The Soundtrack of My Life?

The last time I blogged, I believe it was snowing. We're about there again, except we're in the middle of a record week for warm temps.

(Thanks for the weather update, Lid, now we resume blogging.)

I am trying to keep a family history blog since I joined Ancestrydotcom, so that takes up time that I could use here, instead, writing about ...  nothing, as I used to in the good old days. 

So I'm jumping back in with a meme which you answer with a song that fits the description. I'll do five today and then take it up again. Feel free to leave your own choices in the comments!

Day 1: "A song from childhood"  I'll go with: "Keep on Dancin'," by the Gentrys. I still love the percussion and the fake ending. Love these images from the 60s and 70s, too.

Day 2: "A song that reminds of your ex boy/girlfriend"
The last ex-boyfriend I had was 1981, so ...
the song from the vault would be "Blue Morning, Blue Day," by Foreigner. Here we are at our senior prom. Years later, I realized I was dating a Dave Coulier doppleganger. This boy has passed way, rest in peace.

Day 3: "A song that reminds you of your parents" "Let Your Love Flow" My mom dearly loved this song when it was popular, which made me kind of not like it, because when you're a teenager, it's wEiRd when your parents like what is popular. (No worries; I have been repaid. 3X.)

Day 4: "A song that calms you down" "Summer Breeze," by Seals and Crofts. Who needs pot when you've got this song.

Day 5: "A song that is often stuck in your head" This is a three-way tie. 1) "Sister Golden Hair"  2) "How Long" 3) "Sentimental Lady"



Yes, I have a thing for the 70s, but please share your choices, even if they're from the 21st Century!

Flashback Friday: Discipline

You know, I did a meme for a while, so I know that it's tough coming up with consistently interesting conversation starters. I do not know how Linda meets this goal week after week. All I know is, once she opens up a topic, she does not leave you without 1 or a dozen jumping off points, which I so appreciate. Here's what's on tap this week; why don't you join in?

Were your parents strict, permissive, or somewhere in-between when you were growing up? Did you tend to be compliant or rebellious? What did you tend to get in trouble for doing? How did your parents discipline/punish you - spankings (and what did they use when spanking), revoking privileges, grounding, time-outs or some other manner? Did both parents handle punishment or did one tend to do it more than the other? (And which one was it?) Is there anything that you have admitted doing since you've been an adult that you got away with as a child? Or is there anything you were punished for that you have since learned your parents had to try hard not to laugh while they were meting out your discipline? If you are a parent, what is something you have done or not done (or vowed you would never do) as a result of your growing-up experiences with discipline?

My parents were, on one hand, strict, and on the other, permissive.

The religious denomination of my youth was very legalistic, so rules were a big part of my life. We did not buy on Sunday. We did not play cards. We did not do a lot of things.

You would think that such rigidity would flow over into things like dress codes, household chores, curfews, etc. You would be wrong.

It was a very complicated upbringing, but it was a loving one, and I was a mostly compliant, rule-following little girl.

Except for this one time and this one rule ....

My parents remodeled their living room and added a sprayed-on bumpy ceiling with little sparklies in it. I was quite fascinated by that bumpy ceiling. Quite. Fascinated.

My mom gave me a serious, stern talking-to about the new ceiling: "It must never be poked with a broomstick. It must never have toys thrown at it. It must never be approached without fear and trembling." OK, I made that last part up, but the ceiling, it was definitely something special. It had sparkles, you know.

But the main rule of rules about the ceiling was, "It must never, ever get wet. If it gets wet, it will melt and chip off, and we'll have to re-do the whole ceiling." I cannot communicate the somber tone of this warning. It was nearly a religious moment itself.

Now, my mom liked to talk on the phone. You remember those crazy phones with the three pound receivers and curly cords that tethered moms so that kids could run around just out of the reach of a swat.

Shortly after the Mt. Sinai exhortation about the ceiling, my mom got a phone call.

To this day, I do not know what possessed me. Like I said, I was normally a good kid. But I went and got a Windex bottle, climbed up on the furniture and began SPRAYING THE CEILING.

THE SACRED CEILING OF SPARKLES!!!!

I can hardly breathe just reliving the insanity of this act.

My mother got off the phone. She looked up, gasped, and after that, much of my life is a blur until about age 25.

Oh, the fear and trembling. Hell hath no fury like the mom of a mushy sparkle ceiling.

She began walking around the house, methodically shutting the windows.

Oh, the horror. She was going to spank me so hard she didn't want the neighbors to hear my wailing.

I was basically dying a thousand deaths.

Here is the honest truth: She yelled and yelled, but I do not remember the spanking (and there have been many in my life). I do not know whether she was just so shell-shocked that she did not have the physical strength to spank me or was afraid once she started swatting she couldn't stop, but I cannot remember being hit. I just remember the yelling and the windows.

That is one moment of discipline I will never forget. And you can bet I have NEVER sprayed a sparkly ceiling again. I live in mortal fear and reverence of sparkly ceilings.

Now I need to step away from this story, gather my wits and take some deep breaths.

And just in case I never said it, Mom, I'm sorry I desecrated the ceiling. If you will forgive me for that, I will forgive you for making me wear your big plastic rain bonnet on the bus to school in kindergarten. I think we're even.

Purty Trees and Sweet Ornamentations To You

Let's link up and tour around to see our trees and any special ornaments we might like to feature, OK?

Here's my tree at night. I know I'm missing a topper. The old one didn't match the new decor because we just painted the walls. They were taupe and cranberry; now they're brown and spring green:


Here it is in the daylight. Please note that I have wrapped gifts this early in the game; I am awesome:


And here is an ornament, hand-painted, by someone else, of my parents. They are about to celebrate 69 years of marriage on Dec. 16.




OK, those are my entries. Would you like to share? Please link to the post of your tree and/or ornament so we can see the loveliness. Thanks for participating!

Post A Tree/Ornament Link Up

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Don't know if anyone else is doing this out there in bloggyland this week, but I'd like to see everyone's tree. How about Thursday, December 9th, you come back here and link up to a post of your tree and/or a favorite ornament?

Feel free to grab the code!

Flashback Friday: Decorating for Christmas

This week Lid asks, "When you were growing up, when did your family put up and decorate the Christmas tree? Was it real or artificial? Who usually decorated it? Were there special decorations? What was on the top? White lights or colored, blinking or steady? How much did your family decorate for the holiday other than the tree (wreaths, dishes, snowglobes, miniature villages, etc.)? Did y'all do outdoor lights? White or colored, blinking or not? Are there special memories associated with decorating for Christmas?"

Here I am, Christmas, 1964, at my little piano which my grandmother gave me. You can see the silver tree in the background; we had that tree for most of my growing up years. My favorite part of Christmas decorating was the wheel of color that turned and shone onto the reflective tree. I would lie on the floor, listen to the whir of the wheel and watch the colors fall over the tree, onto the ceiling and down the wall, over and over. It was magical. Of course, back in those days, we didn't have sensory overload like we do now. I can't imagine anyone but maybe a cat doing that today. Even toddlers are bored by holograms and time travel.



Here I am with my youngest of three brothers, Donnie. He is 56 now. I love him dearly. I don't have many memories of actually decorating except feeling like I couldn't really do it to please my mom. She wasn't as into "hominess" as "prettiness." I get that now. She had to look at it for a month.

My daughter gave me grief this year because I didn't use any of my kids' homemade ornaments, and everything is color-coordinated. Actually, I couldn't FIND their ornaments even if I had desperately wanted to use only those.
And here I am at 13, with our sophisticated fake green tree. I thought it was the bomb-diggity. I loved that orchid sweater, too, my favorite color. I can tell by the hair that I was in 7th grade here, and madly in love with a red-headed 8th grade boy at my school. He lives in Philadelphia now.

Check out that gold crushed-velvet chair. Note the lack of lights. I'm not sure we had them on when I was young. I do remember some large ones outside around our picture window. That was about the extent of our decorating; Mom did not go overboard in baking or decorating for holidays. But I loved my Christmases and have very fond memories of footed pajamas, my bothers and their wives coming "home," and Elvis's Blue Christmas on our large console stereo, not my choice of music, but that's what I remember. I wonder how my kids will answer this question someday? ("She wasn't 'into' our ornaments ....")

Friday Flashback: I'm So Glad We Had This Time Together

Tell about TV when you were growing up. Did your family have a TV? Was it color or b&w? How many TVs did your family have? Did you have one in your room? Did your family leave the TV on most of the day or turn it on for specific programs? Was the TV on or off when you ate meals as a family? Were there rules about watching TV? What were your favorite shows? Are there any particular memories you have of TV in your younger years?

I assume my family was like most middle American families in the 1970s, my true growing up years (since I graduated in 1981).

We had one television set (remember when they were called that?) on one end of the the living room, a room in which we lived, not a fancy-schmancy room, encased in a genuine wood grain look console or cabinet. We always had a mirror over the top of the TV.

We really had no viewing rules, and yes, the thing was on night and day. You can imagine the influence all that unguarded viewing had on me. To this day, I still believe I can move my furniture around by twitching my nose.










My favorite childhood TV program would have to be the Carol Burnett show. Each Saturday night, I would get my bath and then sit in front of my mom who would roll my hair up in pincurls or up in these strange pink rubber curlers pictured here with Dippity Do, and I would watch Carol Burnett.

That show made pincurls painless. I can see now that my sense of humor was intact even back then, as I preferred those comedy sketches to anything else on TV, and I was very little. Somehow, I "got it." And I as I grew, I learned to recognize the old movies she would spoof in sketches, such as Joan Crawford in "Mildred Fierce" for "Mildred Pierce" or Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard.
















Thanks, Linda, for stirring the memories. I hadn't thought about console TVs in a long time. You know, I think I prefer them to the stark black metal glass stands everyone uses now. Bring back the wood grain look!



Dippity-Do
Uploaded by Killer_Tomato. - Classic TV and last night's shows, online.

Flashback Friday: Back to School

Did your family have any back-to-school traditions when you were growing up? Were you generally eager or reluctant to start school? Was buying school supplies a big deal or did you order them through the school? Were there any school supplies you particularly loved? Did you take your lunch or buy it at school? Brown bag or lunch box/thermos? Does the first day of school from any grade stand out? Did you ride the bus, walk, or go by car to school? Do you remember how early or late school began/dismissed each day? Did you go to kindergarten? Half-day or whole day?

My child has indeed started school as of this week, and here is the picture to prove it. Here she is the first day of kindergarten, 1998, and here she is this week, first day of her senior year:



OK, but this post is supposed to be ensconced in ethereal memory mist, thus the title "Flashback."

I never looked forward to school starting, but I did love, and still do, school supplies. Crayons are the favorite; what a distinct aroma they have! I also enjoyed those cardboard boxes called "cigar boxes" that held the collection all together when I was little, simply called pencil boxes today.

My favorite non-academic supply, though, has to be the beloved Osmond lunch box. I believe I had this in the 4th or 5th grade. I thought it was wonderful. Usually I packed a peanut butter sandwich, Cheezies and a drink or I bought milk.



My least favorite, non-academic school supply was the plastic rain scarf my mom made me wear on the bus in kindergarten. Talk about setting someone up for teasing! Here I was this little girl in this giant woman plastic helmet scarf! OH, it was awful. But I survived, and I'm sure I've put my children through just as much torture, so it's all good.



So those are some of my memories--how about you? Thanks, Lid!

Flashback Friday

What did you want to be when you grew up? Why did you want to be that, and did you do it? Did you consistently plan to be whatever it was, or did you change your mind often? Did you do anything like volunteering or interning to give you a taste of your future occupation/role? Were you as happy/satisfied with what you became as you thought you would be? What surprised you? Would you choose it again? Do you still want to be something else - either in addition to or instead of?

My early school years were not pleasant, until I hit 4th grade and landed in Miss Deborah Keeney's class.

Oh, the difference one teacher can make.

She had such an edge on previous teachers. She was born in the same century we were in. She smiled before Christmas. And after. She may or may not have been the most beautiful lady I had yet met. She definitely was nice to me. And she read aloud to us every single day. The two novels I remember most are Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Charlotte's Web. I even baked my first cake for her.

Miss Kenney inspired me and made me want to teach 4th grade. Not just teach, but teach 4th grade. Basically, she made me want to be her.

I held onto that dream until I met my 9th grade English teacher, Sondra Seibold, and at a slightly more mature level, but not that much more mature, my goals were re-birthed as I sat in the classroom of someone born to teach.

My goodness-she knew what she was doing, and she influenced me in many ways, including my decision to major in English Education at Ball State University.

In college, I was disillusioned with the education portion of my program. All theory, no practical helps. Egotistical profs. Lazy public school teachers. No time spent in classrooms early on, only in the last two years of my degree.

By the time I student taught, I hated it, wanted nothing to do at all with teaching.

Over the years, I have harbored a fondness for positively influencing youth and for writing. For a short time, I subbed in English classes here in town. I tutored at a Sylvan Learning Center. I tutored someone in my home. I have always respected teachers and lived vicariously through their inspiring and challenging stories.

But the flame for teaching burned out for me long ago.

So I have held various part-time jobs, my favorite being a meeting leader at Weight Watchers, where I loved to encourage people and discuss health and nutrition and the emotional side of weight management. And I guess I enjoyed subbing, but not enough to stick with it.

So finally, 7 years ago, I landed in a youth ministry office. Occasionally, I work with the youth, but mostly I create documents and send a lot of mail.

And you know what? That's really OK. People don't realize the amount of creativity I am encouraged to contribute to our programming and to all of the documents we generate in our office. It's difficult to explain here, but it's way more than an office job.

Except on those certain days when I literally spend all day stuffing and labeling envelopes. And then I think about my degree and graduating magna cum laude all for naught, and I wonder if I missed my calling. George says he thinks maybe I did.

All I know is, I'm basically content in life, and I know a good gig when I see it. God has been good to me, and I think I'm at Oneighty for a reason.

Flashback Friday-VBS Style

Did your family attend church when you were growing up? What are your earliest memories of church? Did you attend VBS (Vacation Bible School) when you were young? Sunday School? Other church activities? Was faith a Sunday-only thing or did it impact your life and the things you did? If faith and church were not a part of your growing-up years, when and how did you begin and what drew you to God?

Besides coming home from the hospital, the first place my parents took me was to church. My very earliest memories include the church grounds, classrooms, and the family of people I grew up amongst there.

I have a couple of photos to share, but they are of "Old Fashioned Days," so I'll have to wait to share those until they fit the topic. And boy-howdy, they are doozies.

VBS was an annual event for me, and I can still recall songs and Bible verses I learned at VBS. One song included a stop sign held up by the worship leader at just the moment we were supposed to sing "STOP! and let me tell you, what the Lord has done for meeeee." True to kid form, most of us yelled it out. You can see that any unsuspecting average Joe would definitely STOP in his tracks and turn from his wicked ways when a group of 100 kids yelled this song at him. Very effective evangelization.

Another vivid memory is of color-coded items like pencils which prompted you to remember the essence of Christian theology: black for sin, red for blood redemption, white for purity, etc.

I didn't always want to come in from playing and get cleaned up to go VBS every night, but once I got there, I was fine. I usually excelled at memorization if not singing, and so I won some awards, I'm sure.

But the best time of all was when we went outside for a break, where we would see a couple of long tables set up with various kinds of homemade cookies, paper napkins and cups of Koolaid, for some reason, usually grape flavored. My mom was not a baker, so these cookies were other-worldly treats. If I got really lucky, she would bring no-bakes, and I would get an extra.

Then we would play games outside. One impromptu game included rolling down a small hill on our church's property, log-roll style. The only problem was that I attended a church where all females wore skirts, so you can see that it became problematic to keep your skirt down at your sides and log roll, because with your hands glued to your sides, you just might log roll your face into a rock or brier weed.

So I remember the year my mom allowed me to wear shorts under my skirt.

Big doin's, that was.

I still have a fondness for the simplicity of my VBS experiences: no fancy puppets, videos or curricula. Just simple flannel graph lessons, crafts, including macaroni spray-painted gold glued to orange juice cans and bars of soap turned into sailboats, some foil stars to mark achievement, and a feeling of safety and security in the realm of my little church world, which was my second home.

Thanks for the memories, Lid! Maybe my grandchild will enjoy reading this someday!

Friday's Fave Five & Flashback Friday

Facebook status updated at 8:21 am: Volcanic magma + glacial melt water + giant ash cloud bringing much of the world to a standstill = LOST. Is Charles Widmore behind this? Could Frank Lapidus fly through this? Is John Locke the ash cloud?



1. Hyacinths. I honestly didn't know how aromatic they are. They are also Diane's favorite flower. I took this picture. Proud of myself.


2. Jorge and I on the Greenway trail, riding bikes like we're young or something. Proud of myself.



3. Day 3 of "Wear a Skirt to Work All Week." I decided to tackle this goal because I was pretty sure I would succeed at wearing 5 skirts in a row if I really tried. I made it. This skirt is white eyelet. Proud of myself for not caving into capris or something.



4. Diane with a little visitor. She was a nurse in the neo-natal intensive care unit at this very hospital for years. I did not cry when I took these pics. Proud of me for holding it together. Diane has always been a sender of cards and loves to receive them. Her room is decorated with them. If you would like to send her a card, her address is:

Diane Ross
c/o Ball Memorial Hospital
2401 University Avenue Rm #5211
Muncie, IN 47303




5. Girls Group (GG) at the hospital. We've had some long hours with Diane there, precious, every one. Proud of these friends.


Even these two.





Linda asks us to reach back into the flashback files for memories of childhood activities, lessons, etc.

I took piano lessons for a couple of years when I was little, about 7 years old. I had a mean, sarcastic teacher, so I hated it. I did like to practice, however.

Flash forward to third child, a girl, who took to the piano. I made sure I found her a nice teacher, but she plays beautifully by ear, bringing me to tears often. Guess which child inherits the piano?

Happy Flashback to Me, Happy Flashback to Me ....

I have got to get pictures from my mom's house if I'm going to keep at this meme.

This week, Mocha With Linda asks: What were birthdays like when you were growing up? Were they a big deal or understated? Did you have parties? Get to choose what or where the family ate for dinner? Are there any particular birthday traditions that you remember? Is there any birthday that stands out (good OR bad!), either due to the events surrounding it or due to the particular present(s) you received?

Well, I grew up on the blue-collar side of town, so if I said we did my birthdays up big, you might get the wrong idea. It was big to me, and my mother certainly thinks we went over the top, but mainly it was just balloons, a few decorations and store bought cakes, which I thought were beautiful works of art. I could NOT wrap my mind around those icing roses. It seemed a sin to cut through them. Coming from my mother's background, this was a bit extravagant, but I was "spoiled," and she didn't like to bake, so what was she gonna do?

We didn't do special dinners or have traditions. I did have parties, but I don't remember a specific one. Usually we just invited the kids on my block, a motley crew to be sure, but that's how we rolled. (Yesterday, a few people described me as "down to earth" in comments after the post, and now you can see the genesis of that earthiness. It's south-side-of-town, blue collar, salt-of-the-earth earthiness.)

Here we are in our blue collaredness in my parent's living room November 6, 1962. I'll tell you in a minute why Donnie was trying to kill me.



Cue John Mellencamp's "Small Town."

Anyway, below is a pic of my brother, Donnie, and me in 1966. In living color! I am four, and he is 12. His birthday is October 5th. For eight years, he was the baby of the family. Then, in 1962, my mom had me on October 4th. He would never have a birthday celebration unto himself again until he married! I became his nemesis! He has never let me forget this!

Note how I am admiring the royal icing flowers of delight. I am laughing as I type this at my bruised, pale little knock-kneed legs and sagging anklets. I do not know why my mother started my bangs half-way back on my head. I was determined, when I became a mom, not to commit the helmet-bang travesty. I never did, but I'm sure my girls could pick apart their pics, too, and blame me for something. (Giant bows of the 80s, for instance.)



Here is a birthday party circa 1973. Everybody do the purple pants dance! Please note the white ceramic cat in the background to the right. That was as close to a real pet as I ever came in my young life. The cat still lives in my mom's living room, and that's a post I've been meaning to write for some time. Also note my little party guest sitting there having a grand old time watching me dance. Ho-hum.



I wish I could remember a single gift or my 13th or 16th or 18th or 21st birthday, but they are all merely misty water-colored memories. The best birthday I ever had was probably my 40th, though. My friends took me out to dinner and bought me gag gifts, and Jorge bought me the Camaro. I was in car heaven.



And then I had to learn how to drive a stick shift at 40 years old. But that's another story!

Thanks, Lid!

This Week's Flashback Fri ~ It's all About "The Look"

Says Linda at Mocha W/Lid: "The flashback this week surrounds our fashion memories. You may elaborate on your childhood Easter fashions and/or share about styles in general. What fashions were popular when you were growing up? (Any time from birth to high school graduation) What did you beg to wear? What style did you happily embrace that you now look back and think, "Ugh! Whatever possessed me to wear that?"

The only style I can remember really begging to wear that my mom hated was long, straight hair parted down the middle. She called it "The Peeled Onion, Cat-Sucked-My-Hair" look. That cat thing was a joke that went way back in her family which I could never quite figure out, but she always said it with such conviction! Oh, the pictures I could show you ... but they're at her house. Someday I'll post them here. After I'm dead. Suffice it to say, Mom was right. Again.

Here she is at about age 37 and me at 6 months, April 14, 1963, my first Easter.


Believe it or not, this outfit below is actually an Easter outfit. I'm about 13 or 14 here. I thought I was Miss Thang. And, as a 47-year-old now, let me say that that skirt was short enough to earn me that title in a not-so-good way. That's why I blocked it out with that white box in a prior post.Where was my mom's good judgment here?? Anyway, those shoes--They're kind of back in style. Oh, also, I have a pair of clogs that are very similar to ones I wore in high school. I never, ever thought I'd wear those again.



At 10, I also wore white wet-looking go-go boots. To a nice, conservative Holiness church. ?

If you have hung around this blog very long, you have seen this one before, the infamous "Red Jumper Debacle of 1997." Oh.my.wuuuuud. OK, I was not an adolescent here. That tiny girl there, my baby, is 17 now. But no fashion post on this blog would complete without "RJD of '97." Looks like I was an employee at Holiday World in Santa Claus, Indiana, a real place, where real people dress like this.



Finally, High School Hair, Circa 1981 & Facebook Profile Hair, 2010:




Pretty similar, huh? That's it for my flashback today. Please hop on over to Linda's to see all of those like me who have no shame. Well, maybe we have shame, but our desire to make you laugh is stronger than our shame.

Thanks, Linda!