Bad Hair & Dancing

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

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!