Sunday, December 27, 2009

My Christmas Tag

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?

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Changing Times, Changing Places



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, November 8, 2009

Sunday Drives and Bicycles

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.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Arizona or Bust!


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.


Monday, September 7, 2009

My Grandparents' Farm

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.....

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Fourth & Liberty


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!

Friday, August 7, 2009

Grandpa's Ditties


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 . . .

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Baptism and Temple Blessings



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.