Station Wagon Memories

My dash read 102* today. The intense heat reminds me of childhood summers spent in the back section of a turquoise stationwagon without air conditioning. Blistering vinyl, trying to catch a hot breeze through the rolled down windows. Only bright spot was the radio and catching my brother's hand crossing the imaginary mid-line so that i could slap it or his arm or leg. Those were the days. It looked like this car. Just looking at this pic makes me think of Three Dog Night and Ross Grocery on Hoyt Ave and sweating.

Check out the song of the summer I remember the most:

What Are Your Christmas Dreams Made Of?

When I was a little girl, my favorite Christmas present was a big old baby stroller, quilted blue, a flat canopy trimmed with white fuzzy pom-poms, similar to the one in this picture. Beautiful! But the best part of the stroller was that—oh, sit down for this--was that it was a DOUBLE stroller, room for one baby facing forward, the other backward. A feature like that that could make a little pretend mommy dizzy with strolling dreams!

That memory makes me smile because I realize that my deeper desire, beyond taking two baby dolls in and out of their seats hundreds of times, was to nurture a baby. Something about those plastic dolls of my childhood filled my heart with joy, foreshadowing my life to come, when I would be filled with indescribable happiness while holding my own children, and now the twins living in my home. (Oh, the irony! TWO!)

I think that’s often how we approach Christmas, whether we look forward to family meals, giving gifts, children’s excitement, church, music, movies, etc. Something about those activities fills our hearts with joy—and maybe--they foreshadow an even fuller life and celebration to come.

So what are you looking forward to most this year? If you look deeper into that desire, what hope might be embedded in your Christmas wishes and expectations?

Maybe you haven’t thought to articulate your deepest desires because they’re so disguised (wrapped?) in the cultural trappings of Christmas, which we’ve grown to love (or not love, depending on our disappointments). But is it possible that the deepest desire of your heart might include love and peace within your family? Reconciliation with someone? A deep joy? Personal freedom from things that are destroying you? Peace? Forgiveness? Rest? God’s presence? Hope?

If those are the gifts you truly desire for Christmas, they are available to all of us, but you can’t overlook the source--remember the poignancy and significance in the Christmas story when the innkeeper had no room for the babe.

Receive the good tidings of great joy for all people: “The Savior has come; let there be peace on Earth and good will toward men from God!” Let the significance of that sink in; let it shine in dark places and replace despair with hope.

No matter how far-fetched or impossible your hopes and desires might seem, in your heart and in your life, “prepare Him room,” because “Joy to the world—the Lord is come!” Anything is possible!

©
Linda Crow 2011

My Boyfriend's Back

My boyfriend's back.

Oh yes he is, and I'm so happy.

Let me tell you about him:

He's humble, even self-deprecating, yet ambitious, with a professional goal in the medical field, even though the odds seem stacked against him.

He has successfully emancipated himself from both his mother and his boring job and often expresses how much he cherishes his independence. He's a maverick.

He can stand up for himself with high-powered CEO types and rub elbows right along with the common folk in factories.

He can sing, even writes his own tunes when the moment is right, so in addition to being focused professionally, he has a spontaneous, artsy side, as well.

His clothing choices reflect his unique personality; he is no slave to fashion trends. His hair is neat and very stylized. I think Clinton Kelly would approve.

He's not very tall, but that doesn't matter to me. I do care about good teeth, and so does he. I'm talking perfect dental hygiene.

He is the friend of those who are marginalized and misunderstood.

And he's kind to animals. {Dreamy sigh.}

Some people might not appreciate my attraction to his soft-spokeness, his gentile mannerisms, but I've had my fill of the Yukon Corneliuses of this world--so, in the words of The Angels (1963) It's Christmastime and, "Hey la, Hey la, My Boyfriend's Back."

Oh Hermey. I've missed you so.

A Dentist!! sound clip Christmas sound clips

One of the Best Things I've Ever Seen

This touched me on so many levels, I can't even begin to explain. One of my favorite moments is when she says, "We have been vain ... and shellfish." To her parents (how will you EVER let her grow up??) and others who shared--THANK YOU!!

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Genesis of a Blog Post, Or "Lid, How Do You Come Up With that Junk You Write?" and Flashback Friday

Sometimes people ask, "Lid, where do you get your snazzy ideas for blog posts?" Well, the answer is, I work really, really hard on being witty, current, snazzy and most extremely, brainy-ish.

Like this guy:


So now I take you to the inner workings of my brain to hook you up with "Genesis of a Blog Post."

Here is an actual Facebook message between Lid of Mocha With Linda and me which turned into a blog post:

Mocha Linda to 2nd Cup Linda: Good morning, my friend! Just wanted to say I hope you have a splendiferous day! Can't believe tomorrow is October 1st!

2nd Cup to Mocha: Good morning, to you, too!! I just came from the doc where I received an injection of cortisone into my left buttock. How's THAT for detail?

My eyes are doing the swelling thing again.

Speaking of Oct., my b-day is this month. Now normally, I don't broadcast it, except maybe on my blog where most people don't know me personally. However, this week, on a local radio station, they started a contest wherein you can win a birthday cake from a beloved local bakery which makes cakes to die for. So I thought, "I will enter." That was yesterday. This morning, as I was putting on my makeup, I heard "Happy birthday to Linda Crow, 48 years old today."

??? I forgot to put in a date, I guess. Sad part is, my birthday is next week, and that's when the contest starts. So now I think I will contact the station and say, "I think I got my birthday wrong."

Oh boy.

I think I just wrote a blog post here! haha.

Yep, I believe I did.

**************




What toys do you remember from your childhood? What did you like to do to entertain yourself? Did you mostly play inside or outside? Did you ride a bike all over the neighborhood? Play baseball in the backyard? Basketball in the driveway? Did you have to "get permission" to play at a friend's house, or were you and your friends back and forth between houses all the time? If you had siblings, was there a distinction between your toys and theirs? Did you "inherit" any toys from older siblings? What were the "fad" or "must-have" toys of your generation? Did you parents buy them? Was there a toy you always wanted and never got to have?

I played by myself a lot when I was little and had a vivid imagination. I had an imaginary friend named "Tacko," who I pictured looking something like this:



When I did play with neighborhood kids or cousins, I played pretend or The Partridge Family. I was usually Tracy, keepin' it real with my tambourine.

I liked to ride my bike and run little races in my backyard.

I also loved Barbies and other dolls, like Baby First Step, whom I have written about ad nauseum here. But she was so cool. She walked like Baby Frankenstein.



Here is a Barbie parade, featuring Barbies riding the ever-popular "Canister Vacuum Cleaner" float. I believe I was either anticipating or had already viewed a Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.



As I got older to loved to play volleyball in our street at night with friends. We would play well past dark by the street light. So much fun. Especially since the boy who lived down the street was suddenly, inexplicably, very cute.

Thanks, Lid, for sharing life and laughter with me--from miles and miles away! Someday we'll meet in person!

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!

Where My Easter Peeps?

There's one thing I'm missing this Easter: baby chickens. Not marshmallow Peeps, not pom-poms, not milk chocolate chicks. The real thing.

One year, my mother, who does not like animals of any kind, especially in the house, bought my youngest brother and me two little yellow chickens and one baby duck.

You just have no idea what a crazy thing this was for my mom to do. We lived in a little three bedroom ranch-style house that was so small my mom would allow me to bring one toy into the living room. Before I could bring another, I had to take that first one back to my room. She wasn't being overly strict; it was just such a small house that a few toys here and there left no navigational space.

To this day, I still can't fathom 1: Lucille allowing live animals in the house 2: Lucille allowing live animals in the tiny house.

Anyway, what kind of mother-of-all indulgences spirit possessed her to allow the mother-of-all Easter surprises for me, I'll never know. But boy-howdy, I was one happy little girl, and it was a joy I've never forgotten.

In fact, for many years, as a teenager or even as an adult, I would go to the local Quality Farm and Fleet store each spring just to look at the chicks in the big metal bins. The smell of the chicks and their wood chips and food was wonderful to me. The heat lamp was like ready-made spring sunshine. Their peep-peeping was music to my ears.

Fast forward to 2001. I was helping in children's ministry at church. The lady in charge and I were discussing ways to convey the resurrection story. "Wouldn't it be neat to do an out-of-the-tomb/out-of-the-eggshell story?" I asked. Her eyes lit up. "If I would pay for the chickens and supplies, would you do it?"

My heart raced. At last I had a legitimate reason to ask my husband for a baby chick: "It's for the LORD, Honey!" The lady promised me she had a farm home for it to go to after the event. I don't think she finished the sentence before I was out the door to get me a chicken! I mean, to get Children's Ministry a chicken.

At the farm store, I selected one chick (it doesn't take that long because generally, their personalities and looks don't vary a heck of a lot), noticed how lonely he looked, then grabbed up another. With a cardboard box containing two chicks, I started through the check out when the young man looked quizzically at me and said, "Ma'am, you're gonna need some food for these chickens ....aren't you?" "OH ... silly me! Yes!"

I ended up walking out of there with food, a heat lamp, and more extras than you can imagine. Do chicks need teeny-tiny swingsets? Just kidding. But a $.99 chick ended up costing a whole lot more, but as I said, it was for the LORD!

The object lesson came and went, but the chickens stayed, as I secretly hoped they would. It turned out that here was no farm home, so I became the farm home, smack-dab in the middle of the city.

My husband built them a glorified doghouse with a roost, and I painted it like a barn. I added a mailbox and steps going into the door because they kept sliding down every time they tried to go to bed at night. I sat in the yard in a lawn chair in the middle of my flock and read. It was common for one or more to jump up on the arm of the chair and peer between the book and me to see what I was doing. It was hilarious.

I bought more chicks, fancy ones, Japanese Silkies, little balls of fluff that never get big, can't fly, and have afros on their heads and hinders. I had the best summer of my life. One of the best days was when I found that first little egg.

Since this is so long, I'll stop now, but here are some pics. I miss Esther and Lilly and Buffy and Daisy and Randy. I miss my peeps.




The End.