Good Ole Days

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Man in the Mirror

August 30, 2010 in Family, Good Ole Days by Sara | 3 comments

After reading my account of almost being bitten by the snake that really wasn’t, my brother reminded me of a funny story from our childhood.

Mike has always had a bit of insomnia. Many nights he would wake up and not be able to fall back asleep and so he would sometimes get out of bed and walk over to his window and spend some time looking out at our front yard. Since we lived in a very small rural town, I don’t know exactly what he was looking at. Perhaps he saw our dog Roger’s return from another night of romancing the girl dogs in town, or maybe he was seeing if he could catch whoever would occasionally shoot the street light out at the edge of the yard.

One day when he was a teenager, he got into his head that he would move the furniture in his bedroom around. Now, I think this was astounding because my brother in not exactly fond of change. When he was very young, my mom wallpapered his room with paper depicting Christopher Columbus and the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. Twenty years later, long after he had flown the nest and my mom decided to redecorate his room with something a wee bit less nautical, he was incredulous and objected strenuously.

However, something possessed him to make some changes in the furniture layout of the room and so he did. He then went off to sleep that night. After a couple of hours and long after the rest of us were off in dreamland, he woke up, tossed and turned for a few minutes, then decided to see what was going on outside. He stood up, walked over to the window……….

and THERE WAS A MAN STARING BACK AT HIM!!!! Right outside his window! A strange man! With eyes that pierced right into the heart of my brother!

Mike turned from the window, jumped back into his sweet trundle bed and yelled, “THERE’S A MAN LOOKING IN MY WINDOW!! THERE’S A MAN LOOKING IN MY WINDOW!!”

Now our town was known for a lot of things, but not peeping toms. So this was a very disturbing thing and brought the rest of us running.

There was a man in the window alright. Except that it wasn’t a window, it was the mirror on the dresser my brother had moved around earlier and the man staring back at him was his own reflection.

Don’t think we don’t tell that story almost every chance we get.

**This is my memory of this incident. Actual events may differ if my brother tells the story and I will stand corrected. But only if his version is just as amusing……..

Whistles

May 4, 2010 in Family, Good Ole Days, Kids by Sara | 3 comments

My daddy grew up the only child of a woman who loved everything about the outdoors and a man who liked being outside okay, but was never one for fishing and hunting and general outdoor guy stuff.

My father did not suffer, however. His grandfather (Grandma’s daddy) was an outdoorsman of the first order and he taught my daddy “everything I know about anything”. That is why to this day my daddy can walk through the woods and at a glance identify any tree just by it’s leaves and/or bark. It is an amazing thing.

When my daddy was a little boy growing up on the mountain, toys were in scarce supply. He found his playthings in the woods and in the fields. And one day his grandfather showed him how to make a whistle out of spring tree limb. You can only make them at a certain time of year when the bark is young and still slippery. Lucky us that we were all together at just the right time.

There was no way that my daddy could have known at that time that 65 years later he would make his own grandchildren so very happy by making them their very own whistle.

Whistle making 101

"Tap, Tap, Tap" This helps the bark seperate from the wood

Making the reed

Proud Pa and Katie

Even JD got into the action

Tomorrow: Language of My People: Parent’s Weekend Style

Ah, The 70’s

April 13, 2010 in Good Ole Days, Time Goes By, Travel by Sara | 1 comment

The museum we went to this past weekend was really fantastic. In fact, the girls said it was their favorite thing of the whole weekend. It had all kinds of stuff. Cars and planes and trains and furniture. I’m not sure where the furniture fit in exactly, but still, it had A LOT of stuff. However, the things I was most taken with were things that I had forgotten about completely but was transported straight back into the 1970s the instant I saw them.

The first one was this

Did you have one of these?! I’m sure the one I’m remembering was my brother’s but I could play that thing like nobody’s business. Forget about your fancy DS thingamagigs with their fancy graphics. All you needed where those green dashes marching down the field while you maneuvered like mad with your right thumb to advance the ball. I’ll bet you can even remember the sound it made when you scored a touchdown, can’t you?

The other was this beauty.

All together now.

“OH I wish I were an Oscar Myer Weiner! That is what I’d truly like to be-e-e. Cause if I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner, everyone would be in love with me!”

We ate some Oscar Meyers at my house growing up. We ate them cut up in kraut and grilled and cooked quick in that new fangled thing called a microwave oven. But my favorite way was just boiled in plain old water until hot through and through and plopped on a bun with mustard and ketchup. Yum.

Oh, the 1970s. When technology was just getting started and we didn’t know the perils of too many nitrites.

Those were the days.

Win-Bob

January 13, 2010 in Family, Food, Good Ole Days by Sara | 1 comment

When I was a little girl occasionally my daddy would say, “Let’s go get some ice cream!

That always meant loading up in the car and heading down to the Win-Bob drive in. A high school kid would come out to the car and take our order. My brother always wanted a vanilla cone.

You will never convince him that there is another kind of ice cream to get.

He’s loyal, that boy.

Me? I’d get a hot fudge sundae. You can have all your fancy swirls and dips and blizzards and such. To me there is nothing better than soft serve ice cream with hot fudge drizzled all over it.

So I was happy when my neighbor brought over some homemade chocolate sauce around Christmas. But I was estatic when I put some over the top of some vanilla ice cream.

I was immediately in the back of our family’s green Chevy car licking every drop of my hot fudge sundae off the white plastic spoon. Watching Mike’s cone melt faster than he could lick it clean. Thinking I had the best life ever.

Paula’s Homemade Chocolate Sauce

1 1/2 cup heavy cream
3/4 c packed light brown sugar
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
1/4 cup butter, room temp
1 tsp vanilla

Bring the cream and sugar to a boil over med high heat. Remove from heat and whisk in chocolates until melted. Whisk in butter and serve.

Keeps beautifully in the refrigerator for weeks. Reheat slowly in the microwave or on the stove top.

I Believe in Miracles

December 22, 2009 in Family, Good Ole Days, Holidays by Sara | 4 comments

Well.

That was crazy.

I tried to do some writing Sunday night and when I clicked onto my blog all I saw was a blank page with some sort of gobbel-de-gook message about bad synapses or widgets or something. I promptly threw up my hands a yelled for help.

Girls, I’m telling you that it pays to be married to a self confessed geek.

So, now I’m back and will continue with the post I wanted to do before my synapses and widgets conspired against me.

A CHRISTMAS STORY

I can’t remember the last time we put up a real tree. I know that it has been several years because at some point we decided that the hassle of getting it up only to have to take it down before we left for our parent’s house was just not worth it. The girls didn’t mind. They never thought Christmas started until we got to the grandparents anyway.

But as I’ve said, this year we are staying home and so off JD and the girls went to get our tree. They picked out quite the beauty.

When I was little, Daddy and we kids would take an ax and go cut down a tree out of some field. As far as I know we never paid for a tree in our life. From year to year the shape of the tree would vary greatly. For some reason one year Mama and Mike went alone to get a tree. Mama must have forgotten that our house only had 8 foot ceilings because she brought back a tree that was so tall that Daddy had to cut about 4 feet off the top. After that it looked more like a green bushy rectangle than a Christmas tree, but we loved it anyway.

Mama never got to go get the tree again.

When we got the tree home, Daddy would plop it down in a 5 gallon bucket and wedge rocks down in it to keep that tree straight. We’d turn the thing round and round trying to hide the ugly side of the tree (and there was always an ugly side). Then we’d wrap a sheet around the bucket and start putting on lights. Lights that were multi-colored and had bulbs the size of small eggs. The ornaments I remember most fondly were some plastic fruit that had little scenes inside them that we made one year from a kit and some elf heads on a string. The only breakable ornament I remember was the bell that had my brothers first grade picture in it. Why is it I can remember that and not what I walked into the room to get just a minute ago?

Note to my siblings: I call the elf heads!

Meanwhile, back at our house. JD and the girls returned and we set the tree up in its stand. There was no ugly side as it looked like it had been suspiciously manicured to a perfect triangular shape. The lights went up. The lights were too few in number. There was a trip to the Wal-mart where I discovered that if you wait until 5 days before Christmas you will find no lights. I made a trip to our hardware store. Lights!!! LED lights even! Bought them, brought them home. strung them around the tree, plugged them in, stepped back to admire……

They didn’t match.

LED lights may save you a bunch of money, but they burn a weird bluish color.

The lights came off.

As did most of my Christmas spirit.

At last, the final ornament was hung. We finally had a tree worthy of the beautiful (breakable) ornaments my brother has been buying my girls for Christmas since they were born. They love these ornaments. Whenever Mike makes noises about getting them something else, they protest mightily.

We stood back and admired our handiwork. Even sparsely lit, it was a beautiful tree.

Exactly one hour later it crashed to the floor. No one was within 5 feet of it. It just fell flat over.

Let me say that I could hardly make myself walk over to it. I was so afraid of what I was going to find. I just knew that 10 years of Lennox ornaments were going to be in pieces. The girls were crying their eyes out. The dog was hiding. I think JD was, too.

Ornaments lay in pieces all over. They were broken so badly that all I could do was scoop up the pieces and throw them away.

But only one of Uncle Mike’s ornaments was damaged. Mickey lost a foot, but it was a clean break and with some super glue you’ll never be able to tell anything happened.

We had ourselves our own little Christmas miracle.

But next year?

We’ll be using the 5 gallon bucket.

Snapshots

December 4, 2009 in Family, Good Ole Days, Time Goes By by Sara | 1 comment

Growing up, my daddy always took pictures with a camera that had belonged to my mom’s dad. It came in a brown case and it always required a little bit of relearning on my dad’s part when he went to use it.

When he got the film developed, it was always as slides. Every so often he would pull out the slide projector and we would have a slide show. I can remember he and mom hanging up a white sheet on the wall on which to project the pictures. I can remember the whirring noise the projector motor made and the dust motes that would float in front of the light coming from the front. I can remember the clicking noise that the projector made with each change of the slide and I can hear the frustration in my daddy’s voice when one would get hung up.

I recently took possession (at least temporarily) of all the slides mom and dad had accumulated over the years. I bought a scanner which will allow me to scan in the slides and turn them into digital images. I can’t wait to see all that I find.

JD worked hard yesterday to get the scanner working.

This is the first slide he scanned in.

Me at about 2 years old

I’m either squinting because the sun is in my eyes or from the fact that I was so farsighted that I spent a lot of time trying to see what was in front of me! I started wearing glasses soon after this picture.

Please take note that my tennis shoes have little sailboats on them. They match my dress. This is possibly one of the last times that this occurred.

This is going to be the most fun ever.

***** Matt Chandler will be having surgery today at noon to remove and biopsy the tumor which was found in the front part of his brain. Please lift Matt and his family, the surgeon, and the staff surrounding him as they work and wait today.*****

Just Call Me Grandma

November 17, 2009 in Family, Good Ole Days by Sara | 1 comment

While I’m taking a little break this week I thought I’d re-run some past posts that I especially enjoyed writing. I’ll be back for real next week…..

Originally posted June 12, 2009

Land Family: Circa 1968

There are just a few more things about this picture that I feel I must point out.

To those of you who wonder why a child of 6 is wearing grandmother glasses, I’ll just say this. The selection of frames in the 1960s for children was non-existent. Disney princesses had not found their way on to any frames in that day or time. Children’s glasses were basically just smaller versions of grown up glasses. So that is why I look like a 65 year old.

In fact, if you added a cardigan sweater and a pocketbook full of tissues and juicy fruit gum, I would be my own grandmother.

My mother is 20 years younger than I am right now in this picture and yet I have a child who is just a couple of years older than I am in this picture. The very thought of that makes me tired.

My mom made that beautiful dress that I have on. She smocked it and everything. I still remember how it felt when I wore it. It was made out of white velvet material and it was so soft. My mother has always been a genius with a sewing machine.

My dad was voted most handsome as a high school senior. One look at that picture and you can see why.

One of the best pieces of advice my mom has ever given me was to not waste my time worrying about being fat. She said that she worried about that practically her whole adult life. Look at that picture! She’s a waif. Those cheekbones! No wonder she was able to snag Mr. Handsome.

This was the last family picture taken before the birth of my baby sister. She’s the baby and she is special but she never got to wear her hair in a bouffant and wear a velvet dress. I still say being the oldest has its perks.

Icee

August 20, 2009 in Family, Good Ole Days, My People by Sara | 6 comments

I grew up in a town with one red light. It hung right in the middle of town and would sway dangerously in any high wind. The four buildings on each corner were the library, the bank, a gas station and a small grocery store.

Mr. Johnson’s store was about halfway between our elementary school and our house and every once in a while my brother and I would walk home together and if by chance we had a couple of quarters in our pocket we would stop by Mr. Johnson’s store and get an Icee. Oh it was heavenly. That red and blue striped cup filled up to the very top with either cherry or coke flavored icee. Has there ever been a better treat?

We usually only had money for one so we would ask for two straws and take turns sipping. One day Mr. Johnson made some remark about Mike and I being boyfriend and girlfriend. And while you can make all the jokes you want about Southern family trees consisting on one limb straight up, we DO NOT swing that way in our family. We were completely horrified and set him straight without delay.

So, Brother, I don’t want to be your girlfriend, but I sure am glad to be your sister.

Happy Birthday. I’m guessing this may just be your best year yet.

Going Home

August 12, 2009 in Faith, Friends, Good Ole Days, My People by Sara | 6 comments

I’ve written a few things about the church where I grew up. The small frame church where I spent my childhood and where I went to Vacation Bible School every summer, learned to sing in the choir, attended January Bible Studies and heard many a revival sermon is long gone. Torn down to make room for the larger church that we needed by 1981.

Most of the people that sat on the wooden pews in that little church are gone now, too. Mr. and Mrs. Ewton, Mr. King, Mrs. Pearlie Davis and my grandparents among them. I used to know the name behind every face, but now see a lot of new faces filling the seats.

I don’t feel like I’ve truly been home until I’ve gone to church. It is there that I see my grandfather’s only remaining brother, Mitchell,sitting with his sweet wife Rita Bess. I see my Sunday School teacher Phil and his wife Pam sitting in their customary seats on the front row. I see friends that have known me my whole life. Lisa, who used to have long blonde curls that I envied so much and her son. Greg who is now a banker but will always be a tow headed 16 year old in my eyes. I see my best friend’s little sister who has somehow gotten old enough to be sending her oldest off to college in a few weeks. I see my friend Larry who I can’t remember not knowing. His dad and mine have been friends since they were children and some of my earliest memories include him. I don’t dare sit too close to my best friend Vicki for fear that we’d start whispering and passing notes.

During the singing I know that if I turned around I would see Peggy Blevins sitting to my right and Ed Brown to my left. I’d know their voices anywhere. And I can always count on Billy Wayne Davenport to come up to me with a hug and a pocketful of candy for my kids. There is a reason they call him the “sucker man!”

For a moment, if I close my eyes, I’m right back in that little wooden church. Surrounded by these people I’ve loved forever and who always make me feel as though I’ve really come home.

What I’m Reading: Edition 2

July 14, 2009 in Books, Family, Good Ole Days by Sara | 2 comments

I had an Aunt named Margie. She lived alone in a little house in the small East Tennessee town of Elizabethton where my mom grew up. She was my mamma’s daddy’s sister so she was actually my great aunt. She had been married for a short time to someone that I don’t think was very nice. The family didn’t talk about it.

She could play the piano like nobody’s business. She played the organ at her church for years and years, but it is the piano that I most remember her playing. She played in the old fashioned way that isn’t around very much anymore, but if you ever attended a small Baptist church about 20 years ago, you’d instantly recognize the style. Hands flying and chords everywhere.

Her house was very quiet. And neat. The beds were always made and there was never any dust anywhere to be found. I don’t think a lot of kids would have loved it there.

But there were books.

She had a whole bookcase full of Reader’s Digest Condensed books. I loved them. I probably discovered them when I was about 10 years old and from then on I was happy to go to Aunt Margie’s house. I would pull one of the fat volumes off the shelf and lose myself in those stories.

Some of my favorites were “PS. Your (sic) Not Listening” by Eleanor Craig. “Halic: The Story of a Gray Seal” by Ewan Clarkson and “The Dwelling Place” by Catherine Cookson. Oh, and I just remembered “A Day No Pigs Would Die” by Robert Peck. That one just about killed me.

I loved them. I would lay and read so long that the back of my legs bore the imprint of the white chenille bedspread that always covered the guest room bed.

JD picked out some books for me to read on our vacation and one of them reminded me of The Dwelling Place, which reminded me of the condensed books,which reminded me of Aunt Margie.

She would have liked this one.

You might, too.

But don’t get the condensed version. This story is too good to miss any of the details.

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