April Fools Happy Birthday, Joan!!!!

When I was a little girl my best friend was Joan. When I was in kindergarten and through junior high and high school we were still best friends. The friendship started when my grandmother and her grandmother were friends. That in turn, helped Joan’s mother and my mother be friends, so it was just natural that we would know each other. It did help that we liked each other. We both lived in the country when we were little and when we were older, our families moved to town.
When Joan and I were growing up we took piano lessons, tap dance lessons and ballet. Those of you that know me are shaking your head in disbelief, especially my family. Yes, ballet. I did like the piano lessons though and took them for many years. I don’t remember that Joan did, but I think she took tap dance lessons longer than I did.
When we were teenagers, I was always upset because her birthday was almost two months sooner than mine. That especially was a concern when she turned sixteen before I did. She could drive before I could!
Joan’s dad let her drive his car, however he did check the speedometer and limited the mileage. Since Joan had the car, her friends had to pay for gasoline which was only fair. No one ever had any money. When that happened all of our friends always said, “Lu Anne, dump out your purse, you know you have money in the bottom.” I always had at least a dollar’s worth of change in the bottom of my purse. In the days of our teenage years a dollar’s worth of change bought four or five gallons of gas depending on if there was a gas war going on. We used to go to Kintigh’s Skelly station, which was full service. We would ask him to wash the windshield, check the oil and everything else we could think of for a dollar’s worth of gas. He never looked real excited to see us.
Joan and I lived about a mile away from each other when we were in high school. She always wanted me to walk her home and then when I complained she would offer to walk me half way home. She never “got” that I wasn’t buying it. Joan was in a lot of sports, I was in musicals and played piano for the chorus. We had another special friend, Pam. The three of us, and Sharon all palled around together.
We spent a lot of birthdays together fifty years ago and sixty years ago. When I say that, it makes me think of really “old” people that used to say, “I remember fifty years ago…..” now here I am doing it. I guess I am very fortunate that I still can. The picture of Joan was taken in her sophomore year of high school, thanks to Pam for saving it. Some of my pictures were destroyed a few years ago. Even if we can’t celebrate our birthdays together anymore, always remember that I think of you, but…I am not jealous that you are two months older than I am. What I am jealous of is how good you looked in your bathing suit.

My Grandmother's Aprons

My grandmother’s aprons embarrassed my mother to tears. There was an expression in the days that I was growing up, it was called, “going through the depression.” That was used whenever a child wanted something, or if you saw some things that were weird like I did. For instance if you wanted a piece of candy at the store, “they” would say, “if you ever went through the depression” you would know not to ask for things. These mind sets generally lasted a whole life time for these folks.
My grandmother had a chubby tummy. She, like most ladies in those days always wore an apron so their dress would not get “mussed”. Another word you don’t hear anymore.
Before I really get into the apron thing, you have to understand that most ladies had three different kinds of dresses. The first, being, a Sunday dress. The second kind of dress was a “good” dress. Most ladies had two of these. They were used for going into town to shop, or to go visiting. Then there was the “housedress”. This dress was worn every day of the week. Most were made from feed and flour sacks, scraps of materials, etc. They really would have taken a beating if it had not been for the apron. The apron had three different styles. The cobbler apron which wrapped completely around the ladies and was held together by a sash. The second was the most common apron. It was a full length apron that hooked over the head of the lady and also had a sash to keep it together. Most aprons had pockets to put hankies in and a multitude of things I saw come out of mother’s apron pockets.
The third kind of apron was a half apron, which was generally worn, if the lady was expecting company and might get caught in the kitchen while finishing up the meal for her guests. The half aprons were generally pretty, many with embroidery and finished with biased tape to match the material.
Half aprons when I was a pre-teen were used as gifts for waitresses at weddings. The waitresses wore these as they were serving the guests their cake and drinks. These aprons were lovely. They were most always organdy which was see through. The bride had them match the colors she had chosen for her wedding. If she used white organdy they were decorated with matching satin embroidery flowers and lace.
Okay, getting back to my grandma, she, of course, had gone through the depression. I had a feeling, however, she was extremely frugal anyway. She made her own aprons as most ladies did, but she leaned against the counters when she cooked and baked and wore out the “tummy” of her apron repeatedly. There was a fix for this. She patched the apron with an unmatched piece of material. She did this several times with several different colors, whatever she had scraps of. My mother would chide my grandma about her aprons all the time. She still had patched aprons when she died.
When I was ten years old I made my first apron. It was cotton and easy to work with. I thought I was doing a good job, but my work did not please my mother. She said and I quote because I can hear her say this many many times, “If a job is worth doing, it worth doing well.” I didn’t agree with her then, and I still don’t agree with her. I think that she was passing on to me what she had been taught when she made her first apron many many years ago.
A few years ago I sent my brother's daughter one of my Grandmother's aprons. It was lavender and white check with embroidered cross stich connecting the checks. I had starched and ironed it. As I was doing this, I thought, I wonder if Grandma starched and ironed her aprons. I think not, but I sure could be wrong.

My Little House And My Best Friend

My little house is in southwest Missouri. I picked it out about six years ago. Something in side of me said that I must have a house bought and paid for before I retired. I did just that. I bought it, and paid for it and now it’s mine and no one can take it away from me unless I don’t pay the taxes on it.
It is in a little town of about nine hundred folks about fifty miles north of Springfield, Missouri. The people that live there for the most part are friendly and not wealthy by any means. They like to visit, sometimes gossip because there is little else to do. There is no movie theatre, no fast food places, however you can get a pizza at the Jump Stop gas station/convenience store.
I liked the location of my little house because it was close to the grocery story, the doctor’s office and I could walk one block to the beauty shop and most of main street, is called Ohio Street.
Years ago, I used to work at one of the nursing homes there, or I would never have known where this little town was. I was transferred with my company from South Dakota to this nursing home; it was there that I met my new best friend; Carole. We have been friends for seventeen years. We laugh together, cry together, fix things together, say really bad words when we shouldn’t, but things like that happen when one is frustrated. I have a picture of me after Carole and I canned one hundred ten quarts of tomatoes. These were not ordinary tomatoes, these had been starved for moisture, so the middle was solid core. This meant that our hands ended up like hamburger from stabbing and poking the core out of the meat of the tomato. We will never do that again.
We have had yard sales together although we swear that we will never do it again, we have made wine, brandy, meals for hungry people and an assortment of things that are for the most part memorable.

Last July I married a wonderful man, and moved to his home and rented my house. I cannot sell my little house. I guess it is a symbol of love and friendship that I felt and always will feel about this town.
During my darkest hours, Carole was always there for me. She sometimes made me see the funny side of despair. When I lost my sight she said we would get a seeing eye dog and we could go anywhere we wanted to, no one could say a word. That made me laugh. Sometimes I feel that the laughter that always seemed to erupt in me, healed me. I also feel that Carole was God’s helper. I am not a public speaker, nor a minister by any means, but I used to say that God played chess with my life. If that analogy is true, God used Carole with a move He made about seventeen years ago and said, “Checkmate,” but I did not lose, I won the game just like He planned.

Sunday Afternoons

On Sunday afternoons, we often went to my Grandparents’ house for lunch. In Iowa, we called it Sunday dinner. My grandmother would have at least four desserts. She would serve two different kinds of pies, cake, cookies, and of course, what she called “sauce” which consisted of either peaches or pears. She made the biggest cookies I have either seen. They were soft sugar/molasses cookies which she sifted powdered sugar on. They were approximately 3- 4 inches across. Oh, I loved those cookies. I would give the world if I could have the recipe for those cookies.
After we got through eating, the grownups would “visit”. If it was in the winter, the children would be sent to the parlor. There was no television, games or toys at my grandparents’ house. But there was an interesting thing called a stereoscope and several boxes of strange pictures. Each cardboard picture had two identical images on them. The person using this device would slide them into a sort of rack then look through the part that fit close to your face and imagine you were in another world. Most of these pictures were of strange people I didn’t know, but some were of animals and places I had never seen before. The image that was sent to my brain was a feeling that the people and animals were moving. Now days they have something similar for children called view masters. These usually have cartoons in the disks that children enjoy.
If the day was warm the children would be sent outside to sit either on a porch swing or a tall stump that my grandfather sat on. He had a stiff hip and walked with a cane, the stump was the right height for him to sit on so he could visit with his squirrels. He always carried nuts for them in his pocket. When a squirrel saw him they would wait until he clicked his tongue and made a chirping noise. Then they would slowly go to him to get their nuts. It was great fun to watch. However, if it was Sunday, he would stay in the house and visit if there was more company than just my family. Those days made me sad because I loved to watch my Grandfather and the squirrels.
My Uncle Leslie lived with us. He also loved squirrels, but he put them in a cage and I was warned not to get to close to them. I always felt that that was wrong especially sitting here at the computer, I can see them running and jumping from limb to limb in the trees and having a grand time.

Pam

I am sitting at my big computer this afternoon. I always seem to think better when I sit here overlooking the front yard. Sometimes I close my eyes, sometimes I just let my mind wander for about fifty years down life’s highway. It’s amazing the things that I see. Some things I don’t like, but can’t change. The things I do like are the people that are ambling down that road. For the most part, they all wave at me and smile. One of those people is Pam. I haven’t seen Pam in years and years, but we used to be really good friends. Of course, appearance is once thing that always comes to mind. She had beautiful long red hair and she was tall. All my friends were tall, I was kind of the shortie and I wasn’t short by any means.
If I remember right, Pam had a sister and two brothers. I can remember Denise and both brothers. They were pills and loved to tease. I especially remember Pam’s mother. She did not have red hair. When I knew her she had salt and pepper hair and always had a quiet smile for me. Pam’s family belonged to a different church than I did. My mother was very happy to let me attend church with Pam’s family. A person would think that was odd as invested as Mother was in our church, but she said it was very important that we know about other churches so that we knew for certain that the church we were members of, was the right church for us.
I liked staying overnight with Pam, they could not eat meat for the most part according to the laws of their church. Instead of hamburgers they had vegetable burgers that were absolutely delicious. I can remember telling my mother about them and she said that our church believed the same way, but we did not follow the laws as well as Pam’s family.
Pam, Joan, and I were a threesome. We really didn’t get into too much trouble as a group, but Pam and Joan picked on me something fierce. Here’s a story they may have forgotten.
When I was about fourteen or fifteen, I started having what I called memory lapses. These only lasted a few seconds at the most. My friends noticed these from time to time. When these happened, I couldn’t hear them or react to their yelling at me etc. One day they were visiting and one of these “spells” happened; they hit me over the head with a frying pan. I did not react. They didn’t hit me hard so don’t think they hurt me, but it did get my attention when they told me what they had done. I told my mother and she took me to the doctor. I have a seizure disorder to this day that started when I was a teenager. I’m really glad they didn’t decide to use a two by four. I am also glad that they did decide to test me to see if I was telling them the truth. If they had not, my condition may have gone undiagnosed and could have ended up seriously injuring me or other people.
The picture that you see of Pam is in our driveway in Cherokee, Iowa. I think Pam was about sixteen years old here. You need to remember this driveway because several stories will relate to this drive.

Bittersweet

Last night my daughter, Melanie, and I were “talking” on Yahoo Messenger. All of a sudden my webcam came on and there she was. I haven’t seen her since December, so it was really fun. I did think she looked a little too thin, be that as it may, I did not mention that to her. I got to talk to all six of her children. They are getting so big. I think it’s amazing how fast children grow. Or, is it how time goes whizzing by so fast for us over sixties folks that the children seem to grow three inches a month.
Elaina, the only girl, showed me her loose tooth. She was just grinning from ear to ear, because she was getting so big. Nick, the youngest performed his “funny face” for grandma and the big boys were all very sweet and dutifully said, “Hello” and went about their business.
Elaina and Nick told me about going on an Easter Egg Hunt yesterday. It was fun looking over Melanie’s shoulder past the kids and looking at her laundry on the floor. See, this is exactly as I predicted it years and years ago, when “they” said that someday we would be able to see and talk to people at the same time. I said, “I don’t want anybody to be able to see me with a messy house and my hair not combed.” Last night, Melanie caught me with my pj’s on, one button not buttoned and my hair, definitely not combed. If the camera could have craned it’s little neck, she would have seen that my laundry was not done either. In fact, it is washing away right now while I am writing this.
The one thing I did think of last night when I went to bed though, is my mother. How she would have loved to talk to her grandchildren and see them at the same time. She always lived a long ways away from them. Grandchildren do not know their grandparents then and by the time they warm up to them on visits, it’s time to go home. Now with the built in cameras on computers, at least some grandparents will be able to watch their grandchildren grow up and hear fun stories and funny faces that will get them through ‘til the next time.

Bengay by the Gallon?

I wonder if I knew how sore I would be today if I would have gone to the gym yesterday. The answer is yes. My husband and I went to our new gym yesterday with high hopes of spending an hour and getting rid of a year’s worth of gravity’s pull on our bellies. Well it didn’t happen. What did happen, though, is we actually had fun. We had so much fun we went twice yesterday.
My husband, Fran, and I have been so sedentary this last fall and winter that it will take more than a session or two to fix the damage that has been done.
True to form, though the male syndrome of showing off to the female species shined brightly with Fran doubling or tripling what I was pressing or lifting. He would give me this little smirk and tell the trainer he was perfectly capable of doing more. She warned him that he would probably feel it today. What she didn’t tell him or me was that we would feel it within a half hour of leaving the gym.
After we finished exercising in the morning, we went directly to Bolivar which is about a twenty five minute ride. We needed to go to Wal Mart and do some grocery shopping. When we parked in the parking lot, I asked Fran which one of us was going to help the other one get out of the car. He laughed and said, “You’re on your own.” He was rubbing his arms, I was moaning and groaning. We both were laughing. I asked him if he had a clue how bad off we were and he said no, and wondered if they sold Bengay by the gallon.
Typing this up this morning is killing me. Yes, typing. In the middle of the night when I would turn over, it woke me up. I kid you not, the palms of my hands hurt from hanging on to the treadmill, the bikes, and the other machines.
We go back tomorrow morning to do some more at the gym, however, Fran was being real cute this morning. On the way to the bedroom, he was moving his arms in a “power walk” position and was grinning from ear to ear.
We will see just how long that touch of arrogance lasts.