on the right, nearest the driveway, that opened into the kitchen. It was through the kitchen that we accessed the hall to the bathroom and bedrooms. In the early years, there was also a lot of land surrounding the house that belonged to Grandpa Smith.

Now Grandpa Smith was my step-grandpa, and he married my Grandma about the time my mom was in Jr. High, I think. He was her third husband. I don't know the circumstances surrounding the end of her first marriage, but she was divorced from my mom's dad. Quite a few years after Grandpa Smith died, she remarried again.

All in all, my Grandmother had eight children of her own and 3 (?) step-sons. She and Grandpa Smith were very devout Mormons and had their marriage "sealed" in the temple, which they believed would mean they would be married throughout eternity. The fact she married again, was okay with her church, because she only married him for "time" and not "eternity."

Grandma was very busy working for the LDS church. She baked bread regularly (and it was the best I have ever had) and gave it to the church to help the poor (or something like that). I don't think they did bake sales, but I really don't know. One time she offered to teach me how to bake bread. I was excited to learn, until she told me I had to cut off my fingernails. I must have been a bit vain, but I thought she was too strict, so I kept my fingernails and never learned to bake her bread.

Grandma Smith was really strict. As youngsters, my cousins and I were not allowed to play in her house. We could only come in to use the restroom or for meals (and only my family got to come in for meals). If we were all being fed, we had to eat outside. Fortunately, for us kids, there was a huge tree in her backyard that shaded the house and yard from the afternoon sun, making outdoor play tolerable. Some of the older cousins climbed up in the tree, and that was okay. But the one thing we all wanted to do, but were absolutely FORBIDDEN to do, was play on the cellar door.

The door was wooden and laid ontop of the opening to the cellar. Beneath the doors were cement stairs that went down under the ground and then led to an area underneath Grandma's house. (I remember going down to get some home canned goods, but I think I was only down there once when I was older.) The cellar door was located just outside of Grandma's kitchen window, and it was tempting in the way it sloped for running up and down. Unfortunately for us, the adults usually visited in the kitchen, and if we ran up the door someone would come to the window and yell at us to stay off of the door. (I don't know if they were worried that the door would crack and we'd fall through, or if they thought we'd fall off the high side, or if they just didn't like the noise.)

For some reason I remember Grandma Smith had Blue Willow china. But at other times, I think her pattern was brown. Is there a brown willow, with a wee bit of pink in it? (Strange). Maybe one of my cousins can shed light on this, as they lived in the area year round.

I also remember that her stove had watermelon rind shaped lights in the front that indicated the heat the burners were turned to. For example, on the low setting the lights were a mint green. On medium they were yellow, and on high they were orange or red. (?) I was always fascinated by the color indicators.

One time, when I was in grade school - not sure which year. We had just sat down to eat at Grandma & Grandpa Smith's table. I began to dish up my plate, as we always did, then I started eating something. Upon seeing me chew, Grandma said loud enough for all to hear, "Those that don't pray, don't deserve to eat!" I was mortified. Pray?? We never did that at home. How was I to know that I didn't deserve to eat? I was scared to take another bite.

Shortly thereafter either Grandma or Grandpa prayed, and everyone began to eat. I finally ventured to put something in my mouth, but I never forgot the humiliation of that moment. You can bet I never ate anything at Grandma Smith's house after that without waiting for someone to pray. It wasn't that I didn't believe in God, and it wasn't that I did ---I just didn't know the rules. It was humiliating to be made an example of especially when I was a kid. I guess it wasn't Grandma's way to instruct prior to the meal that there would be prayer first. (I often wondered later, when I was grown, if Grandma used me to make a point to my parents. I don't think she approved of the way they were bringing my sister and I up without "religion.")

When I was in High School, my Grandma Smith tried to get me to come and live with her and attend BYU (Brigham Young University). I didn't want to venture that far from home, and so I refused. (Plus I never forgot how she tried to "hook me up" with her paperboys and the missionaries from the Mormon Church. She didn't care if they were good-looking or not, she just wanted to convert me. . .guess she didn't understand that even though I wasn't Mormon. . .I had standards. . .

Summer of '65

2007-06-11T22:12:00.000-06:00

The "young lady" swimsuit

I think it was the year I got my first bathing suit with "padding." I was not too happy about that! It was an embarrassing suit to wear to the creek where some of my childhood friends all swam. Not only did it emphasize certain portions of my figure, it was, in fact, more well-endowed than I - by double or triple.

In addition to their blatant presence, these devices were made out of something akin to tennis balls. I was afraid if I bumped one it would permanently dent, and I was tempted to invert them. Now the size would have been more accurate, but the shape would have been irregular. Even wearing a t-shirt would not make the protrusions less noticeable. It was a difficult summer for swimming, and I was mortified that someone might notice. Thankfully if they did, they didn't say anything.

Summertime fun!

My mom worked in a grocery store, and she would fill the bottom shelf of our fridge with Shasta pop. At only 10 cents a can, we got to drink several cans a day. . .(no wonder my teeth needed a lot of fillings). Somewhere in the mid to late 60s. Shasta came out with a Chocolate flavored soda. I really liked it! My favorites, besides Chocolate, were: Grape and Black Cherry. My sister and I ate a lot of candy and ice cream, also. Thankfully, we were active - riding bikes, swimming, and playing at the school playground.

S. Rivers

My sister was probably still being babysat for the summer, but I don't really remember. I spent a lot of that summer playing with S. Rivers and running back and forth between her place and mine. Her parents lived in a trailer house two streets directly behind my parents, and we would walk through the fields to get to one another's house. I was amazed at her home. I thought she had the coolest bedroom, because it was compact, and there wasn't much to clean. Also, since she was a lot younger than all her siblings, she was like an only child and didn't have to share her room with a sister. (Probably wouldn't have anyway, as there was only one bed.)

The thing that was unusual to me was the way her mom made popcorn. In those days everyone cooked popcorn on the stove (except for Jiffy Pop). My mom would take great pains to cool the popcorn pan to melt her butter so it would remain a light golden yellow, but easily pour over the popped corn. Then she would lightly salt it. Mrs. Rivers cooked her popcorn in a cast iron skillet, dumped the popped corn into a bowl, then quickly tossed the butter into the skillet so it would sizzle to a burnt brown. Then she would pour it over the popcorn and salt the daylights out of it. I always wondered if she did this on purpose, or if she didn't know the butter was burnt.

Prompt

2007-06-08T08:17:00.000-06:00

I threw out a word, and Myrtle Beach was on it "like a rat on a Cheeto" as my husband would say. . .

Music of the Night is a great poem (and I am not being generous here). He has a way with setting creative images to cadence that bring the subject alive. There is flow to his writing and an underlying smirk - as if the poems content was always there in the air - he just had to capture it and write it down.

I could see this poem being illustrated and put into a children's book, although the poem is a bit sophisticated for a child to read. Perhaps it would be best in a Poetry reader. This way, the poem could be read to the young child, create images in the mind, and expand the child's vocabulary all at the same time! Additionally, it is not so simplistic as some children's literature today, that it would bore the reader to tears. (I have often found myself - near crazed - while reading Seuss and other inane Children's literature to my children.)

Support Freedom

2007-06-07T22:13:00.000-06:00

We have a volunteer military. These men and women have chosen to lay their lives on the line for us. They deserve our appreciation - regardless of how we feel about the wars we are engaged in.

From Mrs. Fierce Shoes' post: "Please stop by this blog http://taskforcephoenix5.blogspot.com/ and offer him some support. He's just back from Afghanistan and needs some words of encouragement."

My girls have friends who have joined the Army, the Air Force, the Navy and the Rangers. We know these young men - some since they were kids. They are quality Christian men, intelligent men. They could have opted for higher education and careers in business right out of High School - but they are fighting for freedom first. My husband and I appreciate their sense of duty and sacrifice. We are humbled by their service.

To them and to all who have ever served. Thank you!

Boating (2)

2007-06-07T18:20:00.000-06:00

Rose Lake

The first time I got scared in a boat was at Rose Lake. I was still in grade school, and I had gone there with the Johnson's, the W. Gilman's, and I'm not sure who else. (I don't know if my family was there or not.) All I remember was that I had gone to the restroom, and when I came out - everyone was gone except for Paul Johnson and little S. Gilman. Apparently, everyone had gone to the other side of the lake, and we were going by boat.

Now this was not the pontoon boat that I liked to ride in. It was an ordinary cabin cruiser - albeit a smaller one. Once I got in, S G and I sat up in the bow, under some windows and hurriedly put on some life jackets. (Now I always wore a life jacket, even though the other kids thought it was silly. They believed that nothing was ever going to happen, but I didn't want to take any chances.) I helped SG, who was much younger than I - get his life jacket all strapped on, as we were zipping across the lake.

When we got to the other side of the lake, which many of you know - isn't that far, Paul started looping around, and around, and around. He was doing some kind of display for the crowd on the beach, but I was terrified. I thought the boat was going to tip over and we'd be pinned underneath in the bow. I was so dizzy and upset when we stopped, I swore I would NEVER ride in a boat again.

Coeur d'Alene Lake

A few years later, my family was invited by the Carvers to go boating on C d'A lake. I was apprehensive, but figured since my parents were going - that nothing would happen to me.
I thought, I'll give this boating thing another chance. (Can you hear the music from "Jaws"?)

We began our excursion in Harrison, I believe. C. Carver had either rented or borrowed a cabin cruiser from a friend, and the plan was to drive it from Harrison to Coeur d' Alene and back. This one was a bit larger than the previous boat, as it had a small galley in the bow that was a few steps below the deck. There were several seats on the deck and seating in the galley. The Carver's daughter, M, was there as well as her parents, my parents, my sister and I, but M's youngest brother B, may have also been there.

The trip started out pretty good for a boat trip. I don't know if we ever stopped to swim, or if it was a marathon trip (as some men are wont to do. The "Git-R-Done" syndrome.) But C. Carver was drinking and driving the boat, and we were all doing fine for a while. . .(Jaws music). . . Somewhere around Coeur d'Alene, C. was challenged by or did challenge another boater and the race was on. I can't remember if they were just speeding, but it seemed more like a "Game of Chicken." We were careening back and forth across this guy's wake. The water was getting rough already, but this game of chicken was scaring most of us.

Now, my dad is not a confrontational guy, and he may have suggested that C slow things down a bit and consider the women and children. (The children, I being the oldest, were all crying their heads off by this time.) We were pleading with our mothers to stop this mad man from killing us all.

There were a couple of times, that the boat nearly flipped as it caught a wake broadside, in an attempt to turn one way or another. I knew we were gonna die. (We probably didn't have life jackets that day either.) My Mom was sooooo mad! My Dad was mad, too, but there was nothing they could do to stop C Carver from trying to capsize all of us.

Finally, somehow, C decided it was time to get back to Harrison - we still had the full length of the lake to travel, but we got there without capsizing. My sister was so tramatized I don't think she has ever gone near a boat since. I have - but I haven't liked it! My parents both swore that they would never go anywhere with C Carver again.

So now, you know why I don't like boats. I guess, you could say I don't like fast boats with stunt drivers and drunks at the wheel. I am trying to get warmed up to the idea of my husband's speed boat, but it isn't easy.

Boating (1)

2007-06-06T17:15:00.000-06:00

Since I drove our boat for the first time last Sunday, I am feeling the need to explain why I am deathly afraid of boating. I didn't start out that way. As a grade school-er, I was often invited to go boating with the Johnson's. They owned my favorite boat of all time. . .a pontoon boat. I don't know when they got it the boat, but I do remember singing songs like "Madelina, Catalina" and other childish ditties with the Johnson girls as we bounded down the road for a boating trip. They used to launch the pontoon boat on one of the lakes on the lower Cd'A river. (It could have been Black Lake or Cave Lake). Once the boat was launched, we would sail up and down the "channels" as they called them from one lake to another.

It wasn't until years later that I realized the "channels" were actually portions of the Coeur d'Alene River that ran between the lakes. I do remember the channels were murky waters, but I also didn't connect this with the "lead" creek in Kellogg, which merged with the "North Fork" to make up the bulk of the Cd'A river.

These boat trips were fun. They were leisurely, and although I had no idea where we were, or where we were going, I had complete confidence in Paul and Dottie's knowledge of the channels.

[Upper picture shows Dottie & Paul on the shore and lower one is close up of the original pic.]

One time we went to Killarney Lake where I finally got to go to "Popcorn Island," a place the Johnson girls raved about, but I had never seen. Paul dropped anchor in the middle of the lake, and the girls and I took turns diving off the mini board and swimming around in the water. I still wore a life preserver, but the older Johnson girls swam well enough they didn't need one.

Popcorn Island

I loved that pontoon boat, and swore if I ever got a boat, that's the kind I'd get. . .(I suppose if I ever have the money to buy a boat of my own - that's what I'll get!)

Tea Time!

2007-06-05T10:00:00.000-06:00

Last week, I ordered some tea from Twinings where they have my all time favoite tea: Twinings Darjeeling. The Darjeeling is a light tea. It tastes like it's sweetened, even without sugar or honey (but I add sugar anyway!) My mother-in-law, who's a Lipton fan, accused me of sweetening her tea, when she tried this. (But then I think anything tastes better than regular Lipton.)

I first tried Twinings Darjeeling here in S.E. Idaho, but the stores have only carried it intermittently. Lately, they have stopped stocking it again, so I decided to buy it online. I needed to purchase a minimum order of $15.00, so I ordered a bit more - - -but I got some amazing teas. In addition to the Darjeeling (loose - for the "tin") and Darjeeling bagged (large box),

I ordered:

Vanilla Black Tea (love the Bigelow brand - so thought I'd try this)
Tastes of Summer Black Tea (This is sooooo good. Can't wait to try it iced.)
Four Red Fruits Black Tea (just tried it tonight another Winner - that will taste good iced.) and
Chocolate Indulgence (Not a tea - this is for hot cocoa & it comes in a tin!)

I was sooo excited when all the products came in. It's been awhile since I ordered anything just for me!!! (Well, and the family, as I generously share all of this.)

I am hoping to have a tea party and meet some of my neighbors. I say hoping, because I am not good at following through on "intentions." Until I set the date, and send out the invites. . .it's not likely to happen. So stay tuned. . .who knows. . .maybe I will actually pull it off this year!

Photos from the Falls

2007-06-04T21:15:00.000-06:00

The Hunk - unhitching the boat from our Sunday excursion. I drove it for the first time. What a thrill. Ten times better than being a passenger!

My blue delphiniums. These are not Pacific Giants, as I have quite a number of those, but they are mostly purple and lavendar. I wanted some blue ones, so I bought these even though they only get about 4-5 feet high.

Mz Oz (Ozzy) near the rhubarb by the back fence. We have to keep a wire fence in front of the vegetable garden, so she won't run through it!

My clematis [Jackmanii] is beginning to bloom. It has grown quite large, and I have been debating whether I should divide and relocate a portion of it.

These painted daisies plants were given to me about 10 years ago from a dear friend who was unable to keep bending over to care for them.

Victoria

2007-05-31T18:53:00.000-06:00

Anybody know of a great place to stay in downtown Victoria, BC?

Another Meme

2007-05-31T10:45:00.000-06:00

Friends - I am making this an optional meme, since we have all been hit lately. . .

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

1) Mom of 2 and Wife of 1
2) BlondeMomBlog
3) It's A Schmitty Life
4) Life is short, buy the shoes
5) Ponderosa Pinings

Next select five people to tag:

1) Kellogg Bloggin'
2) Silver Valley Stories
3) Gathering Around the Table
4) Myrtle Beach Ramblings
5) Scrapping Servant

Answer the following questions:

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Ten years ago, I was working at Baskin-Robbins and realizing that I needed to go back to school and finish my degree. With much persuasion from my husband, I went back to school in the fall of '97.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

One year ago, I was recovering from job trauma. I had worked 12 hour shifts at the INL (plus 1 hour travel each way) for 8 months. I was "low man," treated badly, and nearly had a nervous breakdown.

Five snacks you enjoy:

M&Ms (plain)
Bridge Mix
Lays Potato Chips with homemade Avocado Dip
Cookies (any kind, but lately love Macadamia & white chocolate chip cookies)
Mixed Nuts

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:

Only five? . . . song lyrics pop into my head for all occasions. . .I'll do the Beatles . . .

Yesterday
Hold Me Tight
Twist n Shout
Till There Was You - (found out this was originally from The Music Man)
Fool on the Hill

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:

Give more to God's work.
Upgrade our home & sell it.
Buy land - build a home on part of the land with a father-in-laws' quarters for my Dad.
Hire a gardener to weed & plant big stuff, like trees - and a housekeeper to clean.
Try something entrepreneurial - like a whatnot shop with tons of ambience and tables to serve tea and goodies.

Five bad habits:

Staying up too late.
Procrastination.

Trying to do everything at the last minute.
Eating too much junk.
Making excuses not to exercise more.

Five things you like doing:

Reading
Playing computer games
Painting (watercolor)
Organizing (buttons, beads, etc)
Selling Mary Kay Products

Five things you would never wear again:

Bikini
Mini-skirt
Hot Pants
Anything double knit polyester - particularly pants.
Flip-flops

Five favorite toys:

Computer
Sewing Machine
Scanner
Tea set
Watercolor Paints

Pinehurst: Fifth Grade (3)

2007-05-30T00:30:00.000-06:00

Flood & Native Speak

Oft times in the Silver Valley, about every 10 years - give or take a year, there's a flood. There was a flood in '64, '74, and in the mid-80s - (unsure of the year, but my parents took "movies") and probably one in the 90s. Now the floods in Pinehurst usually don't occur during the "spring run-off" when most floods occur - they usually happen in December or January. Yea. Dead in the middle of winter.

Northern Idaho generally starts getting snow in November (sometimes late October), and the snow continues to fall throughout December and into January. But in certain years, instead of the snow continuing through March, winter is disrupted by a "Chinook wind." A Chinook is a warm wind that comes off of the Pacific Ocean melting a portion of the snow pack. As the snow pack melts, it fills the frozen streams with excess water, then rushes into bigger creeks and rivers. I am not sure if it is because the ground is frozen, but winter floods are the biggest in Northern Idaho.

Now the geography of Pinehurst is such, that the creek (pronounced "crick" by the natives - Pinehurst natives) used to flow through the middle of the present town. My parents bought property on Main St. and the entire back yard was full of river rock. . .You guessed it. Right smack dab, in the middle of the old crick bed.

Of course, we were safe from flooding. Pinecrick crick (yep, that's what we called it - so as not to confuse it with Pinecrick, the town, "up Pinecrick") wasn't anywhere close to the property any more. Years earlier a dike (not to be confused with dyke - which is fairly recent term) was built to route the water around the southern end of town to the western side of the settlement and northward to the lead (led) crick. There used to be a road on top of the dike, aptly named "the dike road." As Main street leaves town on the western border, there is a bridge that crosses the "crick" and leads to the Bauman Addition. Prior to January 1965, that bridge was made of wood and held up by wood pylons ("pilings").

The flood came early that winter. It was a few nights before Christmas, when we got the call from Dorothy Clemens. " The dike broke! You've gotta get out of there!" Mom got us up, and we hurried out to the car in our pajamas, shoes and coats. Dad pulled out of the driveway and headed for 6th street. We went up one block and turned left, but the water was getting so deep that a small row boat floated past the front of the car. So he backtracked to Main, turned right and drove east to Division street. My parents had some friends who lived on "D" Street, which was situated higher than our house, so we went to there.

My sister and I crashed on a couch, chair, or floor to finish sleeping. I heard the adults discussing the possibility that the water could get high enough to flood our living room and destroy the presents under the tree. To avoid further catastrophe, Dad and Stan braved the waters back to our place, and put the packages up on the furniture.

The next day the water had receded enough for us to go home. When we pulled into the driveway, there was a thawed "frozen turkey" in our yard. Mom surmised that someone must have set it out on their porch to thaw the night before. People don't do that anymore.

I don't remember what we did for water. Usually when the water gets really high in the crick, and a Chinook starts to blow, we'd fill the bathtub with water to flush the toilet. (Used a pan to scoop the water and pour enough into the commode to trip the flushing mechanism.) We would also scoop water out to boil for drinking. Maybe we did the same with the flood water that year, I just know we got by somehow.

That could have been the year there was an outbreak of Hepatitis A in Kellogg. From the story I remember, some lady contracted Hepatitis and started getting sick while she was preparing food for St. Rita's Bazaar at the Union Legion. Everyone who had eaten there was urged to get vaccinated so they wouldn't get sick. Unfortunately a number of people who attended the bazaar contracted Hepatitis - including my husband and one of his sisters.

The flood destroyed the bridge at the west end of Main St. The waters were so deep, some of the "pilings" broke and washed downstream taking other "pilings" with them. In fact there were numerous wooden bridges around the valley that were washed out that year. Rumor had it that the "Pinecrick kids" had to cross the "crick" by walking across on a large pipe and holding onto a cable, just to catch the school bus once school was back in session. . (I remember hearing about it from the kids at school, but it has been so many years ago, some of them would have to verify if that information was factual. I know I believed it as a child.)

With the bridge to Kingston wiped out, those of us in Pinehurst were stranded. This was before the freeway was built, and the only way out of town was across that bridge. . .now I could be mistaken, but the other end of town was where slough met the "crick" and flooded the old road, blocking that exit. I think if there had been an emergency in town, we would have needed helicopters to get out.
(I know helicopters were used as emergency vehicles during one flood, but I don't remember which one.)

The bridges were given temporary support as the waters receded, leaving sometimes one lane to drive across. As soon as weather permitted, we got new bridges made of concrete and metal. I "kinda" missed the old wooden bridges. They had a certain quaintness and familiarity that the new bridges didn't have.

In addition to the loss of bridges, the Pinehurst Fifth Grade playground was reshaped by the flood. A once sloping grade up to the equipment, now had a large crevice right down the middle of it, where the creek had raged toward the school. Nevada street also had a fissure cutting a deep gash across it, one large enough that our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Trosch, was inattentively stopped in her tracks when the front wheels of her car dropped into it.

In Pinehurst, the dike was reinforced with gigantic rocks from the freeway construction, so that it held better than ever. And though the Chinook of winter, brings a big flood about every 10 years, I don't think the dike has broken since Dec. '64.

Pinehurst: Fifth Grade (2)

2007-05-29T09:30:00.000-06:00

Four Eyes

Besides all the drama I had in the fifth grade, there were changes. I had to get glasses. Now for a girl who is maturing, glasses are not something you want to have to wear. First of all, they change your appearance. Instead of seeing you as you are, the glasses introduce themselves to others before you get a chance to speak. "Look at Me! Look at Me" - and they say it so loudly, that if you should remove them, people think, "Man, you look funny."

Additionally, the style of glasses I got were passe'. They were on their way out, but who knew? And being 10 - 11 yrs old and fond of color. . .I got the blue ones, baby blue cat-eye glasses. "Snazzy." Mom also permed my hair that year - and I got it cut into a bubble. So here I was the curly-haired, cat-eye girl with "dizzy spells". (Just the kinds of things to give one confidence as they approach puberty.) [Picture to follow as soon as I find it.]

In fifth grade, we were considered too young for women's upper foundational underwear. Our bodies didn't know that however and continued to change. One girl in our class, who was nearly a year older than the rest of us, did wear such a contrivance, and was teased mercilessly by boys and girls alike. It was the days of white blouses that buttoned up the back -(talk about stupid couture). So blouses were translucent and gave away just enough information to make such teasing possible. Add to the white blouse our plaid skirts and we were wearing the quintessential Catholic School Girl look. We probably wore saddle shoes or some other industrial strength footwear suited to function and not style. It was nerdy and I was the ultimate poster child for that look.

Pinehurst: Fifth Grade (1)

2007-05-28T11:30:00.000-06:00

Old Lady Vitamin Pill

When I was in the fifth grade at Pinehurst school, our classes were held in the Annex on the South side of the school. The annex was the newest building at the school. It contained 4 classrooms, a girls' bathroom and boys' bathroom. The fifth grade consisted of 3 classes, and the fourth room was used by the Jr. High.

My fifth grade teacher was Mrs. Allman - who was referred to by the older kids as "Old Lady Vitamin Pill." Apparently a few years prior to my stint in grade 5, OLVP would give each of her students a "One-A-Day" vitamin pill each morning. Now this was in the days long before school offered breakfast to students from low-income families, and I imagine she was just doing her part to help the students to succeed in school. However, as an adult with grown children, it is "chilling" to think that a teacher, no matter what her intentions, could give each student a pill before class every day. Added to the fact that in those days, the schools employed full-time nurses who were able to administer drugs legally, the thought of a single teacher taking on the dispension of pills to kids is rather "bizarre."

However, by the time I was admitted to her class, the practice had stopped. There had been a law passed that made it illegal for anyone, including the nurse to dispense as much as an aspirin without parental permission. This was a great move, as parents who have abandoned the rearing of children to the state, did not forsake the responsibility to care for their children's health. (But I pontificate.)

Mrs. Allman was not an impressive teacher. She was old, very thin, pale, and dyed her stringy hair a dark brown. Her clothes were nondescript dresses of a matronly style and color. She seemed nice, and probably liked me, as most of my teachers did, but I don't remember anything distinctive about the class - except for learning the state capitals and the first paragraph of the Gettysburg address.

"Dizzy Spells"

Perhaps it was because I was changing. My body was growing in new ways, and I was beginning to notice boys more. Not just one or two, but many nice looking young bucks. One sat behind me most of the year, who was quite nice looking, and may have liked the way I looked a bit also.

I had some screwy ideas about boys and how they thought about girls and the whole notion of sex - that I prefer not to mention here. Suffice to say, a friend of mine and I had concocted a whole explanation from bits and pieces we had heard and seen. It would be laughable, except that neither of us ever learned the truth about our "theory" until years later when other bits and pieces we learned contradicted what we first believed. Sad that our mothers lived in a time where what is natural had been deemed nasty - and they were never comfortable to speak of things to come.

However, there is another explanation for why I may not remember much of my fifth grade year: the "dizzy spells" as I called it. I started having strange sensations of acute self-awareness coupled with impending doom. In the course of the ordinary, I would suddenly feel disembodied, as though I was an observer as well as a participant in life. I could disassociate myself from me, and yet feel trapped in time and place with a heightened sense of needing to escape.

It was as if my mind belonged to a higher order of being, and didn't want to be trapped in a 10 yr. old body locked in that classroom at that time, studying insipid books. I became claustrophobic and terrified. I had to get out of there and fast! The only way I could cope was to put my head down. On more than one occasion, I would get down on my hands and knees, because I felt like I was going to pass out or die on the spot. Usually, I would end up going home, unless my Mom was working - which was most of the time, then I would be taken to the nurses office to lie down.

As soon as the strange feelings left, I felt stupid. My mom thought I was faking it. She took me to the doctor who said there was nothing physically wrong with me. (Physically there wasn't. . .but physiologically there was - I was having panic attacks.)

In those days, doctors didn't know about panic attacks. They might have suspected "mental illness" - but in all other ways, I was a normal kid. I didn't act out, didn't display anti-social behavior, in fact, I was a model child who tried to please my parents and teachers. There was no logical explanation at that time for my behavior. My mom thought it was a ruse and I thought I was dying.

Fortunately, I had a lot of ear infections that year also, and one of the doctors said I had some kind of allergy, as he found boils in my ears. As a result, he also said that it could be the cause of the "dizzy spells." This alleviated my mother's accusations that I was "faking it" and she apologized for not believing me. It calmed my fears, as I no longer believed that what was happening to me was fatal.

Regardless, all of this uproar, was a huge distraction my entire fifth grade year. No wonder I don't remember much about the classroom than the "dizzy spells."

Sunday Scribblings - Simple

2007-05-26T22:08:00.000-06:00

Sunday Scribblings seems like a great site. Everyone who participates seems to enjoy the topics, the writing, and everyone else's vignettes. I enjoy the variety of pieces and to see what people are thinking.

This week's topic was "simple," and I thought that is what makes Sunday Scribblings so popular. The topics are simple. Anyone can have an idea when they are given simple words to write about.

Now if I were to give writing assignments, I would not give simple topics. I would set up the thinking person's writings with deep topics, unpredictable words, and encourage specification and even pontification. I would like to see random writings about the absurd, the interesting, the stuff that hides in the recesses of the mind.

I would choose words like:

gaudy
implode
snort
pirouette

Sure, the words are not simple and they would spur potential writers to express new ideas, to stretch their minds in new ways. Some may even have to "look up" the word in order to begin the writing process.

I would also propose "forms" to follow. Examples would be: limericks, epigrams, proverbs, essays, anagrams, haikus, etc. I would give the form, an example of the type of form, then allow the writers to choose their own topic.

What do you think? Anyone up for a mind-bending challenge?

LSHISTA!

2007-05-26T21:55:00.000-06:00

Let it be known that Myrtle Beach Whale has me laughing so hard I have invented a new acronym that supercedes other acronyms for laughter. LSHISTA (la shish' ta) Means LAUGHING SO HARD I'M SCARING THE ANIMALS!

You know when you've reached LSHISTA when your animals, children, neighbor's come running scared to see what all the screaching, gasping, and guffawing is about.

Excuse Me!

2007-05-26T13:44:00.000-06:00

Excuse me if I smell like cat urine. I know it's not the stuff of posts, but you see, our cat is dying, and I was cleaning out his litter box today. Our Master Bath reeks, as Colonel has had a few misses lately. I used Resolve to kill the odor, but some of it must have oozed into the grout around the shower stall.

I am divided. Last week, I was determined to take him for tests and pills and to keep him as healthy as possible. . .but when they said daily injections - I faltered. My youngest daughter, S, said, "He won't let you do that!" (But she remembers Colonel the fighter, Colonel the attacker, not Colonel the dying elder.) Colonel has become the "puddy tat" who no longer fights the Vet if I am there to comfort him. The cat who trusts me implicitly, yet knows not that I hold the keys to his future. I don't want to make that decision - the one I know is coming, if he doesn't die on his own.

We all love Colonel. He has been a great cat for nearly 14 years. He was the great grey hunter that kept our house free of mice when the back yard was just a field near the airport. He has killed voles, and chased off cats and birds and probably squirrels. He'd even go after a dog if it came in the yard - but those days are past. He stopped fighting other cats a few months ago. He rarely goes outside except to stand on the back porch and survey his domain. He has stopped attacking Ozzy, our chocolate lab. He sleeps most of the time now, is losing weight, drinks a ton, and wets a ton.

Which leads me back to the beginning. He goes through a tub of litter every week or two now. . .and I am tired of the smell. Injections every day - or the smell of urine - or one fatal injection. . .but I can't go there. He must know. . .he just came in beside me to be petted.

So excuse me if I reek. I can't kill my cat.

Pinehurst: Snippets from '63 - '64

2007-05-25T18:35:00.000-06:00

Three cents for the Governor

I used to get an allowance to spend each week. When I was in Smelterville, I think it was 50 cents - but in Pinehurst I think it was raised to $1. I would walk down the street to the Post Office / craft store. In those days, the Post Office took up half the building, and a craft store was in the other half. The craft store had a lot of yarn, and the lady who worked there was usually knitting something. I really liked to buy these animal crafts in boxes with styrofoam, feathers, pipe cleaners, etc. that cost 99 cents. The one I specifically remember was an Ostrich you could make with the styrofoam balls painted lavender for the head and body. After it was made, it would stand up on it's pipecleaner legs, and it may have hung by strings so you could make it walk.

One summer day, I went down (probably on a Friday - when I got my allowance) to purchase one of these animal kits. When the lady rang it up she said, "One dollar and two cents, please."

I replied, "I thought they were 99 cents, and I only have a dollar!"

She explained, "Well, now you have to pay state tax of 3 cents on a dollar."

"I guess I can't get it then," I offered. "I'll have to go home and see if I can get 2 more cents." But I was thinking, What a rip-off. I have to pay 3 extra cents for nothing. When I went home I had to have one of my parents explain to me why a kid has to pay money and get nothing for it. They called it tax - but it really wasn't anything.

Banana Bikes

Sometime after we moved to Pinehurst, I got a new bike. I think it was for Christmas. It was larger than my first bike, and I'm pretty sure it was turquoise. (See picture. This is a 1964 Murray jet fire girls bike. Except for the seat - which was likely 2-toned turquoise and white - it looked like that.) It was a great bike, and I would ride it down to the store (Morbeck's) on the southwest corner of Division and Main. (Many of you will remember it as Wilber's store in the '70s). I'd ride it all over the playgrounds at Pinehurst school. I loved it, because with the larger tires, it would go further with each petal, than my smaller bike had.

The next year, however, bicycle styles changed, and since my bike was only a year old, I couldn't get one of the new stingray bikes - but I think my sister got one. (She may have inherited my older red bike, and was now old enough to have a nice bike of her own.) My dad didn't want me to feel like an odd ball with this old bike, so he bought me a "banana seat" and the "sting-ray" handle bars to put on my bike. (Try doing that with a kid now-a-days!) Now my bike was a monster. It was the Grandmammy of all sting rays - twice as big as most, with the cool seat and handlebars. Dad even removed the flat part of the back fender, so the transformation would be complete.

I don't know how old I was when I realized how ugly that bike was, but I eventually quit riding it - banana seat and all. Everyone else's bikes were small enough to do wheelies, and mine was a morphed-out Brontosaurus. I couldn't get the front two wheels up for anything. It was embarrassing.

Random Musings

2007-05-24T15:09:00.000-06:00

Anniversary

The Hunk and I were married 27 yrs ago today. Unbelievable! Doesn't seem like we could possibly have been married that long! The Hunk took me out to dinner last night at a favorite Italian Restaurant. We tried to converse, but the place was full of screaming little kids. : ( Now I know why the people who frequent http://idahofallz.com/ complain about people taking their children to restaurants around here. There is no discipline and no "keeping it down to a dull roar" (borrowing one of Dad's expressions). Fortunately, I had some painkillers with me, that I took as soon as the water arrived, or I would have had a migrane by the time we left. Other than that we had a nice time, and the food was really scrumptious!

We couldn't make plans for tonight, as the Hunk will be travelling this weekend. He leaves tonight - right after work, and I won't see him again until Monday night. I am busy with dressmaking and other projects that need to be done before S leaves for the Palouse. I was hoping to ride along, but with my work schedule and the fact the vehicle will be packed with necessities - keyboard, cedar chest and new bicycle. . .there's no room for Mom. : (

I am trying to console myself with the fact that I won't be "cramping their style" (another of my Dad's sayings) - because they can crank up their tunes when I'm not riding along. Besides I need to feed the animals and vacuum and stuff. . .LOL!

Well, I'd better get back to the sewing, so they will have complete dresses for the wedding tomorrow night!

Where were you? (3)

2007-05-23T18:20:00.000-06:00

Eruption of Mount St. Helen's - May 18, 1980

It was a Sunday afternoon and the Hunk and I were scheduled to be married the next Saturday. He and his brothers decided to go to an air show at Fairchild Air Force Base. About the time they got to Coeur d'Alene, they heard on the radio that the Air Show had been cancelled. They were really miffed. "Why would they cancel the air show at the last minute?" they fumed.

From the west, a large dark cloud began to sweep across the sky. It was similar to a storm cloud, but very dark. Then they heard on the radio that Mt. St. Helen's had erupted. "Wow, was that cloud from the volcano?" Interestingly, they had the Hunk's super 8 movie camera, and decided to take some movies to document what was happening. The western sky dark was as a starless night, and the eastern sky was still daylight.

They decided to turn around and drive home, but stopped briefly at the edge of Coeur d'Alene Lake and take some more movies. Then they drove back over the Fourth of July pass to the Silver Valley.

In the meantime, I was home and heard about the eruption on the television. Everyone was told to stay indoors. (No one knew at that time, whether or not the ash would be toxic and it was heading our way.) I was really scared about my groom and hoped they would not be caught in the fallout. The Hunk arrived at my house before the cloud of ash began to fall. We drove to his mom's place in Kellogg, and he dug out his industrial respirator - just in case.

Soon the ash started falling in Kellogg. He put on his respirator and went outside to take some movies of the ash falling onto the cars. I didn't want him to go out - but you know men - they love danger! Unfortunately, he ran out of film, and couldn't take any more movies that day.

Soon the news report said the ash wasn't toxic, but it would be harmful to car air filters, and to reduce the amount of driving you needed to do. The ash kept falling for several hours. We ended up with about 2 inches all over. (Further south in Idaho, they had to deal with about 4 inches of ash all over.)

The ash hung in the air like ground fog. It was eery. When cars drove down the street, it kicked up into the air again. And now, we had a delemma. Our rings and the tuxes were in Coeur d'Alene - 30+ miles to the west. The marriage licence was in Wallace - 12+ miles to the east. Some of our attendants were from out of town. We had to travel - or postpone our wedding.

Besides all of this, I discovered I was allergic to the ash. I couldn't breathe in it. I went to the doctor for anti-biotics, as the ash had irritated my throat and lungs and I had a sinus infection. So, the Hunk did most of the traveling, and checked his air filter frequently to make sure it wasn't clogged. I stayed in as much as possible, and wore mask-like filter to keep the ash out of my nose, throat and lungs. (I looked so cute ----HA!)

On Saturday morning, May 24th, I was still wearing the mask outdoors. I had to get ready for the wedding at home, then finish up at the church. My mom or dad took a short movie clip of me with wet hair and the "mask" on. It was sooo embarrassing! At least I wouldn't have to wear the mask at the wedding ceremony since it was indoors.

Someone took a picture of us after the ceremony, standing by the Hunks pickup. The hills were covered with grey ash. It almost looked like a dusting of grey snow.

Where were you? (2)

2007-05-22T10:22:00.000-06:00

Sunshine Mine Disaster

I wrote on this a bit earlier, but not in detail. I was a Senior in High School when this tragic event happened in the Silver Valley (then the "Fabulous Valley") of Northern Idaho. It was May 2nd and the Kellogg High School Track team had gone to Post Falls for a track meet. It was our last track meet before Regionals. On the way home, our bus was stopped by a police car on the flats near the Cataldo Mission. At first we thought it was funny that the bus driver got pulled over, but then L. Johnson was removed from the bus and put into the police car. All they told us was that she had to go home right away.

When we got to Pinehurst, where I was dropped off with all the other Pinehurst kids at the school, someone told us there was a fire at Sunshine Mine. (How could there be a fire at the mine? It was all rock and dirt - what could burn? I thought.) I walked on home with my track bag in hand, thinking about the absurdity of a fire at the mine.

When I reached the edge of our driveway, it hit me. . ."Where was MY Dad?" My dad worked at the Sunshine, and so did L. Johnson's dad. . .in fact a lot of people's dad's worked there. As I came through the front door I hollered, "Mom - Where's Dad?"

"He's in bed sleeping." Whew! Then I began to discuss the mine fire rumour with her. It wasn't a rumour - there was actually a fire underground somewhere in the mine. Some men had been killed. Later, on the radio, the first victims were identified. One was L. Johnson's dad.

Now, the Johnson girls had been life-long friends of mine. P. Johnson was my age, and had gotten married and dropped out of school earlier in the year. Her husband worked at Sunshine, also. The Johnson girl's dad, was one of my dad's best friends. They met during WW2. Both of them served on the USS Comfort - a floating hospital ship. Dad was a Medic, Paul Johnson worked in the laundry (He may have done other jobs, but I just remember my dad telling me that Paul used to starch the nurses undies - or something like that.)

Paul had been the one who urged my dad to relocate from Utah to No. Idaho to work in the mines. It was great money for a guy who was willing to work. My dad had first gone to N. Idaho in 1948 - to visit Paul and try out mining. Although, I don't know when Paul & D got married, my dad said it was there relationship that inspired him to find a bride. In 1952, Dad married Mom, and and they honeymooned their way back to N. Idaho where Dad had been working again for at least a year.

Paul & D were very good friends of my parents. I'm not sure if it was planned but all their kids, and all of us kids were born within months of each other. P was one month older than I. My brother Steven was born one month before L, and J. Johnson was born 3 months before my sister R. We grew up together, we played together, we went to school together. We were close.

When we heard that Paul was gone. We mourned. We drove up to see the family. We didn't know what to say. How can you comfort someone when you have never experienced what they are going through? How can I know how they felt - when I still had my dad? It was sooo hard - but a thousand times tougher for them.

Fortunately, P. s husband had made it out alive - barely. He said, someone reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him into the last "skip" (elevator) out of the mine. Otherwise P would have lost both her dad and her husband. (Some women did lose more than one family member).

Everyone was in a state of shock. Life continued on. We had school and graduation. I spent my evenings after school babysitting the children of the people who's loved ones were still unaccounted for. I wanted to do something - anything to help.

Another friend lost her step-dad. She was in the hospital with appendicitis when she found out. We still had track practice. I was a high jumper - (and for those who don't know me, I'm only 52" and I couldn't run very fast). I jumped the highest I had ever jumped in practice that week. I cleared 4' - a new record for me. I was looking forward to Regionals, but I set Regionals aside that year for funerals. Except for Steven's, when I was two - my first ever.

Graduation that year was bitter sweet. Some students had been in a car accident at our Senior party up the river. The valley was in mourning for the miners, and so what if we were graduating? Some people wouldn't be there. Some very important people. Somebody's dad would be missing. . .and missing. . .for a long time. . .

Where were you? (1)

2007-05-21T20:24:00.000-06:00

The Day John F Kennedy was shot.

I remember the day JFK was shot. (Nov 1963). I had just gotten out of school and was waiting for my mom or someone to pick me up. I came out of the Pinehurst school by way of the office doors - which was weird, since I was in the old building for classes. Maybe we had PE in the gym before school let out. . .(not sure). A friend of ours, D. (Caldwell) Phillips came by to pick me up. As she walked toward me, she said the President had been shot. I was only 10, so I didn't really understand the magnitude of what had happened. I thought, "Why would anyone want to shoot the President?" I didn't realize it was a mortal wound.

When we got to my house, I think the TV was already on, and my mom was "glued" to the set. For the next few days, that's all that was on television: The President's motorcade, the shots, the President slumping over, First Lady Jacqueline, leaning over the President. News of the President's death, swearing in of Johnson, the first family in black, Little John saluting the casket as the funeral procession went by. It was sad, but I think it was more sad for my mom. She was older, and understood the sorrow of the President's death on his family. I remember the images, but I don't remember the pain.

The Lunar Landing

I was at the Carver's house sitting on the living room floor watching Neil Armstrong step onto the lunar surface. I was glad I shared that moment with my friends. It would not have had the same impact if I had watched it at home. The moment was exciting. We had been anticipating such an event since our early grade school years, when we read books like: Someday, You Will Go to the Moon. We knew this day was history in the making, and unlike a national tragedy, this was national triumph. We talked about what exciting days we were living in, and the posibility of space travel in our future. It was difficult to imagine that the moon we saw in the sky, was actually where our astronauts had travelled and had now set foot. "This is one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." - Neil Armstrong

Myrtle Beach stirs memories. . .

2007-05-20T16:10:00.000-06:00

Gotta check out MyrtleBeachWhale's post on "masks" today at:

http://myrtlebeachramblings.blogspot.com/

Here's the comment I left after reading the post:

Great post! I remember going to Mrs. Watts house in Smelterville, but didn't remember the performances!

Did most of my "trick-r-treatin'" in Pinehurst. And - don't beat me up - we used PILLOW CASES! Our take was that they were sturdy enough to last the evening and we didn't have to buy anything to carry our candy in. (Maybe my mom rationalized that since she bought and gave out FULL-SIZED candy bars - and we usually got around 300 trick-r-treaters - that her kids should make "a haul."

You brought back great memories. . .even of the cheap "masks" available at the time. I had forgotten about the elasitic string held by a staple on each end. What a joke.

Also loved Rob's post (comment) within your post about the playground equipment. I remember those "hot" slides - if your legs were bare - as in short pants or DRESSES - (Arg!) -you'd STICK to the slide and burn your skin off. . . Thanks for the email about your post. It was great!

Now for my add- on: I remember one time my sister tried to go down the slide on the 2nd - grade playground at Pinehurst school. It was summertime, and we had gone there to play. She had on shorts, and when she started down the slide, her legs stuck to the surface. They were burning and she was upset. I'm not sure if someone came to her rescue, if she tried to "scoot" down, but she was MAD! (And you never wanted to see my sister MAD!)

I do remember several people trying to "scoot" down the slide, by lifting their knees and easing their backside toward their feet. There was a sort of "screech - screech - screech" sound as they alternately stuck and scooted all the way down. You never wanted to be the first person on the slide when it was in the sun. You learned that the slides were much better in the shade of the afternoon - or after 30 or so kids had just gone down, and the surface was cooled to body temperature!

I'll need to blog about Halloween later.

Comments?

2007-05-20T01:18:00.003-06:00

What happened to my comment link??

The Party List

2007-05-19T23:32:00.000-06:00

http://www.joyouscreations.net/scrappingservant.html The Party

I got to the party late, but did my best to finish at least one challenge

http://my.bhgscrapbookset.com/ Beautiful picture and lots of links to great scrapbooking stuff. Didn't see a place to leave a comment.

http://www.traininghearts.com/blog/ Cute layout, pictures and soft color.

http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/momofneb/ Fancy layout. Quite a feat for a Homeschooling mom!

http://www.makingscrapbooks.typepad.com/ Wow. Love the scrapbook pages.

http://realwomenscrap.typepad.com/ A celebrity! Fun place to see what's going on in the scrapbook world.

http://www.lifewithlola.blogspot.com/ A fan of "The Office" - wished I could have seen the American version. Sounds like it was "da bomb".

http://www.lentzfam.blogspot.com/ Another wow. Nice scrapbooking, jewelry making, and loved the print from the Easter service.

http://www.girl71-thoughtsfromthehill.blogspot.com/ Festive site. Great Motivations for Moms.

http://www.homeschoolblogger.com/servingtheKingofkings/ Nice family feel. Where did she get all those Keith Green song clips???

http://www.sunshinecoastkids3.blogspot.com/ Lots of Pink and lots of fun. Gotta see her Palooza Head!

http://justaflipflopmom.blogspot.com/ Gotta love the title and her photo. She worked hard on the party.

http://ainsleysmom.blogspot.com/ Nice site. Cute family. She also worked hard on the party.

http://scrapbookideas.wordpress.com/ Great photos. Lots of fun & very nice scrapbooking pages.

http://www.sunnydaysatthebeach.blogspot.com/ Yummy recipies and nice photos.

http://wesnlani.wordpress.com/ Lime green. Cute family photos.

http://quietromance.blogspot.com/ Nice layout, recipies and family stuff.

http://lifewithrae2.blogspot.com/ Lots of great recipies. I got my link to Carolyn's party from her!

Short and Sweet

2007-05-18T23:01:00.000-06:00

Our youngest daughter, S, has been home this week from UI. It's so good to see her, when she isn't running here and there visiting friends. She, V, and I went out to lunch a couple of days ago. Today, she came by my work to select pattern and material for a dress. I am making dresses for V & S for an upcoming wedding next weekend.

Had a 3 hour nap after work today. I'm often tired around 5 or 6 pm, especially on days when I work. I usually take painkillers on my break, but forgot today, so by the time I got off work, my feet were screaming. I took a couple of IBprofin and reclined on the bed to wait for the pain to subside. My husband didn't even wake me up for dinner! (Thank heaven for microwaves and husbands who cook).

Between the working, the sleeping and the sewing. . .my post is abreviated. So much for Friday night fun!

Pinehurst: Snippets of '64

2007-05-17T22:20:00.000-06:00

Piano Lessons

I took piano lessons for two years, but didn't get very far. In fourth grade I took lessons from a High School guy who lived down the street. I didn't like taking lessons from him. In fifth grade, I took lessons from a lady who lived on 3rd street across from the Pinehurst school annex. I liked her a lot better, but since I played by ear, I had trouble "counting" the beat. When it came to both hands doing different things at the same time, I dropped out.

My parents either bought a piano from, or had been given a piano by Schaffer's. It was a beautiful, dark carved wood upright. Some of the keys were missing their ivory, but otherwise it was in good shape. I was so sad to see it go, when I quit my lessons.

Barbie clothes

Early in '64, when I had my 10th birthday, Dorothy Caldwell had Shirley Edwards sew some Barbie outfits for my doll. There were probably 10 outfits, and one was my very favoite. It was a green satin circle skirt with white fur trim, and a top out of the same material. (Think "White Christmas" outfit - but dark green instead of red, and satin rather than velvet.) My Barbie was so beautiful in it. (And since she was my alter-ego, it made me feel good when she wore it.)

Beatle Songs

The Beatles came on the scene in 1963, and by '64 they were the hottest group around. I used to listen to their songs on the radio and at friends' homes. I memorized a ton of them. I was in love with Paul McCartney, but I knew he was too old for me. (I also figured we would never meet, so I'd have to wait until I grew up to marry someone who was as good looking and talented.)

Bowling Tournament Weekends with C. Clemens

My parents were bowling on a Mixed League - mixed meaning men & women, not diverse in the modern sense. They bowled with T & D Clemens and a couple of other people. One time they went on a tournament to Cheney, and my sister and I went. I think C. Clemens may have been there also. The biggest thing I remember about the trip was the "teen" magazine I read that gave me all the info on the Beatles and introduced me to the term "Beatlemania. I determined I was definitely a Beatlemaniac - but I wouldn't faint if I saw them in concert. (That was just too dumb).

The next time my parents went on a tournament with the Clemens' I got to stay with C. Clemens at her home with her and her brother. (He was older, and didn't bug us.) We listened and danced to all the Beatle songs she had on 45 rpms (Forty-five revolutions per minute records) for hours.

Since she was only two years older than I, we got along famously! We were able to eat what we wanted, too. I had asked my parents for a package of chocolate stars, because I looooved chocolate. (Still do.) Anyway, I started eating the stars and they tasted so good, I ate the entire bag. Next thing I knew, I felt really sick. Not exactly nauseous, but just full and yucky feeling. I thought, I'll never eat chocolate again. (That only lasted a day.)

I think we ate macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. Can't remember much else about that day. I do remember that C.C. introduced me to cinnamon toast. I liked it so much, I made it for snacks a lot of the time at home. (I even blamed my weight gain on the cinnamon toast with butter, but actually, I was growing.)

Summer of '64

2007-05-16T14:23:00.000-06:00

Mom Goes to Work

Mom got a job, and we got a babysitter. I don't think I was happy about the fact that my mom went to work, but the babysitter was great. Her name was P. Adams, and she was in high school. I was 10 and my sister was 4.

It was weird to me when Mom went to work. We had to leave our house early in the summertime and go to P's house for the day. Sometimes P would bring us back to our house before Mom got home, but most days we stayed at the Adams'. I wasn't used to be unsettled, but at least I could take my Barbies to P's house. Sometimes P took us swimming at the creek, but that was really rare. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be able to have friends over and play in my own yard. Something didn't seem right about Mom being gone all day.

Dad wasn't too crazy about Mom getting a job, either. He was old-fashioned and believed it would reflect badly on him (as if he weren't a good provider). He couldn't understand why she wanted to work when she didn't have to. I think she just wanted to get out of the house and she wanted to buy "nicer" things.

Mom as a Homemaker & Bowler

Mom was a great homemaker. She cleaned well, she cooked well, and she had a ton of energy. In addition to her work and household duties, she bowled at least one night a week, and sometimes in as many as three bowling leagues. She was a good bowler. She threw a 16 lb. ball like some people throw a 12 pounder. She bowled in tournaments as far away as Seattle and Portland. She was an avid fan of televised bowling.

Mom made a lot of her friends from bowling. One of her friends, Dorothy Clemens, was an avid knitter, and made bowling sweaters for all the ladies on their team - at least twice. Mom had a red sweater and a black one. The team would wear them when they went on tournaments & used them to proudly display their award pins. Mom was really proud of her 250 pin she won at a tournament. I think she was always looking forward to getting a 300 pin, someday.

Pinehurst again, summertime (2)

2007-05-15T19:46:00.000-06:00

(I acturally don't remember if Dad taught me to swim before or after 4th grade.)

Dad Teaches Me How to Swim

We began to go to Pine Creek (the swimming hole near the bridge on Main street) in the summer time to cool off. One day I was there with the family, and Dad taught me how to swim. (Apparently this wasn't my first swimming lesson, as my mom had taken us to the Kellogg pool when we were younger, but all I remember is that I hated putting my face in the water.)

Now, I was practically grown up, and at 10 yrs old, my Dad figured I needed to learn how to swim. When Dad taught me how to swim, he decided he would teach me the way he learned, and that was to swim "underwater" first. His reasoning was that if you learn to swim underwater first, then you aren't afraid of going under while you are learning to swim on top. He demonstrated his technique, then I tried it, swimming parallel to the shore. After I was comfortable in the shallow water, he let me venture until I could easily swim in water over my head. It wasn't until I was proficient at underwater swimming, that he taught me how to swim on top.

He may have taught me how to float on my back first, then dog paddle, and finally the Australian crawl (overhand). Whenever I got tire of "crawling" I would usually float, because it took less energy. Regardless, after I learned to swim underwater, I lost my fear of the water.

Dad even taught me how to open my eyes underwater, so I could see where I was going. It was so much fun to swim around and look for pretty rocks along the bottom of the creek. Sometimes my friends and I would cover a rock with foil and dive for it. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with Northern Idaho, the creeks and rivers are naturally clear, because they flow over rocks, rather than dirt or silt. Occassionally, there will be a sand bar, but for the most part there are rocks everywhere. Most of the rocks are smooth from rolling over other rocks in the river bed, or smooth and flat).

Dad also taught me how to dive when I was a little older. He taught me how to dive shallow, so that when I dove there would be little chance of hitting my head on the bottom. I used to be able to dive into 3' of water - but that was probably before I stopped growing taller, and definitely before I grew "larger." Just like my Dad, when I went swimming up the river (North Fork of the Coeur d'Alene River), I wouldn't get wet gradually. . .I would run and dive right in. (I don't think my body could stand the shock of that now - having stayed out of really cold water for a lot of years!)

Does anyone know, why after numerous attempts, I cannot separate the paragraphs????

P.S. I spoke with my dad last night (May 15), and he told me about learning to swim when he was 10 yrs old, and living in Placerville, Ca. during the summer of '34. His cousin Wayne (I think) bought him a two week pass to the pool (or recreation center) for 50 cents. Dad learned to swim underwater first - just as I thought.

There's a story that began with their stay in Placerville. My grandfather, Art Lewis, took a job working for his older brother Hugh Lewis and Hugh's son at a machine shop - aptly named Lewis & Lewis. My dad and his dad got such a kick out of the name, they started to refer to themselves as "Lewis & Lewis." (Now whether they began in Placerville, or when they moved back to Utah after my dad's 5th grade year, I am uncertain.) The joke stuck, and as my dad grew to adulthood, they called each other "Lewis." I never heard either of them call each other by their given "first" names: It was always "Lewis."

Smelterville Rollerskating add-ons

2007-05-14T19:10:00.000-06:00

I spoke with my sister, R, who called me for Mother's Day. (Our mom has been gone for nearly 17 yrs now - so we talk to each other. Since she lives close to Dad, he was invited to her daughter's house for their Mother's Day celebration.)

She had a couple of memories from the Roller Rink in Smelterville in the early '60s. She remembered that Dad also taught hockey at the rink. I remembered playing hockey, but didn't remember that Dad taught it. (The hockey season, may have been in '63 after we moved back to Pinehurst. The rink wasn't open much after that year.) She remembers going to the rink almost every Sat from the time she was about 2 yrs old, although I don't remember her being there as much as I was.

She asked if I remembered the grape and spearmint (green) licorice they sold there. I had forgotten, but they did have some exotic flavors. She remembered eating purple, green and brown (chocolate) licorice there. She also remembered the candy bar machine with the pull knobs where you could get 5 cent candy bars. I had remembered it also, cause I would ask Dad for money and usually bought candy bars. She said, "There was probably a cigarette machine right next to it." I said, "There was."

She also remembered having ice cream at the soda shop between the rink and Wayside Mkt. She thought mom was working at the Wayside then, but I told her that Mom didn't work there until after we moved to Pinehurst.

It's kinda funny how I had a stay-at-home mom until I was 10, but she only had a stay-at-home mom until she was 4. So our outlook about growing up was quite different. For her, Mom pretty much always worked, but for me it was quite an adjustment to not have her at home when I became sick at school, etc. I'll blog more about that in the next installment.

Happy Mother's Day

2007-05-13T23:00:00.000-06:00

The Test Run

2007-05-12T23:55:00.000-06:00

We took the boat out today. I was able to make the maiden voyage, but I only lasted about 5 min, before I had the Hunk turn the boat around and take me back to the dock.

We put the boat in at the southern Gem Lake boat launch - a place we just checked out a few days ago. It's a good sized reservoir - long enough for waterskiiing and wide enough at the south end for tubing. The water was a bit choppy from the wind, but not too choppy. As I slid into the passenger's seat in the front, my water vest rode up, so the shoulders were about mid-ear. I was wearing a wide-brimmed gardening hat to keep the sun from my face, and now the brim touched the shoulders of my water vest. Regardless, I was excited to try out my daring, and ride in the boat.

Our daughter V, and her friend from ISU, Zayne, climbed into the rear facing seats, the Hunk stepped in, and we pushed off. (Actually, the Hunk and I had to paddle away from the dock with the oars, as we were drifting towards some rocks). Then he fired up the 429 Chevy engine, and we slowly chugged away from the dock.

We were out a little ways, and I said, "Don't go fast!" But he gunned it a little and we started to fly.

He hollered, "I think this thing could really move!"

I'm squawking and sputtering, "Slow Down, I think I'm gonna lose my lunch!" Actually, I wasn't exactly nauseous, but I was getting claustrophobic. With my hat and vest wrapped around my head, I felt like I couldn't breathe, so I started to pray, "Lord, help me not to get scared. Help me calm down and breathe." But before God could help me calm down I said the the Hunk, "I think you'd better take me back to the dock."

I squealed a bit when he turned the boat, because the water was splashing up over the starboard bow into my face, what little of it was uncovered. I tried to remain calm, as we straightened out and headed back to safety.

It was good to be on flat ground again. I whipped off my hat and traded vests with Zayne, so she would have a vest closer to her size, and let them go. I knew as soon as I was out of the boat, they would be free to try it out for speed. And they did. The engine roared and they were off.

I lied down on the dock with my hat over my face to enjoy the warmth of the day, and the cool breeze over the water. I wish I had brought a book to read, but figured I could tan my legs a little now, and bring a book next time.

Remember Smokey the Bear?

2007-05-12T13:59:00.001-06:00

Today I was thinking about the song: Smokey the Bear. We learned it sometime in grade school. I asked my husband if he had ever learned it. (I sang it for him to see if it brought back any memories).

Smokey the Bear, Smokey the Bear.
Prowlin' and a growlin' and a sniffin' the air.
He can find a fire before it starts to flame.
That's why they call him Smokey,
That was how he got his name.

Smokey the Bear song

Smokey the Bear Website

He didn't know the song! (Of course, he went to St. Rita's Catholic School until he entered Jr. High, and I suppose since they were not a "state supported" entity, he wouldn't have to learn songs about Idaho History). Hum. . . wonder if he learned, "And Here We Have Idaho"?

Pinehurst: Fourth Grade (2)

2007-05-11T23:42:00.000-06:00

I was upset about one thing about fourth grade when I moved to Pinehurst. Mrs. Smith put me in the middle reading group! Now I was only in the fourth grade, but I already knew that I really belonged in the "high" reading group. I must have had a bit of pride about my reading ability. . .or the fact it was the fast reading group. It didn't take too long for her to switch me, but I was a bit traumatized at first I guess I didn't want the other kids would think I was just average. It was bad enough being "new."

For the first three years of grade school, I had ridden a bus, but at Pinehurst I walked to school. The walk wasn't that far, but I didn't like it when the wind blew. On windy days the trees would swish and roar. Because the wind blew from the west, it blew in my face on the way home, and I thought it might take my breath away. I didn't remember ever being afraid of the wind when I was younger, but then I always rode the bus. How I wished I could ride the bus on the windy days.

I started having stomach aches again that year. I don't know if they were caused by the move, change in schools, change in friends, the wind in my face on the walk home, or a combination of all of these. My mom got so concerned, she took me to Dr. Scott, and he put me in the hospital. I was really scared to stay in the hospital, but after I got settled in, I was fine. They did a bunch of tests on me, including putting a tube up my nose & down into my stomach to check on the fluids there. (Wasn't too keen on that.) They took chest x-rays, and who knows what else. They even tested me for tuberculosis. (They thought I had a tiny spot of tuberculosis on my lungs, so they gave me another patch test, and it was okay.) They really didn't find anything wrong.

Someone gave me a loom to make hotpads. It is a square metal object with teeth to stretch elastic bands across. I stretched the bands over the teeth across the loom in one direction, then I wove some bands the other direction - in and out of the original bands. When I had the loom filled, I removed the ends that were looped over the teeth by slipping the second through the first, third through the second, all the way around. The last end piece is slipped through the first one, tied in a knot, and becomes the loop used to hang the potholder.

I went through 2 bags of bands during the two days I was in the hospital. One bag had primarily cotton bands of black with blues, pinks, and whites - maybe other pastels or reds. The other bag was full of polyester green bands, with oranges, yellows and who knows what. I made hotpads for everyone who came to visit me, including Dr. Scott.

Fourth grade was the year we took a field trip to the Cataldo Mission for Idaho history. I thought it was a long way from Pinehurst, and in those days, you had to take the old road, as the freeway wasn't built from Pinehurst to the west, yet. We packed sack lunches and all the fourth grade classes went to the Mission in several school busses. It was cool to see the hand prints still in the mud of the walls, and to know that the entire structure was made without nails. (They used hand-made wooden pegs). We ate our lunches on the lawn. We might have toured the White's house next to the Mission, but I can't remember. I know I was in there one time, but it may have been years later with Mary Jo White. At the time we went, there was no visitor center.

The Beatles came on the scene in 1963, and we were all crazy about the Beatles and their music. There were four boys in Mrs. Wright's class who dressed up like the Beatles and "performed" some of their songs. I think it was just in her class, but all the fourth graders thought it was the most cool thing ever. I wish I could remember for sure who they were, but I think E. Hanson may have been one of them.

Pinehurst: Fourth Grade (1)

2007-05-10T11:24:00.000-06:00

Mrs. Smith was my fourth grade teacher. As I already alluded, I was disappointed that I didn't get to be in Dorothy Caldwell's class, and I didn't have either of my close friends in my room. Mrs. Smith was strict, but a good teacher. I liked her a lot. She read some very interesting stories to us after lunch, which was the practice in those days. One story was about an island that was slowly sinking into the ocean and how the people who lived there were going to cope with the situation. I have always wanted to find and read that book, but haven't any idea of the title. We were also introduced to Laura Ingalls Wilder, and had her first two books read to us that year.

At the start of the day, after roll call, the pledge, and lunch stats, the teachers would typically read a passage from the Bible to us. I remember Mrs. Smith explaining to us, that teachers were no longer allowed to read the Bible to us in school. I wondered why, but being a kid, I quickly moved on figuring "that's just the way things are." (This was Sept. of '63 when prayer and Bible reading were taken out of public schools.) http://www.afr.net/newafr/wekickedgodout.asp

The third and fourth grade classrooms at Pinehurst were in the old building, east of the main building, across the 2nd grade playground, but connected by a breezeway that ran between the buildings. (The breezeway was a covered walkway, that kept the snow and rain off but allowed the wind to "breeze" through.) The one at Pinehurst school overlooked Main street, had 4x4 painted posts and bordered a driveway for the busses to pick up and drop off students. The old building where we had class was sided with "wavy" aluminum, and contained only 6 classrooms, a teacher's lounge, boys & girls restrooms. I was probably the "original" Pinehurst school building. My class was the second on the right coming in the front door, and overlooked the 2nd grade playground. (The old building has since been removed and replaced by a larger play area.)

Our playground area was to the east of the old building in a large dirt area with a few bushes and Ponderosa Pines. We had some swings a little south of the dirt area. We had to share our playground with the 3rd graders. There was also a large cement structure the school used to burn old textbooks and papers. It drew the curiosity of many a student, and after school hours some kids probably climbed inside, and were covered with soot. There wasn't a fence along the side, and the older (Jr. High) kids would cut across our playground to get to the stores during lunchtime.

Along the front of the playground, there was a strange "fence" made of posts strung with wire cable. (The cable was thick, and before and after school we would try to walk along the cable, like we were high wire acrobats). During recess we would swing on the cables. We also played on the breezeway, mainly jump rope and Barbies. And after the 2nd graders went inside, we got to play on their playground.

One of my favorite "games" in the fourth grade was to pretend I was a queen. E. Larson and some other guys would be my body guards and horses (draped with a jumprope for the reins). My castle was in one of the bushes. This particular bush had a "doorway" made from two upright branches and a root that ran across the bottom of the doorway between them. Past the doorway, there was only room for one person - "me". I would stand inside the bush at the doorway, and give instructions to my minions, who immediately obeyed me without question. Since I was a "good queen," I never asked them to do anything bad. (Mostly, they just waited on me.)

I learned a lot of jump rope rhymes that year, and I loved to jump. We did the usual jumping with rhymes and double dutch (with two ropes going opposite directions at the same time. ) I loved to "run in" and "run out" of the ropes & jump along with others. My favorite jump rope game was "high jumping," where we would raise the rope (like you raise a high jump bar), and we would take turns jumping over the rope. If you caught the rope with your foot or couldn't jump over it, you were out. I was usually one of the highest jumpers. (I was also one of the tallest in my classes, until I reached 6th grade, also).

My love for high jumping may have been one reason I went out for the High Jump in track during my High School years. I wasn't tall enough to score points, but it was a personal thing to see how high I could go. (Besides I was a lousy runner and we had to participate in two events.)
But I digress. I made a lot of new friends at Pinehurst, many of them on the playground where the girls mainly played with girls and the boys with boys. (Except for the pretend things like being "queen.")

I met one girl on the breezeway, who had a broken leg. I remember she had silver crutches - something I had never seen before - and she liked to swing those at people like she was going to hit them. Her name was N. Colombo, and I thought she was really mean. But after her leg healed she and I used to high jump together, and she was really good.

Pinehurst again, summertime (1)

2007-05-09T17:15:00.000-06:00

During May of my third grade year, my parents bought a house in Pinehurst. It was on the main street, about a block from the school, and was painted "Battleship Grey." I was excited because most of my life-long friends lived in Pinehurst (or the Bauman Addition across the bridge toward Kingston), and attended the Pinehurst School. Originally my parents had considered buying a lot behind the Johnson's in Bauman Addition, and wanted to build a split level home. Apparently this house was more in their price range, so they bought it. I was a bit disappointed that we weren't going to live as close to the Johnson's, but at least I'd be in school with PJohnson.

In addition to being close to the school, we lived close to everything in Pinehurst. The creek was just down the street a few blocks to the west, and the stores were a few blocks to the east. I could walk or ride my bike to the Caldwells, who lived next to the Post Office, or to the Carver's who lived on 3rd St. across from the school, about a block and a half away.

I spend a lot of my summers playing or hanging out at the school yard up through my eighth grade year. It was the hub of socialization for me and a lot of Pinehurst kids. We rode our bikes all over the school grounds and on the breezeway. We sat on the swings, the merry-go-round, the slides, and the curbs on the breezeway talking and sharing our lives.

Of course I related to you the story about KV and her cousin DB straightening me out on who KV liked and who liked her, lest I try to compete for the same guy. So silly now, that we would be so serious about boys when we were only 9 yrs. old! I really didn't care what she said. I knew that he and I were friends first, and that wouldn't change no matter who came and went.

I looked forward to entering the fourth grade, and was hoping that I would get Mrs. Caldwell for my teacher. PJ got her, but I didn't. I think it was because she was like a grandmother to me, and it would have put each of us in an awkward situation. I didn't have either P Johnson or G Carver in my class as I had hoped, but I became good friends with D Hokanson - who's mother was my second grade teacher at Silver King.

The Hunk Runs Old

2007-05-08T21:36:00.000-06:00

Tonight the Hunk went for a run at the nearby High School track. He said there were some other people there, but the one that caught his attention was a 5 or 6-yr. old girl who was sitting in the stands. Just as he was finishing his last lap, she hollered out to him, "You run pretty fast - for an old guy!" Having just turned 50 this year and getting letters and cards from AARP - - -tonight was just the icing on the old cake.

Tagged, I'm it! (Meme)

2007-05-08T14:15:00.000-06:00

I was tagged by Silver Valley Girl to participate in a meme (rhymes with dream).

Here are the rules for the meme:

Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves.

Those who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules.

You need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names.

Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!

7 random facts / habits about me:

1). I am a night person. I love the time after everyone in the household is asleep (even the animals) so I can spend uninterrupted time by myself. It's the time I use to wind down. I can spend it on the computer: surfing, researching, writing. Or I might read a book, work on projects, watch a movie, etc. When our girls were still at home the quiet time in the evenings was about the only time I had to myself.

2). I am a cognitive person. I spend more time thinking than doing. I like to take the time to wrap my mind around something, before I delve into it. I need to analyze, understand, and outline a project (in my mind) before I tackle it. For example: I sell Mary Kay Cosmetics, but before I held classes, I needed to see others hold classes, learn the order of their classes, the illustrations, the why we do this first, then that, etc. It had to make sense to me. (I guess it is a perfectionistic tendency. But although I need to wrap my brain around something before I can do it well, I don't expect others to do things my way).

3). I am a natural born teacher. I have a tendency to teach others. If someone is having a difficult time undestanding how to do something, I can usually assess where they are, what they do not understand, and how to bridge the gap between the two. This ability came in handy when I taught math in private schools. If a student had a gap in their learning, I made sure we filled their gaps before moving them ahead in the curriculum. (I could do this because I usually had only 2 - 5 students in a class at various levels and sometimes different types of math.)

4). Repetition drives me crazy. I had a difficult time reading to my girls when they were very young, because the books were boring and repetetive. I taught my oldest daughter how to read just before her 4th birthday, because I didn't like reading the books over and over. (Later, I learned to "read" books to them like my husband did. Instead of reading the words verbatim, he would tell the story in his own words, asking them questions and embellishing the story each time. This made the mundane a bit more interesting. (Thank heaven for a creative husband!)

5) I love a clean house, but I don't like doing what it takes to keep it that way. (Another repetitious task: housework.) I have learned to keep it orderly, but I don't keep it sparkly. Some people get a real high, when their house is clean. The feeling they have makes the effort worth it. I don't get that feeling. The harder I work at doing the same thing over and over, the worse I feel. For me, end does not justify the means. I would rather be creating or deconstructing something - not just maintaining. Fortunately, the Hunk is not opposed to pitching in to keep things orderly and with two of us the work gets done faster.

6) I miss being on Worship team at church. The Hunk and I did worship off and on throughout the years, and in our last church we did worship for nearly 10 yrs. I miss leading worship, and doing harmonies, etc. Our new church does worship differently, and I haven't felt the desire to join the team. The music is similar, but to me, the team is more of a performance group than one that leads people into worship. Additionally, this church is very time conscious, so they follow a strict formula. Two fast songs, two slow songs, then one song following the sermon. There is no room for flexibilty in the moment. I miss getting lost in the moment with God, and listening to what He has to say as I worship Him.

7) I am very serious about my relationship with the Lord. Without Him, I can do nothing, but I can do all things through Him-Who strengthens me. I went through a very dark time recently, with my chemical depression. My meds stopped working, but I was unsure if it was meds. at first. From October, through mid-March, I was very low. I didn't feel like doing anything. I spent a lot of that time pouring my heart out to Him. He comforted me with His Peace, He gave me His Words of Hope, and He also had ladies order a lot of make-up, so I could make my credit card payments. The orders were coming in daily, somtimes 3 orders in a day. All of this despite the fact I didn't feel like selling, holding classes, calling customers, etc. He assured me that I was loved, and that He would do what no man could do. . .and He did. After I was able to get back on some meds that worked, He no longer had to hold my hand, and the orders stopped coming in.

Since Silver Valley Girl tagged the only people I knew on the web, I decided to make some new friends and enlisted the following people to tag:

1] Life is Short...Buy the Shoes

2] Sarah Cool Recipes

3] The Northern Southerner

4] Temporary Librarian

5] Winters Day In

6] Trust The Children

7] Silver Stamping

Smelterville: Third Grade (2)

2007-05-07T17:04:00.000-06:00

Map reading

We learned how to read maps in the third grade. I remember this, because it took me a few years to get my mental map straightened out. We sat in our classroom facing up the Silver King draw toward the Zinc Plant. I think it is roughly a southern orientation. However, when we read our maps, the north was always at the top. I equated north with the direction I was facing (top of the map), and south as the direction behind me (bottom of the map.) A few years later, when I was talking to my dad about some of the landmarks around the valley, we both realized that my orientation was backwards. I took me some time get re-oriented. (There have been other times throughout my life, esp, when I first move to a new location, that I get turned around at first. I have to put the new location on my mental map, and force it to comply with the correct directions, until I have the new map correct in my head.)

Ramp to Auditorium

One of the coolest things about Silver King school, besides the attic, was the ramp to the auditorium. I had only ever seen stairs going up and down between floors in homes and other buildings, but Silver King had a ramp that went from the back of the school down to the lowest floor. It had one or two turns in it. There was a strong temptation on the part of some students to run up or down the ramp. Teachers dealt with this tendency by making us walk single file, with the teacher walking close to those for whom temptation was irresistible. I think it would have been fun to have had a petal car or anything on rollers to "drive" down the ramp. Regardless, it was fun to think we had a secret passageway to get from one floor to another, without utilizing the main staircase at the north end of the school.

Brownies

I vaguely remember being a Brownie (young Campfire girl) for one year. We made a wreath at the Douglas' out of cardboard with paper leaves glued on it, and then spray painted them all gold. In Brownies was also where I learned to thread a needle and tie a knot at the end, inorder to hand stitch something. It was only one night a week, so on that day I rode the bus to the other side of town and took my $.50 cent piece for dues. The only other thing I remember about Brownies was the time we went for a nature hike and learned to read trail signs left by the group ahead of us. We walked all over the back streets on the hilly side of Smelterville and up the draw, until we found the other group.

Chicken in the Egg

Remember film strips? Well, we saw a film strip - in the same darkened classroom where I drew the Christmas Angel - on how chickens developed in side eggs. I think it was black and white drawings, but I am not sure. Regardless, I couldn't eat another egg after that, for fear I would crunch on a beak or find an eye or some fur or something. No one explained that the eggs had to be fertilized to develop into chicks. But then in those days fertilization was only a word used in gardening, and had nothing to do with gender.

My mom didn't understand my concern. "You've always liked eggs," she would reason, not understanding the depth of my trauma. But I wouldn't budge. Even scrambled, I could imagine all sorts of parts being present, though undetectable by the eye. Heaven forbid, that I should accidentally bite down on a piece of eggshell, and believe it was a beak.

I don't know how long it took for me to venture to try eggs again. Today, although I know a bit more about the fertilization process, egg candling, etc. I only eat my eggs scrambled or in omelets, and I prefer to cover the scrambled ones with cheese. I gag to think that soft-boiled was my choice as a young child, and I used to love hard boiled ones. . .especially the yolks.

Other things about Silver King school:

Smelter Smoke - the brown air that burned our throats each morning, early recess, and sometimes into the afternoon. (Sulfur-dioxide from the Smelter)

Sonic Booms - fairly new phenomena, used to make me jump in my seat.

Trains of Ore - trains that ran from the Bunker Hill Smelter just over the hill to the Zinc Plant up the draw from the school (and back again).

Playing marbles - my favorite game once Spring came. I loved the clear marbles with the little bubbles in them and some of the cat-eyes. (Especially blues, reds, and greens.) I wasn't crazy about the white opaque marbles with swirls of brown and green.

Speaking of marbles, we sometimes used a larger marble as a shooter. Some kids used shiny metal balls, we called steelies for their shooters. I went to S. Milot's house one time, a block or two away from my place and she showed me her steelies. She had the biggest steelies I had ever seen. Some of them were 3 - 4 inches across, and I thought if she ever brought those to school to use as shooters, she'd break everyone's marbles to bits. She said her dad had got them for her. (I later found out, when I was a tour guide at the Sunshine Mine, that her steelies were actually the balls used in a ball mill to crush the ore into smaller pieces. The ball mill operator would throw them in the ball mill, and as the mill turned, the balls would grind the ore into smaller pieces. By the same process the balls would become smaller and smaller, and need to be replaced by new, large balls.) I extrapolated from this, that her dad must have worked in the ball mill at some time.

Smelterville: Third Grade (1)

2007-05-06T16:27:00.000-06:00

I really thought I was mature by the time I was in 3rd grade. (After all, I thought 6th graders were practically adults, because of their size.) I was in Mrs. Watts class. I think it was the only 3rd grade class at Silver King that year. Several things happened that year to make me learn that life isn't all it seems to be.

Girls are Rivals

It was the year I learned that other girls could become rivals for the attention of boys. KV was in my class again that year, at least in the first part of the year. She and I were rivals for the attention of one Pat B. He liked her best, until she moved, and then I became #1 for his attention. (Needless to say, I found out later she had moved to Pinehurst, and had discovered my favorite guy there! When I moved there in the spring, she and her cousin DB stopped me at the Pinehurst School breezeway and said, "I hope you don't mind but ____, who used to like you, likes me now." I was dumbfounded. How could she do this to me?)

Adults can lie

In third grade, Mrs. Watts told us Santa Claus was not real. I was upset, but never let on. I matter of factly informed my mother that I now knew the truth. She didn't ask if I was upset or anything, she just asked that I didn't spoil things for my sister by relaying the truth. (I thought, "I can't believe my parents lied to me! If Santa isn't real, maybe God isn't real either). The knowledge left me with a hole in my heart.

Life isn't fair

Then there was the Christmas Angel fiasco. Mrs. Watts pulled me aside one day and asked if I would like to do something for her. She took me into an empty room where she had a overhead projector pointed to a large piece of butcher paper on the wall. I was awestruck when she put a small picture of an angel on the screen and it enlarged the image on the wall. I had never seen anything like it. And I have always wanted an overhead projector since (. .humm. . .something to put on my wish list). Anyway, I started tracing the angel which would become a classroom decoration. At some point in time, she must have asked another girl to help me, but the girl didn't do much at all. I remembered doing the bulk of the tracing and all of the coloring. I was so proud of that angel.

Other students also worked on overhead projects for classroom decorations. They all worked in pairs. At the end of the Christmas season, we had to "draw lots" for who would get the decorations. I was crushed when Mrs. Watts asked me if we could give my angel to this other girl. I said, "Ok," because I was compliant, but I wanted to say "I did all the work."

Looking back now, I think the other girl came from a poor family, and wasn't probably getting much for Christmas that year. It's a concept that adults understand, but not little girls. For many years after that, I was upset about the Christmas Angel.

Background Vocalist

Third grade was the year I found out I could sing. (It didn't sink in for a while). During the Christmas season another girl and I were given a background vocal for "Silver Bells." In the chorus, while everyone else held the note on "Bells," we did an "Ah, ah. Ah, ah. Ah, ah. Ah, ah. . ." (Okay, it loses something in the writing). But it was a "special" part, and made me feel almost as good as when I was Mrs. Santa in the first grade play.

Smelterville: Second Grade - Self-awareness

2007-05-05T17:07:00.000-06:00

I was in Second Grade when I became self-aware. I can remember coming home from school one day and throwing myself on the couch and crying. I was scared. We had learned that the world was round that day, and I didn't want to fall off. I think I tried to pray, "Please God, don't let the world stop turning, cause I don't want to fall off." This was the first time I was aware that I was finite, and that there were things that I had no control over. I don't know why I didn't talk to my parents about it. I guess I figured we were all in the same boat.

It took me a lot of years to realize that God created things the way they are for a purpose, and I didn't have to worry about the creation going berserk all of a sudden. I was probably in my 20s then.

Boat

2007-05-04T23:55:00.000-06:00

The Hunk bought a boat today and had to pose with his "props."

Smelterville Snippets (2)

2007-05-04T22:47:00.000-06:00

Bicycle & Colored Easter Eggs

It was either my 6th birthday, or my 7th, that I got my first bike. It was a beautiful red, unfortunately my birthday is in the middle of winter, so I had to wait until spring to learn to ride it. I rode for sometime with the training wheels, then decided I wanted to learn to ride without them. My dad turned me loose in the yard, and I remember tipping into the house, running into the fence etc. But eventually, I was able to stay up without falling. I was so proud!

Colored Easter Eggs was my favorite game to play. I wish I could remember all the rules! One person would be the witch, and the rest would be the Easter eggs. As eggs, we had to scrunch down as small and tight as we could to look like eggs. Each egg would have it's own color, and the witch would have to come and guess what color we were. I don't remember what happened next, if we had to run to a base, or if we just traded places, but then someone else became the witch. (If you know how this game played out. . .I would love to know!)

In order to go to the Jerome's I had to scale the fence. They lived behind us, across the alley, but we didn't have a gate to go through. I don't know if my dad taught me how to scale the fence, but I would fly over it with one quick move. The fence was made of 1x4s hung horizonally on some posts. I would run at the fence, put my right hand on a lower board, crook my left elbow on the top of the fence and flip my feet up and over to the left, landing on my feet on the other side. (Now, that I think about it, maybe this is why I went out for the high jump later in track.)

Dad's Accident

When I was in the second grade, my dad was in a mining accident. The arm on the mucking machine broke and came down on his collar bone, breaking it in two. He had to spend 2-3 days in the hospital in Kellogg. The family would say, it's a good thing he was bent over, or it could have come down on his head. We went up to see him in the hospital, and because my sister and I were too young to go into his room, he came out to the lobby to visit with us in his hospital pjs. I was so scared for him, and upset about the whole thing, I determined I'd never marry a miner. The work was too dangerous.

A few years ago, I found out my dad thought that I was set against marrying a miner, because I was ashamed of his profession. "Oh, no," I told him, "it was because of your accident. I was so afraid of losing you, I couldn't bear marrying someone who worked in such a dangerous job." I wish I had told him sooner.

As some of you know, when I married the Hunk, he was in school to become a mining engineer. I had no idea that could be dangerous. In the first two years after he graduated, he worked at the Crescent mine, and had one horrific accident and one close call. The close call involved a live wire, hanging down that almost hit the man train he was on. The accident, which still gives me the shivers, I will blog about later.

Nickerson's Fire

There was a fire at Nickerson Bros., when we lived in Smelterville. It was at night and the fire lit up the sky to the west of our place. Our family walked over to see what was going on, but we didn't get too close. I was concerned because there was just a house between the building that burned and our house.

Large Holiday Gatherings

We had at least one large Christmas dinner at our place in Smelterville. We had quite a few tables set up in the dining / living room area. The Caldwells came, Dorothy & Glen and several of their adult offspring, spouses and children. The table was loaded with food and there wasn't much room to move around. The house was always hot on the holidays with hot food and numerous people milling around.

The Wizard of Oz

Every year, just before the holidays, one of the networks would show the Wizard of Oz on television. We would watch it faithfully, and soon afterwards I would start having tornado dreams. I wasn't scared of the witch, or her ugly monkeys, probably because I knew they were pretend, but I was deathly afraid of the tornado.

When my husband and I moved to Texas in 1986, I was hoping we would not be subjected to these horrible freaks of nature. However, we settled in "Tornado Alley" without a storm cellar or a basement. In fact, the first weekend we were there, we were under a tornado watch and the girls and I spent the night in the motel bathroom. I may blog later about the storm situation in Texas later, but the point is, my tornado dreams returned when we moved there.

Occasionally now, I have tornado dreams. Usually they involve numerous tornadoes, long skinny, black ones, headed right for our house. In my dreams, I usually get everyone into the basement in a small, safe spot before they hit, but I don't enjoy those dreams. (As a result of my experience, stemming from watching the Wizard of Oz when I was young, I don't think I let my girls watch it until they were in the pre-teen years.)

Smelterville Snippets (1)

2007-05-03T17:50:00.000-06:00

Ceramics & Crochet

I learned to crochet when I was about 6, and taught my friend PJ to crochet also - even though she was left handed, and I was not. My mom and E. Jerome used to crochet together. At one point, they were working on crochet bedspreads at the same time. Both bedspreads were white with roses on them. Mom's had pink roses and E's had various colored roses. My mom gave her bedspread to R, my sister many years ago. When I inquired about it, almost 15 yrs ago., R said she had it in her shed. She wasn't fond of it, so she gave it to me. It holds a lot of sentimental value for me.

Mom also did a lot of ceramics in Smelterville. She made a lot of ashtrays (some R-rated), and advanced to vases, cookie jars, fruit bowls, and lamps. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to "do ceramics." Mom gave most of her stuff away, and many of her friends used their cookie jars, etc. for years to come.

Debates & True Confessions

I vaguely remember the 1960 Presidential Debates on television - between J. F. Kennedy & R. M. Nixon. The neighbors had the debates on at their house when I went over to visit, and I thought it was the most boring thing I had ever seen on television. (Worse than Beanie & Cecil).

One summer when I was at L. Jerome's place, we went outside to play. She had two older sisters, and the oldest J. was lying on a blanket in the yard, reading True Confessions magazines. I was probably between second and third grade, because I was able to easily read the magazines. I remember reading a story about a teen girl who went to babysit at a home, and discovered there was not wife nor children at the home. The man kept telling her they'd be there soon and if she'd just like to sit on the couch and wait. She felt creepy, and excused herself to the rest room. Once inside, she crawled out of the window and ran home. It wasn't the kind of stuff a girl my age needed to be reading.

Tar Bubbles & Maple Leaves

L. J. and I did a lot of fun stuff together. I remember one of my favorites was picking tar bubbles in the road on Washington St. We weren't supposed to play in the street, but the tar was so cool. When we picked the top off of the bubbles, the inside was a smooth and shiny dip. I don't know why it fascinated me, but it did.

We also used to go to someone's house on the street and jump in their gigantic maple leaf pile in the fall. I'm not sure if I even knew the people, or if we had permission, but I do remember the smell of the leaves and the fun we had.

One time, I was playing with L and her siblings in their garage. The floor was made of dirt, as many garages in those days were and the walls were wooden. I wanted to reach something in the rafters, so I grabbed an old tin can and turned it upside down so I could step on it. Now the can was a bit squished at the top, and it didn't occur to me that it would be unstable. As I climbed up onto the can, it flipped over, and where the top was compressed together into a point - I landed with the back of my thigh. Mom had to take me to the doctor for stitches and a tetnus shot. I used to be able to see the scar, but I can't twist that far now.

Tire Swing & Junk clubhouses

Dad made a tire swing for me at Smelterville. He cut off about 2 thirds of the tire, leaving a rim of rubber around the openings, then he turned the tire inside out and hung it up by the "handles" (parts around the openings). I could sit comfortably inside the tire (on the tracks) and swing to my heart's content. I don't know if he had such a swing when he was young - or if he made up the "pattern," but I have never seen another one like it.

During the time I lived in Smelterville and spent some of my weekend time in Pinehurst, the Carver kids and I used to build "cabins" out of short pieces of 2x4s that the Caldwells had piled out back for their wood stove. (Pieces were probably 2 or 3' long.) We would stack them up Lincoln Log style - but without the notches. When they were finished, we would climb up the outside and over the walls to get inside. One day we made a structure two boards long and one board wide and about 3 and a half feet high. All of us who worked on it climbed inside and pretended we were sardines. Our creativity was cut short, when the older boys built a structure so large it blocked a driveway, and we were told we couldn't build any more.

During the same time, I decided to make my own cabin / clubhouse in Smelterville. Unfortunately, I didn't have access to regular sized lumber, so I improvised. We lived behind a wood working place, and there were differing sizes of scraps and old greyed out boards a tire or two, and maybe a door. I used the menagerie to build several hideouts. One of my favorites utlilized the tire as the entrance around a hole on top of the structure. I loved to climb inside to read or think. I'm not sure who dismantled them, but I think my parents may have been concerned for my safety, and put an end to my creativity.

Two Taboos

2007-05-02T00:00:00.000-06:00

(Originally, I was going to post a piece with several short items about living in Smelterville. Unfortunately, I thought that by changing the name and listing new items, I could save the newly named post, as well as the original. [I do this all the time in "Word"]. Well, the changed post
replaced the previous post, and when I tried to recover the original, I got what had been saved before I did all the writing.) So I am posting this one, because it is ready!

Religion & Politics

Growing up, I always heard the two things you never talk about are politics and religion, but we talked about them. Not much, but occasionally we would broach one subject or the other. I found out early on, that my parents didn't vote anymore. My dad had a definite political party, but thought they were all crooks. Athough he decided it didn't matter who was representing him and his country - he still grouches about the officials from the "other party."

As far as religion went, my parents were jack-Mormons. They had both been raised in Mormon Utah, and been baptised into the "one true church." (Kinda sounds like the pronouncement of several religious groups). The term "jack"-Mormon (jackass Mormon) was coined by Brigham Young who referred to those who claimed church membership, but lived outside of church teachings. Both of my parents smoked, drank coffee, and inbibed stronger spirits on occasion which were all forbidden practices in that religion. We never went to church as a family, except for weddings and funerals. I was free to choose whatever I wanted to believe, as long as I didn't promote it at home.

Our Two taboos:

Although, religion and politics were the mythical forbidden topics, there were actually two things we never discussed in our home: income and sex. I never knew growing up how much money my dad actually made (not that it was any of my business). Unfortunately, when it came time for me to apply for college - he refused to fill out the financial information. As a result, I wasn't able to apply for scholarships or grants. Since I had my heart set on college, I had to work my way through.

Additionally, my parents lived paycheck to paycheck. My dad was a contract miner and worked for one of the best paying mines in the valley: The Sunshine. Where the money went - only he and mom knew. I don't think he started an effective savings program until after he retired in the mid-eighties. Subsequently, I was never taught how to handle money. (If you had it, you spent it. If you didn't have it, you went without.) Of course, I have to add, that because my dad worked at the Sunshine mine, he was on strike every third year. Sunshine was famous for it's year-long strikes and great benefits as a result. However, I suppose, the year he went back to work was catch-up time financially.

As far as the topic of sex is concerned, I was on my own. I didn't even hear about "girl stuff" from my mom. If we hadn't had our little movie at school, I would have been completely stupified when the time came for normal body changes. I had heard some stuff from older friends who enlightened me some, but I was only 10 at the time, and didn't really "get it."

I did overhear my mother and one of my aunts talking one time when we were on vacation. My aunt (one of my mom's older sisters) asked her if she had had "the talk" with me yet. "No," my mom answered, "I figure she'll learn about that stuff from her friends." (So much for the blind leading the blind.) I knew then that the topic was taboo as far as my mom was concerned.

It's kind of funny now - but when I was 13 or 14, my mom was astounded everytime someone used a slang term or euphemism for a body part and I didn't know what it meant. How should I know? No one told me! One time, when I was 15 or older my mom called a girl in my class a Sl___t, and I said, "What's a sl__t?" Her response was, "I can't believe you don't know what a sl_t is!" But did she explain it? NO. (I'm still trying to find out --- not really!)

Weirdness sets in

We had the "sex" movie in eighth grade. It was the first year they showed it to a mixed class of guys and girls. I wanted to crawl under my desk. The film was basic Biology - with no "how tos," nor "dos or don'ts," all in a cartoon format. I was mortified. Of course, I wanted to know what the whole sex thing was about, but I didn't want to find out in front of everyone!

There was a popular book in the school library at Pinehurst Jr. High, that a lot of the kids took turns checking out. It was a basic sex primer with drawings of who has what body parts and how one matures through puberty, but beyond that I don't know what it contained. I only saw bits and pieces, but I don't think I ever checked it out.

A lot of my friends were really curious about sex, but I thought the whole puberty-sex thing was a rip off. I mean, I had friends from grade school, both boys and girls, that started acting weird in Jr. High. Suddenly, the boys were distant. They didn't want to hang out with me and other girls. And the girls were just as bad. They became boy crazy and didn't act normal when the boys came around. I thought, This is terrible. Why can't we just be friends? Why does everyone think that if you talk to a boy - you're in love? Life was so easy in grade school and now it's like starting all over again with all the weirdness to deal with. I didn't like it one bit.

I also hated the way my body's changes were affecting some of the guys. One time in the 7th grade, I was walking up the breezeway at the Pinehurst school, when a 9th grade guy whistled at me. Eeewwwe, Gross! What was wrong with him? I got to where I couldn't eat at the Tall Pine for lunch if there were guys present. They just made me feel so creepy.

Eventually, I got used to the weirdness, but I've never liked it. I guess because young women don't deal with the same bodily effects of puberty, they can't understand why young men act so
weird and are focused on the whole sex thing. When I got married, I was finally enlightened on the male point of view, and it made more sense.

Don't get me wrong, I am not anti-sex (at least in marriage), just anti-weirdness. I still think the weirdness is unfair, because it drives a wedge of tension between the sexes making it difficult for some to be friends. At least now I understand it. In a way, I am looking forward to old age, when we become less engendered and more like kids where sexual distinctions are less apparent. (But then, maybe we don't).