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.....

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!

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 . . .

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.

The Idaho Falls Incident

My Grandpa Alspaugh

Charles Ephraim Alspaugh

taken ca 1956

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

2. Stoned Soul Picnic by The 5th Dimension

3. Midnight Confessions by The Grass Roots

4. Simon Says by 1920 Fruitgum Company

5. Revolution by The Beatles

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

7. Little Green Apples by O.C. Smith

8. Spooky by Classics IV

9. Love Child by Diana Ross & The Supremes

10. Those Were the Days by Mary Hopkin

11. Love Is All Around by The Troggs

12. Over You by Gary Puckett & The Union Gap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Sister?!

1. Silhouettes by Herman's Hermits

2. Yummy, Yummy, Yummy by Ohio Express

3. A Beautiful Morning by The Rascals

4. Hey Jude by The Beatles

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

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

7. Bend Me Shape Me by American Breed

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

9. Green Tambourine by The Lemon Pipers

10. Mrs. Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel

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

12. Scarborough Fair/Canticle by Simon & Garfunkel

13. Love Is Blue by Paul Mauriat and His Orchestra

14. Mony Mony by Tommy James & The Shondells

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

16. Turn Around and Look At Me by The Vogues

17. Classical Gas by Mason Williams

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

19. Downtown by Petula Clark

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

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

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

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

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

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

One of two pictures I have of Cheryl.

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

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

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

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

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

Sister, Sister

1.  All You Need Is Love by The Beatles

2.  Incense and Peppermint by Strawberry Alarm Clock

3.  Ruby Tuesday by The Rolling Stones

4.  Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane

5.  Brown-Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

6.  Don't You Care by The Buckinghams

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

8.  How Can I Be Sure by The Young Rascals

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

10. A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum

11. Alfie by Dionne Warwick

12. Everlasting Love by Robert Knight

13. Gimme Some Lovin' by The Spencer Davis Group

14. RESPECT by Aretha Franklin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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