The Right Way To Celebrate Valentines Day

Progress doesn't always mean life is better. We celebrated Valentines Day much differently. I well remember the trip to the store to choose the simple Valentine cards to give to my classmates. They were simple little cards in a perforated sheet that we would carefully fold and tear apart. They had very cheap thin envelopes. Sometimes they were loose cards in a box (that was lidless!) covered in plastic wrap. In the package there were always 2 for teachers and I would carefully pick the right one for my teacher. (If I liked my teacher it was the best one if not....just saying...) We then would spend the nights before Valentines with our class lists. Every Valentine was addressed to someone. There were no generic valentines that were plopped into the masses boxes.  If someone was a good friend, they got a good card. If it was a boy (cooties),.....again. My mother insisted that we give a Valentine to everyone in our class so that no one got their feelings hurt. I never searched the cards given to me to see if every class member had remembered me. It wasn't an issue. I appreciate that my mother taught me to think of others, it wasn't just another rule at school. We were thrilled to carry home our Valentines is the containers that we worked so hard to make at school. For some reason, I really remember the large heart shaped envelop made from butcher paper and staples. We weren't loaded down with candy, just the cards from our classmates. We usually were given a sugar cookie or cupcake from the Room Mother. (Is there such a thing as a Room  Mother any more?)
   Having arrived safely at home and once again examining our cards, the real fun of Valentines began. We really could have done away with the school celebration. Now came the excitement of espionage. We would go through the same routine of choosing the card and writing our friends and neighbor's names on them. Here is where the treats made their showing. Some years, we would have made and decorated fluffy pink sugar cookies. We would put them on a plate with the cards. We had to sneak onto the porch of our intended 'victim'. We had to be quick and quiet. I had some anxiety on years that there was ice on the sidewalks. After everything was in place, we would ring the doorbell or pound a few knock out. Then ..... we RAN. We usually had a safe refuge in advance that we could duck behind. We would listen to hear that the door opened. We loved listening or peaking and seeing the door officiant looking around and trying to catch us. Then we hurried home for the next mission. We loved being home and listening for our own doors to herald the arrival of mysterious treats. We loved the cards and usually got them from all the other children in the neighborhood. Sometimes they were just cards, but at time they were accompanied by heart shaped suckers or candies or lovely sugar cookies. It was an exciting afternoon. We loved sorting our treasures. Then after dusk, we would be enjoying the evening and we would hear a thunderous banging on our front door. I mean the hardest knock you could imagine. It made my heart leap to my throat every year. We always tried to catch the people leaving Valentines and would usually race to catch a glimpse of the perpatator. But that knock would cause me to freeze like a deer in the headlights. As we pulled open the front door, we always found a the best treat of all. It was usually a heart shaped box filled with candy. I don't even know how  or when I realized the gift was from my parents and that my father had been the one to kick the door and run. It seemed like he has been with us the whole time. How could he have been in two places at once? I love and appreciate my parents for making our holidays fun. It seems like once again a fun holiday has been turned into a situation that warrants giving hard earned dollars to the commercial industry. How did children turn into greedy monsters that are only  happy with treats or expensive gifts?When did a simple Valentine card become so undesirable?
(Future post... the string Valentine. )

My Days as a Swinger

   Is there anything as wonderful as the innocence of a child? Although I know that I needed to  improve and gain wisdom and have experiences, it was certainly wonderful to believe that the future was nothing but bright, that all would be well in the end, that Prince Charming would ride up and take me to a happy kingdom, (wait a minute- that one happened!). 
   I loved the carefree days of my youth. Besides all the time I spent playing at the elementary school, I had many hours of peace, solitude and a swinging good time right in my own back yard. If I close my eyes and step around the past 45 years, I can see our yard the way I thought it would always be. Behind the garage was a tall iron swing. The chains seemed to reach the bottom layer of the heavens. The east side of the garage was an untamed wilderness with an old clothesline, perfect for hanging and climbing, staking it's claim in the jungle of trumpet vine and grapes. We could peek through the wooded area to the neighbors yard and wonder why anyone would like living in a place that you couldn't play hard because you might disturb one of the mothers precious plants.
  If you put you hands on the old swing that sported a worn coat of green paint, you would have the textural experience of a thousand little nubbins tickling your hands as you leaned back and swung around the pole. You were usually rewarded with very orange hands from the rust that had taken up residence on that pole. Then you would grab the thick links of the chains and position your bottom to jump onto the swing seat, a thick worn board with splinters and cracks that always added the thrill of wondering if you would come away with a pinch or splinter that you would never be able to tell anyone about. Once properly positioned on the great slab of petrified tree, and with a tippy toe push off the ground, the fantastic journey began. Propelling the swing to the outer limits required the rhythmic swaying back and forth and a strong pull on the chain at the edge of the backward pulse. Legs straight with toes pointed towards the desired destination helped pump the swings to breath taking heights. Within minutes, I was soaring a top speed high above the roof of the garage. Then I would leave all the cares of the day and swing my heart to a happy place. I could solve my problems, plan my life and imagine all kinds of adventures. The amount of time I spent in that swing was equal to my emotional needs.
Oh where is that swing right now? What has replaced the active therapy that I loved in those days. I think it has something to do with chocolate.

The Mad Bombers

What a fantastic day I had yesterday. We caravan-ed it up to Logan for Calvin's blessing. Their chapel was gorgeous. Very historical. We wouldn't all fit on the same bench, so Popie and I sat behind Lamberts on a side bench....with most of the grandchildren. It was a riot. I had two on my lap most of the meeting. They, as usual, proved an entertainment treat. Afterwards, we ate at Steph and Rich's house. While there...of course I take pictures. Let the fun begin.

This is how Elder Johnson will look when the door gets slammed in his face.

From now on, they are photo bombs.

Rich-you made two of the photos.

I was laughing so hard that I am glad this one turned out.

I was trying to photograph a pony...llama photo bomb.

This is a photo-bum.

The Window Wells

I was thinking back on my childhood. I was going to do a post on home made gifts I gave in the younger days. I thought about where I used to play and then the memory swept upon me. During the lazy days of summer, we would do our daily chores and then we pretty much just ran the 'hood'. One of my favorite haunts was our school grounds. Then building was ancient and I am sure my grandparents attended that school. It was three very tall stories. It had the coolest fire escape on the west side of the building. There was a large expanse of 'blacktop' with four square, tether ball and hopscotch patterns. Ancient equipment called lovingly to us. We would sail high in the air and yes, we loved to 'bail out'. This was back in the days when they didn't care much about safety (law suits were almost unheard of). The swings were heavy and tall with 'pinchy' chains and a strap seat.
     There were rows of tetter totters, (funny, I can't remember how to spell those). We would pile many children on them and at least one person usually rode the middle.....standing and balancing. For some reason they thought we would like playing inside a large cement pipe. Try playing inside someone's cement pipe. I'll bet you get yelled at. We would climb on those and sit in the cool shade at time. It always smelled bad to me however. I won't say what it reminded me of, but ...I will never get in a cement pipe again.
We were treated to outdoor porcelain water fountains. Great for drinking from and even better to spray your friends with. You would put your finger on the spout and push. We were very accurate with our shots. We would hoist each other up and climb the fire escape occasionally. I always worried that some demonic figure of authority would appear and mete out swift justice on us for that so it was seldom that we climbed up to peek in the classroom windows.
   I loved playing in the window wells. On the west side of the school, we could just walk level and the walk way rose until our eyes were level with a passerby's feet. On the east, there was a large retaining wall and about 10 foot wide and seemed like 10 feet deep. although through grown up eyes, I 'm sure it was at most 3 feet deep. I loved rolling in the grass in the 'trench'. You could get a good run and vault out of the trench. But on the north east side of the school. Covered in bushes and deep with fallen leaves were the ultimate window wells. They had bars around them to prevent someone from accidently falling to the depths. These required a bit of planning to explore. You had to climb the bars, straddle the top and climb over. Then we would hang from the bottom and fall into a whole new world. I must not have been afraid of spiders and worms as I am sure they were infested with critters. It felt so mysterious and thrilling to be in these dark pits. we would usually stay for a few minutes. Then the problem of how to ascend would arise. We had to leave a rescuer topside to pull us up to the bars to get out.
   My childhood was filled with inventing my own games and running wild. I am sure I would have remained a thin athletic person...but along came Gilligans Island!

The Black Thing

When I was little, somehow we acquired a tall black cone. I believe it was for the end of some kind of fire extinguisher, but it was just the 'Black Thing' to me. I loved it. I wish I could describe what it was made of,  but the closest my memory and limited resource of description can come up with is a type of molded Masonite rolled together and painted black.
   I have no idea why I liked it so much. Maybe because it was just so weird. No one else had a toy like this. I kept it in my room. It worked as a megaphone for cheerleading, a very uncomfortable chair, something to swing around and my favorite- a fog horn. I used to love foggy days in the winter. I would walk down the street to Stoker School and walk onto the football field until I couldn't see any of the edges of the field. It felt very isolated. I loved the feeling of muffled silence in my ears as I stood in the dimness of the day. The trees stood far away- dark, stiff and mysterious. I would put the 'Black Thing' to my lips and blast a great embouchure. I remember the terrific tickle that buzzed my lips. I usually  had to whip the black Thing down and rub my lips. I loved hearing the blast of sound echoing into the moist gray blanket surrounding me. I still wonder what ever happened to my Black Thing. I think my mom hated having that thing around the house. I probably would if my kids had acquired something that obnoxious. I tried to understand when they had treasures. But I do know that I loved when junky things finally passed to the trash. Is that what happened to my Black Thing?

This is as close as I can get to an image of the Black Thing.....what was I thinking putting my mouth on that?!!

Love Is In The Air

I had a great time making these decos. Thanks to Pinterest for the inspiration.now if they will only stay stuck to the ceiling....I have already had to reattached them!

Throw Back Thursday

I have decided that each Thursday, I will publish a blast from the past. Stories from my life that may or may not be of value to anyone, (Me included.) This might be a fun way to write my history. I may have to use 'Journal in a Jar' Prompts to get my brain going.
   I am going to start the week off with library memories. I remember the dimly lighted library at the old Stoker school. The shelves looked like they were as tall as the entire school. I remember the library bindings on the books and pocket in the back of the book that held a card. We would choose our books and take them to the librarian. She would have me write my name on the card with the date beside it. On a corresponding card in the back of the book, she would stamp the due date of the book. Sometimes the stamp was a large intimidating looking appliance, filled with gears and wheels and a long clang as it stamped the date. Other times the stamp was firmly attached to a pencil in the spot usually reserved for an eraser. I remember how nervous I was that I might not bring the book back by the date inside the back cover. Or worse yet, I might lose or damage the book. I remember one day being quizzed about some pencil markings in one of the books. They had been there when I got the book, but I could tell the librarian thought I had written in the book. I still hate that feeling of guilt to this day.
    Some of my favorite books from my elementary years were: Are You My Mother? Spilled Milk, Make Way for Ducklings, Ellen Tebbits, all the Beezus and Ramona books. I also loved the Boxcar Children and Laura Ingalls Wilder series.
   In the summer, our neighborhood had the joy of the Bookmobile. We loved Wednesdays when the Bookmobile was parked by the church. I remember the high steps that lead into a library on wheels. There was a very friendly man that waited as we made our choices and handed them to him. Our mom always did the check out process and we went home to find a cool place to snuggle up and travel to a far off place and time, made even better if there was a summer thunder storm and some penny candy from the drug store.