My Life Is A Playlist

CVS/Pharmacy vs. Burger King

2011-02-24T13:47:00.000-08:00

1) Blinded By the Light by Manfred Mann's Earth Band
2) Couldn't Get It Right by Climax Blues Band
3) Don't Give Up On Us by David Soul
4) Dreams by Fleetwood Mac
5) Easy by Commodores
6) I Like Dreamin' by Kenny Nolan
7) Lonely Boy by Andrew Gold
8) So Into You by Atlanta Rhythm Section
9) Walk This Way by Aerosmith
10) Baby Come Back by Player
11) Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty
12) Da Ya Think I'm Sexy by Rod Stewart
13) I Go Crazy by Paul Davis
14) It's A Heartache by Bonnie Tyler
15) Three Times A Lady by Commodores
16) Y.M.C. A. by Village People

Really? Dedicate a blog to your place of employment? As nutty as it sounds, my job at CVS was the first time I realized a life outside of my parents' home. I'd had little jobs here and there, cleaning, tending, and the family band on some weekends but this was the first "real" job I had and it was the best!

Just before my 16th birthday they started building a Burger King on Pennsylvania Avenue. It caused quite a stir as it was the first major fast food chain store to come to Warren. We had had a Red Barn (anybody out there remember them?) and there was a Dairy Queen on the way to Corry but this was a big deal. I was extremely eager to get a job when I turned 16 so I could afford to get myself some clothes and maybe a class ring. I wanted some spending cash - pretty normal for a teen, I'd say. When the trailer on the construction site of the Burger King hung out a banner announcing that they were taking applications for employment I walked straight down from high school after school one day to get in line to fill one out. Come to find out, they were interviewing as well. I figured that with the number of people who came out for the jobs, my chances were slim to none.

Finally, it was my turn to fill out my application and hand it in. The person read it over and, instead of saying, thank you and me leaving, they asked if I could step down to talk to the other person. I did so, and, of all things, they were intrigued with my family band experience. I never thought that the one thing I usually tried to keep quiet would be the one thing that led them to hire me on the spot! In their mind it showed someone who would be able to relate well to the public. It set me apart from the sea of other teens. I happily skipped (as close to skipping as you get when you're a teen) down to where my Dad was going to pick me up after work and informed him I had a job!! He was happy for me and just chuckled when I told him how it was the family band mention that kinda did it for me. He had been the one to tell me that I should definitely include it in my work experience when we had discussed how to fill out an application the night before. He loved being right. Don't we all?

Well, word spread quick at church about my future career at Burger King with congratulations from all. But one lady, Debbie Parr, came up to me and asked if I was sure I wanted to work at a burger joint. She told me that they were hiring at her work - CVS/Pharmacy - and she could get me in for an interview if I was interested. Wow! I was certainly interested but it really tested my confidence! She told me about her job - how she was cashier but also stocked shelves, did inventory, put up end caps and followed something called a planogram. I was pretty sure I could sling burgers and make paper crowns for kids' heads, but all of this stuff Debbie was telling me about sounded too complicated. The other problem was, they needed someone right away whereas Burger King wouldn't be opening for another month or two. I wouldn't be 16 for another month and CVS couldn't hire me before turning 16. So what to do?

I talked to Dad, of course. He told me to really consider what Debbie was offering to do for me. He said that he had the confidence in me to be able to learn the tasks at CVS and he also felt that I would be learning skills that I could use later in life. Did I really want to be serving burgers and in an atmosphere that would put me constantly around greasy food? (I had just lost quite a bit of weight and he knew it was a concern of mine.) And, appealing to my vanity perhaps, which uniform did I want to wear - the Burger King one, complete with stupid hat, or the simple red zip-up jacket worn at CVS. (I looked good in red ;-))

Debbie talked to her boss about me and even though I wouldn't be 16 he said for me to come in and he'd interview me. I went and immediately liked the place. Everyone was friendly and they all seemed to act like I had already been hired! It was confusing to me. I went in back and talked with Chuck, the manager, and he seemed nice enough. He showed me around and explained what my duties would be. I filled out the paper work and he said that by the time everything was approved by their headquarters, etc, it would be close enough to my 16th birthday, so why didn't I just go ahead and start. There was a 3 month trial period. That made me nervous. What if I turned down the offer from Burger King, took the CVS job, then it didn't work out at CVS. What would I do then?

Between Debbie and Dad talking to me, I decided to scare myself spitless and take the job at CVS.

It was a rough start, to be honest. I started work right before their big quarterly sale. I was REALLY struggling with the cash register. Machines scared me. Math scared me. This was before the days when the register told you the change - you had to count it out and then back to the customer. There were strict procedures dictating the order of a sale and the clerk's comments. The company had secret shoppers and you never knew when one of these were in your line, ready to write you up for not stapling the receipt to the bag or asking if the customer found what they needed.

But the cash register mental block was the worst. I was dreadfully slow at ringing up customers. First you had to separate the non-taxable from the taxable items. You'd ring up the taxable, subtotal, find the correct amount of tax on the tax table taped to the register, then continue to ring up the rest of the items for the total. If you had an overring, it had to be corrected by a manager or 3rd key(a sort of assistant assistant manager). Your overages and shortages were attached to your employment record. Too many and you were gone. All of these consequences just about paralyzed me. I don't think my future at CVS looked too bright right then. My friend, Debbie, was a whiz at the register and she could see I was frustrated. One Sunday at church she came up to me and told me to report to work earlier than scheduled and she would take me up front and help me with the register.

I don't know just how she did it but it worked! She had me ring some things up and immediately saw all my hesitancy. She asked what I was afraid of. I told her. She then looked me right in the eye and said, "It's a machine!! You are a human with a brain! You are much smarter than it! It's going to do what you tell it to! It should be afraid of you!" So with that whole "you're the boss of the machine" mentality in place, I was able to kick my hesitations to the curb and get down to business!

My confidence in being able to run that register soared. I became one of the fastest cashiers there and learned to love that part of my job. During the quarterly sales they always ran a competition among the cashiers - who could ring up the most sales with the least amount of errors AND have an even till at the end of their shift. Among the part-timers, I usually won! We would get the paper ads before they were sent out to the public ads and I'd use my study hall time at school and memorize those sale prices. Looking up prices with a line of people took too much time and cut in to my total sales amount. People came out in droves to the CVS quarterly sales to take advantage of the great prices. I loved taking the next customer's basket, sorting out their taxables lickety split, ringing them up, then heading down the finish line to the total. Bagged, receipt stapled, good day wishes and out the door! My drawer was almost always even, and if off, only by a few cents. I loved that cash register by the time I left that job!

Other duties at the store were unloading the truck and stocking the shelves. The truck driver, Cowboy, was a fun guy and there was always alot of joking around when it was truck day. We'd run handcart after handcart of bins in to the store, deposit them in the correct aisle, then, when the truck was unloaded, we started emptying the bins, pricing the merchandise and shelving the items, placing the new to the back of the shelf and rotating the older items up front. We all had our favorite aisles. I loved the shampoo aisles (loved smelling the new scents) and the tobacco aisle - cherry tobacco is a sublime aroma!

I also learned how to do the planograms. Basically, they were diagrams of how products should be placed on a shelf. This was needed when a new product was being introduced or an old one was being discontinued. I learned later from another job that companies actually purchase shelf locations for their products with the shelves at eye-level costing the most. As these shelf locations were bought and sold, product placement changed and a new planogram was sent out to the stores.

I also managed the greeting card department. To this day I find myself straightening cards and resorting envelopes if they've been messed up when I go to Target or some other store.

The people I worked with were great. I hit it off great with one of the pharmacists, Tom, who recognized that I didn't use foul language and didn't "party." Sometimes the jokes and language at the store would get raunchy. They couldn't believe that I didn't drink or smoke or try to sneak out of the house (not Debbie, of course). But Tom would always look out for me and let me know that if it got too much I could escape back by him. But it was all good. Employees didn't change much. Pete, a kid who was the stock boy when I started, was the sweetest kid ever! Debbie didn't work there much longer after I started. My friend, Kathie, came to work there for awhile towards the end of high school. When Pete quit they hired Mark Campbell, a guy from school. I didn't really know Mark well at school. He was Class President, on the football team, and your all-around popular guy. I was nervous at first when he came to work but I soon came to know him as a very funny guy who did great Steve Martin impersonations. He was a sincerely nice guy and treated me very well. I'm glad I got to know him before I left.

I worked at CVS for two years, earning my little raise through every scheduled interview along the way. I loved having spending money and being able to buy some clothes. But I was frugal and I saved like nobody's business. I had a system. I would pocket the dollars in the singles column and the change and put the rest in the bank. For instance - if my paycheck came out to $68.56 I would pocket $8.56 and deposit the $60.00 in my savings. If I had a major purchase coming up I would keep enough out for that or withdraw what I needed. But, for the most part, I budgeted my meals, etc from that little amount. School lunches, which I paid for myself, were, I think .50 or .75. I would get a plate of fries for dinner or, if I had enough, a sub as well. I loved being able to buy Christmas and birthday gifts for my family with my very own money. All in all, I had a nice little nest egg saved up when I graduated from high school and moved west. I still have very fond memories of my CVS days. Very fond, indeed.

I love this playlist - even though it includes a song I don't particularly like. It is a small sampling of what went out over the airwaves during my wonder years at CVS. I absolutely adore the fact that I was a teen in the 70s and was blessed to be influenced by the diversity of the music of that era. Far out!!

Awesome Conferences

2011-02-08T18:58:00.000-08:00

1. Just the Way You Are by Billy Joel
2. Bennie & the Jets by Elton John
3. Haven't Got Time for the Pain by Carly Simon
4. Beth by KISS
5. Don't Go Breakin' My Heart by Elton John
6. If You Leave Me Now by Chicago
7. Mandy by Barry Manilow
8. Come and Get Your Love by Redbone
9. Lady by Styx
10. She's Gone by Daryl Hall & John Oates
11. Killing Me Softly by Roberta Flack

I decided that Youth Conference and Snow Conference needed an entry of their own.

Youth Conferrence was the BIG event of the year! We held fund raisers and saved up our personal money so that we could go each year. It was always held on a college campus in the general vicinity of where we lived. They needed a place with lots of rooms as this included all youth ages 14-18 from the states all around us. My first year they used Kent State University but my personal favorite campus that was used was Slippery Rock State College.

Youth Conference lasted about three or four days as I remember. During the days we would choose from classes with all sorts of different topics. There were spiritual, of course, but also practical ones about dating and career planning, health and beauty, sports, dancing. I can't remember them all but they had top-notch teachers for every single one and I looked forward to the classes as much as the activities. We stayed in the dorm rooms and shared with the other girls in our branch. We always had wonderful youth leaders in our branch and often they would go with us as chaperones for the trip but sometimes they had to recruit other people from the branch to go as well. I'll always remember Sister Karen Hohmann going with us. She and her husband were new members in our branch and they were a newly married young couple. Sister Hohmann was so pretty and so young looking. She came with us as chaperone on my last year. The rules of the conference were that after 10 pm, all youth had to be in their dorms and could not be out on the campus unless escorted by a chaperone. Well, we all got a bug to wander over to some building for a snack one night so Sister Hohmann agreed to take us. On our way we got stopped by one of the "patrol" leaders and asked what we were doing out so late without a chaperone. We pointed at Sister Hohmann and told them that she was our leader. They said, "Yeah, right! Nice try, kids! Now off you go back to your room. We are going to have to have a talk with your leader." Sister Hohmann said, "Well, go ahead and talk because I AM their leader!" We ended up having to walk back to the dorms so one of the other, older looking leaders could vouch for her. Sister Hohmann was our hero. We loved her even more after that!

Sister Karen Hohmann

The highlight of Youth Conference was the dance on the final night. There was a more informal one on another night, but it was usually so soon after we got there that nobody had had a chance to meet any one new and make friends so you basically just hung out with the kids you came with. All around the room there were mini branch and ward dances going on inside the one big dance. But after a few days of being able to mingle with other groups, the final dance was the one everyone looked forward to. That dance was usually formal and, looking back on it, the preparation for it was where most of the excitement of the night happened. Picture a dorm room setting, tons of girls doing each other's hair and makeup, hairspray flying - estrogen city! Every now and then the phone would ring and there would be anticipation as to which guy would be calling which girl to ask them to accompany them to the dance! (cue the squeals) There were the girls who pretended not to care about the dance - those not yet 16 and able to have a "date" anyway - they usually hung out by the window which afforded the best view to see the boys approaching from the men's dorm. Alerts would be sent out to the appropriate girl if her "date" was spied on his way. My girls will probably roll their eyes at this account - but it was as close as my life got to that of a typical teenage girl and I relish it even today.

My last year I finally had a date. It was a guy from my district. He was a year younger and a mile taller, but we were buddies - nothing more. It was fun to go to the dance and not feel the pressure of a girlfriend/boyfriend situation. We walked in to the ballroom and the first number they played was a polka! Well, being a good little German girl, I had been taught on the feet of my Grandpa and uncles how to do the polka. I was thrilled when Cliff, a good little German boy with equal training in the dance, swooped me into his arms and literally swung me out and around the dance floor! I didn't have to do a thing but fly as pretty as I could! We laughed and giggled and it was a great night!

Even though I only had a date that last year, I usually did get asked to dance at youth conference anyway. There were a couple guys who continued to remember me from my very first year. I'm pretty sure it had a lot to do with the fact that I was one of the kids from our district who performed in the talent show the first night of conference - my very first conference ever. Wow - every time I recall that night I have so many mixed emotions. How is it that I ended up sitting myself down to a piano in front of hundreds and hundreds of kids my age and, accompanying myself, belting out "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack? This is how! We heard before conference that there was going to be a talent show and each district should provide a few entries for it. Everyone in our district knew about our family band because we usually played for the Gold and Green Ball every year. They asked if I would be one of the talents. I was really nervous. I had never been to the youth conference before and had no idea what to expect. I asked all sorts of questions with the most pressing on my mind being - how many kids would there be? They all hem-hawed around and just assured me it wouldn't be any more than what I was used to singing in front of with my family band. But that was the clincher. With my family band, I had the support of my family around me - my father, my mentor, literally right by my side! I had never sat down and accompanied myself except for at home in our living room while practicing or monkeying around. It would be just me, the piano, and a microphone. I reluctantly agreed and went about trying to decide on a song. I had it narrowed down to two songs - "Haven't Got Time For the Pain" by Carly Simon and "Killing Me Softly." Dad stepped in and made the final decision of the Roberta Flack number, saying it laid better for my voice. So off we go to Youth Conference and when we got there and I saw how many kids there were I just about went nuts! I wanted to back out so badly! And I almost did but my leaders talked me into being brave and assured me all would be fine. My heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe. My legs could barely carry me out to the piano. Singing was one thing but I have NEVER felt comfortable playing the piano in front of people. What have I gotten myself in to??!! The first few notes were shaky but as I continued it all just sort of came out and the next thing I knew I was done and they actually clapped - with a few whistles thrown in here and there! Well, because I DID do it, it put me out there where I was seen and then remembered later that week at the dance - and even a few years later. So maybe it was worth it, eh?

Towards the end of my years in MIA they started having these mini-conferences in the winter called "Snow Conference." We'd use a lodge of some sort and it was usually just district level. These were also times of great fun. I don't remember dances being associated with these conferences. I remember the fun the girls would have up in our one big bunk room. We just hung out with each other. The last one I attended (1978) was my most memorable. I had met the man of my dreams and had just returned from meeting his family for the first time over Christmas break. He had asked me to marry him and I had said "Yes!" But more about that later. Being engaged kind of made me an odd entity in MIA. But I was in the process of planning a temple marriage and the girls were curious and happy and hopeful that they would be able to find someone like that someday, too. The red-striped footie pjs I'm wearing in this photo were a gift from him!

Me and Shayla B.

On this playlist are a few songs that have such a strong connection to this entry. Of course, the songs I practiced for my Youth Conference performance. But I need to point out the Billy Joel connection. His hit, Just the Way You Are, was big right at the time of that last Snow Conference. Somebody brought a Billy Joel album to conference and we played that over and over. I love the words to that song and it's exactly how I felt - that somebody loved me just the way I was. That struck a deep chord in me. I had to include some Hall & Oates because, to this day, I swear it was them playing on the Slippery Rock campus one year. We were walking through the student center building and there was this little concert going on and the crowd just grew and grew. We joined them and I loved their sound. Not much later, I heard Hall & Oates on the radio and I started yelling, "These are those guys that were at Slippery Rock!" Any Hall & Oates song slams me right inside of that Slippery Rock building - whether it truly was them or not. They ARE from Philly, you know!

Bad Hair & Dancing

2011-01-24T10:55:00.000-08:00

1. Frankenstein by Edgar Winter
2. Brother Louie by The Stories
3. Hello It's Me by Todd Rundgren
4. The Joker by The Steve Miller Band
5. Aubrey by Bread
6. Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder
7. My Love by Wings & Paul McCartney
8. Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt-Kickers
9. Smoke On the Water by Deep Purple
10. Reelin' In the Years by Steely Dan
11. Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin

My teens are probably my least favorite time of my life. Is that true for everyone? I don't know - but for me, it was. There just didn't seem to be anything about myself that I felt was up to par. I got teased for being short, for being chubby, for being Mormon, for only wearing dresses to school when pants were all the rage - you name it, I just didn't measure up. I tried as hard as I could to blend in to the walls but, somehow, sometimes I was still picked up on someone's radar and awkward and painful moments would follow. I didn't possess the talent for glib retorts and ended up saying something in defense that would just send the attacker into fits of laughter. I wasn't quite Josie Grossie from "Never Been Kissed", but I definitely felt her pain in the movie. One thing I can say for myself - although I wasn't wearing the latest fashion, at least I was clean and well-groomed! Yeah - that doesn't quite pack the punch you're hoping for, does it? But it was the words of solace my mother would send me out the door with. To be fair, I do have to say that there was more emphasis in those days on personal hygiene as opposed to name brands. I didn't even know what a "brand" was until well into adulthood. Jeans were jeans, shirts were shirts. Styles mattered, but not where you got your style. But if you stunk, it didn't matter what you were wearing!

I've already mentioned the Pixie haircut - but let me share with you some photos leading up to that time.

7th Grade

8th Grade

My 7th and 8th grade pictures look very similar. You will notice that I wore practically the same outfit, only changing out the color of shirt under the jumper. This was not planned - just evidence that I didn't have a very extensive wardrobe and was just learning to sew. (The sewing would open up the door to all sorts of wardrobe options in the future!) Let's look closer, though - particularly the hair. In the 7th grade portrait you will notice the bangs simply because they are the most horrible mess EVER! My mom decided that morning that my bangs, which she detested anyway, were too long. So she goes and grabs her shears and starts trimming. But no matter what, they kept coming out uneven. After a few attempts to even them up, time ran out because the bus was coming and out the door I went. When I got to school I ran to the bathroom and saw what an insane mess it was. Heaven help me! Had she used the pinking shears?! What on Earth was I going to do now? I got them wet and tried to work with them but there was just no use. As I looked in the mirror I swore that that was the LAST time my mom would ever touch my hair - and it was! I couldn't afford to go to a salon at that time so my only option was to just let it grow out and go without bangs. And this leads up to what's going on in my 8th grade portrait. Just pull that hair back, wrap a ribbon on it and call it good! But what was I going to do? There wasn't a soul I trusted to cut my hair who would do it for free and no funds to go to a salon - so it just grew. I would soon get a job, though, from a lady for whom my mother tended. She owned a hair salon and I would go in and clean for her - sweep up the hair, clean the restroom, mop, clean combs and brushes. I didn't make much, at least not enough for a haircut, but I think she took pity on me and would have me come in and she'd do a quick trim on the ends or give me an updo of some sort, just so I could feel pretty. No bangs, though! I just knew that if I got them, my mom would insist on trimming them and that just wasn't going to happen!

Amongst all this teenage angst there was one place I could go, though, where I felt accepted and not quite as dorky. In church, at age 12, you advanced to the youth group and were able to participate in their activities. I had watched my brothers leave on a weeknight to make the drive up to Jamestown, New York, for the MIA activities. MIA stood for Mutual Improvement Association and it was for ages 12 - 18. You had lessons and activities. It was a chance for the LDS youth to associate with each other. There were very few LDS people in our area and, often, as in my elementary days, I was the only one. In high school there were a few others, but we were, by and large, a minuscule minority. It felt good to get together with other youth your age who shared the same beliefs and standards you did, where you could have fun and not worry that someone was going to make fun of you or try to get you to drink or smoke.

Part of the program was a girls camp that was held every year where they tried to teach us different camping and survival skills. The location was different each year, some years more rustic than others. Some years we had to dig our own latrine. One year it was actually held on the lawn of some chapel! But I usually had a good time. We were certified each year and, if we did all the years, we got an award of some sort. I don't know because I only made it to girls camp until I got a job when I was 16 - I didn't complete all the years. But I will always remember the times I got to go and hang out with my friends and the crazy skits we did and pranks we played.

Like I said, our numbers were few and girls always seemed to outnumber the boys in our area. In essence, there was me, Rachie McNutt, Dale Johnson, Mary Mortenson, and later, Cathy Mahon, Lynda Campbell, and LeNae and Geniel Peavey. There were a few more girls from the Jamestown area, but we were the Warren girls. Every now and then they'd try to create a Warren branch, but it didn't really take off until I was about 15 or 16 - and then we met above a dairy building that was just below the high school.

What I looked forward to more than anything as a youth was NOT dating, but being 14 and old enough to attend the dances. At all the playing jobs we did I always longed to be out on the dance floor, not up there singing and watching everyone else have fun. I don't consider myself a good dancer at all, I just like to move to the music! Still do today! I really, really, really like to dance! So it didn't take much to make me happy. We'd have dances on a branch level - interesting when Warren finally did become their own branch and the only guy your age was your brother! But before Warren Branch was formed, there were just enough guys from Jamestown and we had so much fun!

I will never, EVER, forget when the Peaveys moved in to the area. Don and his two sisters, Lenae and Geniel, were the most fun and creative people I had ever known. Don won my heart at the very first dance we had after they moved in. It was at the Jamestown chapel in the multi-purpose room. We had the usual songs that were played, all current, and good dance music. When Edgar Wiinters' "Frankenstein" started playing, Don came running into the room and started doing this leaping sort of dance all around the room. We were mesmerized! It was awesome! We all clapped and egged him on, not wanting it to stop. Thank goodness it's a long song! We all tried to dance like him - we couldn't. To this day, sometimes I'll put on the song and, if I'm sure I'm quite alone, I'll attempt Don's dance. No can do. Just one of many talents that you can only possess if you are a Peavey. I could fill an entire blog entry or two of Peavey memories. Maybe I will someday. They are just that awesome.

The other memorable dances occurred at Super Saturdays. Super Saturdays were part of the Seminary program - a religious education course for the youth of the church. We usually drove to Erie for them since Erie was the home location for our district. During the day we would have lessons, games, and activities of different kinds. At the end of the day we always ended with a dance. The girls would go to some member's home and get ready - not that they were formal - it's just that after a day of playing hard you wanted to clean up and look good! On a district level, the number of guys increased drastically! These dances could be a bit like school dances in the sense that you didn't know all the guys there and some awkward moments usually came up. You know, I didn't get asked to dance much at these dances, either, but I still would rather be here and not being asked to dance than at a school dance not being asked to dance. Over the years I slowly came to the realization that I was probably just going to be a career woman and I set my sights on those goals. Guys - I should say, good guys - just weren't all that interested in me. I guess I can say that nonchalantly today, knowing the outcome of my story, but if I were to be truly honest, it hurt me a great deal at the time.

This playlist includes many of the songs that were usually played at the church dances. On the branch and district levels, the evening always ended with "Stairway To Heaven." I find this an unusual choice because, it starts out slow and is a great slow dance song, but then it starts rocking out and it always left us wondering, so now how do we dance? We knew, though, when that famous arpeggio intro started, that if there was someone we'd been wanting to dance with all night and hadn't done it yet, now was the time to grab him/her because this was our last chance!

A note on the links to these songs - I will sometimes choose a video of lesser listening quality so that you can see other cultural elements of the time. This, I think, helps you feel the notes of the "era" better.

Fish Stories

2011-01-23T15:09:00.000-08:00

Me when I was about 16, still fishing strong in my

favorite fishing outfit - bandana in hair, long-sleeved thermal, and jeans

1. Indian Reservation by Paul Revere & The Raiders
2. It's Too Late by Carole King
3. Amos Moses by Jerry Reed
4. Temptation Eyes by The Grass Roots
5. Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters
6. Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver
7. Signs by The Five Man Electrical Band
8. Help Me Make It Through the Night by Sammi Smith
9. Lonely Days by The Bee Gees
10. Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again by The Fortunes
11. It Don't Come Easy by Ringo Starr
12. Riders On the Storm by The Doors

Would it surprise you to know that, when I was very young, I dreamed of being able to go fishing? As a little girl I would watch my dad, and then my big brothers, get all geared up for the first day of fishing season. The getting of the licenses, the digging for worms and purchasing of other bait like salmon eggs - it all seemed so exciting. They'd talk about which streams would be the best and which ones had been stocked. I can't remember how old I was when I started pestering them to let me come. I would see the look of dismay on my brother's faces as they feared that my dad would cave in and let me come along. But he didn't. Until one year. I don't remember the exact age - I'm guessing it was right around 11 or 12 because I know we were living on Keenan Street at the time - but when I begged he actually seemed to stop and consider it! My hopes soared! I think he thought he was being very clever when he finally made his response - after all, I WAS a prissy sort. But he didn't realize just how badly I wanted to go. So when he said, "Sure, you can go, but you have to bait your own hook and clean your own fish and undo your own tangles" and I enthusiastically replied, "OK!! Just show me how and I will do it!," I think he was truly surprised! Being a parent now, I realize what processed through his mind at that moment. First off was probably - "Dang!" Then came the resolve that he had made an offer that he hadn't expected to be taken, but now that it was, this year was going to be more of a teaching year for him than an actual fishing one. At least the first day of fishing season, anyway.

I was so excited as he, and my brothers, filled me in on the rules. I already knew the rules, though. I had sat around that dinner table too many times and listened to the stories they would tell. I knew to be quiet, especially in areas where the stream pooled out and hit a quiet spot. I knew that you don't go stomping through the water. I knew that you keep your pole tip forward and angled down a bit as you walked through the trees so as to not get it caught in the branches overhead. I knew to watch your line as it drifted down so as to not cross someone else's line and you certainly don't cast across another person's line! I knew that fish were hungrier in the early morning and they also ate well after it rained and the water might be muddied a bit. I knew that fish like to hide under the tree roots where the stream cuts back under and forms a little deeper pool. I knew to leave a bit of worm dangling off the hook because the fish like to see the worm wiggle - it let them know that it was alive.

My brother, Ed, helped me dig for worms and showed me how to get the night crawlers to come up out of the ground. There was the usual flooding with the garden hose technique, but he had come up with some sort of secret mustard sauce that he would pour down into the holes and those night crawlers would come right up out of their holes. We had our flashlights handy and I got pretty good at grabbing those slippery little things and adding them to our worm pail full of dirt. Ed also showed me a few different ways to thread the worms on to my hook so that when the fish took the bait, the worm would slide up on the hook, and maybe you could get more uses from that worm than just that one bite. He taught me how important it was to make sure the hook was hidden because fish were pretty smart. Ed and dad both taught me how to cast in our back yard.

That first day came and I was so excited to be up super early with the guys. They had already talked and decided who would go where. We just happened to live where there were tons of streams so choices were plenty. Dad had scouted out a spot that he thought would be perfect for me. It was a spot where the water dammed up a bit and there was a tree with an exposed root system at the edge of the water. He knew that there was tons of what he called "crappies" or "sun daze" in there. I guess that dad decided that if I was so excited to try that I'd be willing to play with worms and cut the guts out of the fish, then he wanted me to have a good time. And what "hooks" a kid on fishing quicker than actually catching a fish? You don't care how big it is, you just want to have that feeling of pulling something in! To this day, that tug on the end of the line excites me!

He watched me bait my hook, then pointed out the water flow and instructed me to cast upstream just a bit and then let my line drift down, making sure the bait sailed past that tree trunk - but slowly reeling in at the same time. Too much line would make me get a snag. So I did as he asked and got a nibble that very first time! My eyes went huge! He explained about the patience part. You just have to keep doing it and eventually they'll bite hard! He was right! It didn't take too many casts and I was reeling in those crappies! I kept the ones that were big enough and released those that weren't. When he saw I had the hang of it, he left me there to go to another spot nearby where he could fish. I kept pulling those fish in all day! When it slowed down I learned the beauty of sitting on a fish bank, line dropped, just waiting for that bite, but loving the absolute serenity of it all. I instinctively learned how to lean my pole against my knee, prop it up on a branch, and lay back and rest, knowing I would be able to feel any tug on that line. I have always been a talker - talk, talk talk, all day long - couldn't shut me up. This was a concern with my dad and brothers. They warned me over and over again about how I wasn't going to be able to talk! Fishing required quiet! I learned how to be still by learning to fish. It's probably one of the few times where I am rendered speechless! I found I LIKED the pondering! I LIKED the quiet!

At the end of the day, Dad showed me how to gut the first one and I eagerly went to work on the rest! It wasn't so bad. I didn't particularly like how the scales would stick to everything but, oh well! We returned home with our catch and mom cooked them up for dinner!

I was so proud to be able to be in on the sharing of the stories! They were all laughing about how I was just zinging them in, one right after the other. One of the boys tried to tease me about how small they were but it didn't faze me. You could tell which ones were mine on the platter - too small to even be boned. You had to just eat around the bones. But they were mine! And I was one of the guys that day!

I started scouting the creeks right around our house and found spots that I knew would be good fishing. It was a new way to escape. I'd get my chores done, grab my pole and bait and head across the street and start following the creek to my holes, fishing until I had to get home to help with dinner. Oh, how I loved this release - this time to myself - this time of quiet thought and contemplation. I grew to have my love and appreciation of nature through fishing. I was SO blessed to have grown up in the area I did, where the lush forests and plentiful streams were readily available. I thank my dad for many things, but among the most treasured is allowing me to go fishing. I also can't think of it without realizing just how much my brother, Ed, did to prepare me so I could be successful. It's amazing what blessings come to the forefront through pondering. What gifts. What blessings. And this ain't no fish story!

Slumber Parties

2010-04-11T09:33:00.000-07:00

1. Seasons In the Sun by Terry Jacks
2. Daddy Don't You Walk So Fast by Wayne Newton
3. Billy, Don't Be A Hero by Bo Donaldson & The Heywoods
4. Jackie Blue by Ozard Mountain Daredevils
5. Run Joey Run by David Geddes
6. One Tin Soldier by The Original Caste
7. If by Bread
8. The Last Song by Edward Bear
9. I Think I Love You by The Partridge Family
10. Band of Gold by Freda Payne
11. Rock Me Gently by Andy Kim
12. Diary by Bread
13. Knock Three Times by Tony Orlando & Dawn

I think slumber parties are a great learning ground. It's the first lesson in a girl's life about the importance of girlfriends. It's also probably the first lesson in a girl's life about back stabbers! You learn about taking turns telling your "oh my gosh!" stories and you learn about the fine art of talking over someone else - as in, say, there are four girls sitting in a circle at 12 o'clock, 3 o'clock, 6 o'clock, and 9 o'clock. The girls at 12 and 6 can carry on an animated conversation at the same time as the 3 and 9 girls do - and it's all OK. This gets more info out at a faster pace. It's letting go of this acquired talent as you get older that can be difficult! And guys just don't get it! Slumber parties also taught me that the darker it gets, the more loose your tongue tends to be. Sometimes you end up sharing things that in the daylight, well, you wished you hadn't. But there it is. It's out there. What will the listeners do with that info? Life lesson - think before you speak - no matter how dark it is - no matter how much others are sharing. JUST THINK FIRST!!!

I started going to slumber parties when we lived in Arizona, so I was about 9 or 10. That's kind of young but it was just such a great way to get to know my new friends. We were still too young to worry about hairdos, but we were just starting to be interested in boys. Most of the boy conversations, though, centered around which ones did the grossest things. Mostly we liked to play games and have seances. Seances? Indeed! I find this hilarious as I look back, because, who did we choose to contact in the spirit world? Geronimo! That's who! Well, I guess it was in Arizona, but, still. Doesn't that crack you up? I don't remember any real fruitful attempts. You really can find "evidence" of a spirit in just about anything - the flicker of the candle, a sudden car door slam outside. It's ridiculously...... funny!

Frankly, my favorite part of slumber parties were waking up the next day and having breakfast! I was so curious about what other people ate for breakfast and what mornings were like for other families. My parents always cooked breakfast - weekdays and weekends. Cold cereal was almost unheard of. They said it was "nothing but sugar!" with disdain as they asked if I wanted more syrup for my pancakes. I didn't catch the irony of that until much older. Actually, maybe one of my kids pointed that out to me! I remember one slumber party breakfast in particular. It was at a girl named Teresa's house. I didn't know her as well as others but that BREAKFAST! Her parents were very kind people and they made pancakes. Not from scratch. Out of a box! (gasp!!!) But they were light and thick and delicious! Furthermore, they had butter! Not margarine. Real butter! And these pancakes soaked up the butter and the syrup. Well, I was just a little runt, of course, even more so then than ever, but I ate every single person in that kitchen, including the dad, under the table! I couldn't figure out what it was about those pancakes, but I knew that each one I ate only made me want another one. Pretty soon, I narrowed it down to the butter. I started skipping the syrup and just had butter. At the time I didn't know the difference between margarine and butter. I went home and tried to tell my parents about the stuff they spread on their pancakes and how it was almost cheesy in taste. I don't think they heard much else after I told them about the pancakes out of a box, though. It took me quite awhile to figure out the differences between butter and margarine. It's all about exposure. And my exposure to butter was very limited growing up! Once in awhile my mom made it from cream. But we were pretty much a margarine family. It was cheaper and fed the masses more economically.

When we moved back to Pennsylvania I found out that my friends from there had also embarked on the world of slumber parties. Invites started coming in and it was fun to go spend the night at friends' houses that I had only played at during the day before. It seemed funny to see their parents in robes. They also did seances and I introduced the whole Geronimo idea to them. I'm pretty sure we tried to contact him but I can't remember who else. Then someone got a Ouija board and brought that. It was even more silliness as you knew someone was directing that wedge to go right where they wanted it to go.

As we got older, well, conversations were taken over by boys. There just wasn't enough time in a night to talk about all the boys we wanted to talk about! There was always something new to discover about who liked who and who had just broken up. And we had to talk about hair and makeup, too. Magazines were brought and shared. There were arguments over who was cuter, David Cassidy or Donny Osmond. Squeals of laughter when someone divulged that they actually thought Danny Bonaduce was cute!

And there was music - ALWAYS! Someone had a turntable and we brought records. The playlist above is a selection of songs that were popular at the slumber parties. Oh, how we would listen to these sappy, sorry songs and cry! Seasons in the Sun was a big hit and an even bigger tear jerker! When I hear songs like that today, ie Don't Take the Girl, I cringe. It's just so obvious and I feel played. But, back then, we ate it up! Diary by Bread had us laying on our sleeping bags, picturing the whole thing - a cute boy finding OUR diary and reading about how the one he loved really loved another. Did he get mad? No - he wished her the best. Because that's just how much he loved her! sigh I don't think I can count the number of times we played Knock Three Times, singing it at the top of our lungs! I had to include Rock Me Gently because I couldn't wait to share with the girls how a guy in my German class would sit there, lean forward, and sing it to me during class! Squeal!!! I acted annoyed, of course, but, here I am 35 years later, still remembering, still smiling.

Slumber parties only lasted until I was about 14. The older I got the more responsibilities I had. We also had a family band and I was busy playing jobs on the weekends, the standard slumber party time slot. Then I got a job and, well, the rest is history. For the most part, my teen years were about working either at home or at CVS Pharmacy. It was all good, I just didn't have much social time. I had music, though. There was, and is, always music, playing in the background, coating my memories with glue, sticking them to my heart forever.

My Christmas Tag

2009-12-27T16:46:00.000-08:00

This entry will be a bit of a departure from my usual as I am responding to a "tag" from my oldest daughter, Becca, about what the Christmas spirit is to me - the symbols, the traditions. It's interesting to note that she focused on the tree as hers because I hope she got that from me. The tree, or more accurately, the choosing of the tree, is a big part of my childhood memories and the moment that always set me right in the spirit of the holiday. No ordinary tree would do for us - oh no! We searched until we found the perfect tree! I accompanied my father on this quest and we would discuss height and circumference. If there was a toddler or crawler in the house at the time, my mother would request a sharp-needled tree. Now before you all get upset about this, think about it. I don't ever remember having trouble with ornaments and little ones. I used this same strategy with my little ones and, again, never had to worry about putting ornaments up high. I also added jingle bells to the lower branches just in case I had a more determined one in the house. If I heard a jingle, I quickly went in and distracted them with something else as equally shiny and wonderful. But, usually, the sharp needles were deterrent enough themselves. Sometimes my dad and I would find our perfect tree on a pre-cut lot, sometimes we had to take to the snowy field. We would then bring home our perfect find and dad would put it up in the stand. Music was played on the record player, dad would string the lights and then we'd empty carton after carton of ornaments upon that tree. And then - the best part of all!!! Pulling on our jammies, turning off the lights, and cuddling up on the couch and sitting and staring at the wonder of it all while listening to Bing and Nat and the Harry Simeone Chorale, The King Sisters, and Andy Williams. My mother is the most clever person I know when it comes to decorating. We never had a large budget but people thought we did because of how beautiful our home always looked. And during the holidays she outdid herself!

I would now like to talk about another tree which always held me spellbound. That of my maternal grandmother's. It was always HUGE! Did they have higher ceilings? I don't know. But their tree always seemed massive. She had the usual colored bulb lights like we did. She had the shiny glass ornaments like we did. But she also had the glow-in-the-dark tiny, baby cherub angels which she hung all over her tree. You couldn't really see them until the lights were out. So, as you can guess, whenever we went to her house, I'd run into her front room, yelling over my shoulder, "Grandma! Come turn out the lights! I want to see the baby angels!" And you know, she always obliged. She'd chuckle and shake her head as if to say, "Kids get excited about the darnedest things!" But I think it made her happy inside to know that I got so much pleasure out of it. I remember I had gone to her house when I was an adult with children of my own. The baby angels weren't on the tree and I think my dismay showed when I asked where they were. A few days later, she showed up at my mom's house (where we were staying for the holidays) with a little box. In it were several of these sweet, baby angels. She thought I should have some because maybe my little ones would get the same joy that I had. We shared a moment, as we often did, not that she was a huggy sort or anything, but she and I had a connection - a sort of innate understanding. I knew she loved me and I loved her back. Sadly, the baby angels had lost their glow after so many years, and I started losing them here and there due to their being so small and not finding them all as the tree was taken away. So I've stopped putting them up. Perhaps I should find a tiny tree on which to hang my tiny angels. Or maybe I'll just create a display where I can see them year round.

After the tree, I would have to say that my most magical Christmas memories were the Christmas day shrimp feasts at my grandmother's house. She would cover her dining room table with plastic and newspapers. Shrimp would be brought up from my uncle's family in Maryland and they would boil it up in Old Bay Seasoning. Pot after pot would be dumped into the center of the table and people would take turns bellying up to the table, rolling up their sleeves, and shelling and eating to their hearts' content! The smell of Old Bay is always the smell of Christmas!

Sometimes my Grandpa Ristau would hitch up the sleigh to the back of his tractor and all Christmas Eve he would take batch after batch of family out on a ride about the countryside. You know those Christmas cards that show the snowy fields and everything is cast in shades of blue? It looks exactly like that! We would burrow down into the blankets and the laps of the adults and listen as the adults would chat and laugh and the moon would shine bright and sparkle off the untouched snow in the fields. If I had a time machine, I'd be right there in a heartbeat!

I always wanted to recreate the Christmases of my childhood for my kids but that is impossible and I think you just come up disappointed in the effort to do so. Those first few Christmases away from home were very difficult for me. Even when I was able to go home for Christmas with my newborn son, things were already different. My in-laws had lovely traditions of their own, yet they weren't my traditions. I quickly realized that I needed to cherish my memories and hold them special as my own. With my husband, we took parts of his and parts of mine and melded a brand of Christmas of our own. And I'm glad to know that we've hatched a success! I just hope my children understand that they, too, need to make a recipe of their own that their family can enjoy. Even within our own traditions I find that as life goes on and situations change, traditions need tweaking now and then. The common denominator, then, becomes, not the tree, not the shrimp, not the favorite Christmas show, but family and being together. Sharing the joy of the season and delighting in watching little ones embrace the spirit and experiencing it anew. Is there anything more precious than the lights of a tree reflected in the bright eyes of a child?

Changing Times, Changing Places

2009-11-15T15:29:00.000-08:00

1. Make It With You by Bread

2. Make Me Smile by Chicago

3. (They Long To Be) Close To You by The Carpenters

4. No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature by The Guess Who

5. 25 Or 6 To 4 by Chicago

6. Up Around the Bend by Creedance Clearwater Revival

7. Woodstock by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

8. Spirit In the Sky by Norman Greenbaum

9. American Woman by The Guess Who

10. ABC by The Jackson 5

11. Evil Ways by Santana

12. No Time by The Guess Who

13. Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel

14. Mama Told Me (Not To Come) by Three Dog Night

My father's work took us back to Pennsylvania after my fourth grade year. I was sad to be leaving my new friends, but excited to reconnect with those friends I had had since I could remember. "Would they be different after only a year," I wondered. Grandpa and Grandma Ristau helped find a house for us. It was just down the road from their house, almost right across the street from where we lived when I was born, which was also the house in which my mother had been born. Our new house was a grand old home, built somewhere around the 1900's, I think. Lots of oak woodwork throughout, a magnificent porch on the front, a stairway that split and went both into the kitchen and down to the front entry. There were sliding pocket doors to divide the dining room from the living room. There was a third floor, or walk-up attic, but we used it for a loft type of bedroom for the boys. I loved this house from the minute I saw it (and made sure no ghosts lived there!) It was the old Keenan house and was on Keenan Street in Rogertown, between Clarendon and Warren, not too far from the Glade Bridge. We would live here until I left home to get married, making it the place I lived the longest in my childhood. Therefore, it is "home" to me. So many memories took place in that home. . . . .

Although I had only been gone a year, so much had changed! Actually, I had been gone from the Clarendon friends for two grades, so it was almost like I was brand new! I would attend school back up in Clarendon but they had built a huge new school! It seemed so modern compared to the old one. Some of the old teachers were still there. Mrs. Hansen still taught art. Mrs. Grosch was still there. Mrs. Brindis was there and, of course, my great aunt, Mrs. Maurer was still there! She taught 5th grade. Would I get her? She had taught some of my older brothers so I knew it wasn't out of the question. Well, I didn't get her. We rotated to her for American History and I learned my state capitols from her, but my main teacher was Mr. Davis. Before, the younger grades alone had been at the school in Clarendon with the older grades either in Tiona or at Lincoln. Now we were all together! Most of my friends didn't know my aunt before because she taught the older grades at Lincoln. Most of them didn't really even know that she was my aunt. Aunt Gwen had a reputation for being very strict. Some downright didn't like her. I loved her so much and it made it difficult for me to hear the kids (at the beginning of the year) talk badly about her. Yes, she was very strict, but if you did your work and followed the rules she was lots of fun. She had been the first married woman in the area to be allowed to be a principal. Back then, if you married, you were pretty much expected to quit and stay home. Sometimes you'd be allowed to teach a little while, but it was unheard of to get married and then actually advance to a position such as principal! But she did! She watched out for me but didn't treat me specially. Eventually, everyone knew she was my aunt so the bad talk came to a stop, at least around me! The down side of having my aunt in the room next door is that if I got in trouble, I knew my mom and dad would be finding out about it. There were no secrets! More about that in another entry!

The kids remembered me, which was nice. My best friends, Kathie Notoro, Meg Walker, and Julie Albaugh were still there and we resumed our friendships. I didn't live in town like before so it was more difficult to get together outside school hours, but we managed! Like most friendships, we had good times and then we'd hit spells where one or more wasn't talking to one or more of the others! You could tell if we were fighting because we'd make sure our desks didn't touch. It was silly, but, hey, we were kids! I can think of very few memories where at least one of those three weren't involved.

I knew most of the other kids, too, but some I was just getting to know. Clarendon was a tough little town. I don't think we had gangs, per se, but there were plenty of kids who were "streetwise." They'd had hard lives and lived by hard rules. They weren't opposed to fighting and they let you know that they weren't afraid of you. This made me a little afraid of them, though! There were a few families in town that had a reputation. The parents were rough and the kids even moreso. Some of these kids were in my fifth grade class. They were the little sisters of the bullies in my older brothers' classes. Being the sort of new kid, I guess it was important to them to let me know that they weren't meant to be messed with. One day I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when one of them walked up to me, calm as could be, and before I knew it, she pulled back her fist and then let if fly forward, quick as can be, right in my face. I had no time to duck, to even form the thought in my mind that I was about to be punched! Her fist met my face and it sent me backwards, still in my chair, to the floor. Message received! She got in trouble. She didn't care. Her parents probably didn't care either. Her and I would actually be friendly to each other after that over the years, but I never forgot what had happened and what would happen if I ever did anything to "cross" her.

This playlist marks a very pivotal time of my life. In all of the reflections on my life it seems to break down into what life was like before Arizona and what it was like after. I don't really think that Arizona had anything to do with it, although I did think that for a very large part of my life. But, now, I think if you look at the years, that what was going on is what it mostly dealt with. It was a pivotal time in history. Everything was changing in America. We were saying goodbye to our last shred of innocence - not that reality didn't exist before then - it's just that people got tired of pretending it didn't exist. We took our ever-present smiles off of our faces and put it on t-shirts, wishing everyone a happy day!

Another impression I have of this time was the music. Music was changing. My brother, Ed, was now listening to groups like Creedence Clearwater Revival and Steppenwolf, to name a couple. This music was different. The voices weren't the smooth polish of The Association or The Seekers. The messages weren't about bubble gum or sappy love songs. The songs were increasingly about freedom - from morals, from tradition, from authority. America was fed up with a war that they didn't understand and double standards they were tired of being held to. Voices were raspy and edgy which conveyed the urgency. Beats were primal and driving. References to drugs were either straightforward or in code, introducing new slang to our vocabulary.

Experimentation was everywhere - in music and in social scenes. Drugs seemed to explode on the consciousness of America. Had they always been there and I had just been cocooned enough that I hadn't noticed? Probably - but I just had never been familiar with all this new terminology that was fast becoming part of our everyday language. Horror stories of what people were doing while strung out on drugs caught me completely off guard. People were jumping from windows, crashing to their death, thinking they could fly. The news showed footage from concerts where people were holding down others and shooting them up with drugs. Seemingly everyday, normal people were dying in such tragic ways. We heard of this huge rock concert back east, close to "home," where all of these hippies went to this farm in New York and had a party that lasted for days. Free Love - Peace - was what their banners were proclaiming but it seemed to be anything but peaceful. News coverage was sketchy as to not show the nudity, but you got the idea that there was a whole lotta free love going on there - even my little nine year old mind grasped this. The drugs seemed to make them act so strange. I had a hard time making sense of all of this commotion.

I was approaching my teen years so I would still seek and find my own heart throbs, as does every generation! The Jackson 5 came onto the scene seemingly over night. The Carpenters would provide musical balm for the masses, a respite from protestations and a reminder that, beneath it all, we still liked to sing about love and sweet things, too. Karen Carpenter's voice was as soothing as honey - a comfort. I love songs that are fraught with meaning and leave messages, but, sometimes, you just want to hear a song that is easy and doesn't demand or command. The Carpenter's are one of the main groups that filled that niche in the music industry at the time. Bread provided easy listening as well and I was a huge fan of them as well.

Personally, from the rock scene, I was loving the songs of The Guess Who, the first Canadian rock band to really hit it big in the USA. Burton Cummings' vocals still please my ear today. His original rendition of American Woman is unmatched. Lenny Kravitz did a nice cover - I enjoyed it greatly - but, honestly, Burton makes that song come alive. Who didn't love CCR? They are iconic of the era. Three Dog Night would go on to have many iconic songs as well. The story of the song on this playlist is one I pondered often as I was growing up. What would I do if I went to a party and found out that drugs were being used? How would I react? Would I be able to recognize that that's what was going on? Really - this song made me think a great deal about that situation. Simon & Garfunkel were in a class by themselves with their amazing vocals and orchestral arrangements. This whole playlist is a testament to the powerful music I am so proud to proclaim as "my" era. The music was rich and deep and would give birth to a place in history unmatched since, in my opinnion.

Sunday Drives and Bicycles

2009-11-08T13:28:00.000-08:00

1. Come and Get It by Badfinger

2. Tighter, Tighter by Alive 'N Kickin'

3. Ride Captain Ride by Blues Image

4. Spill the Wine by Eric Burdon & War

5. Who'll Stop the Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival

6. Didn't I Blow Your Mind by The Delfonics

7. Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse

8. The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King

9. Arizona by Mark Lindsay

10. Reflections of My Life by Marmalade

11. Lay Down by Melanie

12. Band of Gold by Freda Payne

13. Easy Come, Easy Go by Bobby Sherman

I am serenading my patient father.

I wish I could get a closer look at his face as I'm sure it was horrendous.

Alas, they insisted I learn to play the violin.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before or not, but my father loved the institution of the "Sunday Drive." While we lived in Pennsylvania we would traverse all sorts of back roads just to see what's "going on down here" or "where this takes us." He would weave us and wind us until we lost all sense of direction, singing the whole way and stopping now and then to perfect our deer-calling skills (I'll just have to demonstrate this some time.) Well, imagine his delight in having an entire new state to explore! And we did! He took us through reservations, across deserts, and, to be quite honest, it all kind of looked the same. But one particular Sunday he took us on a Sunday drive to end all Sunday drives - and, now that I think about it, it did. We loaded up into our maroon station wagon and headed out. We were having a great time and this time we were heading into some mountainous areas. We drove and drove and drove and drove and pretty soon our tummies started grumbling. For myself, my tummy wasn't grumbling as much as it was gurgling. Remember my problem with getting car sick? Well, nobody thought to grab the dramamine as it was just going to be a little drive. So I was more sick than hungry. And, wouldn't you know it, it appears that some of my siblings were also prone to the motion sickness. My parents were discussing something in the front seat and it wasn't long before the rest of us figured out that something was up. Or down. The problem was 1. we were almost out of gas and hadn't seen any evidence of human habitation for quite awhile and 2. we were lost. What to do? The curvy, mountainous roads had really done a number on those of us who were battling the nausea and all of us sickies had been sent to the back area of the station wagon so we could lay down and keep our spew in one general area. I'm pretty sure we had a word of prayer that we would at least be able to find a gas station. But, wait - this was 1970 - back in the day when stores weren't open on Sundays! What a pickle we were in! So there we were, lost in a state we knew little about, half the car throwing up, the other half straining their eyes for any sign of life. After our prayer, though, we eventually came upon this tiny little town which happened to have a gas station - but alas, the gas station was closed. Hmmmm. What to do. Well, we needed help so my father parked the car at the pumps and then set out for a home nearby. The home either belonged to the owner of the gas station or a friend of the owner of the gas station. When dad explained our predicament and apologized for intruding on their Sabbath, the gas station owner came and opened his pump so we could get some gas. He also shared some valuable information with him - like where in the heck we were! In further evidence of their kindly ways, they came out with handfuls of snacks for us all! With a full tank of gas, food in our bellies, and a sure direction of how to get back home, we left that little hamlet and headed for home. After that, Dad had a very hard time getting us to voluntarily climb into the car for a "short" drive. We'd quiz him as to his knowledge of the territory into which he was taking us, how long it had been since he'd last been there, and how inhabited it was. Oh - and how much gas was in the tank!

Another memory of Arizona is a sort of traumatic one. Like I said, we used to ride our bikes to Primary on Wednesday afternoons. I didn't really have a bike of my own, so often my friend, Marcy Gardner, let me use one of her brothers' bikes. On this particular day, this is exactly what I was doing - using one of their bikes. Except that she didn't tell me right off that the brakes weren't working very well. As we hopped on and rode off she sort of called back to me that the brakes hadn't been working well. They were handle bar brakes, which I had never used before. So I gave them a little test and, sure enough, they weren't working really at all. We were talking back and forth about how I was going to be able to stop and we had decided that I would just coast to a stop. Well, I don't remember exactly what happened, but I was following behind her and had crept up too close behind her. She had to brake for something and I simply couldn't brake in time and I seemed frozen. Why didn't I swerve? I have no idea. But my front tire hit her back tire and I never knew that one bike could flip another like that. The front of my bike flipped way up, flipping me up even higher. Keep in mind I was quite a little runt - it wouldn't take much to flip me! I remember being airborne. I remember screaming. I remember Marcy screaming. It seemed I went up, up, up into the air. Then I came down, down, down. And, wouldn't you know it, when I landed, I landed right on my head. And, wouldn't you know it, my head hit right on the part of the road where there was a manhole cover. Lights out. I don't remember much after that. It's just snippets. I woke up and I was in somebody's home, in a bedroom I didn't know, with people I didn't know around me. There was conversation and I could tell that they were tracking down my parents. Lights out. My mother was there with our next door neighbor man, who picked me up off of that bed and carried me out to his car, my mother right along with me. I complained that my head hurt something awful. Lights out. I was being placed on a gurney at the hospital and I cried because it felt like they slammed my head down on that table. I think my dad was there. I told them I had to throw up and tried to turn my head to do so. The nurse scolded me and told me to be still. Lights out. X-rays were being taken. Again - the screaming headache and the nausea that followed. It made me cry out in pain. Lights out. I was being carried into our house and placed on my bed. Mom carefully undressed me and put my jammies on me. The house was unusually quiet. Lights out. I woke up and heard the family out in the other room. Lights out. I woke up and my father was kneeling beside my bed in earnest prayer. I was in so much pain. My head felt like it would fall off the bed because it felt so huge and it hurt so bad. Lights out. It was the next morning. I tried to get up but my head wouldn't lift. The rest of that day was in and out of awareness. Over the next few days, it was much of the same. Then I started feeling better. I wanted to get up and do things but my mother explained I was supposed to stay down and very quiet, orders of the doctor. My schoolwork was picked up by my friend, Toni Collins, and dropped off each afternoon. I'm not sure how long I was out of school but I'm thinking it was about two weeks. One day, when Toni made her stop, she brought along some of my friends from class, and with them a bunch of get well notes from my class. I was so happy! Being the new kid in class I was afraid that they'd all forget about me! But they hadn't! As a matter of fact, after that, I seemed to have even more friends! After they left, I took my get well cards to my room and secretly searched among them to see if one in particular was there. I had had a huge crush on a boy in my class. His name was Daniel, and, much to my sweet joy, he had sent me a get well card as well! I prized it above all else and kept it close to the top of the stack. I was very happy when it was decided that I could once again return to school. I didn't ride a bike again for a very, very, very long time. And if I did, I made sure it had foot pedal brakes and that those brakes were in good condition!

Although I was there for only one grade I still remember the names of my friends and wonder all the time what ever became of them all. Marcy was probably my best friend. We were both very little in size. I spent alot of time at her house after school. I remember thinking her mom seemed so young and pretty (whereas my mother was young and Doris Day beautiful.) Toni Collins lived near me and so we walked to and from school together often. If I didn't walk with Toni I walked with Sarah Harris or Frances Kelly. Kelly Penrod and I were either getting along or we weren't. Can't remember what the drama was about - probably boys - I was entering that stage of my life, you know. Other friends were Fred Jackson, Craig Rusk, and Russell Bernard. There was this kid in my class, Sid King, who was hysterical. We were sitting in class one day doing quiet desk work when, all of a sudden, you started hearing someone making beeping, robotic noises. Mind you, this was waaaaaaay before computers. But, there was Sid, making these noises. Kids started giggling and the teacher asks what all teachers ask, "Who's making that nonsense?" Nobody is going to give him away so we all shrug. He stops for a bit. Then, just when we're all getting back into our work, he starts again. This time the teacher stands up and starts tracking the noise. Does Sid stop? No!! Which I thought was crazy daring! She marched up to him, arms firmly folded across her chest, and asked the obvious "Is that you, Sid, making that noise?" Well, one dumb question deserves a ridiculous reply, right? He answers her with a new series of robotic noises - bleeps, squirts, clicks. Now her hands are on her hips and she says "Sid, you need to stop that noise immediately!" Sid, walking on thin ice, replies in a monotone voice "That does not compute." bleep, click, bleep. Again "Sid, I'm telling you now to stop that noise or you'll be going to the principal's office." Sid, not even seeming a little fazed by the threat of the prospect of being sent to the principal's office, says "That does not compute!" bleep, bleep, bleep. At this point the teacher is hoisting him up out of his seat and pulling him across the room, and all the while he doesn't break character for one second. You hear him all the way to the principal's office, bleeping, clicking, whirring, and saying "That does not compute!" I was dumbfounded! Why would anyone defy authority like that? Forget about what the principal would do. What about what would happen when you got home? I wasn't sure if I thought him stupid, brave, or brilliant? Right now, I'm kind of thinking he was all three - not that I'd want my kids to disrespect their teacher's like that, but, I am really curious as to what sort of teen he was and what kind of adult he turned out to be. I'd love to know where all of those friends are and what they're all up to. I went to my first slumber parties with these kids, had my first seances where we tried to call up Geronimo (Ok, I'm really giggling over that now!) and where I interacted with lots of other LDS kids on a daily basis. We went to school together and church together. That's alot of time together!

Taking the Girl Scout promise.

I'm the one on the right, next to the leader.

I told you I was a runt!!

I am standing next to Sarah Harris.

Kelly Penrod is on the other end in the red shirt.

My parents continued with their fostering child care while we were in Arizona, only this time she wasn't so much of a child. I'm not sure how old Marlene was, she just seemed much older than Cheryl. She was also a recovering drug addict who had been strung out on LSD. She was extremely intelligent. For fun, she would sit and read encyclopedias and the dictionary. Being a bit of a nerd myself, this wasn't too far out there. But, that's all she did. The thing about LSD, though, is that it doesn't necessarily leave you when you leave it. She tended to have flashbacks. One night I woke up to a commotion coming from her room. I could tell my parents were already on the scene. Marlene was having an acid flashback in which she was sure that there were spiders all over the walls in her room and were making their way towards her. She would scream when they'd fall onto her and she'd try to brush them away from her. Of course, no one else could see these spiders. They were her trip alone. But it was terrifying to me and left a big imprint on my psyche about the dangers of drugs. On another occasion, us kids had all gone down to the school to play tag or hide and seek or kick the can at the school playground. Suddenly, Marlene stopped what she was doing, got white as a ghost, turned to - well, nobody - pointed and screamed "Narcs!!" and took off running. We followed in pursuit to see where she was going. She kept running and running and she was soon past the point where I could go. My older brothers' had a much larger range of freedom than I did so they kept in hot pursuit while I ran home and informed my parents about what was going on. They tracked her down and brought her back home again. She didn't stay with us long after that. She needed professional help, I think. And besides, we had found out that we were going to be moving back to Pennsylvania at the end of the school year. She needed to be someplace where she could put down some roots. I wonder about her now and then - wonder if she was ever able to let go of those demons and resume a normal life.

Music is becoming more and more important in my life at this point. I was noticing its importance in society more. I was starting to develop my own likes and dislikes and being more influenced by my older brothers than by my parents. Lyrics, which seemed nonsensical to me, apparently had double meanings as I would catch my brothers giving each other a "look" when some songs were played. I was growing up in the era of hippies, peace, free love, and drugs.

Arizona or Bust!

2009-10-24T20:23:00.000-07:00

The family at the Farewell Party given by the Jamestown Branch

L-R - Brenda (held by Cheryl, she didn't go with us to AZ but was still in touch),

Mom, Kevin, Me, Ed, Tina held by Dad, Marvin

1. Sugar, Sugar by The Archies

2. By the Time I Get To Phoenix by Glen Campbell

3. Born On the Bayou by Creedence Clearwater Revival

4. Crystal Blue Persuasion by Tommy James & The Shondells

5. Galveston by Glen Campbell

6. Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head by B.J. Thomas

7. One by Three Dog Night

8. In the Year 2525 by Zager & Evans

9. Old To Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry

10. Honey by Bobby Goldsboro

11. Spinning Wheel by Blood, Sweat & Tears

12. Down On the Corner by Creedence Clearwater Revival

13. Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell

14. Born To Be Wild by Steppenwolf

The summer of 1969 my father got a job which took us out to Mesa, Arizona. I remember it as a time filled with wonder and awe. We had just been out there on that long vacation the year before. We were excited to be going out where we would be closer to Elder Miller. We couldn't wait to try what we had never gotten around to trying the summer before - actually frying an egg on the sidewalk! We learned the hard way that cement and black top did indeed get unbelievably hot. But could it actually fry an egg? Mom and Dad agreed to let us try when we got there and we were going to hold them to that promise! We loaded up the station wagon, said goodbye to all of our family and friends, and put a sign on the tailgate that the branch had made for us declaring "ARIZONA OR BUST!" and headed west. I don't remember much about the actual road trip. I used to get terrible car sickness so my parents often kept me filled with Dramamine which meant I slept most of the way. My dad always used to say that I saw the entire country through the back of my eyelids. I couldn't help it, though.

When we first arrived in Mesa we stayed at the Tall Palms Motel. We thought it was like a resort! I drove by it on my last visit down to Arizona about a year ago and actually saw the building. Of course, it's all run down now but, to us, in that day, it was wonderful! We couldn't get over the whole irrigation idea. They'd flood the grassy center courtyard and we'd go out and splash all around. Who needed a pool? There was also a shuffleboard court and we all became pretty good at that. I'm not sure how long we actually stayed at the motel, it seemed like forever, but it was probably only about a week or two while my parents looked for a home.

My parents found a home for us at 1715 West 6th Street. It was a nice little neighborhood. Lots of ranch style homes lined the streets. First order of business? Fry that egg! We did - and it actually cooked! To get to our house you took Saguaro off of University Drive. Our house was small but, what we thought was the coolest thing ever, was that it had a separate bunk house out in the back yard! This came to be my brothers' bedroom. I mean, how cool is that that you got to have a completely separate place for your bedroom! I had one of the bedrooms at the front of the house with my sisters in a room next to me and my parents across the hall. We also had a dishwasher but, alas, my parents wouldn't let us use it. We still had to wash them by hand. Something about becoming spoiled and my mother's distrust of anything automated that could do a better job than she could, I think. Our washer and dryer were in a utility room that was outside along the carport. It seemed that so much of your life was spent outdoors - you had to go out to do laundry, the boys had to go outside to go to bed - and we'd soon discover that the door to your classrooms at school also emptied to the outside! No indoor hallways here. Such a foreign concept for us! Another peculiar (to us) concept to this house was that there was an alley running along the back which is where you put your trash cans. The garbage trucks would rumble down this alley and take it all away. It also provided shortcuts to friends' houses. We had good neighbors who also had lots of kids.

Another big change for us was that our church was just about a mile or two away. I had never attended Primary before because we only had one car and dad needed it to get to work. Primary was held during the week at that time and there was no way to get me up to Jamestown, NY to attend. But here, on Wednesday afternoons, the kids would grab their bikes after school and we'd all ride our bikes down to West 8th Street, over to Alma School Road and over to the chapel. If you were to look at this route today you'd shriek, "You little kids rode bikes along here???" as you looked at a very busy divided highway with cars racing everywhere. However, in 1969-1970, these were country roads with little traffic. There was a Circle K at the intersection of 8th and Alma School Road where we'd sometimes stop for treats but that was the only place I remember where there was anything going on. Up on University Drive it was very commercial, but we didn't go that way - we always headed toward either Whittier Elementary or the chapel for the Mesa 16th Ward. We belonged to a ward now - not a branch. This was another big change. So many people in Mesa were LDS like us. It was so cool to not be such an oddity! Since the church was close enough that I could get myself there, this is the only year I had Primary. I looked forward to it every week and couldn't wait until I could go up and put my birthday pennies into Birthday Betsy for Primary Children's Hospital!

Other differences were the presence of American Indians and Mexicans. The Indian kids came in from the reservations to attend school. They were mostly Navajo and the nicest kids ever. The white kids tended to make you want to work for their friendship - the Indians and Mexicans just came over and said hi. Well, except for this one guy named George who wanted to fight my brother, Marvin, the first day of school. I think George's girlfriend thought Marvin was cute or something so he figured he better let Marv know whose turf was whose. For the life of me I can't remember the outcome of the fight or if it even happened. I was in my own world and having a great time.

Me and my new friends - I was closest to

Teresa Martinez, who I am next to in this picture

Playing jacks was HUGE here. I'd sit in the outdoor breezeways and watch them organize tournament after tournament. There was much discussion about the different kinds of jacks and which bouncy ball was the best. People carried their jacks around in little cloth sacks. You didn't mess with another persons' jacks. I practiced and practiced until I came to be at least a little respectable in the game. I learned all the variations for the different stages. It was something I could do even though I was short. I, in turn, shared with them the east coast jump rope songs and games. We got pretty good at chinese jump rope. My fourth grade teacher was supposed to be Mrs. Greer but she came down with some terrible sickness, and was out most of the year so we had Mrs. Gudger as a substitute.

My oldest brother, Ed, attended Westwood High School where he was on the swim team or dive team. And Kevin attended Carson Junior High. Ed figures prominently in my memories of Arizona. I had always sort of idolized him but he really seemed to shine here. He was handsome and it's the first time I remember him dating. The youth at church put on road shows and I remember thinking how they were just like the movies - they just seemed to be such amazing productions! Ed was a good singer and I believe he participated in them. He also got a job at a bowling alley. My brother was a working man and he was driving! He seemed so grown up. He was also always experimenting with electricity and radio waves. He rigged up some sort of radio in the house and ran some wire across the front yard. One day the neighbor's daughter was running across our yard for some reason and caught the wire right at her neck. She was ok but it left a mark. The parents were furious and made threats about calling the authorities and they insisted he take down the wire. I remember that Ed was not happy, my parents weren't happy, her parents' weren't happy. Altogether not a good scene. Ed's interest in all things electrical and radio (among many other things) continues today.

At Christmas that year, my great aunt and uncle, Gwen and Jeff Maurer came out to spend it with us. I remember going to the Sky Harbor airport to pick them up - that might have been my first time at an airport. I was so glad they were going to be there. They were always a big part of our celebrations back in Pennsylvania and I was a little worried about what Christmas would be like here where we had no family and it didn't even snow! I still had a tan in December! I don't even think I wore a coat the whole time we lived there! They came and we got to show them around to the cool stuff in the area - like Casa Grande and the desert and the reservations.

Aunt Gwen and I in the desert

Me at a museum somewhere in Arizona!

OK - check out those pants! Nice, right?

It was always a favorite tradition of mine to go and get the Christmas tree. We'd search and search until we found the "perfect" one. The trees were much different in Arizona, though. We searched and searched but it became apparent that we were not going to be able to find a full tree like we had back home. I was very sad about this. The tree was the center of the holiday magic for me. It was beautiful to look at with the lights off, all twinkly and sparkly. It was also home base to where the presents were - and that was paramount! We didn't find a tree on our first excursion out, but later that week my Dad came home with, what looked like a pile of branches. It was, in fact, several of the scrawny trees from the lot. Next thing I know he's sawing branches off the trees and pulling out his drill. We were very curious about what he was up to. He said, "You'll see!" After a few hours of busyness, he called us into the front room where we beheld a beautiful full tree - or at least fuller than anyone we'd seen so far! What he'd done was take one tree and drill holes into the center trunk. Then he cut the branches off the other trees and started plugging them into the holes of the trunk of the one tree. I thought it was brilliant!!! I still do!! That was a memorable Christmas. I don't remember any of the gifts but I remember we played and had fun! We loved to play Monopoly and I remember a game that lasted for days. Christmas day we went outside and played basketball - mindboggling! It was unlike any of our other Christmases before or after. It was uniquely our Arizona Christmas!

On this playlist I included songs that actually came out before this year but, in my childhood memories, they are linked with Arizona. Glen Campbell was HUGE in our house and he seemed to be singing about different places all the time - places which were foreign to me before, but were now places I knew a little about. My father was very impressed with Bobbie Gentry's husky voice and I love her "Ode to Billie Joe" even today. Story songs were popular and I remember getting all choked up when I listened to Bobby Goldsboro sing a story about a guy's wife who dies. Most people think of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid but I can't hear "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head" without having a flashback of driving around in Arizona. A new sound was emerging into my life. Ed was listening to new kinds of music - vocals sung with raspy voices and a sense of urgency. I wasn't sure what to make of it at first, but I was soon to become just as in love with it as he. Little did I know I was witnessing the emergence of an icon known as Creedence Clearwater Revival.

My Grandparents' Farm

2009-09-07T19:15:00.000-07:00

Janice

Brenda, Tina

on the farm

1. You've Made Me So Very Happy by Blood, Sweat & Tears

2. Grazing in the Grass by the Friends of Distinction

3. Good Morning Starshine by Oliver

4. The Boxer by Simon & Garfunkel

5. Na Na Hey Hey by Steam

6. A Boy Names Sue by Johnny Cash

7. Put A Little Love In Your Heart by Jackie DeShannon

8. Gitarzan by Ray Stevens

9. Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond

10.Oh Happy Day by The Edwin Hawkins Singers

11. Goodbye by Mary Hopkin

12. Love theme from "Romeo & Juliet" by Henry Mancini

13. These Eyes by The Guess Who

14. Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival

15. Hawaii Five-O by The Ventures

Sometime towards the end of my third grade year we moved out of the house on Fourth & Liberty and up to my Grandpa and Grandma Ristau's farm which was out towards Russell. This is the farm I stayed at awaiting to hear about the arrival of my sister, Brenda. Grandpa and Grandma spent much of their summers up there. It perched on the top of a hill and you could see for what seemed forever out the kitchen window - looking right down on Eisenhower High School far below. The road approaching from the Warren side was densely forested. It seemed like you were climbing up inside of a leafy tube as you drove up the unpaved road to get there. But, once you were up on the top, it opened right up and there was the farm on the right side of the road. They had around 80 acres but I think that that's probably a very modest estimation. The farmhouse was small but they had a large barn and a grainary and another building which I'm not sure what it would be called. It was all used pretty much for storage. There was a large portion of cleared land directly behind the barn but it went to dense forest immediately where the clearing stopped.

The house, as I said, was quite small, but it was okay because, if you were on the farm you didn't spend much time inside anyway! We spent hours exploring. By the time we moved up there they had finally installed indoor plumbing. I remember clearly staying up there in the days of the outhouse. Boy, you made sure you didn't drink much after dinner and certainly emptied your bladder good before going to bed because NOBODY wanted to have to go out there at night! The kitchen was small and I'm sure the dining room was too, however, we always had enough room for family gatherings. I don't remember there being a TV at all. There were two bedrooms downstairs that I remember - one right off of the living room and the other in the back of the house at the foot of the stairs. There were more upstairs. There was one very small bathroom.

My grandparents were big teasers. I can't think of either of their homes without remembering all the funny signs and gag items sitting around. You could never be quite sure about things you found there. It could be real food or a spongey imitation just waiting for someone to come along and get tricked into trying to take a bite. There were humorous signs by the toilet inviting you to take careful aim and suggestions of what to do in case you found yourself without toilet paper. There were wacky souvenirs brought back from vacations mixed in with family portraits. Having lived through the depression they were firm believers in not throwing anything out - anything! What would happen if one day you might need that lid from the sour cream container? Or that rubber band from the newspaper? Or the foam tray the meat sat on from the butcher? All things were kept and hoarded - just in case....

So we came to live at the farm. Since we were still in school we'd walk from Market Street School over to Aunt Barb's house on the south side for lunch and then back over again after school where my mom would pick us all up and take us back up to the farm. The walk to Aunt Barb's house took us over the Allegheny River on the beautiful Hickory Street bridge - a cement structure which I personally think rivals many I've seen in Europe. It was a pain to have to do all the walking but I loved that bridge! It was so much better than the Glade Bridge which was a steel trestle sort of bridge with a wooden walking path which had boards missing here and there. It shook when cars went over and something about the steel grid made your car do little hops and jiggles as you drove. Yes, the Hickory Street Bridge was all about being stately and solid.

Up at the farm there were blueberries which grew wild just off the back of the clearing. When we'd go up and visit, first thing in the morning my grandfather would hook a little wagon up to the back of his tractor and us kids would pile in the back with our little buckets and he'd drive way out to the edge of the clearing. We'd follow him in to the blueberry bushes and we'd set to picking blueberries. They were delicious, wild, and sweet! When we got all that we needed we'd pile back in to the wagon and head back to the house. We'd talk about what we were going to do with our berries. Some of us wanted some on our cereal, others wanted them cooked into pancakes or muffins. It was great fun and one of the things I regret my kids not being able to experience. There are certain moments for which I wish I had a time machine. I could take my kids and grandkids back so they can experience some of the most exquisite memories of my childhood. And this would be one of them. Living on the farm was different from visiting the farm - my mom didn't always have the time to be driving us out to the blueberry patch in the mornings - but the farm was great. Later my grandparents would plant a huge blueberry patch up closer to the house and they'd grow enough blueberries so as to be able to provide the local grocers with them. These blueberries were huge - almost like grapes - and very sweet. *sigh*

One day my mother decided she was going to clean out and organize one of the out buildings. She corralled us kids as her helpers and out we went. She went in to the second story area which had some doors that opened out to the outside. She would pick things up and throw them down to us with instructions as to what should go where. We were making some pretty good headway when she found these old rugs. She dragged them over and threw them onto the ground and as they fell the rolls opened up. It soon became apparent to those of us on the ground that these rugs had become home to a lively group of bees - and these bees were not too happy about having to move! They swarmed out of that rug and searched for targets on which they could express their unhappiness - namely us kids! We all started running and squealing. We got stung a bit but it ended up not being as bad as it could have been. To this day I approach things that have been stored awhile with a degree of wariness.

The farmhouse had a great patio area which is where most of the socializing took place when the family gathered. My grandfather (and later my uncles as well) was a magnificent barbecuer. He had developed a recipe for a seasoned rub which he used primarily on chickens. He would lace these herb-rubbed whole chickens up onto a spit with string and roast them over the coals until they were about to fall right off. When they were done we'd all line up waiting to get the strings as he cut the chickens off the spit. We'd take those strings and suck on them until they were as dry as bone, trying to get every bit of that delicious juice. They'd have mounds of the chicken and piles of fresh corn on the cob with delicious butter in which to roll your corn. Potato salad was a staple as well as pickled beets and a green salad. I'm telling you now, it was the absolute best food ever. And to sit in that partially enclosed patio area and eat that food and hear all that conversation was just heaven. When our bellies were full, my siblings and cousins and I would go and begin our round up of the fireflies. Since my grandparents saved everything it was never too hard to find a clear jar and lid. We'd run around out there capturing fireflies until somebody decided it was time to play hide and seek. There's just no better place to play hide and seek than out in the country on a farm.

I don't know exactly how long we lived up there on the farm - not too long - but by the summer we found ourselves on the way to Arizona. Arizona!! You couldn't possibly find a place more unlike Pennsylvania than Arizona. My father got a job there in Mesa and so off we went. Goodbye green grass. Goodbye cool nights. Goodbye cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents.....

Fourth & Liberty

2009-08-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

1. Indian Giver by 1910 Fruitgum Company

2. I Started a Joke by The Bee Gees

3. Traces by Classics IV

4. Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival

5. Touch Me by The Doors

6. Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In by The 5th Dimension

7. Dizzy by Tommy Roe

8. Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations

9. Son of A Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield

10. Games People Play by Joe South

11. Hooked On a Feeling by B. J. Thomas

12. Time of the Season by The Zombies

13. Both Sides Now by Judy Collins

14. Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf

So the road trip of all time was over and we made our way back to Pennsylvania in time to start school. I was in the Third Grade now and was still going to the old schoolhouse across the street and Mrs. DeChano was my teacher. I was going to miss Miss Jones, my second grade teacher, as she was very much like Miss Honey in the book, "Matilda." Every one in the class loved her. Second grade was a dream. For some reason, the year I was in first grade they bussed us out to Tiona where I had Mrs. McNeal, to whom I promptly informed on the first day of that school year that I was not allowed to bring home anything lower than a 5 (our version of an A) and so she shouldn't give me any! Mrs. McNeal was a good friend and colleague of my Great Aunt Gwen's and I can just imagine the howls of laughter in the teacher's lounge that day! Of course, Aunt Gwen told my mom and, as it goes, it became family lore. I was, at the time, confused as to what was so funny. They had told me I was not to bring home anything less and I was just passing along information. I hadn't learned the whole "you get what you earn" idea. I soon did, but it was no problem. I loved school and put my whole heart into everything. I was a good student and thus brought home nothing lower than an A. I did have problems in the classroom citizenship areas in that I was a talker - or as the teachers put it - "likes to socialize too much." Huh. Some things are constants I guess.

So - back to third grade. The thing I remember most about third grade is one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. You see, I always had a problem with bladder control. Nothing was wrong with me physically, I just was so afraid that I'd miss something that I'd hold it and hold it until, ultimately it was too late and I'd wet my pants. I had no control at night and wet the bed until I was I don't know how old. The problem at night was I was deathly afraid of the dark and if I did wake up, there was no way I was getting out of that bed, hanging my feet over the side of the bed where the monster that I knew for a fact was lurking under my bed was going to get me. No sir! No way! Then, when I got past the monster stage, I had these dreams where I got up and went to the bathroom, only it was just a dream! And I'd wake up and find that I'd wet the bed. It was very frustrating for everyone involved - lots of wet sheets, ugh! Anyway, I'd sort of gotten the wetting the pants under control by the third grade but one day, in class, we were working on a project and I got way involved. I needed to use the restroom but wanted to be sure and finish my project so I didn't take the time to go. We had to clean up our projects and get back to our seats and start the next subject, which I did. But not too long into the lesson I realized I was in BIG trouble. I wiggled and jiggled, hoping to keep it at bay until after class. I guess it was just too much because no matter how hard I tried, it started to leak out. It puddled on my chair and then cascaded down onto the floor, becoming a little stream which rolled down the aisle. The stream formed a sort of arrow pointing right back to me! Finally, one of the kids at the back of the row noticed the water and raised their hand - "Mrs. DeChano, there's a leak somewhere because there's water running down the aisle here!" She came to inspect immediately, of course! We all jumped out of our seats and I tried to be as surprised as everyone else, but the "arrow" wouldn't let me escape and it pointed right to my desk! Mrs. DeChano was as quick as Sherlock in her detective work. The drops from the hem of my skirt probably helped out greatly. She ordered me to clean up my mess and sent me home to change. I did but I did not want to return to class! I'm pretty sure this was the last time anything like this ever happened.

It was as if my parents understood and took actions to help me out of my embarrassment but I know this is not the case - I just like to think of it like this now and then. But, shortly after this incident, we moved away from Clarendon. Not too far - just into Warren - but it would mean a new school for me. New friends - new home - new everything. Warren was huge compared to Clarendon and we were living right down town on the corner of 4th and Liberty. We rented a house but this house was enormous! There was a stage in the living room for heaven's sake! I'd love to search out the history of this home to see what purposes it played in the history of the town. Surely it had to have been a hotel or something at one time or another. It was one of the many grand homes that lined the streets of Warren and we could not believe that we were to be living there! We were within walking distance to everything - most notably the movie theater!

I have to tell you about the inside of this house. You walked into a vestibule which then opened into this grand room with the stage. Mind you, I was a little girl, so I'd give almost anything to go into this house today and see just how big this room actually is, but I remember we were all amazed, parents included. There WAS a stage so it had to be pretty big, right? The stage was set against the far wall and the stairs going up to it were on the right and left sides, if I remember right. There were swinging doors on each side of the stage on the floor level which led back to the kitchen and dining areas. So, as you walked in from the vestibule, you'd walk across the great expanse of the living room, or floor area, to the stage area and, if you wanted to go into the kitchen you'd walk either right or left of the stage and through the swinging doors to do so. There were back staircases from this service area up to the upstairs but I preferred to use the grand staircase back out off of the main living room. This stair case was out of the movies! This is my little girl mind telling this story so temper it as you wish, but, off of the main room you'd walk through this double wide doorway into the large cavity that held the stairway which was open to the top of the second floor. The staircase had to be ten feet wide, at least. To start up the stairs you'd go to the right and go up about five steps and you came to a landing. In front of you were double doors which opened into a sort of den with a large fireplace and bookshelves. Picture Mr. Rochester in here, if it helps. To continue up the stairs you turn left and go up another ten steps or so and you arrive at the middle grand landing. There are a bank of windows against the wall with a window seat running the whole course. This landing is probably around twenty feet wide as it leads you across to the left to continue up the last flight of about twelve stairs to the upstairs parlor area. This is it's own room as it is very large and all upstairs bedrooms, family rooms, and hallways come off of it. We had a little TV room up here and this was where we hung out, for the most part. I had a room to myself most of the time except when Cheryl would come back now and then to stay with us - then she'd take the top bunk in my room. (She used to have her boyfriend shimmy up the drainpipe outside of the house and into our room.)

I remember it being winter while we were at this house. Lots of fires rolling in all the fireplaces. We also had a huge St. Bernard while we lived here and he was a great old dog. Didn't slobber much and was very docile. Brenda used to take her naps using his belly as her pillow. It was very cute. She also used to ride him around, much like a pony! I was afraid of him at first - I had been mauled by our neighbor's dog in Clarendon a few years before and developed a great fear of dogs. When I realized he wasn't going to try to eat me I think I enjoyed him quite well.

Like I said, new house meant new school. I finished third grade at Market Street Elementary. I can't remember my teacher's name but I remember the first day of class. It was not good. The walk was definitely further than across the street but not too far. I got to walk past our stately court house every day as I walked over 4th Street to Market Street, took a right and headed down to the school which, I believe, was on the corner of 2nd Avenue. I felt so alone and didn't know a soul. Aunt Gwen wasn't a teacher here so I didn't even have her! I was this little pipsqueak of a kid. Some kids said hello but there seemed to be the class "leaders", the cool kids, whom everyone looked to to see if I was going to be accepted or not. One of these was a girl named Shannon. She had a kind face and I thought we'd be good friends but not so! She made it clear that I was not going to be accepted into this class easily. I went home very forlorn. My parents encouraged me but it continued in this manner until one auspicious evening. . . .

Every winter they hosed down the tennis courts at Beatty Jr. High School and turned it into an ice skating rink complete with a fire to warm yourself by and a hot chocolate shack. I didn't skate, but we'd found some double runner type of skates which you tie on to the bottom of your boots and I thought I could maybe use those. So my brothers agreed to drag their little sister along as we walked over to the skating rink one brisk winter night. They literally dragged me - on our sled!! Cute, huh? Anyway, we got to the rink and I made several attempts around the ice on my double runners but they kept coming off. I knew my brothers were not going to want to leave just yet so I pulled the sled over to the side, just outside the rink and sat on it and waited for them and watched people go around and around. Well, who should show up but this Shannon girl! I was embarrassed as she was obviously a good skater and had real skates - not little kiddy double runners! We made eye contact but then did our best to avoid each other. I tried not to look at her when she'd come around but you know I was watching her as she skated away from me! She came around this one time and the tip of her skate must have caught on a rut in the ice because she fell and went splaying right out on to the ice - hands and feet spread out - right in front of me. Then everything went in to a sort of slow motion. I saw the next skater coming up behind her and they weren't watching what was happening in front of them and they didn't see Shannon until it was too late. They attempted to make a jump over her hand but fell short and came down right on her finger. Yes - skate blade on tiny finger - it got bloody. But it was as if nobody else had seen what happened except me. I jumped up from my sled and tried to alert someone but there was too much noise. Shannon is crying and holding her bloody finger and the next thing I know I'm running around to the opening in the fence with my sled and out onto the ice where she is. I help her onto my sled and pull her over to the side and to where the adults are to get her some help. She definitely needs to go to the hospital. She is whisked off and, by this time, people are noticing that something happened - it must have been all the blood out on the rink! My brothers find me and I'm upset and I guess we decide to call it a night.

The next day Shannon wasn't in class but the kids are talking about what had happened. I notice furtive glances over in my direction and head jerks telling people that it was I, the new dorky kid, who had helped her out. I still don't think they were going to let me "in" but when Shannon came back to school she walked straight to me and started talking to me, thanking me, and her and I began a friendship that would last straight on through high school. I still like to keep tabs on her and saw her last at my 20th reunion. We still talk about the night at the ice rink. Her and I would have lots of fun times ahead.

The move to Fourth and Liberty sparks off a series of moves. I'm not exactly sure what was going on at this time that caused all of these moves. But I would have some unbelievably memorable moments along the way. I still, though, to this day, long to go back inside of the house on Fourth and Liberty - and I do, mentally, every time I hear Judy Collins sing "Both Sides Now."

P.S.

As I pulled the photo of the house out of my scrapbook to scan, I noticed there was writing on the back. My mother had taken the time, for which I am most grateful, to make some notes about the specs of the home. She wrote:

6 bedrooms (very large)

2 kitchens - 1 up, 1 down

2 baths

coat room

library

family room with fireplace

dining room

living room (very large)

full basement with rumper room

6 room attic or 4th floor

8 ft. wide staircase (she was equally impressed as I as she underlined this remark!!) so I wasn't too far off in my estimation!

Grandpa's Ditties

2009-08-07T07:22:00.000-07:00

1. And the Band Played On by The Mellomen

2. By the Light of the Silvery Moon by Doris Day

3. Lida Rose by the Buffalo Bills

4. Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue by The Viscounts

5. Carolina in the Morning by Al Jolson

6. Let Me Call You Sweetheart by The Mellomen

7. Beautiful Dreamer by The Buffalo Bills

8. Yes, We Have No Bananas by The Mellomen

9. Jeepers Creepers by Louis Armstrong

10. Tea For Two by The Buffalo Bills

11. Ain't We Got Fun by Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby

12. Bicycle Built for Two by Elm City Four

Perhaps you've noticed that these songs aren't the usual Pop/Rock selections I post. However, they are the songs which I associate with today's topic - my Grandpa Alspaugh, Charles Ephraim Alspaugh. He was only alive the first eight years of my life yet I have always felt a profound connection to this man. Today I'd like to share some of these remembrances.

At young ages you are influenced by impressions. My take on those impressions are that grandpa was a bit of a rascal! He liked to tease and cause mischief! And, given his many, many years of smoking, he had a raspy, raucous laughter that made it impossible for you not to giggle along. One thing I can say for the Alspaugh family is that there was always laughter - be it good times or not - something was always found to laugh about.

Grandpa was also musical and I believe he either performed on Vaudeville or in some sort of musical shows back around the 1920's. I remember him doing the old soft shoe dance around our house on Main Street in Clarendon. It was so easy to picture him in an old straw hat and carrying a dancing cane - maybe he actually wore those - who knows? Maybe my little girl mind filled them in. All I know is that he always had a ditty he was singing. I believe he also played the organ.

I know he and grandma lived in Scandia, PA - that's where my dad spent his teen years, but I don't remember a house associated with them. My dad drove me by it in later years but it sparked no recollections at all. Grandpa and Grandma moved away when I was young but I remember him walking me to school one day when I was in kindergarten. The school was almost directly across the street from us. It wasn't a long walk at all, but he was adamant that he walk his little granddaughter to school. The street I had to cross was a busy one so it was probably smart to have someone with me. I remember reaching up and taking his hand which was covered in raised, bumpy veins. There were callouses and his skin was dry, just like my daddy's. His hand swallowed mine and I felt safe with him. We walked along the sidewalk and as we walked he whistled or quietly sang little nonsense songs, looking down to give me a wink and a smile. As we got to the cross walk he bent over and gave me a little hug and pat on the head and watched as I crossed to the other side. I turned and gave him a little wave and then he was gone. I don't have any other memories of him until our trip to Baker, Oregon in 1968.

I had mentioned before that I had become ill while my grandparents were tending us kids while my parents were away on a business trip. It must have been a bad flu of some sort but I was vomiting and, to this day, remember it being one of the worse bouts of flu in my life. My grandparents kept me in a little room just off of their kitchen. I lay in that little bed and drifted in and out between fits of nausea and would stare out the window to the saw mill next door. I would watch the logs go up and into the mill. There were piles of sawdust everywhere and the smell of fresh cut lumber filled the air. It rained all the time, it seemed, and you could always feel the moisture around you. The sounds of the mill were oddly soothing to me and the activity gave me something else to focus on other than this horrible flu.

Grandma was always busy in the kitchen and I remember pots a-bubbling and steaming on the stovetop. It was August so I'm thinking she was probably bottling fruits or blanching vegetables. She was an industrious sort of woman - a tiny-framed woman with reddish hair who was always busy, busy, busy. She had a small, raspy voice and a wonderful sense of humor. She could give back as good as she got!

One of those pots on the stove was brewing up some venison stock, I know, because grandpa had gone out and talked to grandma about how he felt that that was what my little body needed. Some of you may think, EW!, but I had grown up on venison - the sweet meat of deer that grazed on lush, thick, green foliage - not dried up sagebrush.

As I lay in that bed, drifting in and out, my grandfather kept vigil beside me. He wasn't bothersome and didn't try to make me talk a lot. He just sat there in a chair, looking out the same window as I, deep in thought, and softly singing about Casey waltzing with a strawberry blonde (I always pictured my grandma in this role) or about a bicycle or about calling someone sweetheart. His legs were crossed and his foot that was suspended in the air would tap out the beat. He had a great profile - a rather strong nose in a strong face. We had been told he was part American Indian and you could see it in the high cheek bones and large forehead. We had also been told of Jewish ancestry in his family and those could also be features of those ancestors. His face was remarkable by all standards - aging only made his strong features stand out more, not soften like many people's do. He wore heavy rimmed glasses, too, and his hair was thick and white against his crackled, olive skin.

Occasionally I would wake and he would lean over and give me a smile and pat my hand. I wouldn't say I knew him well before or after this, really, but I felt one very important thing - and that is that he loved me. He wanted me to remember him. He thought I was special. Just like my daddy made me feel like I was special.

As my nausea passed, grandpa brought in cups of the venison broth and spoon fed this hearty liquid to me. It was delicious and I soon was my old self again - scrambling out to find out what the cousins and my siblings had been up to all those days while I was sick in bed.

Now, let me remind you of how, when my parents returned from their trip, my grandfather began pestering my dad about going home through Idaho Falls so they could be sealed together in the temple. He was unrelenting until he got his way - then passed away almost as soon as they exited the temple. Had he felt some prompting whilst he sat by me, staring out that window? I have always wondered. I can still see his face - so intent yet so at peace. I will ask him one day.

These songs are all fun songs. I wish I could know all the songs he sang. He always had jokes, too, and I am thinking that some of them might have been a little risque by my grandma's fussing at him sometimes. She'd call out, "Now, Charlie . . . . . !"

Eight years is all . . . . yet he has had such an influence on me! I have felt him close by me many, many times. Looks, gestures, almost a silent movie is he in my recollection but so powerfully present. I look forward to seeing him again and doing the old soft shoe together. He will put his head back and laugh and I will giggle and perhaps it will be as if time had stood still . . .

Baptism and Temple Blessings

2009-08-01T19:32:00.000-07:00

1. Everything That Touches You by The Association

2. Dream a Little Dream of Me by The Mamas & The Papas

3. Chewy, Chewy by Ohio Express

4. Elenore by The Turtles

5. My Special Angel by The Vogues

6. Cry Like a Baby by The Box Tops

7. I Got the Feelin' by James Brown

8. I've Gotta Get a Message to You by The Bee Gees

9. Sunshine of Your Love by Cream

10. La-La Means I Love You by The Delfonics

11. The Unicorn by The Irish Rovers

12. I'm Gonna Make You Love Me by Diana Ross & The Supremes

13. For Once in My Life by Stevie Wonder

On May 14, 1968 I turned eight years old. This is a special age - the age of accountability. The scriptures tell us that this is the earliest age of baptism - when you are considered able to tell the difference between right and wrong. This is pretty accurate and I'd like to think I was pretty good at telling the difference. Making the right choice isn't always easy though and Satan steps it up in the temptation department when he knows someone is getting ready to take that big step. All in all, I'd say I was a pretty good kid but definitely not perfect!! I was willing and able to follow the steps of my family and be baptized. I had loved the difference the gospel had made in our lives.

In the recently finished baptismal font (with which I had helped) I was baptized on June 29, 1968 in the Jamestown, NY chapel. My father had received the priesthood by then and was able to both baptize and confirm me. I was nervous and I'm pretty sure he was, too! I will never forget that day and the feelings I had as I dressed in the bathroom. The door to the font was opened and I looked across to the other side where my father approached from the men's bathroom. He walked down the stairs and over to me and reached our for my hand to help me down the stairs into the waters of baptism. We walked over to the side closest to the faucet and put our hands together in the way we had been practicing. A glance up to the missionaries assured us we had everything right and then the short but powerful prayer was pronounced. I had shared some of my anxieties about the water with my dad and he knew to hold me especially secure. The water was warm - perfectly warm and a feeling of comfort and peace filled my little soul. As he immersed me in the warm water I had a sense of flight, almost soaring and was a little worried that I wasn't fully submerged - but we got the OK when I came up out of the water.

Isn't it amazing the difference a few short seconds can make? I was free from sin - pure as the day I was born. The joy in my heart, even as a child, let me know that I wanted to feel like this forever. I was sure that that was how heaven felt. I tried to explain to my mom while we were changing how I was feeling but the words were just not available to my eight year old mind. I think she knew what I was trying to say, though. Sometimes there just aren't words, only impressions. And the understanding you have of gospel principles are very clear. It's alright if you can't express them to others, those moments are meant for your own personal use and uplifting.

After the baptism we assembled back in the chapel and I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by my father. I felt and heard the pronouncement, "Receive the Holy Ghost." I now had a helper on board to help me as I journeyed my way back to Heavenly Father. A helper who, I'm sure, gets very weary at my knot-headed ways at times!

The next wonderful event would take place on August 10th on that forever trip out west I spoke of last time. We were going to the temple to be sealed for time and eternity as a family. I'm not sure how the Manti temple was chosen for this. Perhaps because it was close to Elder Law's home and we were going to stop and visit with him and he was going to go to the temple with us. He and his family lived in Springville, Utah and I used to wonder why we didn't just go to the Provo Temple as it was closer - but it wasn't built until 1972! The Manti temple is beautiful, though, and I'm glad to have a connection with it. I have often thought I'd like to go back there to do temple work someday.

I don't remember if we stayed with Elder Law's family - maybe some of us did. But I remember being at his parents' home and visiting with his siblings. He had family, an uncle I think, who was in the music business and had made some recordings so there was a common interest between the adults. We kids were amazed to discover a jar on a shelf in someone's room that held two globs of what looked like maybe giblets! Alas - they were tonsils! Either Elder Law or one of his siblings had saved theirs! I remember running away and thinking "EW!!!" But I'm pretty sure my brothers were thinking with great regret that they hadn't saved theirs. Marvin still had his ( and would until his senior year.)

The day at the temple was very special. I remember the peace that invaded your soul as soon as you walked through the door of that holy place. I wasn't sure what to expect - not much had been said about what was going to happen. My parents were led away and us kids were taken to the nursery where we played and were attended to by the sweet sisters there. I remember building with these huge wooden blocks. There were dolls, too, which made me happy. It was a happy place and it was a comfort to have my brothers with me. I'm sure I would have been traumatized had I been taken away alone. At the appropriate time the sisters announced that it was time to get into our special clothes. I had a beautiful white dress for the occasion with a sheer organza fabric with embroidered flowers over a white cotton sheath. It had little puffy sleeves and a sort of fabric corsage made from the flowers in the organza on the chest. It didn't spin as it was an a-line cut but I could forgive it because of how dainty and beautiful it was! I remember thinking how very princess-like everything seemed with the white and the soft light.

My temple dress

We were taken to a sealing room where we met with our parents, also in all white. My brothers and sisters and I and our parents knelt around the altar. I remember the mirrors which we looked into and could see for forever. I'm not remembering many details, but I'm remembering impressions and feelings. They were feelings of comfort and all being right.

We left Manti after the sealing and traveled to Mesa, Arizona to visit with Elder Stanley Miller and his family. We loved it there and had a great time swimming in their pool that was shaped like a kidney! He had siblings that were close to our age so we had fun times together. My parents and some of the Millers went to Nogales one day and they came back with vanilla that smelled like no vanilla I had ever smelt - heady and sweet! And they came back with sombreros, too! Arizona seemed like an entirely different world to us Pennsylvanians! There were spiders and snakes to worry about and it was soooo hot!! This was August, mind you! We thought it was quite the adventure.

Stanley Miller, Mom, Sharon Miller - taken around 1996

All was great until it came time to leave. A few days before we left, the Millers received terrible news that a daughter that was traveling home for a visit had been in a bad car accident in one of the canyons. Elder Miller had been so excited for us to meet her. The car had rolled and she and the passengers were in pretty serious condition. We left for Oregon with a bit of a heavy heart and wondering how things were to turn out for his sister. We later learned that she did recover, but was left with some lasting effects. We would eventually meet her but that would wait for about a year or two.

We visited the grounds of the Mesa temple while we were there and I, again, sensed that peace and comfort that I would soon associate with any House of the Lord. It was very different than the Manti temple in style, but the purpose and feeling were the same.

Music in America was on the verge of great change - or at least I was going to start noticing that things would be different. This week's playlist is still fairly simple - a mix of bubble gum pop and folk music. But, soon, the climate would change. I had grown up with Elvis and was a very little girl when The Beatles landed so I wasn't as acutely aware of the changes they brought to music as I was going to be with the advent of the late 60s and early 70s. Troubles, they were abrewing - and the need for the peace and serenity of the temple would be even more so.

The Idaho Falls Incident

2009-07-22T19:38:00.000-07:00

My Grandpa Alspaugh

Charles Ephraim Alspaugh

taken ca 1956

1. (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding

2. Stoned Soul Picnic by The 5th Dimension

3. Midnight Confessions by The Grass Roots

4. Simon Says by 1920 Fruitgum Company

5. Revolution by The Beatles

6. Do You Know the Way to San Jose by Dionne Warwick

7. Little Green Apples by O.C. Smith

8. Spooky by Classics IV

9. Love Child by Diana Ross & The Supremes

10. Those Were the Days by Mary Hopkin

11. Love Is All Around by The Troggs

12. Over You by Gary Puckett & The Union Gap

13. The Mighty Quinn (Quinn the Eskimo) by Manfred Mann

We had been members of the church for two years in the summer of 1968. Well, at least my family had. I was baptized the end of June this year as I had turned eight years old. I'm skipping over some pretty important events, such as my baptism and our family sealing in the temple, to relate the Idaho Falls incident but, don't worry, I'll go back and give them their due!

What you have to understand is how this trip sort of morphed into a huge collage of major events. What started out as a simple trip out west to attend the temple turned into an added trip down to Arizona to see Elder Stanley Miller as well as a trip up to Baker, Oregon to visit my father's parents and his sisters, Mary and Emily. My father ended up having to go to San Francisco for business as well. My mother went with him leaving us kids in the care of Grandma and Grandpa Alspaugh and Aunt Mary and Uncle Len, and Aunt Emily. This story begins in Baker, Oregon with us meeting cousins we had never met before. We had known Aunt Emily, she's the one I sang Love Potion No. 9 with a few years before. I"m not sure if I'd met Aunt Mary yet or not but I didn't know her very well before this. She had kids but the only one I remember is Jim. He was roughly the same age as my older brothers and Cheryl.

Well, I ended up getting sick with the flu shortly after my parents left and was pretty sick. I had a most memorable time with my Grandpa Alspaugh as he nursed me through the whole thing. This memory will also deserve it's own posting. But, whilst I was sick it seems that my foster sister, Cheryl, was getting to become pretty good friends with cousin Jim. Very good friends! When I finally got better and was able to get up and join in the fun with the other kids I could tell that Jim and Cheryl liked each other. Hold this thought ~

After my parents returned from San Francisco my grandpa starting pestering my father to go home by way of Idaho Falls so they could be sealed together - he and my grandparents and his sisters. Dad was pretty anxious to get back home as this trip had really dragged out and he told his parents that they would do it another time soon. But grandpa wouldn't let up. He pointed out that it wasn't really that much out of the way to go to Idaho Falls and it wouldn't take much time at all and then we could be on our way. They'd turn around and go back to Oregon and we'd head on towards Pennsylvania. Finally, my father relented and agreed to go home via Idaho Falls.

We caravanned down to Idaho - Aunt Mary and family, Aunt Emily, grandparents, and us. I believe us kids waited out in the car or in a park while they went into the temple. I don't remember it being a terribly long time that they were gone. When they were done in the temple they all came out and we all said our goodbyes - hugs all around. We had grown to love our Aunt Mary and I knew she was going to be a good friend to me - another great aunt to have wonderful memories with! We took off one way and they the other. Grandpa seemed at peace and I know my dad was glad he decided to do this. We hadn't gone more than a few blocks when suddenly my dad saw my Aunt Mary coming up fast behind us, honking and waving. Dad slowed and she pulled up alongside of us. Grandpa was in the front seat passenger side but he looked different, sort of slumped. Mary was driving. Dad rolled down his window and Mary started yelling something about Grandpa and for us to follow her to the hospital. We all did a u-turn and my father translated to the rest of us that Grandpa seemed to be having some sort of medical emergency and we needed to go to the hospital. Upon arriving at the hospital right behind Mary, we learned that Grandpa was having a stroke. He was whisked into the emergency room.

Grandpa's condition looked pretty precarious so we all got hotel rooms. We wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. The adults, understandably, spent a lot of time at the hospital where grandpa's condition worsened. He ended up passing away a day or two later. I was crushed. He and I had formed a bond during that visit. It didn't escape our notice how earnest he had been in getting dad to the temple to be sealed to him. Had he known his time on earth was soon to end? It makes me wonder. It also cemented in my young mind the importance of temple work - not putting off what needs to be done. I also learned the importance of heeding promptings - although this would be a struggle the rest of my life! That still, small voice! I can be pretty spiritually deaf at times!

So, with the adults gone much of the time tending to the situation at hand, troubles started. All of us kids were left at the hotel to entertain ourselves. There were plenty of older kids to keep an eye on the younger ones. But Cheryl and Jim started talking about how they wanted to run away together. The idea started taking shape and in no time it seemed that they had a plan and were ready to act on it. The idea of Cheryl going away just killed me. I loved her so much and couldn't bear the thought of her not being around. When they set out to leave I begged them not to go. When I knew they were going to go no matter what, I begged them to take me with them. Cheryl seemed to consider this idea so I put the begging into full force. Eventually she agreed, probably to Jim's dismay, and along I went with the juvenile runaways - they were probably around 14 or 15 years old. We set out walking along some sort of interstate - two teens and an eight year old. I was determined that I was not going to whine or cause problems. They would not regret bringing me along that's for sure! I was going to be as good as gold!

So we walked and walked . . . I don't know how long we had walked but, eventually, I had to go to the bathroom. Annoying, right? I could pretty well guess that Jim was thinking it had been a BIG mistake to bring me along. Cheryl probably thought so, too. They found a gas station off an exit that let me use their bathroom and I was so relieved to be able to go! I couldn't have been in there very long but, when I came out, they were gone! I looked everywhere around the station for them but they were not there. I could feel the fear settling in. I was panicked. I didn't know this place. Compared to my town back home, Idaho Falls might as well have been New York City! No one seemed to be curious about why I was there alone. I stayed there for a bit, thinking that surely they had just run somewhere quick and would be back to get me.

Well, they didn't come back and I needed to figure out how to either find them or find my way back to the hotel. I figured the interstate was the way to go. So I wandered back up the ramp and started walking. I was crying now. I felt lost (which I was) and very alone (again, true.) That crippling fear I had experienced when they transferred me in the hospital and I thought my parents didn't know where I was had returned - only this time I KNEW they didn't know where I was.

I wandered for what seemed like hours when a car pulled over to the side of the road. Oh dear, what was I going to do? It was a car full of girls, older than Cheryl. They came up to me and asked something like, "Hey, little girl, are you OK?" I couldn't speak. I tried but nothing would come out. All I could do was cry harder. They talked me into getting into their car. I didn't want to, I remember. It was a bad situation getting worse and worse. But, I didn't have much choice as far as I could see. It was getting dark and I did not want to be in the dark alone. I got into their car and they took me back to their apartment - trying to get me to talk and give them sort of clue as to who I was or where I belonged. For the life of me, I couldn't make a sound. Luckily, they were good girls. They called the police and reported finding a little girl wandering along the interstate.

Meanwhile, the parents return to the hotel to learn that Cheryl and Jim had run away and taken me with them. What an ordeal for them to deal with on top of everything else that had happened. They called the police and reported us missing. When the call about me came in, they knew that I was most likely the little girl from the runaway trio which had been reported earlier. They rightly guessed that the teens had tired of having a little kid tag along. My parents were called and they and Aunt Mary showed up to take me home. I could tell my mom was mad! What kind of stunt was this to be playing at a time like this! I knew she wanted to spank me to no end but my Aunt Mary stepped in and petitioned my mom on my behalf. She could see I had already been through hell and figured I had pretty much learned my lesson - which I had. If I had liked my Aunt Mary before, my heart exploded with love for her at that instant. She was a friend. She seemed to know my heart. She recognized the hero worship I had had for Cheryl and had correctly put two and two together and summed up what had happened. The true troublemakers were her son and Cheryl and the job now was to find them.

Some sort of APB had been posted in neighboring towns. Two youths, a girl and boy, traveling on foot. The next morning a call came from a police station over in Shelley, Idaho saying that two youths matching the description had been turned in when they were found sleeping in somebody's barn. The only problem was that we had to now go to Shelley to pick them up. My parents were furious. We went to Shelley and, indeed, it was Cheryl and Jim. Mary took Jim home and we took Cheryl back to Pennsylvania. It was a long quiet ride back. I learned from her when we got home that they had had to cross the Idaho Falls River and nearly drowned in doing so. They had had several other close calls in their short journey and I remember thinking "What if I had stayed with them? I, for certain, would have drowned." Someone was looking after me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was Grandpa.

When we got back, Cheryl left our home and was placed in other foster homes - several before she graduated. I was so sad - even after being left in the bathroom! It took me years to fully understand that she had acted selfishly that day. Had she really loved me, she wouldn't have left me high and dry like that. I still worshipped her. My heart still loved her. We would see her from time to time. She stayed in the Warren area and even lived with my aunt and uncle for a bit. But she was wild - had never liked all the rules of our house. She was used to running as she pleased. She came back to stay with us for a brief period, I don't know why, but it didn't last long. I think she just needed a place in between other homes. She ended up getting pregnant before she graduated. I probably haven't seen her for over 30 years now but now and then I wonder what her life has been. Does she ever ponder about me and wonder what I'm up to?

The songs this week were all popular that year. These are the songs we'd sing to on the radio on that long, long trip across the country. Well, we sang one way anyway . . .

Another Sister?!

2009-07-12T15:29:00.000-07:00

1. Silhouettes by Herman's Hermits

2. Yummy, Yummy, Yummy by Ohio Express

3. A Beautiful Morning by The Rascals

4. Hey Jude by The Beatles

5. Sealed With A Kiss by Gary Lewis & The Playboys

6. Mrs. Brown, You've Got A Lovely Daugher by Herman's Hermits

7. Bend Me Shape Me by American Breed

8. 1,2,3 Red Light by 1920 Fruitgum Company

9. Green Tambourine by The Lemon Pipers

10. Mrs. Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel

11. I'm Into Something Good by Herman's Hermits

12. Scarborough Fair/Canticle by Simon & Garfunkel

13. Love Is Blue by Paul Mauriat and His Orchestra

14. Mony Mony by Tommy James & The Shondells

15. I'm Henry the VII, I Am by Herman's Hermits

16. Turn Around and Look At Me by The Vogues

17. Classical Gas by Mason Williams

18. The Fool On the Hill by Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66

19. Downtown by Petula Clark

20. Don't Sleep in the Subway by Petula Clark

Remember how I told you I had always hoped for a big sister someday? As impossible as that wish may sound, I was to have that wish come true shortly after the arrival of Tina and Brenda. As I said before, my parents were in the foster program as foster parents. That's how Tina came to us. That is also how Cheryl came to us. Cheryl was not a baby, however. She was a teenager!! Somewhere around 13 0r 14. Oh, happy day! A big sister of my own! And we could be good friends and I could follow her around and we would have such a great time!

I'm sure that all of you big sisters are thinking ~ "Yeah, right! I'm sure that went over well!" Let me remind you that I was about 7 - 8 years old. But, surprisingly it did go well! If Cheryl ever tired of my dogging her heels she never showed it. I always felt welcome. We shared a bedroom. My double bed was replaced with bunk beds. I, naturally, got the bottom bunk. We would lay in there at night and Cheryl would tell me stories of where she came from - somewhere in West Virginia - if I remember correctly. She'd had a hard time of it - problems in the family - I don't really recall any details. I just know it was necessary for her to leave. She'd dangle her leg over the side of the bed and I'd tell her to get her big foot out of my face. She wouldn't and we'd start arguing, not for real, though. I'd warn her that I was going to bite her foot if she didn't. She didn't believe me and I didn't believe myself, for that matter! This came to be our ritual nighttime argument. One night it just popped into my little head - wouldn't she be shocked if I actually did bite her? I lay there and thought about it for a bit as we conversed about other things of the day. I remember rationalizing how she HAD just taken a bath. How dirty could her foot be? And I wouldn't bite so hard as to really hurt her - just enough to get her attention. I finally found courage from somewhere and as we started the nightly "get your foot out of my face fight" and I warned her about the impending bite, being sure to sound like I really meant it this time - I simply sat up in my bed, grabbed her foot and sunk my teeth onto her big toe! Oh the squeals from both her and me! The parents are yelling about what all that racket is about up there! She pulls her foot free and flips her head upside down over the side of her bunk and looks at me with this look of total shock - but with a big smile covering her face! It was giggles the rest of the night! She only dangled her leg after that if she momentarily forgot about my toe noshing. When she'd remember, the leg would swiftly disappear up and out of sight.

Cheryl fit into our family quite well. She was a soprano, after all, and sang very well! It was at this time that my family was going around and singing for other churches at their Sunday services. Having Cheryl around to sing the lead allowed me to learn alto parts. Even as a little girl my voice had a lower range. I'm not sure if Cheryl was ever baptized but she did attend church with us and lived her life as we did. Well, . . . she tried. She had already had exposure to values and morals that were quite different from ours. My parents had their work cut out for them trying to teach her about the family rules - ones we were still learning ourselves.

I loved Cheryl deeply. It would probably be more correct to say that I worshipped and adored Cheryl - with all my heart. She was pretty. She let me help her with her hair, rolling it on large tin can rollers or ironing the natural curl out with my mother's iron. She'd lay her head on the ironing board and we'd splay her long hair down the board and I'd start ironing, taking care to not get the iron too close to her scalp. She shared secrets with me. On Saturdays we'd do our morning chores and then, when the mystery movie theater would come on the TV, she'd have me watch the scary movies with her in our front room in Clarendon. One particularly scary one we watched was "The Blob." We huddled together on the couch and pull our feet up just in case the Blob was hiding underneath! There was this other one that involved some sort of alien space craft that scared us pretty bad. I hated scary movies (still do!) but I wanted to be with Cheryl more than I hated watching them.

Cheryl taught me how to dance the latest dances. We had so much fun in that front room with her teaching me how to do the "Skate." I was taking tap dance lessons at the time but she was teaching me how to be "cool" and "groovy." She'd put on her Herman's Hermits album and we'd listen to Silhouettes over and over until she was satisfied with my performance! It's so hard for me to hear that song now and NOT want to do the Skate! She also taught me how to do The Jerk - I think to the dismay of my parents. They were probably torn between wanting to tell me that it wasn't appropriate for me to dance like that and wanting to laugh themselves silly watching their little chubby-legged girl jerking her body around like that! Too funny!! Also, learned through Cheryl's tutelage was the Twist and the Pony.

One of two pictures I have of Cheryl.

It is actually an oil painting my father did of her in 1970 - a copy of a school picture.

Cheryl just seemed to be everything I wanted to someday be. She had a megawatt smile with deep dimples. She wore makeup and fishnet stockings for crying out loud! She would let me try on her clothes and I just dreamed of the day when I'd be allowed to wear such sophisticated things like stockings and a garter belt! (I'm laughing myself silly just writing this but it's true!!) You see, before pantyhose, you had to wear this belt with little attachments that hung down to catch the top of the nylons so as to hold them up. The belt was over your panties but under your clothes. Fishnet stockings were the rage in the 60's! The fashion icon was Twiggy with her big eyes, short skirts, and plastic belts and accessories in bright colors. There was always a tug of war between Mom and Cheryl over her hemlines. I know that she left the house with them down to her knees but, after arriving at school, she rolled the waist band up so they would then be short. I used to beg my mother to let me wear the garter belt and stockings to school. She must have tired of the fight and decided she'd let me see just how unglamorous they really were. I wore them one day and I was miserable. Mostly because the belt didn't fit in the first place - nor did the stockings! I remember coming home during the day (we lived across the street from the school) and taking it all off and happily returning to school with my ankle socks!

I watched her put on her makeup and caught the makeup bug early! I was dying for the day when I'd get to wear makeup, too! My mother did not relent on this one - well, until the pixie haircut incident. I told you it was the perfect enticement to get me to do what she wanted!!

Truth be known, I wanted to do anything to keep Cheryl happy and allowing me to be around her. Anything! This makes for a fairly unhealthy companionship. Well, as long as the leader is minding their P's and Q's, it's OK. But, when the leader gets ideas that aren't too good, then you have trouble. I wanted to be cool like her. If she suggested something, I was game. This brought about some of the darker moments of my life as well as the joyous ones just mentioned. I tried cigarettes at this very tender age. I tried alcohol as well. We were still fairly new to the gospel, so it wasn't too far of a stretch to our minds to go ahead and try these things. I was put into dangerous situations escaping with much less harm than could have been. I won't go into all of these things as this is meant to be an uplifting account of my life. Perhaps I will share some of these more troublesome episodes another time - in another format. I will, however, relate the Idaho Falls incident in my next blog - a harrowing experience which cemented many truths in my mind and taught me, once and for all, that perhaps Cheryl wasn't always the best role model.

This playlist is filled with Herman's Hermits as we listened to them constantly! I mean, you can hear the British accent when they sing! We must have had a Petula Clark album or two because I also remember singing Downtown at the top of our lungs and it had been a hit in 1964 - a few years before Cheryl came along. But, we also sang Don't Sleep In the Subway which was a hit in 1968. Bubblegum Pop was our forte and we were proud! Yummy, Yummy, Yummy? Seriously? Yes!! I make no excuses. Perhaps we will be spared too much grief by the addition of such dignified numbers as Hey Jude and some Simon & Garfunkel songs. Instrumentals were still as strong as ever with Classical Gas and Love Is Blue. The Vogues had rich harmonies that rivaled The Lettermen. This is a great mix - one that I'm sure will be among my favorites!

Sister, Sister

2009-07-03T06:42:00.000-07:00

1. All You Need Is Love by The Beatles

2. Incense and Peppermint by Strawberry Alarm Clock

3. Ruby Tuesday by The Rolling Stones

4. Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane

5. Brown-Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

6. Don't You Care by The Buckinghams

7. Up, Up and Away by The 5th Dimension

8. How Can I Be Sure by The Young Rascals

9. Don't Sleep In the Subway by Petula Clark

10. A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum

11. Alfie by Dionne Warwick

12. Everlasting Love by Robert Knight

13. Gimme Some Lovin' by The Spencer Davis Group

14. RESPECT by Aretha Franklin

15. Ain't No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye

16. Devil With the Blue Dress On by Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels

My leg surgery marked the beginning of about a four year span where many things happened in my life. I think I'll just stay in this part of my life a little while and share more of these events. Today - the arrival of my sisters.

No - they aren't twins although many people tried in vain to see similarities that didn't exist. We still chuckle about it today. This is how you get two sisters without twinning - you adopt one and then your mom finds out she's pregnant!

My parents became foster parents and this decision made for creating some of the most memorable and life-altering times for me. In March of 1967 we were told that an infant girl was ready to come to our home. She showed up at our house in a little cardboard box only named "Baby Tiny." I clearly remember the moment the box was placed on the table and I stood on my tiptoes and peeked over the edge at this new little creature who was invading my space. I beheld the most exquisite little china doll I had ever seen. I wanted to hold her! I wanted to see her closer! So I was situated on the couch with a pillow under my arm and Baby Tiny was laid in my arms. She was so very small - the adults used the word "preemie" and I figured it was just another word for tiny. Her hair was dark - soft curly wisps. Her little face was perfectly round with an unbelievably tiny nose. Her eyes were that amazing baby blue. And her lips were teeny - and rosy pink - as if someone had taken a fine paintbrush and painted them on. I was in love! My very own living, breathing, baby doll! People always assume that I must have not liked it very much - this new baby coming and dethroning me from my position as baby of the family, only girl and princess supreme. I don't remember any emotions other than complete love - even though she had colic pretty bad and would scream for hours. She had charmed her place into our family although it was supposed to be temporary.

As time went on we realized that giving her up would be impossible. It wasn't customary for foster families to adopt the kids they fostered, however, we petitioned for adoption and were approved. After all, we had named her - Tina, because it seemed the natural adaptation from Tiny - and walked the floor with her through her colic sessions, and she just seemed as though she was meant to be ours! She fit right in! What a relief to know we wouldn't ever have to say goodbye to her.

Somewhere in the middle of the adoption business my mother discovered she was pregnant! She told me later, when I was an adult, that they just hadn't been able to get pregnant after me and figured that they were done. Surprise! My sister, Brenda, was born in August, when Tina was just 5 months old. I remember that I stayed out with my grandparents on their farm while Mom went to the hospital. Would it be another boy? I was so excited to know! We got the call and, suddenly, I had two sisters!! Two!! Just a few months earlier I had been an only girl - now I had two sisters!! Girls equaled boys now! We were tied! And we were a family of eight!

I had always wanted a big sister but that was impossible. But, now, I WAS a big sister and my life would never be the same. I began to learn about responsibilities and how the seemingly smallest things could be the biggest help. I was introduced to the world of diapers and bottles, and quickly became proficient at both. I found out that being the oldest girl was to be my mother's right hand - literally.

My sister's were enough younger than I to make our being socially interactive difficult. We never shared friend groups or makeup tips or hobbies, for that matter. I was grown and out of the home before they were even out of elementary school. But, that would come later.

I was always sort of put in charge when my parents were gone so I think my role was more of pseudo-parent as opposed to sibling. But I did it with gusto with often dismal results. Brenda was short like myself so, as long as I was still at home, I was taller than her (she would pass me up eventually.) Tina, however, was not short at all and towered over me before I knew it! We still laugh at my efforts to try to get her to go to bed on time, with me standing with one hand on my hip and the other wagging a finger UP at her saying, "Now, I mean it! Go to bed!" And her pulling herself up to her fullest height and simply looking DOWN at me and saying, "Make me!!" We'd start to tousle a bit - well, I'D start to try to tousle with her to make her get into the bed, but all she really had to do was firmly plant her feet on the ground and I couldn't budge her an inch! She'd start to chuckle, which would make me mad, and I'd try harder. Ultimately, though, she'd end up in bed, not because I harnessed some sort of super human strength and overpowered her, but because her chuckle would grow into outright laughter and she'd collapse onto the bed in a fit of giggles and I along side of her! Lucky for me, Tina was never interested in giving me grief, which she surely could have. Outside of me scolding her for always having her nose in a book I don't think we had many squabbles. We were too busy trying to keep Brenda from doing things like paint the walls with poo, dumping the contents of yet another drawer into the fish tank, and sneaking various reptiles into the bathtub (which she usually shared with Tina.) Brenda was constant motion - Tina was pensive. Brenda, at age 2, strolled our neighborhood in Arizona buck-naked - we found her swinging on the swing a la Lady Godiva. Tina would be furious if she even thought you might see her "naked." Heck, forget naked. She didn't even want to be seen in her undies!

I learned all of my mothering skills on these two girls. Heaven help them! I would find that these skills would be needed many times over during the rest of my life!

1967 is known as the "Summer of Love." It certainly was for me - but not because of reckless abandon. Quite the opposite. It was when I learned the importance of responsibility and hard work and discipline. I found the joy of a job well done. I realized that others depend on you for things both physical and emotional. I never realized before now how the 60's were considered the liberating years. But, for me, when everyone else was cutting loose, I was hunkering down. Do I regret this? Not at all! I was finding love - not by turning inward but by serving others. These songs served as the background to this new life. They mean something different to others, perhaps, but to me, they mean love in the purest form!

Who Are These Guys?

2009-06-27T17:28:00.000-07:00

1. Winchester Cathedral by The New Vaudeville Band

2. I'm A Believer by The Monkees

3. Kind of a Drag by The Buckinghams

4. Penny Lane by The Beatles

5. Happy Together by The Turtles

6. Georgy Girl by The Seekers

7. Windy by The Association

8. Groovin' by The Young Rascals

9. Light My Fire by The Doors

10. Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye by Casinos & The Casinos

11. To Sir With Love by Lulu

12. The Letter by The Box Tops

13. Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli

14. Never My Love by The Association

As soon as I got home from the hospital I knew something was different. Call it intuition or that uncanny ability that children have for discernment. Such as - to be able to hear "ice cream" but never hear "pick up your toys." In any case, my home had changed. Not physically, but emotionally and spiritually. And it was almost tangible.

We had been members of the Evangelical United Brethren church, whose meetinghouse was right across the street from our house on Main Street in Clarendon. I was friends with Pastor Swift's daughter, Janet. It was a darling little church with stained glass windows and smelled of Murphy's Oil Soap and all things old. I loved Christmas time here because of how beautiful and magical the chapel was with all the candles lit and the organ music. There was always a pageant and then they handed out little folded cardboard boxes of hard candies to the kids.

The regular sermon service was held upstairs and then the kids would go downstairs for Sunday School. I can still picture the room where I met for my classes. I would also take piano lessons there someday. I remember a woman who would sit in there and do hand-piece work for quilts. Odd what sticks in your mind. I don't know what her job was but she sat in there with us children and the teacher and did her piece work. If you got up to some mischief she would stop her work and give you this "look" and let us know that Jesus was watching us and keeping track of all our misdeeds. In my little girl mind I could just picture Him up there with a huge tome with my name printed across the front and on the spine. He'd see me do one of the million wrong things that I always seemed to be doing and shake His head, give me a stern look, open my book, take a pen and make yet another mark against me. Jesus did this alot in my mind. I was pretty sure I was going to have some pretty big explaining to do. Not only was He watching me, but this woman was sure to give Him a heads up if He happened to miss something. It wasn't always fun down there in Sunday School.

My father taught Sunday School and was well-liked. He was a true people person and could strike up a conversation with anyone. Shortly before going into the hospital I remember Pastor Swift telling my father what a good job he was doing with the lessons and how he'd presented a different approach to a scriptural topic which he'd found fascinating. All was well at the EUB church - or so I had supposed.

It ends up that my paternal grandparents, Charles and Gertrude Alspaugh, had recently converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. They lived out in Baker, Oregon. My Aunt Mary had also converted. They wanted to share their new beliefs with my father and sent him all sorts of literature - pamphlets, books, magazines. My dad, being a voracious reader, read it all and liked what he read. He started realizing that so much of this new material would go well with his Sunday School lessons at the EUB so he slowly started using passages and thoughts from books like "A Marvelous Work and A Wonder" in his lessons. These were the "approaches" which Pastor Swift found so enlightening! My father didn't share right away where the material was coming from as he was still deciding in his mind about whether this was a direction he should go or not. But, eventually, when he knew that what he was reading was true, he did inform the pastor as to the source of his new enlightenment. Needless to say, Pastor Swift was not amused.

This studying phase had been going on for almost a year before when I went into the hospital for my surgery. While I was in the hospital the missionaries started coming to the house and my family started taking the discussions. My father had done so much studying on his own and he had lots of questions for the young men, Elder Stanley Miller and Elder Kerry Law. To accept the gospel meant some big life changes for them. My father was pretty much a chain smoker - he even coiled the leftover string on the end of his guitar and fashioned it into a cigarette holder while playing a job. The bands that my parents played in meant every weekend was spent in bars and nightclubs where smoking and drinking was par for the course. That whole scene was a big part of their life. Just how much were they going to have to give up in order to join this new church? And was it worth it? Ultimately, he had developed a testimony that what he had been reading was true and he knew that the path down which it would lead our family was the one we should take. He quit smoking cold turkey if my memory serves me correct. He also gave up the alcohol and coffee. My mom didn't smoke, if my memory serves me correct, but she also gave up the coffee and tea and alcohol. My whole family had made the decision to be baptized and, as all were of age, that's exactly what they did - and this came to pass right before I was to come home.

The missionaries were a fixture in our home now. I didn't know who they were but I knew I liked the new feeling in our home and I really liked these new guys. They brought laughter and good times. Everything about them was for the good. They joked with my brothers and teased and played with me. They were wonderful! Elders Miller and Law were the ones to baptize my parents and brothers. I was only six so I would have to wait a couple years to be baptized.

Our new church was far away up in Jamestown, New York. Quite a change from walking across the street! But we soon learned that there were other members closer to us and we became fast friends with them - the McNutt family lived just a couple miles up the road in Stoneham and the Mortenson's lived in Sugar Grove. There were others, too, but these families would become a big part of our lives.

As all new members learn, missionaries come and missionaries go. We would be saying goodbye to Elder Law and meeting a new missionary named Elder Clayton Sharer. I loved Elder Sharer. And, to this day, hope to see him again someday hereafter. He was a good singer and loved to sing, which worked well with our musical family. He would serenade me with his renditions of Hey There, Georgy Girl and Windy. He also would sing Can't Take My Eyes Off You and I would giggle tee-hee! At what age do we girls begin to develop crushes? It seems sort of young to me but I KNOW I had a crush on Elder Sharer! He must have had little sisters or something because he always knew how to talk to me on my level. I loved Elder Miller, too, and he was so good with telling us stories. I remember once that, for some reason, we had gone up to Jamestown for a meeting of some sort and it was just my mother and us kids. It was winter time and my mother had car problems. We realized the missionaries lived fairly close so we trudged through the snow to their apartment to get some help. I just remember that while help was being dispatched to our car, us kids were piled into one of the elder's beds to get warm and Elder Miller plopped himself down in the middle of us and started telling us stories. It was warmth, it was love, it was Christ-like in every way and I feel so blessed to have had these particular missionaries around at such an impressionable time in my life. I learned first hand about living the gospel from the missionaries that came and went during this time. We would have Elders Miller and Law at crossroads in our lives in the next couple years, but those are other stories! Sadly, soon after he returned home from his mission we received a call from Elder Sharer's family telling us that he had been killed in a truck accident. Our grief was acute, to be sure. My little heart just broke. I had so looked forward to seeing him when our family made our way out west to go to the temple for the first time. Now our reunion would have to wait . . .

The changes in our life were many. I had always said my prayers at my bedside with my parents - "Now I lay me down to sleep . . ." - but now the prayers were to be more personal - a dialogue, if you will - not formula. No more "God is great, God is good, and we thank Him for our food" - it was, again, praying to our Heavenly Father through Jesus Christ, His Son. Church was not just a Sunday thing - it was an every day way of life. My Sunday School teachers talked about Jesus and Heavenly Father as kind individuals who loved me and had done all they could to prepare a way for me to return to them. The people at the new church were friendly and soon it felt like I had tons of aunts and uncles!

Me in the parking lot of the Jamestown Branch

I remember the first Christmas with the missionaries and countless Christmases after that with many, many wonderful missionaries to follow. I was then, am now, and will always be cognizant of the fact that the gospel had invited the Spirit of Christ into our home. I felt it in the most real sense of the word and can't deny it no matter how frustrated I get sometimes. I thank my parents for making this decision to lead our family this way. It was the best thing possible for me.

This playlist reflects the songs which Elder Sharer sang to me and songs which were hits during this first year in the church. It was good times, good memories, and good living.

Thank You Zem Zem Shriners'!!

2009-06-21T07:08:00.000-07:00

1. Daydream by The Lovin' Spoonful

2. Hanky Panky by Tommy James & The Shondells

3. Monday, Monday by The Mamas & The Papas

4. Barbara Ann by The Beach Boys

5. Cherish by The Association

6. Red Rubber Ball by The Cyrkle

7. Secret Agent Man by Johnny Rivers

8. See You In September by The Happenings

9. Spanish Flea by Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

10. Sweet Pea by Tommy Roe

11. Tijuana Taxi by Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

12. Wild Thing by The Troggs

13. Working My Way Back to You by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

14. You Don't Have to Say You Love Me by Dusty Springfield

15. You're My Soul and My Inspiration by Righteous Brothers

16. The Ballad of the Green Berets by Sgt. Barry Sadler

17. California Dreamin' by The Mamas & The Papas

18. Yellow Submarine by The Beatles

19. Sunny by Bobby Hebb

20. Summer In the City by The Lovin' Spoonful

I haven't mentioned this yet, but I was born pigeon-toed. It's an orthopedic condition where the feet turn inwards, thus you walk like you're a pigeon, I suppose! Mine was pretty severe from what I understand and recollect. I had a hard time walking without tripping over my feet. My Dad gave me alot of rides up on his shoulders, my little hands clasped firmly around his large Adam's apple. I'd sort of guide him around as you would a horse, giving a little tug to the right or left. He was very patient and happy to do my bidding. It sure beat being sprawled out on the ground! I was seen by Dr. Juliani in Erie. I'm pretty sure that he did some sort of traveling clinics as I remember seeing him in different locations. Erie was about 1 1/2 hours away from Clarendon and hard to get to in the days when you only had one car per family.

They tried different sorts of treatments to try to get my legs straightened. I wore braces and contraptions of all kinds. The one I remember most vividly were the twister straps. I could never wear pretty, girly shoes. They all had to be these corrective shoes that had hardware on which you could attach these thick straps then wind them up and around my legs. They'd pull my feet outward and they did help. However, for as long as I wore them, they just didn't seem to be straightening out the bones. It was finally decided that the only option left was surgery.

The surgery was quite involved. What they did was break the bone in the shin area (tibia), rotate the bottom half outward then put the bones back together in the new position. They placed pins in the bones to secure them together then casted the entire leg from hip to toe. As I was pigeon-toed in both legs, both legs were corrected. They do not do the surgery in this manner today. If they do it at all, the correction is made down closer to the ankle area. I get incredible leg cramps to this day and I've always wondered if it was due to the realignment of the muscles when they turned the bones out. I don't know, just my own musings.

My Dad the day of surgery

As the whole surgery and healing process required months in the hospital it was decided that I would have the surgery in the summer between Kindgergarten and First grade. So this was how I spent the summer of 1966! I had the surgery in Hamot Hospital in Erie, PA. I stayed there about a week or two and was then transferred to Zem Zem Shriner's Hospital, also in Erie, for the following months. Like I said, the casts went from hip to toe. They changed my casts periodically as I needed to learn to walk again and the original casts had too much bend to allow that. I needed straighter ones for that.

I have many vivid memories from this time as you can probably imagine. One memory is of them trying to give me shots post-surgery. I mean, if they'd have been there when Dr. Walters tried to give me my vaccination for Kindergarten they would have known what they were in for! But they were none the wiser. Both legs in casts notwithstanding, it took two interns to hold me down for the simple shots in the rump, which I presume were for pain. I had a very strong aversion to needles! I envision them out at the nurse's station drawing straws for who had to go give the Alspaugh girl her shots. I'm pretty sure they soon reasoned that a girl who could fight like that probably didn't need the shots. And I'd have to say that, knowing me today as I do, I have a high pain threshold and most likely did not need the shots in the first place. But, still, there you have it!

Another memory is when they put me under anesthesia for the surgery. I remember the operating room having a funny smell. They appeared over my head with this mask and asked if I could count to 100. I'm not sure I could but I know they found a number to which I could count and asked me to start counting as they placed the mask over my face. Did it take 100 counts? No! But I remember that almost instantly after they placed the mask on my face I could see way up inside the mask and something was swirling round and round as it slowly fell toward me. When it finally got close enough for me to see what it was I discovered it was actually me! My arms and legs were stretched outward and I was spinning and spinning, closer and closer. Just as I was about to land on my face, they were waking me up and I was so nauseous! Now another thing about myself - I absolutely, positively hate to vomit! And I will go to great lengths to keep from doing so! This was not good news to be awoken and having the need to vomit. I hurt and was in a strange place and had to vomit. My legs felt like bricks and it was just not fun. The first couple of days were indeed rough. They came and gave their shots as they pleased. But, then, enough was enough!

The next vivid recollection was when I had to have the pins removed. They tried to explain to me what was about to happen. They didn't do a very good job. I'm just not sure it's a good idea to sugar coat things with children. This was the era when they would try to convince you that things wouldn't hurt, but they always did. By this time, I was on to their scheme. The more they tried to convince me something wasn't going to hurt, the more it did hurt! So, when they came to explain that the removing of the pins wasn't painful at all I knew I was in for torture! So I got myself all ready for it. Bring it on! They wheeled me down to this room for "the procedure". They broke out the cast saw - been there done that already when they had to make a window in the cast for them to check the stitches. I knew that it didn't hurt but I had to make a good show so I whimpered alot. They made a cut into the cast to expose the pins or maybe they took the cast off completey? Not sure. Do you have any idea how freaky it is for a six year old kid to look up and see these bolts protruding out of their skin? Let the show begin! Above my hollering they were trying to explain that the gizmo they were going to use to extract the pins made a loud noise but it was just loud, not painful. Again with the "no pain" claim - this was going to be really bad!! They turned it on and, yes, it was indeed loud. But not louder than me! They sternly cautioned me as to how important it was for me to be still. Yeah, whatever! But, I did try to hold still and all the interns laying on my body were a big help in that endeavor. As soon as the contraption was applied to the pins I could tell that they were maybe not lying this time. It was more like a vibration and, to be quite honest, sort of tickled as it vibrated the pins out of my bones. But - then - there it was - - BLOOD! Blood streaming down as the pins came out. I HAD to scream now! What respectable six year old child wouldn't scream in this situation, I ask you? None, unless they were anesthetized, I say. So I continued on with what I considered my modem operandus at the time. I carried on until I exhausted myself, or someone slipped a hypo into my rump. Either way, I quieted down and they finished their work. Until they came to this one pin - there were four in all. They had tried to remove this pin at first but it wasn't being very cooperative so they left it to come back to. When they did, it did hurt as they had to work on it more than the others. It was being stubborn. And, to this day, that scar area hurts to the touch. Weird.

I remember the day they transferred me to Zem Zem. You see, Erie was quite a drive from my home and my parents weren't able to be there all the time, every day. I know they came as often as they could. I had three older brothers who needed to be cared for as well. But neither of my parents nor anyone else, for that matter, was around the day they made the transfer. They came up to my room, loaded me and my belongings on a gurney, and took me down to a sort of ambulance and whisked me away. I remember crying and asking where my parents were. They just told me not to worry. They didn't say anything like, "Oh, they know where you will be" or "We've already told them about it." They just carted me away. I arrived at Zem Zem in quite a state of shock. This place was very different from Hamot. Instead of rooms they had wards and each ward had many beds in them. Girls were in one ward and boys in another. They wheeled me into this large room as all these other girls just looked on. I could see that everyone else had some sort of problem of their own - many more involved than what I was dealing with. But it was all so strange. They set me in my new bed, placed my belongings nearby and left me. The staff at Zem Zem came around and tried to get me to talk but I found I couldn't talk. I was so scared I literally couldn't speak. But I cried - not loudly as before, but quietly and deeply. I just knew that I would never see my parents or brothers ever again. Grandma and Grandpa didn't know where I was. Aunt Gwen or Uncle Jeff didn't either. No aunts and uncles at all. Just those girls there in the room and the nurse with the atrociously long, sharp fingernails. I believe that they finally ended up calling my parents and suggested that they come up to see if they could get me to talk. You can imagine the flood of joy I had when they walked into the ward. They DID know where I was, after all! I was so happy to see them! Of course, I talked after that, which the staff would soon realize I knew how to do very well, indeed.

I made friends with the other girls in the ward, especially a tiny girl at the end of the room. Her name was Betsy and she was in a sort of crib. I don't know what was wrong with Betsy to put her in the hospital but her sweet, tiny voice was always so cheerful. On visiting days they would reel a rack of dresses into the center of the ward and we would each take turns being the first to choose which dress we wanted to wear to greet our visitors. There was a plaid number that both I and Betsy really liked. There was a little competition to see who would get to choose it first!

After the trauma of my transfer the family made sure I had visitors on a regular basis. I don't know if they set up a schedule per se but I know that they seemed to come in regular intervals, spaced out, grandparents one day, Gwen and Jeff another, Mom, Dad, aunts, uncles, the Lawtons. It was great. They'd come and play cards with me, Old Maid being a favorite. My hands were too small to hold all the cards in the deck so they showed me how to use a box to hold them.

My hair was really long when I went in to the hospital. My mother would usually brush it up into a high ponytail and make it into a bun. Shortly after arriving at Zem Zem, though, my mother was approached by the staff and told that the care for my long hair was too time-consuming for them to have to deal with. That my hair was an issue was not a surprise to me. When they'd come in to give me my bath and do my hair this one nurse would repeatedly let the rubber band snap my ear as she'd put it in pig tails, muttering the whole time about what a nuisance it was. So when my mother told me we'd have to cut my hair I knew who was the instigator of it all. Most of the nurses were very nice - but this particular one, the ear-snapping Miss Trunchbull-esque woman with the sharp fingernails - well she was not very nice at all. Turning me was a laborious exercise and when she did so it seemed as though she'd stick her long nails into my skin and flip me much like being on a roasting spit. The other nurses, much smaller than the meany, seemed to do it effortlessly. To her, though, it was an ordeal. Perhaps she's just one of those individuals for which all things are an ordeal. I know you know what I'm talking about. So my hair was to be cut off. The Lawton's (my Aunt Linda's in-laws) had a daughter, Nancy, who cut hair. My mom gave her a call and she agreed to come up to Hamot with my mom and cut my hair. I remember it still. They wheeled me into the bathing room and she cut my hair in there. My mother had her roll up a segment and secure it on a curler. Then Nancy cut off the curler and gave it to my mom. I still have it. On the back of one of the pictures my mother wrote of the hair-cutting sadly and proclaimed that we'd have to start all over again when I was home.

Zem Zem had a screened-in outdoor patio area to which we could be wheeled in our beds to enjoy some outdoor air. I hadn't seen my brothers in months and my parents agreed to bring them up for a visit but they were too young to come into the ward area. So I was wheeled out to the patio area and my brothers walked around to the grounds just outside the patio and I got to see them through the screen. I was soooooo happy to see them! We chatted back and forth and it seemed to me that they had changed so much - grown so much bigger! I also remember thinking that they sounded so different, too. Let's see, Ed would have been eleven, Kevin ten, and Marvin eight. My heart, even now, pondering this day, gets all happy.

That was also the summer that my Uncle Bruce was in a terrible car accident. Bruce is the Lawton's son - the ones who had me over to their house for weekends. He was so handsome. I thought he and my Aunt Linda were such a beautiful couple. When my parents told me about the accident I remembered being very sad. I asked about how he was doing. They told me had several cuts on his face, nearly lost his nose and an ear. One day, when he was finally getting better he came to visit me. At first I was afraid of the scars. But, then, I saw that he was still handsome and still my funny uncle. It was good to see him again. Even his brother, Denny, who was in the Navy, I believe, came to visit me in the hospital in his uniform. Yep - everyone thought I was pretty cool for that one! And I got to wear the plaid dress that day!

After finally leaving the hospital at the end of the summer I kept tabs on Betsy as she was still there. My mother would call and check on her from time to time. One day my mother and I were in Erie for something and I asked if we could please go visit Betsy. My mother agreed that that would be a good idea. We went to the lobby and asked if we could please visit Betsy. The nurses looked at each other and then quietly asked to speak to my mother alone. I waited with the other nurses and when my mother came out of the room I could see that she had been crying. How do you tell a little girl that her little friend has passed away? It had to have been hard for my mother. Yet, she was very gentle as she explained that Betsy was no longer with us. I think I instinctively knew what had happened by reading the nurses' faces. I understood what had happened to her, I just never understood how. To this day I don't know what Betsy's condition was. But I'm glad to have known her and am thankful for her cheerful disposition and how it lifted so many of us who were so sad to be away from home. In my heart I hope she was buried in her favorite plaid dress.

They took the casts off not too long before I was to go home. Something about making sure the bones had knitted back together well enough. I had been learning to walk again with regular physical therapy with my casts on. But when those casts came off it was such a surprise to me at how weak my legs were. They had shriveled up and were covered with the most disgusting long hair. I was not a large child by any means, but I had always had amazingly chubby little legs. The chubbiness was gone (yes, the chubs found their way back, no worries!) and I had some serious scars to show off. If you looked at my legs sideways, they looked like a smiley face - the pins being the eyes and the incision the mouth. Walking without the casts was super hard. They kept a helmet on me just to make sure I didn't fall and damage my head. They also supported me in the back with a harness as a precaution. Needless to say, I got the knack of walking sans support quickly. My mother would fret now and again about my being careful so as not to undo all that had been done. But I could walk without stumbling over my feet!

At my grandparents house, hospital bracelet still on my wrist!

I well remember my Aunt Gwen taking me to buy shoes for school that fall (and all the falls after that). I could wear regular shoes now! Oh, I looked at patent leather ones of all colors and styles. It was wonderful! One year the shoe salesman tried to sell us a pair of shoes that didn't quite fit correctly, suggesting that we stuff a little tissue into the toe. My aunt brought herself up to her full height and let the salesman know, in no uncertain terms, that after all that her grandniece had been through with her legs, she certainly deserved a pair of shoes that fit her properly, thank you very much!

While in the hospital for such a long time I received many gifts. Have I mentioned what a spoiled little girl I was? One of my favorite gifts I received while still in Hamot was this stuffed black poodle dog which was actually a little radio. You can see it in the background of this picture behind my beloved Pebbles doll.

I would listen to that radio for as long as the batteries would hold out! And I would listen to the songs on this entry's playlist. My favorite of these were See You In September and Cherish. I was to become a big fan of The Association. The Ballad of the Green Berets was a big hit with my family as well and my grandparents (Ristau) bought the album and would play it often on that fabulous stereo system of theirs and we could hear it all through their house and garage. I also loved The Mamas & The Papas. Cass Elliot's voice was like honey to me. Secret Agent Man was a favorite of my brothers as well, which I would find out when I got home at the end of the summer. Hanky Panky was a fun song to sing and I would learn the dance that went with it within the next year after my surgery. I love this playlist. It has so many classic songs on it. Look at the artists represented - The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Mamas & The Papas, Tommy James, The Lovin' Spoonful, Herb Alpert, Frankie Valli - these are iconic groups of the era. My little poodle sang well that summer!

I will forever be indebted to the Shriner's organization. They help children get the medical care they need when they can't quite afford it. If I'm out and about and see them with a fundraising effort, I stop and help them out. They are the charity that is nearest and dearest to my heart. I have firsthand knowledge of the great capacity of their love and concern. Even after my surgery, for years they would include me in their annual circus adventure. They'd bus kids in from all over and treat us to an amazing day of fun at the circus. They'd feed us and take good care of us. I mingled with many children who were not as fortunate as I to have a condition which could easily be taken care of with surgery. Thank you Zem Zem Shriners and all Shriners everywhere. You're good men!

Marvelous Matriarchal Mentors

2009-06-14T11:45:00.000-07:00

1. I Love How You Love Me by Bobby Vinton

2. Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley

3. Delilah by Tom Jones

4. Release Me by Engelbert Humperdinck

5. Round and Round by Perry Como

6. It's Not For Me to Say by Johnny Mathis

7. Green, Green Grass of Home by Tom Jones

8. Don't Be Cruel by Elvis Presley

9. Peg O' My Heart by Buddy Clark

10. Moon River by Liberace

11. Love Me Tender by Elvis Presley

12. There Goes My Everything by Engelbert Humperdinck

13. Love Potion No. 9 by the Searchers

14. Danke Schoen by Wayne Newton

You know how it is - you usually don't recognize the greater blessings in your life right at first. It's usually after time and, unfortunately, often after you don't have those blessings in your life that you realize just how lucky you are/were. Such is the case with my being raised by a most marvelous group of women. We all know the saying, "It takes a village." In my case, it took a matriarchy - a mother, grandmothers, great aunts, maternal aunts, paternal aunts, and even people who weren't directly related to me. My memories of these amazing women and their powerful impact on my becoming who I am are some of my most cherished.

I was the oldest granddaughter on my mother's side of the family and the first daughter born to my parents. I remember being surrounded by a swarm of women who genuinely seemed interested in me. It wasn't unusual for me to go spend the night at other people's homes. I served as flower girl for several weddings. There were always get-togethers for one reason or another and I always had the best times. We would have BBQ's at the house on Keenan Street. This is not the same house I spoke of last time where I did my summer of laundry. This is a smaller house just down the street, a much smaller house. It is where my mother was born as well. There was a pit out in the yard which was perfect for cook-outs and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents would come and it would be a fun evening. After a delicious meal (my aunts and uncles are great cooks!) the men would go off on their own - probably playing horseshoes - and the women would congregate in chairs close to the fire pit. The kids would run around and play and as it got dark we'd go in search of the perfect stick which we could put in the fire pit and get the tip all fiery ember red. Then we'd swoosh our stick through the air and make designs, the lit tip tracing our patterns for all to see. We'd do figure eights and circles and swoops. The older kids would write their names. When we'd tire of the sticks we'd begin our chase of the lightning bugs. It was all magical and full of wonder for me - and it remains as such in my mind - full of fantasy and warm fuzzies.

I'd run and play with the kids but my favorite place was staying close to the circle of my mom, grandma and aunts and listen to them visit and laugh. These were my mom's sisters and sisters-in-law - Emily, Linda, Bev, and Sandy. They'd smoke their cigarettes and share stories and opinions and the light of the fire lit up their faces. I felt safe with them. To this day the smell of fresh cigarette smoke fills me with warmth and a sense of security. Add in some fresh cut grass and I am locked in Keenan Street. Aside from Tabu, it is the strongest scent-to-memory connection I have. At times, I have been moved to tears even. That is just how sweet those memories are. Most people think I'm crazy for enjoying the smell of cigarette smoke, but I can't help it. It is what it is. I didn't choose it, I didn't plan it, but there it is!

My grandma, Mildred Isabelle Schmutz Ristau, and I (on the left) with my

cousins Shelly Ristau (on grandma's lap) and Tammy Lawton by our house

in Clarendon.

My Aunt Linda's mother-in-law, Ruth Lawton, was also part of this group of women who hovered over and around me. At the time, I thought nothing extraordinary at all about going and spending a night or two with her at her home. I just always thought she was another relative. I guess in a round about way she is, but she's my aunt's relatives, really. I try to put it in perspective nowadays and I just don't think it happens often. It would be like my kids going and staying with one of my or my husband's siblings in-laws. I just don't see that happening. Anyway, it did for me. Ruth would have me over and would make a fuss over me. It was great fun. I'd help her with her laundry (again, with the laundry and the water shaker bottle) and she lived in town so we'd go on walks around the streets and she'd greet her neighbors and introduce me. My Uncle Bruce (this was his parents) had a sister, Nancy, and some brothers, Larry and Denny. The brothers were about high school age, I think, and they'd all just be so kind to me. I loved going there. Ruth even had a photographer come and take my pictures in their back yard once. It's amazing the attention I received. I would have to concede I was probably a bit spoiled. I don't understand why this all happened, but I'll always be glad for it and the memories I have.

Myself with Ruth Lawton and my mother at Chapman's Dam. I really wish

I had gotten those legs from my mother. Look at her! She's a goddess!

My father's sisters were also great fun. I especially remember his sister, Emily, coming to the house. Both my mom and dad had sisters named Emily but this one is my dad's sister. We had a van at the time, I want to say a Chevy or a Ford, and it was big and red. In between the two front seats was this large hump inside which I think the engine or some important part of the car resided. But it was the perfect perch for a little one my size. This was waaaaay before car seats, mind you. My mom and Aunt Emily would have to run an errand and we'd climb in and they'd put me on that hump between them. We'd turn on the radio and we'd sing and sing as we went on our way. A very popular song at this one time was Love Potion No. 9 and my Aunt Emily loved this song. She made sure to teach me every word and thought it the biggest laugh to have her little niece belting out the words to this song - and I have to agree, it was probably pretty funny! But I knew(know) them all! And we'd be flying down Rt. 6 singing about Madame Ruth, the gypsy with the gold-capped tooth, and her wonderful potion. Sublime! Oh, how I wish we could rewind and relive some moments. This would be on my list for sure. This same Aunt Emily loved to play Solitaire. My mom thought it a waste of time but I was intrigued how Emily could sit at the table and play this game over and over again. I watched and asked questions and figured out how to play it eventually. I never play it without thinking of her. Dad's other sisters, Mary, Waneta, and Dolly were also so special to me. Mary lived far away most of the time, but when I was about eight years old, she would come into my life in a big way and capture my heart as much as the others. Waneta and Dolly lived out in the Russell or Scandia area, I think, and we'd go visit them. They had horses and lived a more rural life. We'd sit and visit in the kitchen and I remember them getting out their little roller machines and rolling their own cigarettes while we all visited and laughed. They all had such great laughs. I loved how they would just laugh without abandon. I learned from them that there was always a way to find humor in a situation. And why not laugh instead of cry?

As I've said in earlier blogs, my aunts nearly swooned over certain recording artists. Some of them I understand, others, well, not quite so much. I adore Bobby Vinton. I also appreciated Elvis Presley. I loved watching his silly romance movies when they'd come on late at night on the weekends. I also thought Engelbert had a dreamy voice and I thought he looked alot like my Uncle Tom, which is funny, considering that it was my Aunt Bev, Tom's wife, who was the biggest Engelbert fan. But I could never understand the Tom Jones fascination nor the Johnny Mathis. Tom Jones always seemed to be all sweaty. As a little girl I couldn't even remotely figure out why that wouldn't repulse everyone. Yet, still, they swooned. I'd ask them what the big deal was and they'd just pass one of those knowing smiles between themselves as if to say, someday you'll know, sweetie. Well, I think I know what they were hinting at now, but he still escapes my scope of appreciation. Different strokes for different folks. It's much like my thing for Sting. I get those same looks from my girls when I talk about him. They just don't get it. And that's OK! Johnny Mathis just had this funny, breathless sort of voice that I've never developed an appreciation for. Yet this playlist would not be complete if he and Tom weren't on it.

Some might ask - "What gives with Liberace?" Or, more likely, they are saying, "Who in the heck is Liberace?" I included Liberace (lib-er-AH-chee) for my Aunt Gwen's sake. She had attended his concerts and thought him quite the showman - and he was. FYI - Liberace was an entertainer extraordinaire. He played the piano - but not just any piano. His pianos were ornately decorated and so far past gaudy! He would dress in elaborate costumes, studded with rhinestones and feathers and silks and furs. It was all about excess and fanfare. And my Aunt Gwen ate it all up! She would come back from her trips and tell us detail after detail about what he wore and what he played. It makes me smile now. I also included Perry Como for her. He is another that I would hear her talk about and when I'd go over to her place he'd be playing on the record player. Perry and Liberace - from one end of the spectrum to the other!

My grandpa's nickname was Peg. Don't know why. His name was Emil. But my grandma called him Peg. Maybe it was because of this song. I just know it was "their" song. Peg O' My Heart is for my grandma. She usually had a record on when I went up to her house and I thought it the coolest thing because she could put a record on in the dining room and you could hear it through speakers out in their garage where my grandpa worked on cabinets. It was quite ahead of the time, I'd imagine. She'd play kids records for us - "Oh , would you like to be an elephant . . " but mostly, she'd listen to instrumental orchestral music. She obviously kept a good listen to the radio as my kids will attest to her doing a Michael Jackson-esque dance in her kitchen one afternoon. My grandmother - well - she deserves her own entry. It'd probably take more than one. I love her, I cherish her imprint on my life, I miss her.

I now realize that one blog entry won't even come close to cover the entire topic of the women who shaped me. I keep having floods of experiences that I want to share. I'll just have to take them one at a time. But know for now, I am who I am because of them. And I think that that's a very good thing.

The Summer of Laundry

2009-06-11T17:49:00.000-07:00

1. Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone by Bill Withers

2. You've Got A Friend by James Taylor

3. How Can You Mend A Broken Heart by Bee Gees

4. Treat Her Like a Lady by Cornelius Brothers & Sister Rose

5. Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey by Paul & Linda McCartney

6. My Sweet Lord by George Harrison

7. Put Your Hand In the Hand by Ocean

8. Chick-A-Boom by Daddy Dewdrop

9. If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot

10. Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson

11. Don't Pull Your Love by Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds

12. I Don't Know How to Love Him by Helen Reddy

13. Draggin' the Line by Tommy James

14. Sweet City Woman by The Stampeders

15. Me and You and a Dog Named Boo by Lobo

16. One Toke Over the Line by Brewer & Shipley

17. Never Ending Song of Love by Delaney & Bonnie

18. I Am ...I Said by Neil Diamond

19. American Pie by Don McLean

For some reason, of which I'm not sure, my mother decided that I needed to learn how to do laundry - in a BIG way. I can't say exactly which summer it was but by doing some deductive reasoning I'm going to say it was 1971. You know how you hear a song and it immediately puts you in a particular time and place? Well, that's what happens with this playlist. I hear them and I'm suddenly transported to the basement in our house on Keenan Street and I can swear I faintly smell laundry detergent and mustiness. That's a strong connection! So by finding the year that these songs would have been playing on the radio I deduced it to be 1971. Could've been 1972 because my town always was far behind everyone else - and it also has a knack for hanging on to things - but I'm going to go with 1971. I'd be willing to bet that you could go there today, turn on the radio, and still hear Debby Boone's You Light Up My Life getting air play. Hmmmm.

Anyway, it's 1971 - I'm 11 years old. We have moved back to Pennsylvania the previous fall from our one year in Arizona. We are now up to seven children - Ed, Kevin, Marvin, Janice, Tina, Brenda, and Sam. Our house is large and we fill all three levels (not including the basement.) It is a fantastic house, built around 1900. We are just down the street from my maternal grandparents. The yard is huge and we also have a gigantic garden. There are lots of memories that go with this home but today I'm going to concentrate on this particular summer. The basement was not a finished space like basements are today. There were dirt floors and low ceilings except in the area where we kept the washer and dryer. The ceilings were low but cement had been poured making it a much better area in which to be hanging out. The low ceilings were not an issue with me as I had not yet reached my substantial adult height of 4' 11". Most people could stand up straight down there, but there wasn't much room for jumping or anything. I got along just fine! There was always plenty of laundry to be done just by the number of people in the household. None of us had extensive wardrobes or anything, but even if all of us had just a few, that's a lot of laundry!!

So she took me down and showed me the washer and how it worked. Then moved on to the dryer, stressing how important it was to keep the lint trap clean. She explained water temperatures and how they work and which colors and fabrics should go with each temperature. She told me how important and helpful it was to get things out of the dryer as soon as possible after it stopped because the wrinkles were markedly fewer. Now, another thing you have to know is that I get my ironing sickness from her. Sure, permanent press was available, but she didn't believe in it - and nor do I! Somehow things just need to be ironed - permanent press or not. They don't look as crisp or as fresh if they aren't. But pulling things out of the dryer quickly makes for a much shorter ironing time. To be honest, I didn't heed this at first. But it only took a couple times of laboriously trying to iron wrinkles that have been set to realize she probably knew what she was talking about.

I learned to use distilled water in the iron to prevent buildup of deposits. I learned that bleach is a silent striker and it lurks in the most unseemly places just waiting for something dark to wander by. I learned that a stray red garment can, indeed, turn a whole load of whites pink. I learned that, when ironing, doing the collars and sleeves first made it go much quicker. I learned how important it is to make sure a shirt is hanging on the hanger correctly. I learned that steam in an iron works awesome on stubborn wrinkles. I learned to love the smell of spray starch and the feel of warm sheets and towels being pulled from the dryer. To this day I almost always stick my face into the warm mass and take a big whiff of the wonderfulness!

You might think that I protested and stomped around when I found out that this was to be my big summer work but you'd be wrong. I was happy. And let me tell you why. When I was an even younger girl, about 5 or 6, we lived in Clarendon on Main Street. Clarendon was a wee bit of a town with only the one stoplight that I think might have only operated during the season when people were going up to Chapman Dam. Anyway, we kids roamed freely around Clarendon and everyone pretty much knew everyone else. Our next door neighbors were older folks on both sides. On one side the Gerbers and the other the Riggles. Mrs. Gerber was always having me over to chat with her. She was a grandma sort with no children at home so she loved to treat me like a granddaughter, I suppose. But I loved going over to keep her company as she did her daily chores. I especially loved watching her do her laundry. It was such a production with her sprinkle bottle of scented water with which she dutifully doused her linens. I was big for asking "why" and she informed me that she did this so that it would dampen the linens and make it easier when she ironed them. And when she ironed them the steam would rise as the hot iron would hit the damp linens. I'm, again, deducing here , but I am pretty sure this meant she didn't have a steam iron or maybe they hadn't been invented yet. I don't know, but the idea is the same - steam is great on wrinkles! To this day I love spraying my sheets and pillows with linen mist so that I have that lovely scent. And I always think of Mrs. Gerber as I do it! I don't iron my sheets, but they smell like I do!

Julie Albaugh and I in the yard of my house on Main Street in

Clarendon. ca.1965 We are standing between our house and the Riggles'.

To make the time more enjoyable I did as my mother did and always had music playing during the day. I found a great old radio at a garage sale and set it up in the basement and tuned in LeRoy Schneck at WNAE at 1310 AM. Sometimes I'd bring that box record player down and listen to records but, for the most part, it was the radio. At the time, my favorite song on that playlist was Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey followed closely by Sweet City Woman. I would sing and sing and get so excited when they were played. Making this playlist also brought me to a couple of other songs that could be added to the playlist of songs I sang in our band - Put Your Hand In the Hand and Rose Garden. The great classic American Pie gives me lots of memories as I would find out the next year that my 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Beck, considered it an anti-Christ song and would not allow us to play it on the afternoons that we had free time and would bring in our albums to share. I hadn't really listened to the lyrics before and was shocked that she felt so strongly about it. I guess on the surface you can see how she'd get that, but I never followed her all the way to the anti-Christ diagnosis. It was merely a comment on the times. It is a vital part of the fabric of the era. I Don't Know How to Love Him was also a song that rankled some. It's from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar which was huge at the time. It was a time of many ranklings, that 60's going into 70's period. People were as upset about that musical as they are of The DaVinci Code today. Come to think of it, in retrospect, Mr. Schneck must have been quite the liberal, willing to push the envelope, for putting those songs on the air. I'm curious as to whether or not he received any criticism for doing so.

You'll notice a Bee Gees song, one that just melted my heart every time I heard it - a pre-disco offering. Bill Withers ruled with his sultry, bluesy voice. I just really wanted a guy to think that way about me some day. There are a lot of great, iconic songs here - I Am...I Said, My Sweet Lord, You've Got a Friend, in addition to the ones already mentioned. And there are some fun, quirky songs like Chick-A-Boom, and Me and You and A Dog Named Boo, which I heard later is supposedly a drug reference. All I know is that in my head, I pictured somebody in a car with their friend and their dog traveling around the country having a good time - no drugs around.

I enjoyed my summer in the basement - not that I never did laundry again after that. I certainly did, but not as focused as that particular summer. As I got more skilled, I got faster, and I didn't need to be down there as much. But I have a vivid imagination and I would go on all sorts of adventures in my head and pretend all sorts of things. Seeing as one of my favorite shows during my childhood was Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, somedays I would pretend that I was Cinderella and that the Prince would come by the house wanting a dipper of fresh water or to try to find the owner of a particular glass slipper. But I couldn't help him because I was in the basement! Alas, he would leave and I would be in such despair! Yeah, I was a silly girl but I had fun there in My Own Little Corner. Hahaha! Who knew laundry could be so entertaining! Fond memories, indeed.

The Osmond Effect

2009-05-24T07:16:00.000-07:00

1. Go Away Little Girl by Donny Osmond

2. Hey Girl by Donny Osmond

3. Sweet and Innocent by Donny Osmond

4. Puppy Love by Donny Osmond

5. Too Young by Donny Osmond

6. One Bad Apple by The Osmonds

7. Yo-Yo by The Osmonds

8. Down By the Lazy River by The Osmonds

9. Before the Beginning by The Osmonds

10. Let Me In by The Osmonds

11. Are You Up There? by The Osmonds

12. Darlin' by The Osmonds

Ok, well, you KNEW it had to be coming sooner or later! I couldn't reminisce about my life via music without including the music that was nearest and dearest to my pre and pubescent life, now, could I? Seriously, people!! The Osmonds were IT! I mean, I had other artists that I listened to ~ Bobby Sherman, The Monkees (swoon re Davy Jones!), David Cassidy (sigh!) but The Osmonds topped them all by leaps and bounds. Now, how did this happen? Let me tell you!!

Before church was a solid three-hour block you used to go to church in the morning for Sunday School. There was Junior and Senior Sunday School with both having their own exercises ~ prayers, talks, singing ~ similar to Primary opening exercises today. After opening exercises you broke up into classes by age. After classes you were dismissed to go home. Then later that day you'd come back to church for Sacrament Meeting which was conducted like our Sacrament Meetings today. Church was, literally, an all-day experience ~ especially when you lived as far away from the meetinghouse as we did. There were few members in the Warren, PA area back in the mid 60s when my family joined the church. We had to travel to Jamestown, NY to attend. We were in the Jamestown Branch which was part of the Erie District. This was a little more than a half hour drive each way - no highways - just two-lane roads the whole way. When it was District Conference we had to travel to Erie which was about an hour and a half drive - again - just two-lane roads. We just accepted it as that was the way it was going to be. The youth of the Church found this arrangement as a great opportunity to socialize with each other. LDS friends were rare and we were so spread out, it was nice to be able to hang out with each other. So what we'd do is ask (even beg!) our parents to let us go to each other's houses during the afternoon break. We'd go home and have lunch and/or dinner and then return for Sacrament Meeting and switch back to our families and return home. Pretty slick, eh? We thought so!! Well, I had a friend named Vera who I went home with often. It was so different at her house. She, at that time, was an only child and her house was soooo quiet! She also lived right in town and Jamestown was much bigger than Clarendon or Warren. We'd get to her house and we were hungry, of course. She'd make me a tuna fish sandwich which was always so delicious! She is the one who originally taught me how to dice up an onion. We'd take our tuna fish sandwiches and go up to her room. The first time I walked in was similar to when I saw Westminster Abbey the first time - mouth open in awe! Vera was a little older than I was and she had already found the world of pop idol mania. The walls of her room were covered with posters of the day's pop stars. She had her own little record player and she'd put on record after record and we'd lay on her floor or bed and listen to David Cassidy, The Osmonds, The Jackson Five, etc and we'd swoon. Vera taught me how to perfect swooning - my aunts had swooned over Engelbert Humperdink so I sort of already knew what it was - but Vera taught me how to swoon like a proper American teenage girl. I had heard The Osmonds songs on the radio. One Bad Apple was still in play and I loved the sound. Merrill's voice had that raspy edge that I still like today but the whole sound was wonderful! Her parents let her get Tiger Beat magazine and several other publications and we'd look through those and devour every story on every page ~ filing away little tidbits of info about each of our favs. I could tell she really liked Donny Osmond and the more I learned the more I knew there would be trouble because I really liked him, too! We had friendly arguments over him but, in the end, we realized that he was younger than her and really more suited for me so she got one of the older brothers, I forget which. Or maybe she opted for another pop idol, I can't remember. But I still remember the day she pulled me into her room with eyes open wide and told me the biggest news of my entire teen years ~ THE OSMONDS WERE MORMONS JUST LIKE US!!!!!! No way! I couldn't believe it! Could it be true? Well - then that's a sign! Oh my gosh - it must be true then - that I was meant to be with Donny forever! I mean, I loved him so much! We would meet and he'd fall in love with me and that was it! Sigh!! I couldn't believe my good fortune!

Now all the songs had so much more meaning to me coming from my future husband and all. Go Away Little Girl was him telling me that it wasn't time for us yet. Hey Girl was reassuring me that he still loved me and not to worry. It was anguish for him as well! Puppy Love and Too Young helped me get through the times when people made fun of my adoration ~ they didn't understand that sometimes you DO find your love early in life!!! And this was one of those times!! I was serious!! Just listen to these songs. You'll clearly understand how a girl can find meaning in the words!! And the voice, well - think what you like, but I adored that high-pitched sound! And I love listening to the voice chronologically and hear it deepen and mellow with age.

And so it continued like this for years, the surety of my path in life, until I was about 15, I think. As I grew older I became more aware of the world beyond my 60 mile radius and I realized that, although there were few Mormons in my area, there were many more Mormons elsewhere, namely in Utah, where Donny was from. And I started to understand that he was probably surrounded by lots of Mormon girls with the same dream that I had who were probably much prettier than I. Besides, in the meantime, I started noticing boys in general. Real boys. The ones who lived within my radius! The thought was always in the back of my mind, about Donny and I, but I knew it wasn't likely to happen. But, still, it was fun and I am grateful to Vera for those wonderful memories. In my later teen years The Osmonds produced an album that would have a tremendous impact on me. It was called The Plan.

The Plan is a musical presentation of the Plan of Salvation that our Father in Heaven prepared for us. It answers the questions of where we came from, why we are here, and how to return to live with Him again someday. It talks about how, if we live worthily, we can be with our families for eternity. I think it is their finest work. Some may think this weak, but it is what sustained my testimony throughout those teen years. People may say I should have found that strength in the scriptures, but I can tell you that listening to this album sent me to my scriptures more than any lesson or talk at church. By this time my family had bought a nice stereo which was in the front room of the house. I liked the better sound than what I got on my box record player. So I'd put this album on, sit on the floor with my back up against the speakers, and follow along with the words in the album cover. Not that I really needed the words for long. I had these songs down pat! But, I loved hearing its message. And I listened to it over and over and over again, letting the peace just flow over me. My husband comments on the times he'd come over when he was a missionary and I'd be in the front room listening to The Plan and singing along. He thought it was funny - really funny! But I don't think he realized the missionary work which was going on at that precise moment!

This album helped me get an A on an English paper when I was in the 11th grade. There were only a couple other LDS kids in my high school and everyone knew I was a Mormon. It set me apart, I know. My English teacher, Mrs. Williams, whom I LOVED, would call me a ducky Mormon. It was said in a friendly, kindly way. I think I saw a bit of respect for me in her eyes because I would stick to my standards amid the constant barrage of temptations. There was pot in the bathrooms, cigarettes on the bus and out behind the band room, keggers on the weekends (I was never invited). She knew there were plenty of opportunities for me to join the crowd. But I held my ground. By that time in my life I was sure of what I was about and what I wanted. It wasn't tempting to me at all. And I think she noticed. Anyway - we had an assignment in class to read a book and then give an oral presentation in class. The presentation should be more than just standing up and giving an oral report. It should have a big of production to it. We could dress up like one of the characters. We could use media (note that this is before VCRs, DVDs, CDs) or act out a scene. It was going to be a big part of our grade. It was sort of like a culminating project to the class. We had a list of classics to choose from. I don't know why but I seem to remember having to choose towards the end, after which most of the more popular ones had been taken. I ended up getting The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder. Mrs. Williams had a little smile on her face as she noted which one I had. I wasn't sure why. But, then I started reading, and soon found that I was very comfortable with the content of the book. A bridge in Peru collapses and five people die. The book then goes on to posit questions about life - where we came from, why we are here, where we are going. What is life? I knew instantly what I would use for my presentation. But - how would it be received? Would the kids think it weird that the Mormon girl brings a record by a Mormon band singing about LDS doctrine - much of it which was foreign to them? I commiserated over this until I was about sick. But, every time I went over my presentation I knew that the songs I had chosen were perfect. The day came for my presentation and, shaking like a leaf, I stood up in front of the class and began my presentation. Mrs. Williams sat in the back of the classroom with that same little smile on her face. She had seen the album I had brought to back up my presentation. I knew she was curious. Finally, it came time for the first song I would share - Before the Beginning - which talks about where we came from. It seemed to be well received. Everyone thought the baby crying was a cool effect. I talked some more then played the other song I had chosen to share - Are You Up There? - which talks about why we are here. It asks all the same questions that the character in the book asks but the song gives reasonable answers to the questions. I ended my presentation sharing my own personal thoughts to the answers of the questions and suggested that they, too, had their own answers to the questions. It was very, very quiet when I finished. And, then, the clapping. Mrs. Williams' smile was not little now - it was her big, ear to ear, smile and she was pleased! I think I still have a copy of the presentation somewhere. I should find it and see what I think.

A few comments about the songs from that album which I chose for this playlist. Before the Beginning is just the sweetest song. Merrill's voice is magic. Let Me In is a song that got radio play and was well-received by the public. Most people heard it as a love song between a man and a woman, however, I know it to be a love song between an individual and the Savior. The person has messed up and wandered away from the teachings of the gospel. Now, realizing their mistakes, wants to repent and return to the Savior. It's beautiful when listened to in either context. I find it especially meaningful when listened to with the Savior in mind. Are You Up There? just asks the same questions everyone asks. Why me? What for? And reasons you back to Father in Heaven. It's powerful. Darlin' depicts eternal love. It is actually about the love between a man and a woman and the desire to be together forever.

An end note - shortly after my class presentation Mrs. Williams came up to me after class and said, "Hey, you ducky Mormon, a couple of young men stopped by my house last night." She paused, waiting for me to say, "Oh yeah, I sent them by!" But I hadn't. She continued, "I let them in and my husband and I talked with for a little bit. It was very interesting!" Like I said earlier, it was the end of the school year. Probably even the last week. When I returned to school for my senior year she had moved away. To California I believe. I always wonder what happened to her ~ if maybe she took the discussions and joined the church. She was a wonderful teacher. Very young, very hip, very enthusiastic about her teaching. I always thought that if I ever became an English teacher I'd want to be just like her.

My Blue Box Record Player

2009-05-17T08:07:00.000-07:00

1. People by Barbra Streisand

2. Second Hand Rose by Barbra Streisand

3. He Touched Me by Barbra Streisand

4. Free Again by Barbra Streisand

5. Don't Rain On My Parade by Barbra Streisand

6. My Man by Barbra Streisand

7. The Way of Love by Cher

8. Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves by Cher

9. Fire and Rain by Cher

10. He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by Cher

I can't remember if I received this record player for Christmas or a birthday. All I remember is that it was one of my all-time favorite gifts from my childhood. It was a heavy cardboard type of material covered with this candy blue paper. It had pink and white accents. It played 33's (vinyl albums), 78's (smaller albums from really old days), and 45's (the small vinyl records with an A and B side). Mine was a bit larger than the one in the photo but it was very portable. And it got used!!! It was such an important part of my becoming who I am. Maybe that seems silly to you, but it was! And the reason it was is because it allowed me to take my affinity for music and my tendency to place myself into the music into the privacy of my own room. Pre-blue box record player days forced me to listen to my music in the living room where everyone was around. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I even HAD my own music prior to this. I think I probably listened to what everyone else had - which is not bad, mind you. I enjoyed their music, too. But it was a reflection of them and their choices, not mine. The box record player came at about the time I was earning money for babysitting and, like any respectable girl approaching her teens, I used my money to buy records! And then . . . the record player came. So I took my purchases into my bedroom and listened and listened and listened. I noted every inflection of their voices, and time after time after time, I tried desperately to reproduce that same quality with my voice. I can only imagine the many times my family must have been outside that bedroom door, holding their sides and laughing that uproarious silent laughter that you do when something is so funny but you have to be quiet - like in church. Of course, inside the bedroom, it was all serious. I mean, SERIOUS!!! I had to get this stuff DOWN! I was going to be a big star someday and I had to know how to do this stuff! I think I ended up doing a pretty good imitation though. That ended up being my problem when I started actually performing with the family band, though. I had spent my time learning to copy instead of figuring out how I should or would sing the song myself. Still, it is what it is, and they were glorious moments in my life. I'm sure that you'll notice that there are no Osmonds songs. There was at first, but then it soon became apparent that that would have to be its own playlist. What remains are songs from the two albums I listened to over and over and over again that were NOT of Osmond origin. And these two women mesmerized me! Babs and Cher!

Some people might think these odd choices for a young girl. I'm pretty certain that Barbra was a result of the influence of my parents, more so my mother. I don't think I gravitated toward her myself although she was big on the scene at the time. Cher, though, was mine and purely mine. We watched the Sonny and Cher show at home all the time and enjoyed it. I'm not sure how my parents felt about Cher as a solo act. All I know is that I loved Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves on the radio and I HAD to have it! The first album on the scene was Barbra's, though, so let's talk about her . . .

The album Barbra Streisand's Greatest Hits opens with her rendition of People. Cue the flute. Then the strings start with their beautiful strands, add more flute ~ wide, sweeping notes. The curtain opens ~ the spotlight snaps on and there I am on the stage - all alone - just me and the spotlight. My mouth opens and out comes the word "People." Pause (for dramatic effect.) More violins. "People who need people." Then you let the song flow freely from you. This was how I listened to this album. It was me on that stage, not Barbra. "What stage?" you ask. Why the one that was in my bedroom! Nobody else ever saw it, but it was there all the same! And I sang on that stage many, many times! Oh, I had rave reviews and demands for encores! It was a great world there in my room with my record player and albums. I could connect with each and every song she sang but these on this playlist were my favorites from this album. They were very theatrical and, I can assure you, I gave it my all! They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Well, if that's so, I hope I can hit a pause button and enjoy watching myself in my room with my record player. It will be a blessed moment of joy and laughter - before I plummet down to hell!

My Cher album, Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, demanded a different sort of performance. I'd say it was more like a prelude to today's music videos. It was probably greatly influenced by the skits and song production numbers I'd see on the weekly variety shows that were so popular at the time. But, when I sang the title song, I was walking through a gypsy camp ~ or what I envisioned a gypsy camp to look like! It's funny to listen to the song now and remember how I knew what the song was talking about but I was pretty sure my mom didn't know what they were talking about. You know how parents are clueless and all. They don't understand such things ~ clandestine meetings, the seedy side of life. As a twelve or thirteen year old girl, you're much more hip to such themes. Still, I sang this song at the top of my lungs. As I did The Way of Love. Now, the meaning to that song flew right by me! Listen to the words sometime - it's dealing with a subject that was just on the brink at the time but a mainstream topic today. I'm curious to check out this album. I mean the actual physical album. As I look at the songs on it I realize that I am only acquainted to about half of them. I'd be willing to bet that I only listened to one side of the album!

Nothing against Cher, but being where I am today and knowing artists as I do, I'm a little sad to note that my introduction to the songs Fire and Rain, and He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother were not from James Taylor and Neil Diamond - it was from Cher. And, as it goes, the person who introduces you to a song, in your mind, is the original artist. It usually takes alot to convince you otherwise. I'm happy to let you know that I have been successfully reconditioned now to recognize Cher's covers for what they are - just covers. But her covers will always be dear to me. And, I think, prove what is true - that a good song is a good song, no matter who records it.

Mother's Day

2009-05-10T07:55:00.000-07:00

1. Red Roses for a Blue Lady by Al Martino

2. Lady Love by Lou Rawls

3. You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine by Lou Rawls

4. Behind Closed Doors by Charlie Rich

5. The Most Beautiful Girl by Charlie Rich

6. Oh! My Papa by Eddie Fisher

7. Mr. Lonely by Bobby Vinton

8. Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

9. Lady by Kenny Rogers

10. Lucille by Kenny Rogers

11. Que Sera, Sera by Doris Day

12. Crazy by Patsy Cline

13. She's Got You by Patsy Cline

14. Smooth by Santana/Rob Thomas

So it's Mother's Day ~ the perfect day to reflect on memories of my mother. In compiling this list it has become clear to whom I can give credit for my love of such diverse music styles. It's my mom. There was always music playing in the background at home. It could have been pop, rock, jazz, gospel, easy listening, instrumental, vocal, tribal even! My mom listens to it all. I am not embarrassed at all to admit that I was a big fan of the Ray Conniff Singers. It's all happy memories for me. And, if in the process of housework, a good song came on the turntable, why we had to dance, of course! On the same note, my mother was onto the whole music as therapy craze looonnnnggg before it became a degreed occupation. She knew how music affected our moods and working habits and, as I got older (translated - in my teens) any sappy, "lovey dovey" (my mom's title), or "moon doggy" (again, my mom's words) songs were forbidden during cleaning time. This meant no Donny Osmond, no Bobby Sherman, no David Cassidy. sigh! What torture! And since this was before cd's where you could quickly skip to the next song, this excluded entire albums. It just took too long to pick up the arm and move to the next song without scratching the vinyl. So, in the end, my mom usually chose the music ~ and I was happy with that. We cleaned to everything from John Philip Sousa to rousing gospel songs. And she was right - it made you want to move around and get things done! And we did! I've used the same thought process my entire life and have used music to set moods or change moods. It's powerful stuff!

This week's playlist are all songs that hold memories of moments with my mom. The first song is the background for a funny thing that happened ~ well, it's funny now but it was NOT funny as it unfolded! My mother loved her baths as most women do. She'd get the boys off to school or otherwise occupied and take me into the bathroom with her so she could keep an eye on me. She liked her bath water really, really hot (as do I - one toe at a time hot!) So she'd start filling the tub with the lovely, steaming, hot water and sprinkle in her bath salts or bubbles and the little room would fill with beautiful rose scents. When the water was ready she'd put the lid on the toilet seat down, situate me there and slip into her bath. We'd visit while she soaked and her body turned this deep, deep crimson. It was during this time that the song, Red Roses for a Blue Lady, was popular. One day, in my childhood innocence, I noticed that my mom was a red lady! So I switched the words to the song up a bit and sang to her my new lyrics - Wrap up some blue roses for a red lady! She laughed and laughed and told everyone, of course. It was our bathtime song after that! Now for the near disaster. . . One of these lovely mornings we were in the locked bathroom singing our songs and having a grand old time when we heard someone enter the house. My mom's ears pricked right up and motioned for me to be quiet. The steps were heavy and, having already heard the noise in the direction of the bathroom, they were coming our way! Sure enough, the doorknob was wiggled and, upon finding it locked, there came a tap, tap tap. Well, being a child, I couldn't see anything wrong with letting someone in, although I'm sure my mother was gesturing wildly to me to stop! As I climbed down from my perch and made my way across the bathroom, my mother's admonitions became louder and louder and she called out to the door, "Who is it!?" The reply, "The meter man!" (All the while my short, little legs are making there way to the door.) My mother - "What do you want!?" Meter man - "I'm here to read the meter!" Mom - "Well, there's no meter in here!! Get out! Get out! Get out!" Now at the same time my mother is saying to me, "Janice, don't! Janice, don't! JANICE, DON'T!!!" Well, my mother, in the process of all this is trying to frantically get out of the slippery bubble bath water, find a towel, slip across the floor, and grab me just as my little hand reaches up to unlock the door! My mother gives a scolding to the meter man which, I'm sure I can't repeat, and, as soon as he is gone (we hear the door slam) she gives me the scolding of a life about how you never, NEVER, open the door to strangers at all let alone the door to the room where your mother is NAKED in the BATHTUB!! Now, it's all giggles and laughing. But then, not so much.

The Oh! My Papa is a song that would get promptly turned off if it ever came on the radio. Why? The same reason that I could not hear Christopher Cross' Sailing, or The Eagles' Greeks Don't Want No Freaks, and Dan Fogelberg's Longer - they were all songs that played endlessly during hard pregnancies. These are songs that served as background music for vomiting, endless vomiting (or it seemed) and, therefore, a mental connection was made which, upon hearing it after said vomiting was in the past, made you want to vomit again. Nausea inducing melodies as it were. One of my favorite mother/daughter outings was to go into town for errands and stopping in at Murphy's or Kresge's, I can't remember which one it was now, but they had a soda fountain where you could get the most wonderful drippy grilled cheese sandwich. You'd pull the two halves apart and the cheese would stretch and drip onto the plate. You'd take a bite and you'd get that lovely initial crunch of the buttery toast which gave way to the delicate white bread and then the ooey, gooey cheese. Ok - let's say it all together here - MMMMMMM! The fries were also perfection. As we'd sit at the counter my mother would tell me about how, as a young expectant mother, she worked at this soda fountain, and how she had morning, afternoon, and evening sickness. She'd be working along and have to run over to "that door there" and run down the steps to the bathroom and throw up. Then she'd have to climb the stairs back up and go back to work. She said that Eddie Fisher always seemed to be singing Oh! My Papa and the mental connection was made. I can't hear the song now without feeling empathetic for my mother and, eventually, knowing just what she meant!

Now, about Bobby Vinton. I adore him! I absolutely adore him! And, I think the reason I do is because my mom did, too! Or at least I think she did! This is the impression I had as a little girl. Mom would crank up the record player and the lonesome wails of Mr. Lonely would fill the walls and we'd belt out our woes along with him. And you can't fully understand this until you actually listen to the song. Then you'll know what I mean. His heart ache just sears your soul. And his note intervals are genius, invoking gut-wrenching emotion! I included his Blue Velvet as well because it was probably his biggest hit and I think my mom actually had a blue velvet dress at one time in which she looked stunning!

Now, about the stunning part. I always thought my mother looked just like Doris Day, but as a brunette. And I have a picture to prove it! It's a professional picture of my mother in, I'd say, her early 20s. Her smile is so wonderful as it includes her eyes which I think kind of sparkle - just like Doris Day's did! Doris was a big hit in our house. We loved her movies and we loved her songs. My mom and I would sing Que Sera, Sera over and over. I think my mom really liked the message it delivered - just take life as it comes and be happy with what you have. It's impossible to sing the song without feeling your cares fade away. Try it!

Now, about Patsy Cline. Mom didn't do many of the lead vocals in the band. Don't know why this was, but she played keyboard (which she taught herself) and sang backup. But, around the house she'd sing Patsy Cline songs and I thought she always did a great job with them. I think most women liked Patsy's straight forward approach. She was about women's power before women's power was vogue. I particularly remember mom singing She's Got You and think she might have sung this on some jobs. Not sure about that, though.

Now, about the rest of the songs. I was a teenager when Lou Rawls, Charlie Rich, and Kenny Rogers happened on the mainstream radio. Their songs were hits and I saw my mother near swoon when she'd hear them - much to my chagrin! I mean, she'd swoon like I did when I heard Donny Osmond! But these guys were OLD!! I mean, EWWWW! I just didn't get it! I liked their songs OK, but I was not swooning for heaven's sake! But the memory of it held and years later I caught the look on my daughters' faces as I would swoon when I would hear Sting sing. And it took me back to the 70's and I would think of those songs. Good times! I love how life cycles out and you can relive moments ~ but experience what it was like for the other person you shared them with because now you are in their shoes. You gain a new understanding of someone without having a new experience with them. I was able to understand my mother as a woman, not only as my mother. I remember she came for a visit once while we still lived in Utah and her and I were going out to do some shopping. As we rode along in the car, Smooth by Santana/ Rob Thomas came on. We looked at each other and we both swooned at the same time! A connection ~ a woman to woman connection ~ was made. It was sweet! We both laughed and talked about how much we LOVED this song!

My mother still has a beautiful smile. I cackle like she does when I laugh ~ and I'm glad. I dance when the mood hits, like she does ~ and I'm glad. And like her, I refuse to be a stereotype ~ and for this I'm eternally grateful.

The Pixie

2009-05-03T07:39:00.000-07:00

1. Paper Roses by Marie Osmond

2. Top of the World by The Carpenters

3. Superstar by The Carpenters

4. Misty Blue by Dorothy Moore

5. You Make Me Feel Like Dancing by Leo Sayer

6. You Light Up My Life by Debby Boone

7. The Loco-Motion by Grand Funk Railroad

8. Deep Purple by Donny & Marie Osmond

9. Are You Lonesome Tonight by Elvis Presley

10. These Boots Are Made For Walkin' by Nancy Sinatra

11. The Sweetest Thing by Juice Newton

12. Break It To Me Gently by Juice Newton

13. Baby Doll by Barbara Fairchild

14. Somethin' Stupid by Nancy Sinatra with her father Frank Sinatra

So get a load of that picture!! The Alspaugh Family Band, circa 1973. I can date it because I have the pixie haircut but my ears aren't fully exposed. My mother really wanted me to try the pixie "do" and to bribe me she said I could start wearing makeup if I agreed to do it. Now, we all know how mesmerizing the word "makeup" can be to a girl of 13. Heck - even a girl in elementary school is dreaming of the day she can wear makeup! Some of us girls get the bug early, some are later, but most girls I know get the bug!!! And it is a very potent driving force. My mother was very shrewd on that one!

This is a picture of me on my 13th birthday, fresh from the beauty salon. Check out that helmet!! I can imagine the beautician thinking to herself, "I've just got to cut around these ears and get them out in the open!" I remember this day very clearly. I had the haircut, which I wasn't very comfortable with, but hadn't received the makeup yet. Just me and my bare face hanging out. Ugh! My friends who came for the party were supportive, just as friends should be in these circumstances, but I know they were being kind. I secretly think my mother felt bad because she had originally told me I could only wear a little eye shadow and some blush. She really wanted me to wear the deep red lipstick they wore when she was my age but I refused! This was, after all, the 70's! Hello!! It was minimalism with makeup! Sheer pink lip gloss if any at all - the natural look. And women who wore too much makeup were catering to the whims of men - and why should we do things to make men happy? It was all about being a natural woman! (Cue Carole King) I was caught in the throes of women's lib, the sexual revolution, and the ecology movement. Boundaries were being challenged everywhere - including the lipstick boundary in the Alspaugh household! So I went upstairs to play with my mother's makeup and I put on eye shadow, mascara (gasp!), blush - I just basically went all out and put on the whole shebang - in subdued tones, of course. I gathered up my nerve and went marching down to the kitchen where my mother was. She stopped fixing dinner, took a good long look, assessing the result, and declared that I knew what I was doing and could wear it all! Score!! What else could she say? I had my FACE hanging OUT because my HAIR was GONE! When I got the makeup going I liked the haircut more but the following years' school pictures chronicle the continual growing out of the pixie. Here is my 9th grade picture. Note that the ears are now hidden, thank goodness!

And then my 10th grade photo - a true testament to the horrors of growing out an unwanted haircut! I honestly think I did not let a pair of scissors near my head for years - this is true growing out, not even a trim!

And now, to the playlist of the week. Although my brothers and I had been performing as guest artists" with my parents' band for ages, this is when we branched out on our own as a family band. We had jobs that were booked specifically for us. We played wedding receptions, local dances (not school!), and night clubs and bars. Now, how does a band with multiple minors get jobs in bars and night clubs? I'm not sure but it might have had something to do with the fact that the parentals were right there with us and were known to not be drinkers themselves. It's not like we'd be able to sneak off and get a drink. You're sharing a microphone with your dad and brother sometimes - someone's gonna know! I was never, ever tempted, though. I saw how strong my parents were and I was happy to enjoy a "grapefruit soda" (translation - Squirt) just like my Dad! The playlist this week are some of the songs I remember performing. I just shake my head at some of them. Honestly, what does a girl of 13 or 14 know about love, romance, and heartache? Well, maybe you'd know a little about heartache, but would you have the maturity to be able to transfer that emotion into song? Not this girl, I can tell you! I got tons of compliments, though, and I think it was because my tone was good and my pitch was good. But, what I wouldn't give to be able to sing some of those songs again and be able to put the emotion into them that they deserve! I just can't imagine how amused people were when this short, little teenage girl got up and belted out about how her boots were gonna walk all over the scoundrel that had done her wrong!! Seriously, folks, I know you're laughing just reading about it! I did get rave reviews and requests for my Debby Boone offering. You Light Up My Life was HUGE! It was a big hit on the radio and it was a big hit for me. I loved performing it. It meant even more when I found someone to whom I could sing it! My husband, though, when asked what songs I sang will instantly break out into his own rendition of You Make Me Feel Like Dancing by Leo Sayer. I'm thinking that, yet again, it was quite comical to see a young girl up there wiggling around as she sang about love and getting jiggy with it! Deep Purple is a song I sang as a duet with my brother, Marvin, who sang the lead. People were always comparing us to Donny and Marie. After all, we were a singing brother and sister team, just like them! Misty Blue is a bluesy song that my father insisted I sing. I didn't feel comfortable singing it but he worked with me and worked with me on it. I think I eventually did an acceptable performance but this is where the lack of maturity was a hindrance. It's one of the songs I'd like to give another go around today. I was also never ultra confident with the Are You Lonesome Tonight because, right in the middle of the song there was talking. Talking!!! How weird is that? Well, today it doesn't seem weird but back then it was just . . . weird. When Nancy Sinatra sang a duet with her dad, Frank, my father immediately said, "We're going to do that! You and I!" And we did. It is a very fun song to sing and remains a personal favorite. The Juice Newton songs were actually after I left home and was married. Whenever I made it back to PA for a visit my dad would sit me down and want to work on a new song that he thought would work well with my voice. Juice was the craze at the time and her gutsy, clear songs were both fun and challenging. We would usually find ourselves going with my parents to one of their jobs while we were there at which time my father would invite me up to the mike to share a song or two with the audience. The Sweetest Thing was usually one of the songs and later, Break It To Me Gently, but I never felt as comfortable with the latter as I did with the former. My husband enjoyed hearing me sing Juice Newton songs but they are strong and require strong vocal chords. I find it hard to do them for too long nowadays. Out of practice, I guess.

The photo of the band is great, though. It brings back floods of memories. The younger kids didn't play the jobs in the bars and night clubs, just in case you were wondering. I guess that 13 was the cut off. But they'd go with us to the receptions and some of the dances and shake tambourines and such. As they grew older they performed at different functions. Tina has a beautiful voice - she was the soprano. Brenda provided the parents with the fiddler they had always dreamed of and at which I failed miserably. They were the "guest artists" of the second half of the family. I recognize these as truly unique experiences which most kids never had growing up. I feel blessed.

Bob Alspaugh's Songs

2009-04-26T08:40:00.000-07:00

1. May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose by "Little" Jimmy Dickens

2. Walk Right In by The Rooftop Singers

3. And I Love You So by Perry Como

4. Malaguena by Jose Feliciano

5. You Don't Know Me by Eddy Arnold

6. He'll Have to Go by Jim Reeves

7. Maria Elena by Los Indios Tabajaras

8. Maria Elena by Gene Autry

9. Your Cheatin' Heart by Hank Williams

10. King of the Road by Roger Miller

11. Jackson by Johnny Cash with June Carter Cash

12. Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry

13. Bad, Bad Leroy Brown by Jim Croce

14. Yakety Yak by The Coasters

15. Make the World Go Away by Eddy Arnold

16. Dream by Roy Orbison

There are two reasons my life is a playlist. One is named Marilyn ~ the other one is named Bob. Bob and Marilyn Alspaugh created an environment where music was like air ~ an essential part of our existence, ever surrounding us, full of purpose, and constantly sought after. I don't ever remember any music being taboo and it seems like my parents could always find something to enjoy about any genre. I'm sure that on occasion they told us to turn something down ~ that's inevitable. I do, however, remember my father referring to the emerging rap craze as "rap crap" but I sincerely believe that in time, if he'd been able to stay with us a little longer, he'd even have found something of credit in rap. He studied music, not just notes and chords, but he seemed to be able to pull the most amazing facts about a song, artist, or genre out of the air. He was always teaching, always learning. He was a heat-seeking missile for information of all kinds and I am so thankful that I've inherited that trait from him.

This play list is his - Robert Dean Alspaugh's. They are some of the songs that it is impossible for me to hear without thinking of him. They are songs he sang or played in bands. They are the songs about which I want to share stories and thoughts.

I double-dipped on this playlist and I imagine that will happen often in my reminiscing but it will always be for a reason. May the Bird of Paradise . . heads off the list because, again, a very, very early memory and one of the first songs he taught me. I loved hearing him sing it and would request it of him often. He used to carry me around on his shoulders and I would put my little hands around his neck. I loved to feel his adam's apple bob up and down as he sang and talked. Sometimes I'd squeeze a little too hard and he'd make this hilarious sound which, of course, made his adam's apple bob even more. This is where I'd insert a soundtrack of giggles because there were lots of them on dad's shoulders. Love this man!! I can't even begin to express it in words.

Walk Right In was a popular song of 1963 and my dad sang it on playing jobs. I loved hearing him sing but guitar was his greatest gift. The man could play!!! He also taught many people in the region. There are some strong chord progressions in this song and I loved hearing him play them. I've tried to take guitar lessons several times but was too wimpy to get past the callous-building stage. It always amazed me that he could both play guitar and sing at the same time. Anyway, the intro to this song will forever be my dad.

The next song makes me cry - always. It's a beautiful love song but it is so closely associated with my dad. My mother always loved it when he sang it and I'd love to have a recording of his rendition but, alas, Perry Como will have to do for now. When I began singing in our family band I sang harmony with him on the chorus and that is usually what I do now when I hear this song. Collin Raye also has a lovely version which was Tina's wedding song.

Malaguena is a classical guitar piece which my father would practice throughout his life. He did so well but he'd make a little mistake and I'd hear words of frustration (usually NOT swear words) and he'd try it again and again. Really, it sounded perfect to me, but I learned that no matter how accomplished you are at something, you can always learn more . . . and should.

You Don't Know Me and He'll Have to Go are both songs that were well-suited for my father's voice and were always requested on jobs. Pretty much anything Eddy or Jim make me think of Dad.

Maria Elena is a special song. I've included two versions. The instrumental is such a flashback! It is identical to how my father played it and was usually one of the songs he'd play at night after we kids were sent to bed. On jobs, though, he'd sing the words which is why I included Gene Autry's version. The words were lovely and I'd lay upstairs in bed and sing the words quietly to myself as he'd play the guitar downstairs. Mmmmm - lovely.

Your Cheatin' Heart was probably the first heartbreak song I ever knew and Dad did a great job with it. It is also the first song he taught me chords to on the guitar on one of his attempts to teach me. It was my first realization that playing guitar and singing at the same time were hard!!!

King of the Road was another popular song of the day and it was requested often. It is also another 'Sunday drive' song which we'd sing as we rolled along. It always grossed me out, the thought of smoking "old stogies I have found." Ew!!

Jackson is a fun song! Such a tongue-in-cheek song about a rascal and his woman telling him like it is! Dad was Johnny and I sang June's part. I always wished I could make my voice growl like she could. Every now and then I give it a try . . . nope, still can't.

Johnny B. Goode is a blast to perform! The intro guitar part is the announcement and it lets everyone in the room know ~ You better grab your partner because it's time to dance!!! It was ALWAYS a hit and quite often would be requested for a do-over later. Mom would rock on the keyboard and Dad, of course, had the guitar down pat! I sang back up and there are good memories here. Lots of 'em!

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown came along later but Dad did such a good job on it. I sang an echo back up part on the chorus. Dad was always careful with his language and when I heard him rehearsing this song I thought, "Hmmm. What's he going to do about the damn on the chorus?" Well, he said darn instead. He always kept it clean ~ and if there was a theme in a song that was a little questionable he always had a way to make some changes and clean it up. For instance, he sang a song by Billy Swan called I Can Help and in the song they say "If your child needs a dad, I Can Help." I'm thinking even that was a little risque because he sang, "If your child needs a bath, I can help." He'd always give me a little grin as he sang it, like he'd just gotten away with something.

Yakety Yak was another fun song which I loved. My parents had a band with another couple, Roy and Carole Gage. Roy sang and played bass and Carole did lead vocals. Roy's voice was very deep and on Yakety Yak he chimed in the "don't talk back" part. Perhaps someday I'll do a playlist of Roy and Carole songs, too. They were a huge part of my life. They had no children of their own and always looked on us kids as part of their family. The Coasters might have made this song a hit, but it will always be Bob and Roy's voices I hear.

I closed the list with Dream and I might just do that with every playlist. Again, this is a song so closely related to my dad that it is a part of him. It closed every job I ever played. It was the amen to our musical supplications.

From the Get-Go

2009-04-19T07:20:00.000-07:00

1. Tumbling Tumbleweeds by The Sons of the Pioneers

2. May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose by Little Jimmy Dickens

3. Chi-Baba, Chi-Baba (My Bambino Go To Sleep) by Perry Como

4. Yakety Axe by Chet Atkins

5. I Left My Heart in San Francisco by Tony Bennett

6. Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton

7. He'll Have to Go by Jim Reeves

8. Moon River by Henry Mancini

9. Alley Cat by Chet Atkins

10. Wipe Out by The Surfaris

11. Dream by Roy Orbison

12. Exodus by Ferrante & Teicher

13. Theme from "A Summer Place" by Percy Faith & His Orchestra

14. Cryin' Time by Buck Owens

15. I'm Sorry by Brenda Lee

16. El Paso by Marty Robbins

17. Cryin' Time by Ray Charles

18. Dream by Chet Atkins

These are the songs I have the most earliest memories of and which seem to have been part of the fabric of my life from the get-go. Perhaps they weren't released as of May 14, 1960 but they probably were soon after.

Tumbling Tumbleweeds and Cryin' Time are both songs I remember being taught to harmonize to. We'd be riding in the car to visit family or friends or just out for a Sunday drive (that's what we did before TV and the internet) and my parents would sit in the front seat and start singing. They'd turn around to us kids and say, "Hey, why don't you pick up the harmony on the chorus?" And we did. I think maybe just hearing it over and over again like that made us instinctively know how to do it. We never had formal voice training, but my parents were always pointing out harmony to songs and had us kids listen and then participate. It was great fun. Once in awhile they'd choose one of us to "take it" and we'd get to do our solo part with everyone else chiming in with harmony or backup. I'm smiling now just remembering it. All of us could sing. Weird, huh? With both of these songs, there are different versions. I struggled with whether to use Gene Autry's Tumbleweeds or

The Sons of the Pioneers' version, but finally opted with The Sons of the Pioneers' because their phrasing most closely matched those that I remember. And Cryin' Time is most well-known as Ray Charles' song but Buck Owens wrote it and I love Buck's version best. It's probably the one we sang along to. I included both because they're equally lovely.

May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose is a hilarious song and I remember giggling hysterically to it as my dad would sing it - again in the car on the way to who knows where. I remember it took me what seemed like forever to get the words to that song down. You really should check it out. Funny stuff! Oh, and by the way, it's currently Kenny's ringtone.

Chi-Baba, Chi-Baba is one of the first songs I remember being taught to sing for company. I love it. I've sung it to each of you kids as a lullaby.

I'm surprised at how many of the songs ended up being instrumentals. Orchestral scores must have been huge then. I try to think of purely instrumental songs nowadays and have a hard time thinking of any. These are particularly beautiful and memorable. It's a heady experience to ride in a car on a lovely summer day, windows down (no A/C) and the strings singing through the air on the radio. Mmmmmmmm - nice!

Chet Atkins - he was like a God in our house. He still is in my book. If you EVER want to feel your Grandpa Alspaugh near, play some Chet Atkins - this works for me. I loved it when my Dad would play the guitar, especially at night after us kids were in bed. Did he do this on purpose? I wonder. But the strains of his guitar would float up to us and there was nothing better to ride off to sleep on than the music he played. Alley Cat is sweet and impish. I included Chet's cover of Dream but I mainly remember that being sung by my Dad. But Chet's cover is soooo wonderful. Dream was the song that my parents' band and our family band ended every job with. It's a sweet sendoff. Two versions included, the popular one and my personal favorite.

Exodus was very popular at the time and I included it because it gives me such warm memories of my oldest brother, Ed. He sang this song for some occasion, I think. I just remember him standing at the piano, my Mom playing, and practicing this song and thinking, "He has such a wonderful voice! He's going to be famous someday!" I loved hearing him sing. This is an instrumental version - check out one with the words sometime! Or ask Ed to sing it for you!

Wipe Out is really out of place musically, it seems, but it still fits the theme. Often my parents would have band practice at our house and it would go late into the night. We'd be sent off to bed, but instead of the sweet guitar solos floating up, we'd get full band numbers rocking the house. Did it bother us? Heck no! I know I loved it! I learned many things about music by listening to their practices. And when Wipe Out was played it struck a chord deep inside - tickling a part of me that I would come to know much better as I grew up. I LOVE RHYTHM! I LOVE DRIVING BEATS! As some of you may well know! Of all the drummers I've heard rock this song, my favorite is my brother, Kevin.

I have one Bobby Vinton song on this playlist. I can promise that more will come later. He COULD be worthy of his own playlist. But more on that later . . .

My Life is a Playlist

2009-04-18T15:34:00.000-07:00

My family and I love to make playlists. Find a new favorite book? We not only refer you to the book, but could quite possibly give you a CD with a playlist we've come up with to go along with the book! Family vacation? Another playlist - which will most likely have something to do with either where we're going or what we're planning on doing when we get there. Girls weekend? Yep - a kickin' playlist to go with it all about girl power!! I also make playlists for my workout routines. I tried watching TV while on the treadmill but it just seemed to drag on forever. I got the idea to make a playlist of songs that were the same tempo as my speed on the treadmill. It worked so well that I have metered almost my entire iTunes library (I know, I know - get over it already!) so whenever I'm ready for a new one I just go to my catalog and in minutes I have a new workout CD. It has the added benefit of being helpful when I am out walking. As long as I walk to the beat of the music, I know I'm walking as fast as I need to be. I think it's quite brilliant actually.

About a year or so ago, my oldest daughter, Becca, suggested I make a playlist of songs that would act as a soundtrack to my life. I thought it was a great idea! But I soon realized that it would be enormous! How could I possibly whittle it down? So I decided that I would tell stories about my life, in a sort of journal if you will, and for each story or anecdote, I'd create a playlist that would go along with it. My family would not only learn what songs were influential in my life but they'd hear the stories, too. Why wait until I'm dead to read about it? Why not tell it now - and if they have questions, maybe I'll answer them! And I thought I'd throw in some recipes here and there as well because - well - food and music - they are who I am!!! So here goes . . . .