Tag Archive: memories



Halloween, long ago.

The ‘pack’ of neighborhood kids, dressed in homemade costumes, parading down the streets.

Those kids, waiting for the homemade cookies, caramel apples, real apples, popcorn balls, an occasional candy bar or block of Double Bubble gum.

Laughter, skinned knees, carrying your fussy toddler sibling the last couple of blocks.

No vandals, no chunked pumpkins, no worries, no fears.

What happened?

Memories


Pate's Honor Day

A few years ago, I had the pleasure of attending the Destroyer Escort Sailors reunion with a number of family members.

My father served on the USS Coolbaugh DE 217 from its commissioning until the end of World War II.

He was honored as we toured the USS Yorktown.

His emotions were at the forefront when we walked up and this sign was prominently posted on deck.

It was one of the few instances I ever saw him cry.


A young mother of three I know, lamented, “I wish I could snap my fingers and a genie would come clean my house.”

I knew that feeling, during the long hot summers of my own kids growing up, even as I babysat grandkids, nieces and nephews in the more recent past.

As I look back, yes, the genie would have been nice. Maybe I could have managed time better. Who knows?

I do know, moments of wonder, drawing pictures, weed bouquets in grimy hands, blowing soap bubbles in the wind, playing with them in the sprinkler, hearing them say, “Please, read/tell us a story”, and “Can we have a tea party?”, are much more precious than spotless floors, folded laundry and a clean sink will ever be.

Housework lasts a short time, so does childhood. Housework lasts forever, children grow up and move on in the blink of an eye.

I’ll take the memories, a weed bouquet and a tea party!

Some day, dear, you will wish for these things too.


Yesterday, my sister and I went down some old dirt roads together.

One stop took me back some 50+ years, as we found and photographed a house much like my in-laws when Hubby and I first wed. That house had no electricity, no water running from a tap. It held respect, knowledge and caring people, for which I am forever grateful.

out withBJ for the day 027pro.

All this picture needs is me and Granny,sitting on the porch, enjoying the summer afternoon. Feeling the breeze, listening to cicadas and birds sing, a glass of cold well water in hand. Knowing a ‘canning’ of green beans, one of tomatoes, and a batch of pickles are sealing in the kitchen. The wood stove is cooling down, dishes done up, floor is swept…nothing to do for an hour or two, until supper. At peace with the world.


It has been a busy morning here on Sunrise Ridge.
Hubby rolled the teenagers out early (for them) on a fine Saturday morning and directed them to the cold cereal before heading to the garden and then to working on mechanical aspects of the riding mower.
Few breaks were to be had, things of an outdoor nature must be done today before a series of rain waves arrive later on.
About 11, I asked if they felt like sausage, eggs and biscuits might be appropriate to keep them going. Not surprisingly, the answer was yes, so I went to work.
As I mixed the biscuit dough, I remembered my maternal grandfather. He would get up about4, have a bowl of Cheerios or Wheaties and then head out to milk his dairy herd and take are of other morning chores.
Around 6:30 or 7, while the milk was cooling to be separated and bottled, he would come back to the kitchen, where Grandmother would be standing over the stove preparing ‘second breakfast’.
This was the big morning meal, eggs, bacon or sausage, biscuits, gravy and often some canned fruit or jelly. Always plenty of fresh whole milk and home churned butter.
My brother and I always thought we were greatly privileged when Grandfather would call us for that bowl of cereal and let us have a chance to help with the chores.
‘Second breakfast’ was the reward for rising early.


blooming lilacs 002a
I have nursed and coddled this lilac bush for several years. Last year, it had one tiny bloom, the first since my father dug it and gave it to me.
It is more than just a bush, it is part of my life. When I see it, blooming or not, I am reminded of some of the wonderful women in my life.
My mother, grandmother, aunts and great-grandmother, who had these flowers before me. Perhaps not the same bushes, but the lilacs, their scent, wraps me in rich memories each year.


Someone mentioned ‘teacher appreciation’ this morning. That brought back thoughts of this post I had written.

Teachers can make a big difference in our lives. Other than adults in our immediate families, they are the most important persons in molding children to be responsible and caring adults.

https://oldentimes.wordpress.com/?s=bill+dunn

I hope you enjoy this reprise and take a moment to share an experience about a teacher (good or bad ) in a comment.


There have been a lot of cars in my life. Most people my age can say that, I suppose. Currently we do not own a car as such, just our trucks…

However, back on December 10. 2010, I wrote a post about a now retired ‘car’ we own, you might want to check out her story,  https://oldentimes.wordpress.com/2010/12/10/betsy-the-beast/     Betsy the beast, our old, trusted and beloved Ford Bronco took us many miles. Yes, we still have her, and I still say if I win the lottery, I will have her restored to her glory.