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!
Thursday, June 27, 2013
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.
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