I thought I'd write about a typical day during the week at our house. It's funny, but the list of our daily activities, from the time we started school through high school graduation, contains very little change year after year, house after house. We all did almost exactly the same thing each day. Obviously there were seasonable adjustments, but our lives had a rhythm that was generally predictable.
Dad was ALWAYS the first one to wake up. You could define the phrase "early bird" by watching my Dad. He was always showered, shaved and dressed no later than 7:00 a.m. even on Saturdays. When Dad was home (on weekends), he'd let us sleep to a reasonable time, then he'd start calling "Up-and-at-em," standing at each bedroom door. He never really had any trouble getting us to wake up (at least until we hit high-school age). But even when Dad was home during the week, he'd usually be off to work before we woke up.
We were responsible for getting ourselves dressed and ready for school - including getting our own breakfast. Mom was always awake, but she usually stayed in bed because she spent a lot of nights being pregnant, recovering from delivery or was up during the night feeding babies or nursing sick kids. Mom's role in our mornings was mostly as referee because that's when we tended to squabble the most.
A recurring morning fight was over "who gets the glug-glug." To explain, we thought there was something special about how a new glass bottle of milk would say "glug-glug" on the first pour into our cereal or glass. And we would really fight to get it! I have no idea how it started, but I guess other families had the same problem because milk doesn't "glug-glug" anymore.
We each had an imitation leather (plastic) book bag that looked like a little briefcase. It was up to us to make sure our books & supplies, including homework, was packed up and ready to go. We also needed to assemble and take our lunch every day. And if we were going to Mass during school (every first Friday, holiday, holy day and during Advent and Lent) it was mandatory to remember our uniform beanie.
I don't think there ever a year that all of us school-aged kids went to the same school. The majority of the time we were in Catholic school, but there was no kindergarden, and once Barbie reached high school, that was also a different school. We were mostly scattered among three schools. So it was a nightmare for Mom if anyone missed their bus in the morning.
By 8:30, all the school-aged kids had climbed on their buses and were off to school. We'd arrive at school just early enough to feel the chilly mornings before the bell would ring and we'd line up with our class.
When the school day was complete (between 2:15 and 3:00 depending on what grade), we'd board the bus for the return trip home. We took our time walking home from the bus-stop because it was likely our last "outside time" for the day.
Mom was usually folding clothes and diapers or ironing when we got home. We were always told to change into play-clothes (we each had five white shirts for everyday, but our plaid uniform skirts or jumpers and navy blue pants for the boys needed to stay clean all week). We'd proceed to our rooms with our book bags, and sometimes we'd actually change.
We were usually hungary and needed a snack. Mom was not big on snacking, but we were allowed to have a piece of fruit or some crackers to hold us until dinnertime. In later years, we started eating cereal after school.
Next we were supposed to do our homework before we played or watched TV, and again, sometimes we did. But mostly there was other stuff we'd pursue, either alone or with a sibling. The one thing we didn't do after school was go outside and play with other kids in the neighborhood. I'm not sure why - my guess is that since Dad traveled so much, Mom felt better having all her little chicks in the nest.
At about 6:30, Mom would start dinner. There was always at least two jobs that were assigned to unlucky kids before dinner - making a salad and setting the table. And sometimes peeling and mashing potatoes. No matter what job you got, it seemed like you just did it the night before. But sometimes it was better to just do it - or dare I say, volunteer? Because that gave you immunity from doing the dishes after dinner.
Mom made the most delicious casseroles. Or we'd have meatloaf, fish sticks or sometimes for a treat, sloppy Joes. We had salad with every dinner. We always sat together at the table. And clean plates were required before we each drank a glass of milk and dinner was over.
After dinner, we went to our rooms to finish (or start?) homework or read until bedtime at 8:00. Except on Thursday night, when we'd watch The Donna Reed Show, followed by My Three Sons. (Thursday was always a good TV night. Over the years, shows like The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan's Island and The Flying Nun were aired on Thursday).
And then we went to bed. As we got older, bedtimes got later, but everything else hardly changed. Looking back now, it sounds incredibly dull, but I don't ever remember being bored. I guess I spent a lot of time plotting how to get the glug-glug the next morning.
What was the one thing you did, without fail, every day? Were there any recurring squabbles with your siblings that were routine? Leave a comment and let me know!
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Creative Pastimes
My parents knew a suitable craft project could keep a child quiet and engaged for hours. When there are nine children in the house, this is definitely preferable (at least for them) to squabbling with our siblings or making a mess.
I don't remember Mom or Dad ever "teaching" us how to make things or be creative, except through example. But we were lucky to have older siblings, friends, scouts and enough natural resourcefulness to guide us through each burst of creativity. (And of course, when all else fails, read the directions).
As soon as Barbie and Cherie understood "over and under," Dad constructed simple frames from scraps of wood. Then small nails were added, spaced evenly around the perfect square. Using this simple tool, many potholders were made, using brightly colored fabric loops that were purchased at a local toy or five-and-dime store. Unfortunately, it was almost impossible to get the loops tight enough to use these creations as actual potholders, but we were very proud of our handiwork all the same. In later years, when the nails at each mitered corner loosened, the looms were replaced by plastic ones that were packaged with the loops in kits.
The first project completed every year in Girl Scouts was making a "sit-upon". This little mat was your chair for meetings and outings all year. Since a sit-upon needed to keep your fanny warm and dry when sitting outside, it was made using several layers of newspaper sandwiched between two pieces of Naugahyde (fake leather, like pleather today). Once assembled, it was kept together by stitching around all four sides, not an easy task because pushing a needle through Naugahyde wasn't easy. You could always tell which side was the last to be stitched - there was usually a repair made from tape by the end of the year. I never understood why we didn't just use tape to begin with, but I guess it was to teach us a basic joining stitch.
I remember the frustration of trying to get fabric smooth and tight on an embroidery hoop (or is it hoops), although I don't remember a single stitch.
We became masters of making crochet ropes using old thread spools, again with small nails, pounded around the hole in the top.
And for awhile, there were "No Wire Hangers, Ever" at our house when it was discovered how easy it was to cover an ugly hanger with pretty yarn.
There were summers we spent weaving and threading long plastic strips into braided lanyards. We also learned Never to throw out gum wrappers. They could be folded and inter-attached. By the time we lost interest in this craft, I had a rope at least 30 feet long and a very sore jaw from chewing all that gum!
Not that the girls had all the fun - there were many Saturday afternoons when newspapers covered the kitchen table and model airplanes, ships and cars were painted and assembled. I also remember the day Tommy carefully put a line of airplane glue on the side of his finger to spread on his model piece, only to reach up and unthinkingly rub his eye, effectively gluing his eye shut!
When one of the boys got a rock tumbler (Rick?), I thought it was surely going to be a disappointment. They gathered and washed rocks and then set them into the tumbler with the smoother ingredient, included in the kit. And then, it was wait, wait, wait and wait, Like for days! Maybe weeks. But when the tumbler was finally stopped, the ugly rocks from outside were transformed into beautiful stones! Boy, was I surprised.
One year Dad made a huge dollhouse for Barbie & Cherie's Barbie dolls. We all set to the task making furniture out of anything we could repurpose. We used egg cartons (cut apart with fabric scraps glued on make cute chairs), made Popsicle stick beds and tables, and even used the boxes from Dad's Benson & Hedges cigarettes, glued as a stack, for bureau drawers.
Yes, scissors and glue were hard to find at our house since we rarely remembered to put things back. But if you ever wondered what kids did inside before video games and the internet, now you know.
I don't remember Mom or Dad ever "teaching" us how to make things or be creative, except through example. But we were lucky to have older siblings, friends, scouts and enough natural resourcefulness to guide us through each burst of creativity. (And of course, when all else fails, read the directions).
As soon as Barbie and Cherie understood "over and under," Dad constructed simple frames from scraps of wood. Then small nails were added, spaced evenly around the perfect square. Using this simple tool, many potholders were made, using brightly colored fabric loops that were purchased at a local toy or five-and-dime store. Unfortunately, it was almost impossible to get the loops tight enough to use these creations as actual potholders, but we were very proud of our handiwork all the same. In later years, when the nails at each mitered corner loosened, the looms were replaced by plastic ones that were packaged with the loops in kits.
The first project completed every year in Girl Scouts was making a "sit-upon". This little mat was your chair for meetings and outings all year. Since a sit-upon needed to keep your fanny warm and dry when sitting outside, it was made using several layers of newspaper sandwiched between two pieces of Naugahyde (fake leather, like pleather today). Once assembled, it was kept together by stitching around all four sides, not an easy task because pushing a needle through Naugahyde wasn't easy. You could always tell which side was the last to be stitched - there was usually a repair made from tape by the end of the year. I never understood why we didn't just use tape to begin with, but I guess it was to teach us a basic joining stitch.
I remember the frustration of trying to get fabric smooth and tight on an embroidery hoop (or is it hoops), although I don't remember a single stitch.
We became masters of making crochet ropes using old thread spools, again with small nails, pounded around the hole in the top.
And for awhile, there were "No Wire Hangers, Ever" at our house when it was discovered how easy it was to cover an ugly hanger with pretty yarn.
There were summers we spent weaving and threading long plastic strips into braided lanyards. We also learned Never to throw out gum wrappers. They could be folded and inter-attached. By the time we lost interest in this craft, I had a rope at least 30 feet long and a very sore jaw from chewing all that gum!
Not that the girls had all the fun - there were many Saturday afternoons when newspapers covered the kitchen table and model airplanes, ships and cars were painted and assembled. I also remember the day Tommy carefully put a line of airplane glue on the side of his finger to spread on his model piece, only to reach up and unthinkingly rub his eye, effectively gluing his eye shut!
When one of the boys got a rock tumbler (Rick?), I thought it was surely going to be a disappointment. They gathered and washed rocks and then set them into the tumbler with the smoother ingredient, included in the kit. And then, it was wait, wait, wait and wait, Like for days! Maybe weeks. But when the tumbler was finally stopped, the ugly rocks from outside were transformed into beautiful stones! Boy, was I surprised.
One year Dad made a huge dollhouse for Barbie & Cherie's Barbie dolls. We all set to the task making furniture out of anything we could repurpose. We used egg cartons (cut apart with fabric scraps glued on make cute chairs), made Popsicle stick beds and tables, and even used the boxes from Dad's Benson & Hedges cigarettes, glued as a stack, for bureau drawers.
Yes, scissors and glue were hard to find at our house since we rarely remembered to put things back. But if you ever wondered what kids did inside before video games and the internet, now you know.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Happily Every After
We had a wonderful family event at the beginning of August. Tommy's oldest daughter got married! It was a wonderful day with family, church, food, dancing, and a little science thrown in for good luck. The bride and groom were radiant and happy, with just enough coy sweetness to make the day perfect.
This wedding will be remembered for everything, so carefully planned, that went off without a hitch; the beautiful Catholic mass, the bride in her stunning ivory wedding dress, the perfect reception venue (at the world famous Museum of Science in Boston), the proud parents, the toasts, the dancing, the museum with so much to fascinate young and old. And our memories will be peppered with the laughter of mishaps, obviously not planned, that became part of the day too.
Like leaving Greg, his fiancee and their daughter in the dust when leaving the hotel for the wedding. Greg mentioned he didn't have a GPS, but I didn't realize he also didn't have the church address, or any idea where we were going.
And how Kitty & her husband took a walk down the street after church, only to see the charter buses bringing us to the reception whiz by, leaving their only option to catch a taxi.
Oh, and watch that first step if you go into Kitty's room at the hotel - it's a doozy!
So after the exciting and wonderful experience of the weekend, I started thinking about my own wedding, 38 years ago (today!). It was the summer of 1975 and I was the first one in the family to be married. Mom and Barbie planned everything - I had no idea what to do or what was needed. But with their help, and Dad's checkbook, I had the fairytale most girls dream of.
My sisters were all in my wedding. Barb was my maid of honor, Cheryl, Margie and Susie were bridesmaids, and Kitty (age 9) was the flower girl. And Tommy was an usher, along with two of my fiancee's brothers. The best man was his nephew (and best friend) and the ring bearer was another nephew. We were a great looking wedding party.
Earlier that summer, Barbie and Cherie made dresses for all my sisters to wear on my special day. It wasn't an easy task - Susie & Kitty kept growing and Sue actually ended up with lace attached to the bottom of her dress, so it could be turned under for a hem. She seemed to grow at least 1/2" every time the dress was fitted. Barbie also arranged for flowers and threw my wedding shower. And to make sure I had nice pictures of the day, she starting dating a semi-professional photographer who she invited to be her date, and "Oh, by the way, will you bring your camera and take some nice pictures?"
Other ways it was different getting married in the 1970's - Barbie did my hair, and I did my own makeup. My dress and veil were purchased in one trip to The Elegant Lady in Wilton at the whopping cost of $600. Roses and daisies were standard for weddings - my bouquet was fragrant pink roses with greens and babies breath. The other girls carried white baskets with daisies dyed to match the different pastel sashes on each of their white dresses. In general, bridesmaid dresses were the same price as a regular dress (if a bride didn't have talented sisters to make them). Wedding favors were books of matches imprinted with the name of the bride and groom (because who didn't smoke and need matches?) The reception venue provided the bar, the food and the cake. Our place, The Longshore Country Club, even included a room after in a 5-star Greenwich hotel with breakfast the next morning before leaving for our honeymoon.
Not that everything happened without a glitch. Barbie and Kitty accompanied me to the church in a borrowed Lincoln TownCar that Tommy drove. We were followed by my parents, Greg and Rick in Dad's car. When we arrived at church, it was discovered that while shuffling the cars in the driveway that morning, Tom and Dad had the keys to every other car in their pockets. My grandmother, Cheryl, Margie and Sue were stranded at our house (about 20 minutes away). One of my girlfriends offered to pick up my grandmother, not knowing my three sisters were also there. So she got to our house in her little 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, to be greeted by four ladies in long, formal dresses with everyone but my grandmother in white. They all squeezed into a very small, and not particularly clean, car. But they made it! They got to the church and we could finally start the ceremony (at least 40 minutes late!)
Our wedding ceremony included the verse on Marriage from The Prophet that was part of almost every wedding in the 1970's. From that point, everything that happened that day is a blur. But I know it was wonderful! I only had eyes for my handsome new husband. We danced (my hubby and the best man even took over the band for a complete set), we kissed whenever our guests tapped on their glasses, and it was the happiest day of my life to that point.
So from new marriages thru standing the test of time - Best Wishes to my niece and welcome to our family to her adorable new husband. And Happy Anniversary to me and my still handsome and wonderful husband.
This wedding will be remembered for everything, so carefully planned, that went off without a hitch; the beautiful Catholic mass, the bride in her stunning ivory wedding dress, the perfect reception venue (at the world famous Museum of Science in Boston), the proud parents, the toasts, the dancing, the museum with so much to fascinate young and old. And our memories will be peppered with the laughter of mishaps, obviously not planned, that became part of the day too.
Like leaving Greg, his fiancee and their daughter in the dust when leaving the hotel for the wedding. Greg mentioned he didn't have a GPS, but I didn't realize he also didn't have the church address, or any idea where we were going.
And how Kitty & her husband took a walk down the street after church, only to see the charter buses bringing us to the reception whiz by, leaving their only option to catch a taxi.
Oh, and watch that first step if you go into Kitty's room at the hotel - it's a doozy!
So after the exciting and wonderful experience of the weekend, I started thinking about my own wedding, 38 years ago (today!). It was the summer of 1975 and I was the first one in the family to be married. Mom and Barbie planned everything - I had no idea what to do or what was needed. But with their help, and Dad's checkbook, I had the fairytale most girls dream of.
My sisters were all in my wedding. Barb was my maid of honor, Cheryl, Margie and Susie were bridesmaids, and Kitty (age 9) was the flower girl. And Tommy was an usher, along with two of my fiancee's brothers. The best man was his nephew (and best friend) and the ring bearer was another nephew. We were a great looking wedding party.
Earlier that summer, Barbie and Cherie made dresses for all my sisters to wear on my special day. It wasn't an easy task - Susie & Kitty kept growing and Sue actually ended up with lace attached to the bottom of her dress, so it could be turned under for a hem. She seemed to grow at least 1/2" every time the dress was fitted. Barbie also arranged for flowers and threw my wedding shower. And to make sure I had nice pictures of the day, she starting dating a semi-professional photographer who she invited to be her date, and "Oh, by the way, will you bring your camera and take some nice pictures?"
Other ways it was different getting married in the 1970's - Barbie did my hair, and I did my own makeup. My dress and veil were purchased in one trip to The Elegant Lady in Wilton at the whopping cost of $600. Roses and daisies were standard for weddings - my bouquet was fragrant pink roses with greens and babies breath. The other girls carried white baskets with daisies dyed to match the different pastel sashes on each of their white dresses. In general, bridesmaid dresses were the same price as a regular dress (if a bride didn't have talented sisters to make them). Wedding favors were books of matches imprinted with the name of the bride and groom (because who didn't smoke and need matches?) The reception venue provided the bar, the food and the cake. Our place, The Longshore Country Club, even included a room after in a 5-star Greenwich hotel with breakfast the next morning before leaving for our honeymoon.
Not that everything happened without a glitch. Barbie and Kitty accompanied me to the church in a borrowed Lincoln TownCar that Tommy drove. We were followed by my parents, Greg and Rick in Dad's car. When we arrived at church, it was discovered that while shuffling the cars in the driveway that morning, Tom and Dad had the keys to every other car in their pockets. My grandmother, Cheryl, Margie and Sue were stranded at our house (about 20 minutes away). One of my girlfriends offered to pick up my grandmother, not knowing my three sisters were also there. So she got to our house in her little 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, to be greeted by four ladies in long, formal dresses with everyone but my grandmother in white. They all squeezed into a very small, and not particularly clean, car. But they made it! They got to the church and we could finally start the ceremony (at least 40 minutes late!)
Our wedding ceremony included the verse on Marriage from The Prophet that was part of almost every wedding in the 1970's. From that point, everything that happened that day is a blur. But I know it was wonderful! I only had eyes for my handsome new husband. We danced (my hubby and the best man even took over the band for a complete set), we kissed whenever our guests tapped on their glasses, and it was the happiest day of my life to that point.
So from new marriages thru standing the test of time - Best Wishes to my niece and welcome to our family to her adorable new husband. And Happy Anniversary to me and my still handsome and wonderful husband.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Random Thoughts
It's funny how memory works. Sometimes it just takes a whiff of something in the air or the shortest bit of sound to take you back to a special time from your past. I love those moments.
Like when I smell carmel-corn and remember the popcorn shop that was near the studio we took dance classes in California.
Or the exact notes the harp plays on the introduction to the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker Suite.
And the way a new plastic babydoll smells fresh out of the box.
Everyone has their own list of items that give them instant deja vue. There are also specific things that we kids grew up with that would make us say "Aww" today.
Like Dad's Tin Lizzy that played the song Tijuana Taxi.
And the peppermill that we used forever. Even when Mom & Dad got fancier upgrades as gifts or parts of a set, the old wooden box with the black bowl and crank on top is what we always used.
The ballerina lamps we had in California and Illinois. In my mind, I remember it was weird to have lamps that were just legs wearing ballet shoes and they were kinda ugly. But Mom seemed to love them and yelled like crazy when we rough-housed around them. (Through the years they got more and more chips and were eventually replaced).
The way we would count the blasts from the horn that called the volunteer firemen when we lived on Sturbridge Hill. We didn't know all the codes by heart (except the one for our street), but we could always figure out what area of town had a fire without looking at the chart.
And coming home from school to the smell of warm homemade bread that my grandmother made when she came to visit.
The artwork Mom & Dad kept in the living room made by us. There are two I specifically remember - the abstract blob of fired clay with sharp edges Barb made (she called it DisneyLand) and the sculpture Cheryl made of a kneeling child (she spent a long time taking photos of Susie from every angle before starting that piece).
The sound of the bell on Dad's ship's clock as it let us know what time it was every 15 minutes - no matter where in the house we were.
The geisha doll Dad brought home for Mom from Japan. The doll was never played with, but over the years was displayed and taken to school for show and tell until it became a little tattered and faded. Her face is still strong and beautiful. She was the start of Mom's foreign doll collection.
And of course Moses, whose bigger-than-life presence watched over us all those years. It was fitting then, and funny now, that Mom & Dad chose the biggest painting in the house to be a biblical figure holding the Ten Commandments.
Yes, so many memories tied to material treasures. Yet it isn't the objects that are precious. They are just reminders of time past in our lives. Some were happy times, some were not, but every minute we've lived is time we never get back. And our memories make us who we are today. Which, in my opinion, is pretty darn good!
Like when I smell carmel-corn and remember the popcorn shop that was near the studio we took dance classes in California.
Or the exact notes the harp plays on the introduction to the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker Suite.
And the way a new plastic babydoll smells fresh out of the box.
Everyone has their own list of items that give them instant deja vue. There are also specific things that we kids grew up with that would make us say "Aww" today.
Like Dad's Tin Lizzy that played the song Tijuana Taxi.
And the peppermill that we used forever. Even when Mom & Dad got fancier upgrades as gifts or parts of a set, the old wooden box with the black bowl and crank on top is what we always used.
The ballerina lamps we had in California and Illinois. In my mind, I remember it was weird to have lamps that were just legs wearing ballet shoes and they were kinda ugly. But Mom seemed to love them and yelled like crazy when we rough-housed around them. (Through the years they got more and more chips and were eventually replaced).
The way we would count the blasts from the horn that called the volunteer firemen when we lived on Sturbridge Hill. We didn't know all the codes by heart (except the one for our street), but we could always figure out what area of town had a fire without looking at the chart.
And coming home from school to the smell of warm homemade bread that my grandmother made when she came to visit.
The artwork Mom & Dad kept in the living room made by us. There are two I specifically remember - the abstract blob of fired clay with sharp edges Barb made (she called it DisneyLand) and the sculpture Cheryl made of a kneeling child (she spent a long time taking photos of Susie from every angle before starting that piece).
The sound of the bell on Dad's ship's clock as it let us know what time it was every 15 minutes - no matter where in the house we were.
The geisha doll Dad brought home for Mom from Japan. The doll was never played with, but over the years was displayed and taken to school for show and tell until it became a little tattered and faded. Her face is still strong and beautiful. She was the start of Mom's foreign doll collection.
And of course Moses, whose bigger-than-life presence watched over us all those years. It was fitting then, and funny now, that Mom & Dad chose the biggest painting in the house to be a biblical figure holding the Ten Commandments.
Yes, so many memories tied to material treasures. Yet it isn't the objects that are precious. They are just reminders of time past in our lives. Some were happy times, some were not, but every minute we've lived is time we never get back. And our memories make us who we are today. Which, in my opinion, is pretty darn good!
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The Lying Nuns
Mom's upbringing was as Roman Catholic as it came. Her mother and grandmother went to mass daily and took care of laundering the priest's vestments and church linens from St. Mary's church in the blue-collar, Indiana town where Mom grew up. My father was not particularly religious when he met Mom. His background was tied to the Lutheran church. He'd become interested in the Catholic faith while attending Notre Dame.
Mom & Dad met at Northwestern College. Although it took Dad awhile to convince Mom to marry him, she eventually agreed. Dad converted to Catholicism and received Communion and Confirmation in the weeks before their large wedding at St. Mary's Church.
I tell you these facts because this was our family environment in the early years. At every meal, no one was allowed to touch a bit of food before we bowed our heads and said grace together. We would kneel at bedtime every night and recite "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep...." We prayed to St. Anthony to help us find lost items. There seemed to be a prayer for anything and everything.
At school, a bell rang to signal the start of each day. We would immediately line up at our designated places in the schoolyard. In unison, every child and teacher would salute the flag with the Pledge of Allegiance. Then, we all turned to face the church building and say a prayer to Salute the Cross. The time spent learning the teachings of the church and attending mass rivaled time allotted for Math, History or English. We truly believed God was everywhere. Nuns and priests were on earth to help God make us good human beings. They were closest to God and super holy.
So imagine my surprise when I learned the nuns lied! Wearing patent leather shoes would not reflect my underwear! And it was not a sin to play with other children who did not go to Catholic school.
Once we discovered that Nuns had faults and were probably more like us than God, school became a bit easier. We secretly called them funny names behind their backs. I wonder if Sister Mary Helen knew we called her Sister Hairy Melon!
Sister Clementissima (a.k.a. Sister Clementiddle-hopper) had the power to use "The Board of Education" to paddle children who misbehaved. There was not much that was out of bounds when the nuns needed to keep a classroom of 60 children (yes, 6 rows of 10 desks in each class) obedient and quiet. Sometimes when I think about my early school days, my mind says "did that really happen?" But it was a different time and place, and if you were punished at school and dared to complain to your parents, you would get more punishment instead of sympathy. Because if the nuns said you did wrong, they would not lie. But we kids knew better!
Mom & Dad met at Northwestern College. Although it took Dad awhile to convince Mom to marry him, she eventually agreed. Dad converted to Catholicism and received Communion and Confirmation in the weeks before their large wedding at St. Mary's Church.
I tell you these facts because this was our family environment in the early years. At every meal, no one was allowed to touch a bit of food before we bowed our heads and said grace together. We would kneel at bedtime every night and recite "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep...." We prayed to St. Anthony to help us find lost items. There seemed to be a prayer for anything and everything.
At school, a bell rang to signal the start of each day. We would immediately line up at our designated places in the schoolyard. In unison, every child and teacher would salute the flag with the Pledge of Allegiance. Then, we all turned to face the church building and say a prayer to Salute the Cross. The time spent learning the teachings of the church and attending mass rivaled time allotted for Math, History or English. We truly believed God was everywhere. Nuns and priests were on earth to help God make us good human beings. They were closest to God and super holy.
So imagine my surprise when I learned the nuns lied! Wearing patent leather shoes would not reflect my underwear! And it was not a sin to play with other children who did not go to Catholic school.
Once we discovered that Nuns had faults and were probably more like us than God, school became a bit easier. We secretly called them funny names behind their backs. I wonder if Sister Mary Helen knew we called her Sister Hairy Melon!
Sister Clementissima (a.k.a. Sister Clementiddle-hopper) had the power to use "The Board of Education" to paddle children who misbehaved. There was not much that was out of bounds when the nuns needed to keep a classroom of 60 children (yes, 6 rows of 10 desks in each class) obedient and quiet. Sometimes when I think about my early school days, my mind says "did that really happen?" But it was a different time and place, and if you were punished at school and dared to complain to your parents, you would get more punishment instead of sympathy. Because if the nuns said you did wrong, they would not lie. But we kids knew better!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Sturbridge Hill
I apologize in advance if this entry sounds boastful or is detailed to the point of boring. My intention is to document this house as I remember it.
Our Connecticut home was my Mom's crowning achievement. My Dad's employer had finally promised that this was the last relocation we'd have to go through. This gave Mom an opportunity to design and build a house for our family with everything she'd wished for. A building lot was purchased in a small Connecticut town with a commuter train to NYC and excellent schools. The plan was to build a house so it was ready for us by the summer of 1969.
Mom had been storing thoughts of her dream house for years. She did not take it well when the builder said some of her ideas were impossible to implement.
One of the most important things Mom wanted was a designated laundry room on the second floor with the bedrooms. This room needed enough space to sort, presoak (in a washtub sink), wash, dry, fold, iron and stack clothes, sheets and towels for a family of eleven. When she was told it couldn't be done upstairs, she altered the blueprints to include her laundry room and gave the builder a solution to how a washtub and washing machine could be placed on the second floor without worry of water overflows. Her design included room for a hanging rack and shelves for folded clothes.
When her laundry room was finally built (after she signed a waiver accepting responsibility for possible water damage), the washing machine stood next to the washtub in a pretty tiled insert, complete with a drain underneath. It was built exactly like a double shower floor. It was so nice, in fact, that it became a signature upgrade for all the future homes constructed by our builder. Clothes, fresh out of the dryer, were folded into neat stacks and placed on shelves labeled with our names. (It was our responsibility to collect our clean clothes and put them away). No more carrying tons of clothes up and down the stairs. Talk about a V-8 moment!
The house took about a year to be completed, with almost all Mom's changes intact. In fashion true to Mom's vision, the front door was the furthest from the street and not used by children. We had our own entrance, downstairs bathroom (very close to the door by design) and stairway off the family room. On the other end of the house, the front door gave entrance to a spacious foyer with the main staircase, a walk-in coat closet, powder room and the formal living room. If guests arrived without notice, Mom knew there was an area of the house that was always presentable for company.
Other than the family room and living room, the main floor had a large eat-in kitchen, a formal dining room that easily sat twelve at the table, the foyer and our library. The library was especially cool to us because it had hidden closets (you pushed on the paneling) and built in bookcases that held all the books and records my parents had accumulated through the years. A huge painting of Moses holding the Ten Commandments looked down on us as we read, listened to music or played endless hours of backgammon. It was the heart of the house, and most of us spent more time in the library than any other room (except maybe our bedrooms).
The floor plan upstairs put the rooms in four areas. The boys were at one end of the house - Tom in one bedroom, Rick & Greg sharing another, and a "boys" bathroom. In the middle, Cherie (and Barbie when she was home from college) had their room, separated from my bedroom by a connecting bathroom. Across the hall, Margie, Susie and Kitty had the same arrangement. On the end of the house was the master bedroom suite. There was a total of seven bedrooms and four bathrooms on the second floor. Plus, of course, the laundry room.
We arrived in July 1969. That summer was special. Mom and Dad were happy as newlyweds and everything was organized, clean and shinny. I was sad that Barbie was leaving for college in the fall, but her excitement about school in Boston was infectious. We made many new friends in the neighborhood and spent lots of time hanging out with them.
The house on Sturbridge Hill road was where our family grew up and changed more than in any other house. We had many good times and bad times too. But throughout, in less than ten short years, we learned to depend on each other, and on ourselves. And even as we started to branch out and move away from home, we were always connected.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Vocabulary Lesson
I'm not a creative person. If I wish to do something new, I always look for guidance from an expert, either in print or in person. I have no aptitude to just "wing it". So when I decided to start this blog, I download all the articles I could find about "How to Blog". But in my excitement to get started, I forgot to read all this wisdom until I came across it the other day. Apparently, I'm doing this all wrong. So I'm deleting my blog.
Only kidding! But I read that to blog successfully, you're supposed to publish short posts more often. Maybe I'll try that someday.
But for today, it's a quick primmer of the language used at our house with their meanings. These were phrases that we said or heard quite often. Some have already been defined in previous posts, but I'll include them anyway.
UpAndAtEm: Dad's one-word wake up call.
Gounnie: A body part, located between the bottom of the nose and top of the lip.
Special Breakfast: Anything eaten in the morning that wasn't cereal.
You're gonna get it!: Never specified what we would get, but generally implied someone was about to tattle and/or someone else was going to be in trouble.
We Make Mayonaise: Don't know how or why this started, but Tommy & I would put our heads together and sing-say this in horrible off-key harmony. It usually made everyone laugh.
If you're not here, answer up!: Dad's call almost every time we all got into the car.
Where's ChaCha: When Ricky was two or three, he loved to take one of Barbie's baby dolls and hide it, usually in his crib. Rick named the doll ChaCha (granted, he was little and just about learning to talk) and he really liked it. The day Barbie finally broke down and gave ChaCha to Ricky for good, he never touched it again.
Sock Box and Wooden Spoon: Mom's preferred methods of punishment.
8:00 pm: Bedtime during the school year. No exceptions!
Frigidaire: What Grandma Homcho called the refrigerator. Only used by Grandma when she visited us, but it always cracked us up.
Spegilly: Spaghetti
Who broke my diamond stylist?!: Yelled when Dad wanted to listen to music (almost anytime he was home) and we kids had been using his stereo to play records. The diamond stylist was the needle on the record player. It tended to collect dust if the record being played wasn't clean, so we'd "wipe" the dust off with our finger. If the needle got bent, Dad would get super mad because he couldn't play his music and the stylist was expensive to replace.
I'm telling!: common to most families. see "You're gonna get it".
Line up alphabetically by height: Another of Dad's attempts to amuse and confuse us.
OK - what can we add to the list? I know there are many I missed! I know a few popped into your head as you read this!
Only kidding! But I read that to blog successfully, you're supposed to publish short posts more often. Maybe I'll try that someday.
But for today, it's a quick primmer of the language used at our house with their meanings. These were phrases that we said or heard quite often. Some have already been defined in previous posts, but I'll include them anyway.
UpAndAtEm: Dad's one-word wake up call.
Gounnie: A body part, located between the bottom of the nose and top of the lip.
Special Breakfast: Anything eaten in the morning that wasn't cereal.
You're gonna get it!: Never specified what we would get, but generally implied someone was about to tattle and/or someone else was going to be in trouble.
We Make Mayonaise: Don't know how or why this started, but Tommy & I would put our heads together and sing-say this in horrible off-key harmony. It usually made everyone laugh.
If you're not here, answer up!: Dad's call almost every time we all got into the car.
Where's ChaCha: When Ricky was two or three, he loved to take one of Barbie's baby dolls and hide it, usually in his crib. Rick named the doll ChaCha (granted, he was little and just about learning to talk) and he really liked it. The day Barbie finally broke down and gave ChaCha to Ricky for good, he never touched it again.
Sock Box and Wooden Spoon: Mom's preferred methods of punishment.
8:00 pm: Bedtime during the school year. No exceptions!
Frigidaire: What Grandma Homcho called the refrigerator. Only used by Grandma when she visited us, but it always cracked us up.
Spegilly: Spaghetti
Who broke my diamond stylist?!: Yelled when Dad wanted to listen to music (almost anytime he was home) and we kids had been using his stereo to play records. The diamond stylist was the needle on the record player. It tended to collect dust if the record being played wasn't clean, so we'd "wipe" the dust off with our finger. If the needle got bent, Dad would get super mad because he couldn't play his music and the stylist was expensive to replace.
I'm telling!: common to most families. see "You're gonna get it".
Line up alphabetically by height: Another of Dad's attempts to amuse and confuse us.
OK - what can we add to the list? I know there are many I missed! I know a few popped into your head as you read this!
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
No More Pencils, No More Books
Today is the first day of summer. It's a truly beautiful day! School ended for most children in our town this week. I was remembering the feeling of relief I always had when we got home after the last day of school. The wool jumpers and skirts that were required at St. Paul of the Cross school were shed for cotton shorts and tops. We made it through another grade! And we had an entire summer to do whatever we wanted.
We never expected entertainment. We had time and freedom - that was enough. Sometimes there were structured activities or day trips, but not often. One year, those of us who were old enough took swimming lessons. My parents had joined Los Coyotes Country Club for this reason. And another year, Tommy and I shared a membership for Paradise Daycamp. We alternated days and it was really fun.
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This picture was taken by our milkman in the back of his truck. We are dressed alike because we are wearing our school clothes. This is how they sent kids to school in southern California (90+ degrees)!
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Our family didn't take summer vacations. That would be too great an expense and undertaking for a family our size. There was one vacation, however - the year my parents combined our move from California to Illinois with a trip to see the major educational sites between those states. But mostly, we just stayed home in the summer, happy to be out of school.
We never expected entertainment. We had time and freedom - that was enough. Sometimes there were structured activities or day trips, but not often. One year, those of us who were old enough took swimming lessons. My parents had joined Los Coyotes Country Club for this reason. And another year, Tommy and I shared a membership for Paradise Daycamp. We alternated days and it was really fun.
But mostly, we were left to our own devices and it was really hot! We didn't dare complain to Mom that we were bored - she always had a list of chores at the ready! There was no air conditioning at our house, so we sought relief in a pool (any pool), hanging around the library or at the local elementary school. Each year, Eastwood school opened an air-conditioned section of classrooms for kids to do art, play pingpong, or work on their reading. Or we could play outdoor games like hopscotch and tetherball with other kids.
We could also escape to friend's house, as long as it was on our street. When Ricky was about five, he started to slip away and disappear. It usually took an hour or two for anyone to notice he wasn't around. We would start a frantic search throughout the house, yard and neighborhood. About the time Mom was just about ready to give up and call the police, Rick would stroll into the yard. All he would say was "I went to my whipping boy's house." We had watched The Prince and The Pauper on TV, and I guess it made an impression. For anyone who hasn't seen the movie, the prince has a whipping boy who gets spanked anytime the prince misbehaved. After the third or fourth time Rick disappeared, Mom had him followed. He went out of the neighborhood to a house several streets away. His whipping boy was the little brother of one of my school friends. I had taken him there once to play, months earlier. Boy, was Ricky surprised to find that he, not his whipping boy, had to face the punishment that had been promised if he went missing again.
We could also escape to friend's house, as long as it was on our street. When Ricky was about five, he started to slip away and disappear. It usually took an hour or two for anyone to notice he wasn't around. We would start a frantic search throughout the house, yard and neighborhood. About the time Mom was just about ready to give up and call the police, Rick would stroll into the yard. All he would say was "I went to my whipping boy's house." We had watched The Prince and The Pauper on TV, and I guess it made an impression. For anyone who hasn't seen the movie, the prince has a whipping boy who gets spanked anytime the prince misbehaved. After the third or fourth time Rick disappeared, Mom had him followed. He went out of the neighborhood to a house several streets away. His whipping boy was the little brother of one of my school friends. I had taken him there once to play, months earlier. Boy, was Ricky surprised to find that he, not his whipping boy, had to face the punishment that had been promised if he went missing again.
By the Forth of July we were fully entrenched in summer living. Disneyland, in nearby Anaheim, had fireworks displays every summer weekend. We stood on my parents bed (yes, on the pillows) to look out the second-floor window and see the show. On the 4th of July weekend, my dad would always create his own fireworks display in our backyard. Firework stands, selling firecrackers, cones, and sparklers started to spring up on every corner and vacant lot after Memorial Day. Our favorites were the cones that created beautiful colors, some erupting over 10 feet high, Smoky Joe (a hobo cutout with a cigar in his mouth that exploded in a shower of sparks when lit), Piccolo Pete (a small firecracker that let out an ear-splitting whistle when ignited) and the Log Cabin (made of cardboard, it smoldered slowly until suddenly it was engulfed in flames). And before it got dark, we'd light snakes, a little black pellet that would create a long "snake" made of black ashes.
When we moved to Illinois, summers seemed longer because we didn't have the same outlets to occupy our time. There were no schools, stores, library or parks that we could walk to. We were about the only kids in the neighborhood. But we somehow managed to find interesting things to do. We'd ride our bikes around and around the circular driveway, roller skate for hours in the cool basement, or explore the woods.
Our house in Bethesda was the first one we owned that had central air conditioning. I was in Junior High, so my summer was spent reading Teen and Seventeen magazines and talking on the phone. We lived close to a school playground, so Barbara, Cherie and I took turns bringing the littlest siblings to swing and slide. Since the house stayed cool, I don't think we were as desperate to escape.
So, happy summer to everyone! It looks like it's going to be a good one!
Our house in Bethesda was the first one we owned that had central air conditioning. I was in Junior High, so my summer was spent reading Teen and Seventeen magazines and talking on the phone. We lived close to a school playground, so Barbara, Cherie and I took turns bringing the littlest siblings to swing and slide. Since the house stayed cool, I don't think we were as desperate to escape.
So, happy summer to everyone! It looks like it's going to be a good one!
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Hamsters and Gerbils and Skunks! Oh, My!
True story. When construction of the Sturbridge Hill house was finally complete and we moved in, my Dad thought it would be neat if we came up with a name for the house. Many stately homes and estates were named, and I think my parents knew that this house was about as grand as we would ever have. He suggested our house be named "Kinder-Berg" meaning Children's Mountain in German. Nice, but a little too high-brow for us kids. Someone suggested "The Shoe" as in "the old lady who lived in a shoe and had so many children she didn't know what to do". My mom objected to that one for obvious reasons. Tommy thought "The Zoo" better described our habitat - and it went downhill from there. We never did settle on a name for the house.
But speaking of zoos, this post is about the pets we had when we were growing up. Of all my brothers and sisters, I'm probably the least suited to write about this subject since I am not a pet person. Don't get me wrong - I love animals. But I never got that feeling that animals are part of the family - if they are, they sure create a lot of work without contributing much. But that's just my opinion.
I had a pet fish when I was about five. Her name was Isabelle and she was a rare black goldfish. She was the size and shape of an angelfish - in fact I always thought she was an angelfish until I was much older. She was graceful and beautiful. She lived in a fishbowl and I had her for a long time.
With so many kids in our family, it's not surprising that we had our fair share of dogs, cats, birds, guina pigs, hamsters and gerbils. We acquired a few dogs because the back boarder of our yard was a cinderblock wall, and over the wall was a busy highway. My mom kept the playpen on the back porch, amid our tricycles, peddle cars and other toys. So people who had puppies that they couldn't keep would sneak over the wall and place a puppy in the playpen. I'm sure the owner thought, "this little guy will have a good life with all these kids." Two dogs we got this way were named Fritz and Freckles. We didn't have them at the same time, but in my memory they were like one dog. I think they were both beagles, and my mom said they were very smart. All I know is that we owned one or both of them when I was going through wearing corrective shoes to fix my knock knees. Those shoes were expensive! And it never failed - if I forgot to put my shoes in the closet before bed, I'd have chewed up shoes (and a stern scolding) in the morning. I went through at least three pairs of shoes that way!
We didn't have Fritz or Freckles, or any other pet, for very long. I'm not sure where they went. If I felt anything when they disappeared, it was relief - no more chewed shoes.
We adopted a stray cat the summer before we moved from California. My mom named her Lady because her markings looked like she was wearing a strapless ball gown. Lady became sick with feline leukemia, so when we moved we couldn't bring her. My dad said he brought her to a farm for sick animals, so it was OK.
Cherie is a natural animal lover and there wasn't a tadpole, turtle, butterfly or small animal she wasn't fascinated by. Through the years she had several guina pigs and maybe a bunny? Dad built cages that were kept in the side yard of our house. Again, these creatures were little interest and a little scary to me, so I don't remember much about them. Only that one of them was named Snowball. And Cherie had a skunk (de-scented) and a ferret at different intervals when she was in high school. Those little furry friends guaranteed I wouldn't go into her room!
About the time we moved to Illinois, Rick was given a pair of gerbils as a gift. He named them Venus and Jupiter. It was not long before they started to multiply, and multiply, until there was a whole wall of cages in the basement. The local pet store took some of the offspring, but not all, so there were gerbils at our house for years!
There were other small pets that one or another of us had, but I don't remember anything that could be considered a family pet until we got Gaylord when we lived in Connecticut. Gaylord was a basset hound and always had the saddest look. My dad brought him home one day as a surprise. My mom was not amused for several reasons, but that's another story. All of us thought he was wonderful and bonded with our new dog quickly. We immediately started searching for the perfect puppy name. We didn't like Ferndog, as he was called at the kennel, and when Gaylord was suggested, it just fit.
Gaylord saved Kitty's life when he darted in front of a oil truck that was headed down our street toward Kitty. He suffered a broken front leg, but recovered.
Then, within the blink of an eye, the oldest kids in our family were starting to move away from home. No one was paying attention or caring for Gaylord, so a new home was found for him.
I'm sure there were other pets and special stories that I've forgotten. Let me know what you remember in the comments box. But right now, I've got to go feed the cat.........
But speaking of zoos, this post is about the pets we had when we were growing up. Of all my brothers and sisters, I'm probably the least suited to write about this subject since I am not a pet person. Don't get me wrong - I love animals. But I never got that feeling that animals are part of the family - if they are, they sure create a lot of work without contributing much. But that's just my opinion.
I had a pet fish when I was about five. Her name was Isabelle and she was a rare black goldfish. She was the size and shape of an angelfish - in fact I always thought she was an angelfish until I was much older. She was graceful and beautiful. She lived in a fishbowl and I had her for a long time.
With so many kids in our family, it's not surprising that we had our fair share of dogs, cats, birds, guina pigs, hamsters and gerbils. We acquired a few dogs because the back boarder of our yard was a cinderblock wall, and over the wall was a busy highway. My mom kept the playpen on the back porch, amid our tricycles, peddle cars and other toys. So people who had puppies that they couldn't keep would sneak over the wall and place a puppy in the playpen. I'm sure the owner thought, "this little guy will have a good life with all these kids." Two dogs we got this way were named Fritz and Freckles. We didn't have them at the same time, but in my memory they were like one dog. I think they were both beagles, and my mom said they were very smart. All I know is that we owned one or both of them when I was going through wearing corrective shoes to fix my knock knees. Those shoes were expensive! And it never failed - if I forgot to put my shoes in the closet before bed, I'd have chewed up shoes (and a stern scolding) in the morning. I went through at least three pairs of shoes that way!
We didn't have Fritz or Freckles, or any other pet, for very long. I'm not sure where they went. If I felt anything when they disappeared, it was relief - no more chewed shoes.
We adopted a stray cat the summer before we moved from California. My mom named her Lady because her markings looked like she was wearing a strapless ball gown. Lady became sick with feline leukemia, so when we moved we couldn't bring her. My dad said he brought her to a farm for sick animals, so it was OK.
Cherie is a natural animal lover and there wasn't a tadpole, turtle, butterfly or small animal she wasn't fascinated by. Through the years she had several guina pigs and maybe a bunny? Dad built cages that were kept in the side yard of our house. Again, these creatures were little interest and a little scary to me, so I don't remember much about them. Only that one of them was named Snowball. And Cherie had a skunk (de-scented) and a ferret at different intervals when she was in high school. Those little furry friends guaranteed I wouldn't go into her room!
About the time we moved to Illinois, Rick was given a pair of gerbils as a gift. He named them Venus and Jupiter. It was not long before they started to multiply, and multiply, until there was a whole wall of cages in the basement. The local pet store took some of the offspring, but not all, so there were gerbils at our house for years!
There were other small pets that one or another of us had, but I don't remember anything that could be considered a family pet until we got Gaylord when we lived in Connecticut. Gaylord was a basset hound and always had the saddest look. My dad brought him home one day as a surprise. My mom was not amused for several reasons, but that's another story. All of us thought he was wonderful and bonded with our new dog quickly. We immediately started searching for the perfect puppy name. We didn't like Ferndog, as he was called at the kennel, and when Gaylord was suggested, it just fit.
Gaylord saved Kitty's life when he darted in front of a oil truck that was headed down our street toward Kitty. He suffered a broken front leg, but recovered.
Then, within the blink of an eye, the oldest kids in our family were starting to move away from home. No one was paying attention or caring for Gaylord, so a new home was found for him.
I'm sure there were other pets and special stories that I've forgotten. Let me know what you remember in the comments box. But right now, I've got to go feed the cat.........
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Coyote Creek
I'm saying it - I love Google Maps. For someone like me who has lived in many different communities, it's so fun to look up an old address and see the way things have (or haven't) changed. Last weekend, Google Maps showed me how things were the same, yet different, on Talbot Drive after 50 years.
Sidebar: Since I've been away from this blog awhile, and because we celebrated Mother's and Father's days recently, I've been getting nostalgic remembering my past. I know I promised to write more about our family in my preteen and teenage years (when my youngest sister's remember the houses and events), but seeing Cherie last weekend awakened more of the California stories in my brain. So I may skip around a little.
I typed in our Talbot Drive address on Google Maps and got a virtual tour of our entire street as it looks today. The first thing I noticed is how small the front yard of our house is. It seemed very spacious when we lived there, with two areas - a square by the front door lined in split-rail fence, and the bigger part of the yard that contained the olive tree. The tree is still there, but I couldn't see any others that I could identify as olive trees on the street. So the children who live there today probably have limited, if any, olive battles - poor kids.
I was thinking about an area we kids called Coyote Creek. Located about a block away from the end of Talbot Drive, Coyote Creek was really just a drainage ditch next to the end of a golf driving range. And it was not a good place for kids to play. But we loved to get old mayonaise jars and fill them with murky water loaded with tadpoles (or pollywogs, as we called them). It only made sense to take off our shoes and wade in the cold water, where we could wiggle our toes in the cool, mushy mud. One day, Cherie managed to cut her foot (badly!) on a big piece of glass while wading. My mom was furious (I've never seen her use so much peroxide and mercurochrome!) We were banned from tadpole hunting. If the adults only knew the mercury in all that mercurochrome was worse than anything growing in Coyote Creek!
In the 1960's, a real concern in Southern California was flash flooding. Hugh concrete flood-water systems were constructed around many neighborhoods connecting in a web that stretched across Los Angeles county. Coyote Creek was eventually connected into this network. At the end of our ditch, a large pipe was sunk straight down, about 5 or 6 feet. To keep animals (and I suppose children) from getting into the pipe, a metal-cage dome was built on the top. It was all connected to a long, underground, horizontal pipe that ended in a giant, cement drainage channel about the size of a four-lane highway. When you walked up the channel, you'd find that it connected at intervals with other channels. The floor of these trenches were at least 50 feet deep.
It was a great adventure to wiggle ourselves between the dome cage, jump (or be lowered) down the vertical pipe, run through the next pipe (the scariest part) and come out in a world that looked like something from a sci-fi movie that stretched for miles.
If you've seen the movie Grease, the car race at the end takes place in exactly this type of trench. Sandy makes her decision to become a "tough girl" while sitting halfway up the side of the channel.
We would walk along these hugh drainage channels for hours! Sometimes we'd bring sandwiches and drinks so we could walk further than we had before. It was tricky because everything looked the same and getting lost was a real possibility. Every once in awhile, someone would climb up the side to make sure there were still houses and roads at the top. I remember walking to a place where stuff was thrown all over a large field-like area. It wasn't a dump, but maybe somewhere people dumped stuff? I thought it was where houses were torn down for new construction because it looked like everyday household items - kitchenwares, toys, clothes.
But the real danger was that these trenches were built for a reason - flash floods that could happen quickly. And if one occurred, we could become trapped and probably carried out to the Pacific Ocean. Although we already knew we shouldn't be fooling around there, we still did until my parents learned where we were going on our excursions. We were told to stay out of the drainage channels. But we still would sneak down occasionally.
Looking at Google maps today, you'd never know Coyote Creek ever existed. There is now a neighborhood of homes where the creek and driving range used to be. I couldn't find any of the drainage channels either. But that end of our neighborhood provided us with countless hours of exploration and imagination in the early 1960's.
Sidebar: Since I've been away from this blog awhile, and because we celebrated Mother's and Father's days recently, I've been getting nostalgic remembering my past. I know I promised to write more about our family in my preteen and teenage years (when my youngest sister's remember the houses and events), but seeing Cherie last weekend awakened more of the California stories in my brain. So I may skip around a little.
I typed in our Talbot Drive address on Google Maps and got a virtual tour of our entire street as it looks today. The first thing I noticed is how small the front yard of our house is. It seemed very spacious when we lived there, with two areas - a square by the front door lined in split-rail fence, and the bigger part of the yard that contained the olive tree. The tree is still there, but I couldn't see any others that I could identify as olive trees on the street. So the children who live there today probably have limited, if any, olive battles - poor kids.
I was thinking about an area we kids called Coyote Creek. Located about a block away from the end of Talbot Drive, Coyote Creek was really just a drainage ditch next to the end of a golf driving range. And it was not a good place for kids to play. But we loved to get old mayonaise jars and fill them with murky water loaded with tadpoles (or pollywogs, as we called them). It only made sense to take off our shoes and wade in the cold water, where we could wiggle our toes in the cool, mushy mud. One day, Cherie managed to cut her foot (badly!) on a big piece of glass while wading. My mom was furious (I've never seen her use so much peroxide and mercurochrome!) We were banned from tadpole hunting. If the adults only knew the mercury in all that mercurochrome was worse than anything growing in Coyote Creek!
In the 1960's, a real concern in Southern California was flash flooding. Hugh concrete flood-water systems were constructed around many neighborhoods connecting in a web that stretched across Los Angeles county. Coyote Creek was eventually connected into this network. At the end of our ditch, a large pipe was sunk straight down, about 5 or 6 feet. To keep animals (and I suppose children) from getting into the pipe, a metal-cage dome was built on the top. It was all connected to a long, underground, horizontal pipe that ended in a giant, cement drainage channel about the size of a four-lane highway. When you walked up the channel, you'd find that it connected at intervals with other channels. The floor of these trenches were at least 50 feet deep.
It was a great adventure to wiggle ourselves between the dome cage, jump (or be lowered) down the vertical pipe, run through the next pipe (the scariest part) and come out in a world that looked like something from a sci-fi movie that stretched for miles.
If you've seen the movie Grease, the car race at the end takes place in exactly this type of trench. Sandy makes her decision to become a "tough girl" while sitting halfway up the side of the channel.
We would walk along these hugh drainage channels for hours! Sometimes we'd bring sandwiches and drinks so we could walk further than we had before. It was tricky because everything looked the same and getting lost was a real possibility. Every once in awhile, someone would climb up the side to make sure there were still houses and roads at the top. I remember walking to a place where stuff was thrown all over a large field-like area. It wasn't a dump, but maybe somewhere people dumped stuff? I thought it was where houses were torn down for new construction because it looked like everyday household items - kitchenwares, toys, clothes.
But the real danger was that these trenches were built for a reason - flash floods that could happen quickly. And if one occurred, we could become trapped and probably carried out to the Pacific Ocean. Although we already knew we shouldn't be fooling around there, we still did until my parents learned where we were going on our excursions. We were told to stay out of the drainage channels. But we still would sneak down occasionally.
Looking at Google maps today, you'd never know Coyote Creek ever existed. There is now a neighborhood of homes where the creek and driving range used to be. I couldn't find any of the drainage channels either. But that end of our neighborhood provided us with countless hours of exploration and imagination in the early 1960's.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Let's Play Telephone
This is the story about one day - July 7, 1969. That was the day we moved into our new house in New Canaan, Connecticut. We had driven from Bethesda, MD the day before and were staying at the Holiday Inn in nearby Darien. We were all very excited to see our new house - my parents had been working on it for almost a year. The moving van was scheduled to arrive later that day, so the house was empty. It was a hot & sunny summer day.
The house was located on the top of Sturbridge Hill Road. Before being subdivided, the road was empty except for one tree - hence the locals called it Lone Tree hill. It was a popular "make-out" spot for teenagers, so almost everyone in town knew where our street was. Eventually it was divided into large building lots, and our house was one of five or six homes built in the late 1960's.
As the house was constructed, it became a curiosity to the neighborhood. There were lots of big houses in New Canaan, but a house with seven bedrooms and four bathrooms on the second floor alone led to much speculation. The word got out that a family with nine children was moving in.
As we drove up Sturbridge Hill Road for the very first time that July day, we were surprised to find a crowd of teenagers hanging around. Upon further inspection, we realized it was a large group of teenage boys - all waiting for us! They came because as news of the occupants of our house spread, it changed to a family with nine girls moving in. By the time we got to Connecticut, our family no longer had boys and girls ages three to eighteen. To "those in the know," we were nine teenage girls - with no mention of brothers or parents.
What a disappointment it must have been to all those boys as we exited the car. They were expecting Hawaiian Tropic models and they got the Brady Bunch plus. Although Barbie, Cherie and I would have loved to hang out with this captive audience, we were quickly whisked into the house by my Dad. We didn't object too much - that day even boys were overshadowed by our new home. But I always smile when I think about that day.
The house was located on the top of Sturbridge Hill Road. Before being subdivided, the road was empty except for one tree - hence the locals called it Lone Tree hill. It was a popular "make-out" spot for teenagers, so almost everyone in town knew where our street was. Eventually it was divided into large building lots, and our house was one of five or six homes built in the late 1960's.
As the house was constructed, it became a curiosity to the neighborhood. There were lots of big houses in New Canaan, but a house with seven bedrooms and four bathrooms on the second floor alone led to much speculation. The word got out that a family with nine children was moving in.
As we drove up Sturbridge Hill Road for the very first time that July day, we were surprised to find a crowd of teenagers hanging around. Upon further inspection, we realized it was a large group of teenage boys - all waiting for us! They came because as news of the occupants of our house spread, it changed to a family with nine girls moving in. By the time we got to Connecticut, our family no longer had boys and girls ages three to eighteen. To "those in the know," we were nine teenage girls - with no mention of brothers or parents.
What a disappointment it must have been to all those boys as we exited the car. They were expecting Hawaiian Tropic models and they got the Brady Bunch plus. Although Barbie, Cherie and I would have loved to hang out with this captive audience, we were quickly whisked into the house by my Dad. We didn't object too much - that day even boys were overshadowed by our new home. But I always smile when I think about that day.
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Best Part of Moving
We moved more often than any family I ever knew. I was born in Illinois, moved to California and stayed for kindergarden thru 4th grade, moved back to Illinois for 5th, 6th and half of 7th grade, moved to Maryland to finish 7th grade and 8th, and then to Connecticut for 4 years of high school. I had it easier than many of my siblings - our moves didn't interrupt my critical school years.
I didn't mind moving. To me it was a fresh start in a new, exciting place. But the best thing about moving is that the entire family would evaluate everything we owned. Important family stuff was never questioned. But packing up everything gave us, along with my parents, a chance to go thru all our clothes, toys, books and every other possession we owned and get rid of what was no longer needed. And the funny thing was that I didn't miss a single thing that didn't move with us. More than anything, things got sorted and organized every few years.
The homes we lived in became progressively larger as our family grew. When we moved in, everything had a place. But after a time, storage was used up and my parents would joke "The ashtrays are dirty. It's time to move again."
Our house in Bethesda, Maryland was fancier than the homes we'd lived in before. The neighborhood was a large development of beautiful houses, kinda like a very upscale Talbot Drive. A large percentage of the residents in Bethesda are part of the medical community, so many houses in our neighborhood were owned by doctors, nurses and other hospital staff.
We moved from Riverwoods to Bethesda in the middle of the school year. That was hard, not only because of everyone switching schools, but because it was the first time we were attending public schools. I was halfway through 7th grade. Going to Catholic school meant I still wore a uniform and was in the same classroom, with the same teacher, almost all day. All of a sudden I'm in a large Jr. High school (7th - 9th grade) and moving throughout the building for every class. And my wardrobe was definitely insufficient. Thank goodness Mom understood and took me shopping at the Potomac mall. I'd never been to such a heavenly place! Yes, life was suddenly different, but not bad.
Our house had a beautiful open floor plan. A large section of the basement had been finished and we spent time downstairs, but we preferred to watch TV upstairs in the large den on comfortable carpet. Two areas in the basement were used to store boxes of things my Mom wanted or needed to keep, but didn't unpacked yet.
The house suited us and we were happy there. When the weather was nice, we'd often take family walks around the neighborhood after dinner. I guess living with so many doctors in close proximity made Dad a little more health conscience. My parents were both in their early 40's They had nine children ranging from Barbie - a senior in high school, down to Kitty - about a year old.
About six-months after we moved to Bethesda, Dad called a family meeting. We knew from experience that this meant one of two things was going to happen. Either we were getting a new sibling, or we were moving again. We had betting odds on the new baby. After all, we just moved to Maryland, right? But we predicted wrong - my Dad had been transfered to New York, so we were moving after the school year ended.
Through the following months, we saw very little of my Dad, and Mom started traveling with him frequently back and forth between Maryland and Connecticut. My Dad was working in New York, and Mom spent several days a week in Connecticut working with a contractor to build a new home for our family.
My Mom traveled mostly on weekends so there was less disruption to our school routine and Dad could accompany her to Connecticut as much as possible. It wasn't long before Barbie and Cherie started planning sporadic parties for their high school friends while Mom and Dad were out of town. I don't think they every got into trouble or we were in any danger, but I sure remember some strange things that went on during these weekend gatherings early in 1969. At least the soundtrack to our lives was good during those months.
Those boxes in the basement never got unpacked until they arrived in Connecticut. And the house in Bethesda sold quickly, in spite of teenage parties. Barbie graduated from high school just before we moved. She would be attending Wheelock College in Boston in the fall. Time was marching on, and we were all in step.
As much as roots are important to most people, I really never had them so I would still move every few years if I could. Not because I need change, but because I need the forced organization that comes with packing up a household. And evaluating the importance (or unimportance) of all my stuff. A big job - maybe I should pretend we are moving somewhere new. Na, it wouldn't work. Our ashtrays are still clean.
We moved from Riverwoods to Bethesda in the middle of the school year. That was hard, not only because of everyone switching schools, but because it was the first time we were attending public schools. I was halfway through 7th grade. Going to Catholic school meant I still wore a uniform and was in the same classroom, with the same teacher, almost all day. All of a sudden I'm in a large Jr. High school (7th - 9th grade) and moving throughout the building for every class. And my wardrobe was definitely insufficient. Thank goodness Mom understood and took me shopping at the Potomac mall. I'd never been to such a heavenly place! Yes, life was suddenly different, but not bad.
Our house had a beautiful open floor plan. A large section of the basement had been finished and we spent time downstairs, but we preferred to watch TV upstairs in the large den on comfortable carpet. Two areas in the basement were used to store boxes of things my Mom wanted or needed to keep, but didn't unpacked yet.
The house suited us and we were happy there. When the weather was nice, we'd often take family walks around the neighborhood after dinner. I guess living with so many doctors in close proximity made Dad a little more health conscience. My parents were both in their early 40's They had nine children ranging from Barbie - a senior in high school, down to Kitty - about a year old.
About six-months after we moved to Bethesda, Dad called a family meeting. We knew from experience that this meant one of two things was going to happen. Either we were getting a new sibling, or we were moving again. We had betting odds on the new baby. After all, we just moved to Maryland, right? But we predicted wrong - my Dad had been transfered to New York, so we were moving after the school year ended.
Through the following months, we saw very little of my Dad, and Mom started traveling with him frequently back and forth between Maryland and Connecticut. My Dad was working in New York, and Mom spent several days a week in Connecticut working with a contractor to build a new home for our family.
My Mom traveled mostly on weekends so there was less disruption to our school routine and Dad could accompany her to Connecticut as much as possible. It wasn't long before Barbie and Cherie started planning sporadic parties for their high school friends while Mom and Dad were out of town. I don't think they every got into trouble or we were in any danger, but I sure remember some strange things that went on during these weekend gatherings early in 1969. At least the soundtrack to our lives was good during those months.
Those boxes in the basement never got unpacked until they arrived in Connecticut. And the house in Bethesda sold quickly, in spite of teenage parties. Barbie graduated from high school just before we moved. She would be attending Wheelock College in Boston in the fall. Time was marching on, and we were all in step.
As much as roots are important to most people, I really never had them so I would still move every few years if I could. Not because I need change, but because I need the forced organization that comes with packing up a household. And evaluating the importance (or unimportance) of all my stuff. A big job - maybe I should pretend we are moving somewhere new. Na, it wouldn't work. Our ashtrays are still clean.
Friday, January 18, 2013
January Blahs
Christmas is over and the month of January is speeding by. After Mom's birthday on January 6 there was nothing special about January for nine kids easily prone to cabin fever. Decorations were packed up no earlier than Mom's birthday, which is also Three Kings day and the Twelfth Day of Christmas. How could we put baby Jesus away before the kings had arrived to honor and visit him? But once the holidays were over, there was nothing but winter.
We just tried to get through it - once February started, we could look forward to Valentine's Day and winter vacation. Growing up, the occasional snow day was the only thing that kept us going in January. There was no Super Bowl Sunday. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a name in the news, not a federal holiday.
I think January temperatures were colder when we were growing up. Once we moved to Deerfield, just going outside required us to bundle up like the little kid in A Christmas Story (I can't put my arms down!) I recall days when we wore two pairs of socks and gloves just to keep from freezing on the walk to the bus stop. It was not unusual to be trudging to the bus when the temperature was a cold four degrees or lower. School was never canceled if it was cold or if snow was predicted. Unless a truly dangerous situation was happening, we went to school every day.
We needed to be at the bus stop by 8:05 am. Barbie and Cherie got their bus to the Catholic High School a few towns over at 6:45 (they needed flashlights to walk down the dark road in the winter). Mornings at our house were chaos, to put it mildly. There were many times the bus would arrive when we were only half-way up the lane, and we'd run with all our might to get on. Or we'd arrive and wait in the cold. If the bus was late, it could be a long time. Sometimes we'd get to the bus stop and wait, and wait, not knowing we had missed the bus by several minutes. But the rule was that we needed to stay there until at least 9:00. Then we could return home and Mom would drive us. But in the 55 minutes we waited, we'd have massive snow fights, slide on the frozen drainage trench next to the road, or eat anything in our lunches that was tempting. Anything to keep warm. Maybe that's why I love Florida weather so much.
There was some fun playing in the snow when we weren't in school. We'd divide into two teams and spend the better part of the day making snow forts. Stocking our forts with snowballs took another hour or two. Then, the battle would commence! It was over within ten minutes. We'd retire to the house where we'd pester Barbie and Cherie to make popcorn and hot chocolate.
Here's another way-back moment - if you wanted popcorn, you needed to make it on top of the stove in a covered pot with dried corn and oil. Except for Jiffy Pop, which burned easily on an electric stove, there was no other way to make popcorn. Barbie and Cherie were masters at shaking the pot so nothing burned and most of the kernels popped. Then they would pour melted Imperial over the top and mix - best thing you ever tasted! Hot chocolate also was made from scratch. There were no "instant" mixes. There was a recipe on the Hershey's cocoa can that required heating milk to just short of boiling and adding cocoa and sugar. Then, stir, stir, stir. Mom's biggest pots were put into service whenever we had popcorn and hot chocolate.
January weather was easier once we moved to Maryland - there was snow and cold, but not the dramatic freezing of the Midwest. It was just enough to make you feel the seasons, but snow rarely lasted more than a day. I was just enough older to sacrifice warmth and comfort for style. I don't know what it is about Jr. High that makes every kid think wearing a coat isn't cool. And hats, gloves, boots?? Only for nerds (or whatever we called them - I don't remember the word "nerd" being used until late in high school).
Then, there was Connecticut. January is a frozen wasteland. There's not as much snow as in Deerfield, but the temperatures would dip and everything would turn to ice. Not a good situation for walking down a hugh hill to catch the bus. If we missed the bus, we could go over the hill to the next bus stop. I remember trying to get up and over that hill one morning in smart, buckle strap pumps. I used the shoes 2" heels like ice picks, digging into the snow's icy crust to make another step. But I fell down on the ice repeatedly (and panty hose under a skirt was little protection). If I got one foot up, I'd loose my balance and slip again trying to push up with my other foot. I would have given up, but I needed to get to school for something important that day. The worst part of the ordeal was that when I finally crested the hill, I saw the bus stopped and waiting for me. As I got on, the entire bus erupted in applause - they had watched my epic saga the entire way! I was humiliated, but I arrived at school with my cute outfit intact!
We just tried to get through it - once February started, we could look forward to Valentine's Day and winter vacation. Growing up, the occasional snow day was the only thing that kept us going in January. There was no Super Bowl Sunday. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a name in the news, not a federal holiday.
I think January temperatures were colder when we were growing up. Once we moved to Deerfield, just going outside required us to bundle up like the little kid in A Christmas Story (I can't put my arms down!) I recall days when we wore two pairs of socks and gloves just to keep from freezing on the walk to the bus stop. It was not unusual to be trudging to the bus when the temperature was a cold four degrees or lower. School was never canceled if it was cold or if snow was predicted. Unless a truly dangerous situation was happening, we went to school every day.
We needed to be at the bus stop by 8:05 am. Barbie and Cherie got their bus to the Catholic High School a few towns over at 6:45 (they needed flashlights to walk down the dark road in the winter). Mornings at our house were chaos, to put it mildly. There were many times the bus would arrive when we were only half-way up the lane, and we'd run with all our might to get on. Or we'd arrive and wait in the cold. If the bus was late, it could be a long time. Sometimes we'd get to the bus stop and wait, and wait, not knowing we had missed the bus by several minutes. But the rule was that we needed to stay there until at least 9:00. Then we could return home and Mom would drive us. But in the 55 minutes we waited, we'd have massive snow fights, slide on the frozen drainage trench next to the road, or eat anything in our lunches that was tempting. Anything to keep warm. Maybe that's why I love Florida weather so much.
There was some fun playing in the snow when we weren't in school. We'd divide into two teams and spend the better part of the day making snow forts. Stocking our forts with snowballs took another hour or two. Then, the battle would commence! It was over within ten minutes. We'd retire to the house where we'd pester Barbie and Cherie to make popcorn and hot chocolate.
Here's another way-back moment - if you wanted popcorn, you needed to make it on top of the stove in a covered pot with dried corn and oil. Except for Jiffy Pop, which burned easily on an electric stove, there was no other way to make popcorn. Barbie and Cherie were masters at shaking the pot so nothing burned and most of the kernels popped. Then they would pour melted Imperial over the top and mix - best thing you ever tasted! Hot chocolate also was made from scratch. There were no "instant" mixes. There was a recipe on the Hershey's cocoa can that required heating milk to just short of boiling and adding cocoa and sugar. Then, stir, stir, stir. Mom's biggest pots were put into service whenever we had popcorn and hot chocolate.
January weather was easier once we moved to Maryland - there was snow and cold, but not the dramatic freezing of the Midwest. It was just enough to make you feel the seasons, but snow rarely lasted more than a day. I was just enough older to sacrifice warmth and comfort for style. I don't know what it is about Jr. High that makes every kid think wearing a coat isn't cool. And hats, gloves, boots?? Only for nerds (or whatever we called them - I don't remember the word "nerd" being used until late in high school).
Then, there was Connecticut. January is a frozen wasteland. There's not as much snow as in Deerfield, but the temperatures would dip and everything would turn to ice. Not a good situation for walking down a hugh hill to catch the bus. If we missed the bus, we could go over the hill to the next bus stop. I remember trying to get up and over that hill one morning in smart, buckle strap pumps. I used the shoes 2" heels like ice picks, digging into the snow's icy crust to make another step. But I fell down on the ice repeatedly (and panty hose under a skirt was little protection). If I got one foot up, I'd loose my balance and slip again trying to push up with my other foot. I would have given up, but I needed to get to school for something important that day. The worst part of the ordeal was that when I finally crested the hill, I saw the bus stopped and waiting for me. As I got on, the entire bus erupted in applause - they had watched my epic saga the entire way! I was humiliated, but I arrived at school with my cute outfit intact!
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