Probably not the best title I've come up with, but for now it will do. A lot of events have happened in the last year that got me to thinking about the lack of work ethic in our country. Yes - I know there are wonderful, great people who work their hearts out, who are dedicated to whatever job they have. But I also know that there are those who haven't got a clue what is proper behavior in a job, much less have any work ethic other than - it is all for ME!
We are blessed to have stumbled on or have known for years, wonderful people who have worked for us mowing, remodeling, fixing, and who do an A+ job. I remember that after the accident, we had to have someone do the mowing for us. Two acres and a tiny riding lawn mower took 8 hours and wore me out. The first lawn care guy we found, started out fairly good - then it went downhill as fast as slipping on a banana peel. Parts of the lawn would be unmowed. If there was ANYTHING on the lawn, he would mow around it, and leave the grass to grow around that object. Hoses, stray branches, a stray box that we didn't get picked up. The final straw came when the last job he did for us looked like someone had taken a hand scythe to the lawn - it was hideous. And he hadn't mowed where the hoses were for weeks, even tho I moved them so he could get the extra tall grass. He was gone and we found another guy, just starting his business. Talk about work ethic! He gets every single blade of grass, our lawn looks like a golf green, if I forget to move the hoses, he moves them, he blows all the grass off the sidewalks, and he is ALWAYS there when he says he will be. My husband and him have visited enough now, that they have become buddies. He says he saves our lawn for the last one of the day so he can just sit and shoot the breeze with hubby! They plan on going trout fishing together this winter.
I remember a restaurant in town that we finally quit going to because of the work ethic of their employees. It was a pizza place and the pizza was the best in town. However, the manager or owner decided to let teenagers run it, without adult supervision. We would go in to eat, and the place would be crawling with the employees' friends, all teenagers, and their friends would be begging for free food, gossiping with the employees, and trying to talk them into giving them free beer. The teenage employees just ignored their customers. We quit going, and the restaurant went out of business shortly after that.
I have been in stores where employees treat their customers as if the customers were a huge interference in their gossip time! I refuse to shop in stores like that.
I have been in stores and had to listen to an ongoing rant from the employees about: choose one - broken romances, getting drunk, fighting with friends, parties, in law problems, car breakdowns, bills not being paid, etc. etc. etc. I really and truly do NOT want to listen to your list of grievances when I check out. Shut up, and be courteous and do your job!
I remember a particular grocery store that was notorious for having employees working there that talked to other employees the entire time they were checking out customers. Some of the information that was spread around to anyone within earshot was not even close to being appropriate. A close friend of mine said that when she was checking out at a local grocery store, the checker had just had a fight with her boyfriend. Every item she picked up to scan was slammed down and then went to the sacker. My friend bit her tongue until the employee grabbed a sack of chips and smashed them on the scanner in her anger against her boyfriend. My friend let her know in no uncertain terms that she would much prefer her chips to be whole and not smashed to bits, that she would appreciate it if she would quit slamming her food around, quit yapping about her blown romance, and do her job right!
My son in law worked at a grocery store for several years as co manager. He said it was a nightmare trying to schedule people to work. They would call in sick for a zillion reasons, teens would just not show up, adults would decide they didn't particularly want to work that day, or they had a date and couldn't possibly work that day. I've heard that from a lot of employers when they try to schedule their employees! My theory is - if you apply for and accept a job, then get your butt there every day, and stop acting like the job owes you!
Recently at construction at our school, the foreman showed up one day, and the company he had subcontracted with left without a single word to him. They left all their gear, equipment, and tools laying in the hallways of the school. Never heard from them again.
We taught both of our children that work ethic was one of the most valuable tools in life that we could teach them. Our son started working at 15 1/2 at a hospital here. His hours kept getting longer and longer until we finally had to go talk to the personnel office. It was getting impossible for him to keep up with his schoolwork and job at the same time. When we reminded them that he was only 15 1/2, they were horrified and apologized all over themselves. They said he was so mature, and worked so hard, never was late or failed to show up, and went above and beyond what the job called for, that they completely forgot he was only 15 1/2 years old. He knew what it meant to have a good work ethic.
Our daughter worked several jobs at 15 1/2 and then 16. She told all of her friends that they were not to come and visit her at the Popcorn Shop, or later at the carosoul where she worked. She told them that it was not appropriate and that she would visit with them after work. She knew what it meant to have a good work ethic.
When you are at work, then work. When it is time off, then you can play and visit. If you are hired to do a job, then do it correctly, show up on time, and care about what you are doing. It doesn't matter if you are building a 5,000 square foot house, or installing formica, or mowing a lawn - any job worth doing, is worth doing right.
And thanks to those employees everywhere that know what it means to have a job, do it right and treat people around them with respect. Salute!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Funnies from the classroom
I wished I had written down the hysterical things that my students have said or written over the years. I've forgotten so many, but have a couple of my favorites to share. On a test about the colonies, the answer was to have been New Amsterdam. Their answer was - New Hamsterdam. Cracked me up! On another test the answer was to be the Duke of York. Their answer was - Duck of York. :)
One day we had a mass restroom break because I had to visit the facilities too. Not many chances for teachers to use the facilities with a full classroom. I went into the girls restroom, came out and as I was washing my hands, one of my boy students started stammering and stuttering. He said, "Mrs. B., did you just come out of there?" He indicated the restroom with his hand like he couldn't even say the word. I was puzzled but replied, "Yes, I did." He began stammering again and then said, "I didn't think teachers ever went!" My girls were standing right beside me and we all lost it. We were almost in tears from laughing.
My husband doesn't even bother to ask me what is wrong when I am hysterically laughing as I grade papers. Sometimes the things they write are just too funny.
Here's to teachers everywhere!
One day we had a mass restroom break because I had to visit the facilities too. Not many chances for teachers to use the facilities with a full classroom. I went into the girls restroom, came out and as I was washing my hands, one of my boy students started stammering and stuttering. He said, "Mrs. B., did you just come out of there?" He indicated the restroom with his hand like he couldn't even say the word. I was puzzled but replied, "Yes, I did." He began stammering again and then said, "I didn't think teachers ever went!" My girls were standing right beside me and we all lost it. We were almost in tears from laughing.
My husband doesn't even bother to ask me what is wrong when I am hysterically laughing as I grade papers. Sometimes the things they write are just too funny.
Here's to teachers everywhere!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Simpler times, simpler toys
Ahh, the simpler days of my youth. The simple joys of playing outside, simple toys and feeling safe playing outside even after dark. Now, I am a techie to the max. I love technology! I love my Iphone and I love my computer. I love Facebook. I love playing games on the net. I love the easiness of typing lesson plans and saving them on a flashdrive for future years. I love being able to print out a worksheet needed in the classroom from my computer at a moments notice.
But that being said - - those of you who are my age, or maybe even 20 years younger - - do you sometimes miss those simpler times? I look back at my childhood and never get the sense of hurry, hurry, hurry like our life seems now. I know that our toys didn't cost much, because we didn't have that much money growing up. We were comfortable but that was because both of my parents grew up in the depression and knew how to make every penny scream all the way to the bank. There was always a huge garden that was canned or frozen for the winter. My mom made all of our clothes, including my dad's. Shopping was once a year at Christmas or out of a catalog and that was very seldom because we didn't have the money.
(Update, Oct. 22, 2018. My dad was a teacher, mom stayed at home. If you are a teacher, you will instantly get what I'm talking about - making money scream all the way to the bank.!)
So I think back to the things that made me happy in my childhood - aka my toys or playthings. They certainly weren't electronic games or shopping sprees or Disney vacations. They were simple but they made me very happy and content.
The very first thing that comes to mind is our wonderful treehouse. Now by today's standards, this tree house would be condemmed - but we loved it. My brother built it for us. Then he decided it should be a two story house, so he added a second story. (The Wichita paper came down and did a front page article on our double story tree house.)We played and played in that house every day for years until it was too unsafe, and the big tree it was in had to come down. Also from that big old tree we had a swing - a gunny sack stuffed with something (don't know what). We would straddle it and swing our hearts out! There was always sand someplace - which led to hours of making sand creations. When a lady got married in our church, we were so enthralled with the whole wedding idea, that we made her a sand cake and decorated it with flowers from mom's garden.
In the summer, we ran through the sprinkler to stay cool. I don't remember having a wading pool at all.
Dad made us a swing set in his shop, that lasted probably 30 or more years. Even my kids got to play on it before the swing set came down. I had a bicycle with those big fat tires that I rode nearly every day in the summer. Either I'd ride around our tiny town, or I'd ride out to the creek.
My brother took me fishing with him on our bikes out in the country, along a country creek. Thanks Gene for taking your tag along sister with you. He was the one who told me that if I wanted to go fishing with him, I had to bait my own hook. I did! He did take the fish off, because most of them were catfish and he didn't want me to get finned and bleed all over!
When we had a nickel or so, we got to go to the drugstore a block away, and pick out candy. I remember choosing a charms lollypop many times, because when you unwrapped them, you sometimes found a free coupon for another one. I loved those lollypops.
We did not have a Sonic to run to for a soda. In fact, soda was a treat we got very rarely. My mom made homemade rootbeer one summer because she loved rootbeer. It was really good from what I remember - and I think only a couple of the jars exploded in the basement.
My favorite thing to do was to skate. I had those old skates that clamped on your shoes, and you had to tighten them so your shoe wouldn't pop out and you'd take a header on the concrete! There was a church catty corner from our house that had lots of sidewalks, so I'd go over there and skate around and around and around. I imagine my mom cringed everytime I put the skates on, because they were not kind to kids' shoes! Shoes were expensive so we took very good care of them. She never said a word to us about skating although our shoes would have black marks on them from the clamps!
Dad built a full size pingpong table and put it in the basement. We kids spent hours down there playing pingpong. My brother was a demon pingpong player. He always beat me, but in doing so, I became a much better player. Dad also made us a fooze ball table, and we played that for hours using a pingpong ball. I must admit, sometimes that poor pingpong ball got squished in the fooze ball game! He made a toss game using the rubber rings from canning jars mom used. And he made a karam board that my brother played a lot. I never was very good at it, because it required flipping these plastic pieces with your thumb and finger and my fingers were too tender!
There were lots of picinics to a nearby state lake where we ate and swam using innner tubes to float. Our church had lots of picnics in the country at one of the member's farms. We had huge bonfires, and us kids would climb the cliffs, or wade in the teeny tiny creek for a mile or so.
Of course, football games were a biggie growing up. Every Friday night was a football night where I marched in the band. The rest of the Friday nights were basketball where again I played with the band. I suppose that is not much different than kids do today.
On July 4th, we would walk to the edge of town to buy fireworks - mostly snakes and firecrackers. My brother built this intricate fort out of clay, and then we blew it up with firecrackers. Aaah, the memories!
My sister was 5 years younger than me, and had straight hair like I did. She wanted curly hair, but perms were unheard of then, unless you did them yourself. So I saved orange juice cans and toilet paper tubes and put her hair up in them to make it curl. It worked - for about an hour and then her hair was straight again. Simple things, simple times. Far different than going to a salon today and paying $90 for a perm.
We had some of those simple things for our own kids. The big refridgerator boxes became playhouses that they would decorate. When our old water bed mattress needed to be replaced, we took it outside, filled it up and let the kids jump on it until it burst! They rode bicycles down our hill, and our son would always try to ramp it across the creek. Hmm - never made it many times, so would come back up muddy and sopping wet. They had a rope swing that supposedly they were using to swing across the creek (tiny creek - 12 feet across, 6 - 12 inches of water). They always "missed" the other side and landed in the creek. Here they would come up, muddy and sopping wet. When we had a downpour, the creek would widen to 150 feet across and the current would be super fast. It would be 2 - 4 feet deep in places. When the water went down enough to be safe, our kids would lay a huge piece of styrofoam and float to the edge of our property. Dad would haul them out of the current, and they'd run back and do it all over again. We hauled that huge piece of styrofoam home from the lake where we found it on a camping trip.
Simple times, and simple things. Life in the slow lane. Good night!
But that being said - - those of you who are my age, or maybe even 20 years younger - - do you sometimes miss those simpler times? I look back at my childhood and never get the sense of hurry, hurry, hurry like our life seems now. I know that our toys didn't cost much, because we didn't have that much money growing up. We were comfortable but that was because both of my parents grew up in the depression and knew how to make every penny scream all the way to the bank. There was always a huge garden that was canned or frozen for the winter. My mom made all of our clothes, including my dad's. Shopping was once a year at Christmas or out of a catalog and that was very seldom because we didn't have the money.
(Update, Oct. 22, 2018. My dad was a teacher, mom stayed at home. If you are a teacher, you will instantly get what I'm talking about - making money scream all the way to the bank.!)
So I think back to the things that made me happy in my childhood - aka my toys or playthings. They certainly weren't electronic games or shopping sprees or Disney vacations. They were simple but they made me very happy and content.
The very first thing that comes to mind is our wonderful treehouse. Now by today's standards, this tree house would be condemmed - but we loved it. My brother built it for us. Then he decided it should be a two story house, so he added a second story. (The Wichita paper came down and did a front page article on our double story tree house.)We played and played in that house every day for years until it was too unsafe, and the big tree it was in had to come down. Also from that big old tree we had a swing - a gunny sack stuffed with something (don't know what). We would straddle it and swing our hearts out! There was always sand someplace - which led to hours of making sand creations. When a lady got married in our church, we were so enthralled with the whole wedding idea, that we made her a sand cake and decorated it with flowers from mom's garden.
In the summer, we ran through the sprinkler to stay cool. I don't remember having a wading pool at all.
Dad made us a swing set in his shop, that lasted probably 30 or more years. Even my kids got to play on it before the swing set came down. I had a bicycle with those big fat tires that I rode nearly every day in the summer. Either I'd ride around our tiny town, or I'd ride out to the creek.
My brother took me fishing with him on our bikes out in the country, along a country creek. Thanks Gene for taking your tag along sister with you. He was the one who told me that if I wanted to go fishing with him, I had to bait my own hook. I did! He did take the fish off, because most of them were catfish and he didn't want me to get finned and bleed all over!
When we had a nickel or so, we got to go to the drugstore a block away, and pick out candy. I remember choosing a charms lollypop many times, because when you unwrapped them, you sometimes found a free coupon for another one. I loved those lollypops.
We did not have a Sonic to run to for a soda. In fact, soda was a treat we got very rarely. My mom made homemade rootbeer one summer because she loved rootbeer. It was really good from what I remember - and I think only a couple of the jars exploded in the basement.
My favorite thing to do was to skate. I had those old skates that clamped on your shoes, and you had to tighten them so your shoe wouldn't pop out and you'd take a header on the concrete! There was a church catty corner from our house that had lots of sidewalks, so I'd go over there and skate around and around and around. I imagine my mom cringed everytime I put the skates on, because they were not kind to kids' shoes! Shoes were expensive so we took very good care of them. She never said a word to us about skating although our shoes would have black marks on them from the clamps!
Dad built a full size pingpong table and put it in the basement. We kids spent hours down there playing pingpong. My brother was a demon pingpong player. He always beat me, but in doing so, I became a much better player. Dad also made us a fooze ball table, and we played that for hours using a pingpong ball. I must admit, sometimes that poor pingpong ball got squished in the fooze ball game! He made a toss game using the rubber rings from canning jars mom used. And he made a karam board that my brother played a lot. I never was very good at it, because it required flipping these plastic pieces with your thumb and finger and my fingers were too tender!
There were lots of picinics to a nearby state lake where we ate and swam using innner tubes to float. Our church had lots of picnics in the country at one of the member's farms. We had huge bonfires, and us kids would climb the cliffs, or wade in the teeny tiny creek for a mile or so.
Of course, football games were a biggie growing up. Every Friday night was a football night where I marched in the band. The rest of the Friday nights were basketball where again I played with the band. I suppose that is not much different than kids do today.
On July 4th, we would walk to the edge of town to buy fireworks - mostly snakes and firecrackers. My brother built this intricate fort out of clay, and then we blew it up with firecrackers. Aaah, the memories!
My sister was 5 years younger than me, and had straight hair like I did. She wanted curly hair, but perms were unheard of then, unless you did them yourself. So I saved orange juice cans and toilet paper tubes and put her hair up in them to make it curl. It worked - for about an hour and then her hair was straight again. Simple things, simple times. Far different than going to a salon today and paying $90 for a perm.
We had some of those simple things for our own kids. The big refridgerator boxes became playhouses that they would decorate. When our old water bed mattress needed to be replaced, we took it outside, filled it up and let the kids jump on it until it burst! They rode bicycles down our hill, and our son would always try to ramp it across the creek. Hmm - never made it many times, so would come back up muddy and sopping wet. They had a rope swing that supposedly they were using to swing across the creek (tiny creek - 12 feet across, 6 - 12 inches of water). They always "missed" the other side and landed in the creek. Here they would come up, muddy and sopping wet. When we had a downpour, the creek would widen to 150 feet across and the current would be super fast. It would be 2 - 4 feet deep in places. When the water went down enough to be safe, our kids would lay a huge piece of styrofoam and float to the edge of our property. Dad would haul them out of the current, and they'd run back and do it all over again. We hauled that huge piece of styrofoam home from the lake where we found it on a camping trip.
Simple times, and simple things. Life in the slow lane. Good night!
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
My PA grandma
I am hurting tonight in my soul, and worrying about my granddaughter. I know I can't do anything that will make her better. Sometimes the only thing that helps is the ability to write. I decided I needed to have some precious memories surround me right now to lift my spirits. So it is time to write about my precious Pennsylvania grandma.
I don't even know where to start. My grandma had a LARGE family - 9 kids in all. 8 girls and 1 boy. Since she lived in PA and we lived in Kansas, we didn't get to see her as often as many of the other cousins. BUT when we did get to see grandma, it was like the World's Fair and Disney all in one.
When my grandparents got older, they became what we call now "snowbirds." During the summer, they lived in PA, then when it got cold, they drove to AZ where they rented a small house. My aunt lived there also. The highlight of those back and forth trips was that we got to see them going to AZ and going back to PA. I remember waiting, holding my breath, until they drove in the driveway.
My grandma could make the best bread I ever ate. Mom said many times (and her bread was fabulous) that she could never get her bread exactly like grandma's. One of the things I thought was different about grandma was that she wore Keds tennis shoes. That was way, way, way before Keds became the hip fashion statement they were in the 90's. I think her feet hurt and the Keds were her way of coping. I remember that she hummed under her breath a lot. I asked her once why she did that, and she told me that when things got bad, she hummed and it made her feel better. Eventually, it just got to be a habit.
A couple of summers, they got to stay the entire summer with us. I thought I had gone to heaven. They rented a little house in our town, once across the street, and another time a couple blocks over. I got to have the same experience as my cousins did of going to my grandma's house without traveling for days She took care of me several times when I was sick and gave me green jello and hot tea. :)
It was a joy to listen to her and my mom yakking in the kitchen - nonstop from the minute they drove in the driveway until they drove out again. Grandma had her hair cut really short, and one of the things she usually did at our house (for whatever reason) was get a permanent. I think my mom gave her some, but I know my Aunt Edna did. Grandma said that Aunt Edna rolled her scalp up with the hair! Then her head would be covered with soft white fluffy curls.
We did get to see her both in PA and in AZ. In the PA trips, I remember her more in her little house than in the big one. It was tiny, but grandma made it home. She was an amazing woman. I have no idea how she managed with so many children - must have been a child in diapers for 20 years or more. No washing machine either for years.
One of the things that touched me deeply was when I had my daughter, April. Grandma had a lapel watch that she had given to her mother (my great grandma) and it had the initials of AMB. When her mom died, grandma got the watch back. Without knowing it, or even planning it, our daughter's initials were AMB. Grandma called me and told me she was going to give me the watch to keep for April when she got older. That watch was treasured by my daughter for years. Sadly, when their house got burglarized a couple years ago, along with $20,000 worth of stuff, the thieves also took that lapel watch. My daughter called me sobbing about the robbery, but when I could finally understand what she was saying, it was losing the watch that was making her sob. Losing that watch from a great great grandma broke her heart.
When the call came that grandma had passed away, it broke my heart. I was too pregnant with our son and the airlines wouldn't let me fly to her funeral. Years later when we had a reunion, I asked some of my aunts to take me to her grave so I could see it for myself. I guess I just needed that finality of seeing her resting place.
Grandma - I miss you still today and it has been 35 years. Rest in peace.
I don't even know where to start. My grandma had a LARGE family - 9 kids in all. 8 girls and 1 boy. Since she lived in PA and we lived in Kansas, we didn't get to see her as often as many of the other cousins. BUT when we did get to see grandma, it was like the World's Fair and Disney all in one.
When my grandparents got older, they became what we call now "snowbirds." During the summer, they lived in PA, then when it got cold, they drove to AZ where they rented a small house. My aunt lived there also. The highlight of those back and forth trips was that we got to see them going to AZ and going back to PA. I remember waiting, holding my breath, until they drove in the driveway.
My grandma could make the best bread I ever ate. Mom said many times (and her bread was fabulous) that she could never get her bread exactly like grandma's. One of the things I thought was different about grandma was that she wore Keds tennis shoes. That was way, way, way before Keds became the hip fashion statement they were in the 90's. I think her feet hurt and the Keds were her way of coping. I remember that she hummed under her breath a lot. I asked her once why she did that, and she told me that when things got bad, she hummed and it made her feel better. Eventually, it just got to be a habit.
A couple of summers, they got to stay the entire summer with us. I thought I had gone to heaven. They rented a little house in our town, once across the street, and another time a couple blocks over. I got to have the same experience as my cousins did of going to my grandma's house without traveling for days She took care of me several times when I was sick and gave me green jello and hot tea. :)
It was a joy to listen to her and my mom yakking in the kitchen - nonstop from the minute they drove in the driveway until they drove out again. Grandma had her hair cut really short, and one of the things she usually did at our house (for whatever reason) was get a permanent. I think my mom gave her some, but I know my Aunt Edna did. Grandma said that Aunt Edna rolled her scalp up with the hair! Then her head would be covered with soft white fluffy curls.
We did get to see her both in PA and in AZ. In the PA trips, I remember her more in her little house than in the big one. It was tiny, but grandma made it home. She was an amazing woman. I have no idea how she managed with so many children - must have been a child in diapers for 20 years or more. No washing machine either for years.
One of the things that touched me deeply was when I had my daughter, April. Grandma had a lapel watch that she had given to her mother (my great grandma) and it had the initials of AMB. When her mom died, grandma got the watch back. Without knowing it, or even planning it, our daughter's initials were AMB. Grandma called me and told me she was going to give me the watch to keep for April when she got older. That watch was treasured by my daughter for years. Sadly, when their house got burglarized a couple years ago, along with $20,000 worth of stuff, the thieves also took that lapel watch. My daughter called me sobbing about the robbery, but when I could finally understand what she was saying, it was losing the watch that was making her sob. Losing that watch from a great great grandma broke her heart.
When the call came that grandma had passed away, it broke my heart. I was too pregnant with our son and the airlines wouldn't let me fly to her funeral. Years later when we had a reunion, I asked some of my aunts to take me to her grave so I could see it for myself. I guess I just needed that finality of seeing her resting place.
Grandma - I miss you still today and it has been 35 years. Rest in peace.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Getting my wings to fly
- What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
Grieve not, rather find,
Strength in what remains behind,
- William Wordsworth
English poet (1770 - 1850)
Monday, October 3, 2011
Spooky things that go bump in the night
I guess this has floated through my mind because my students are already planning what they will wear for Halloween. We have a huge assembly at our school where each grade gets to cross the stage and show off their costumes. It sets the aura for the day. Usually, my teaching partner and I plan a day of Halloween themed lessons. But I have to set the stage for the day in a special way.
In my room, I turn off all the lights. I have a string of mini lights that fit inside a black skull plastic discs. With the lights off, they glow very eerily. I have a plastic gargoyle pumpkin with lights that shine out of his eyes. I put on really spooky Halloween music with lots of heavy breathing, screams, organ music, doors creaking, wolves howling and owls hooting. When the kids walk in, they ooh and aah over the decorations.
My favorite part of the day is turning out the lights, turning on the skulls and the gargoyle pumpkin lights, and telling a ghost story or two. It makes my day if I am able to draw the students in by talking so low they can barely hear, and then shouting boo at them and hearing them scream. I always tell the classic hook story! Everybody loves a good ghost story.
My OK grandma used to sit all of us kids around her and she'd tell a ghost story about somebody missing a liver or something like that. She made the spookiest moaning sound I have ever heard. Then she'd yell boo, and we'd all scream and run! It didn't matter how many times she told that story, and we always knew what was coming .... we'd still scream and run. Every time she laughed and laughed at us scaredy cat kids!
That said, I remember several really spooky real life events that can't be explained today. The first one that comes to mind centers around a clock. My grandmother or great grandmother (the aunties weren't sure who) cross stitched and embroidered a clock front on cloth. My grandma gave it to my mom. Daddy made a wood and glass case for it and put clock works in it. It makes a partial chime every quarter of an hour, and then the number of bongs on the hour for what time it is. I LOVE that old clock. My sister and brother were gracious enough to let me have the clock after mom passed away. The clock had been in her room at the Assisted Living Center. The numbers were too small for her to see, so I got her a big one with oversize numbers. She said she still wanted that clock in her room because it comforted her and reminded her of the years it chimed the hours in her living room.
The clock ran fine! Period! Nothing wrong with it at all. When I took the clock home after she died and laid it on the counter until I could hang it, the clock stopped. Nothing fixed it - nothing! Hubby put new batteries in it, shook it gently, messed with the hands. Nothing worked. For whatever reason, I just left that clock on the kitchen counter for a week or two. One day my husband rolled through the kitchen, saw the clock and said out loud, "OK mom, you can start the clock back up." He continued to the living room. When he went back in a few minutes later, it was ticking, and was set to the correct time. I KID YOU NOT! He yelled at me to come and see. I saw and heard it. To this day, I have no clue why that old clock started, but it does make you wonder!!!
The second eerie thing I remember was at mom's funeral. We had a graveside service for her rather than a church service. My daughter and her friend sang at the funeral. Some history - my dad would always tell the grandkids that grandma had to sew his buttons on real tight when they were in a play or sang or something like that, because he was so proud, his buttons might pop off. Right before the song, my daughter had said, "Grandpa, you better get those buttons sewn on tight, cause I'm going to sing for grandma." Her grandpa had died 2 months before. In the middle of the song, there was a popping sound from the stereo that sounded just like buttons popping. My daughter almost couldn't go on with the song.
Yes, I know - probably coincidence. But you never know. So this Halloween, keep your eyes peeled, your wooden stakes handy, and don't eat all the candy before the trick or treaters come. They might not like that at all and .................... (fade to Twilight Zone music).
In my room, I turn off all the lights. I have a string of mini lights that fit inside a black skull plastic discs. With the lights off, they glow very eerily. I have a plastic gargoyle pumpkin with lights that shine out of his eyes. I put on really spooky Halloween music with lots of heavy breathing, screams, organ music, doors creaking, wolves howling and owls hooting. When the kids walk in, they ooh and aah over the decorations.
My favorite part of the day is turning out the lights, turning on the skulls and the gargoyle pumpkin lights, and telling a ghost story or two. It makes my day if I am able to draw the students in by talking so low they can barely hear, and then shouting boo at them and hearing them scream. I always tell the classic hook story! Everybody loves a good ghost story.
My OK grandma used to sit all of us kids around her and she'd tell a ghost story about somebody missing a liver or something like that. She made the spookiest moaning sound I have ever heard. Then she'd yell boo, and we'd all scream and run! It didn't matter how many times she told that story, and we always knew what was coming .... we'd still scream and run. Every time she laughed and laughed at us scaredy cat kids!
That said, I remember several really spooky real life events that can't be explained today. The first one that comes to mind centers around a clock. My grandmother or great grandmother (the aunties weren't sure who) cross stitched and embroidered a clock front on cloth. My grandma gave it to my mom. Daddy made a wood and glass case for it and put clock works in it. It makes a partial chime every quarter of an hour, and then the number of bongs on the hour for what time it is. I LOVE that old clock. My sister and brother were gracious enough to let me have the clock after mom passed away. The clock had been in her room at the Assisted Living Center. The numbers were too small for her to see, so I got her a big one with oversize numbers. She said she still wanted that clock in her room because it comforted her and reminded her of the years it chimed the hours in her living room.
The clock ran fine! Period! Nothing wrong with it at all. When I took the clock home after she died and laid it on the counter until I could hang it, the clock stopped. Nothing fixed it - nothing! Hubby put new batteries in it, shook it gently, messed with the hands. Nothing worked. For whatever reason, I just left that clock on the kitchen counter for a week or two. One day my husband rolled through the kitchen, saw the clock and said out loud, "OK mom, you can start the clock back up." He continued to the living room. When he went back in a few minutes later, it was ticking, and was set to the correct time. I KID YOU NOT! He yelled at me to come and see. I saw and heard it. To this day, I have no clue why that old clock started, but it does make you wonder!!!
The second eerie thing I remember was at mom's funeral. We had a graveside service for her rather than a church service. My daughter and her friend sang at the funeral. Some history - my dad would always tell the grandkids that grandma had to sew his buttons on real tight when they were in a play or sang or something like that, because he was so proud, his buttons might pop off. Right before the song, my daughter had said, "Grandpa, you better get those buttons sewn on tight, cause I'm going to sing for grandma." Her grandpa had died 2 months before. In the middle of the song, there was a popping sound from the stereo that sounded just like buttons popping. My daughter almost couldn't go on with the song.
Yes, I know - probably coincidence. But you never know. So this Halloween, keep your eyes peeled, your wooden stakes handy, and don't eat all the candy before the trick or treaters come. They might not like that at all and .................... (fade to Twilight Zone music).
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Nicknames, nicknames - what is in a nickname?
A friend just mentioned on FB that she used to call my hubby Big Charley. Reminded me of all the nicknames I've given people over the years or what my own nicknames were.
First and foremost - Marty is a nickname. My given name was Martha, named after my aunt. By the time I was 16, I had pretty much changed to Marty to everyone but my family. My mother was indignant. She told me, "I gave you a perfectly good name. You don't need a nickname." Sorry, mom. It happened anyway.
Since then, my husband has added his own version. He calls me squaw (apologies to any Native Americans reading this), midget (again apologies to little people) and Smurf (no apologies there, I'm just not blue!)
My daughter in law loves to call me Martha June to get my attention. Her girls do the same now cause I chase them around and tell them not to call me Martha June. They just fall on the floor giggling. My cousin, who is now struggling with Alzheimers, also called me Martha June all my life.
Each of our grandchildren has a nickname that papa gave them. I told him some of them don't make sense, but he laughs and continues on anyway.
I remember giving my son two nicknames - Little Charley and Sweet Pea. He informed me very severely when he was in high school that I really should quit calling him Little Charley cause he was not LITTLE anymore. He was almost six foot by then, so guess he had a point. The Sweet Pea came to a halt when he was in junior high. He gently asked me if I would please stop calling him that in public, because it embarrased him. So Sweet Pea, I quit calling you that! :)
I am still not sure how this started, but I called my daughter "sis" off and on for years. She answered to both her name and sis for years. It might have come about because Charley Jr. could not pronounce April when he was little so he called her sissy until he was older.
I have a nickname for my 5th graders. I call them Rugrats (definitely not after the stupid cartoon). They think it is quite funny!
My teaching partner/friend's little boy hangs out in both of our rooms after school. He's become my adopted boy grandchild, I guess! I started calling him Squirt. He asked me one day why I called him Squirt. I explained that nicknames are sometimes given to people that you love as a special name, just for them. He thought about that for a minute, nodded and went on. That night when I told him goodbye, I said, "Goodbye Squirt, I'll see you in the morning." He grinned really big, clasped both hands together and held them to his heart! Got tears in my eye.
I had a friend who named her boy, Michael. She was adamant that no one should ever call him Mike. He never was called Mike, and now that he is an adult with children of his own - he is difinitely not a Mike. I wondered if she saw into the future and knew that he would always be a Michael, not a Mike.
When our first granddaughter was born, she was named Danielle June. But her parents had already decided to put the two names together and call her DJ. She's been DJ since the day she was born. That even has been shortened occasionally to Deeej. When she gets called Danielle by her parents, she knows she in deep, deep trouble If she gets called Danielle June, she might as well pack her bags and run away!
DJ for awhile in kindergarten had a "boyfriend" named TJ. She said they were going to get married and have a kid and call him P.J. No comment!
When April was in HS, she had a friend who's dad called her June. She still remembers that name fondly from her dad's friend.
My own dad nicknamed April's best friend as "Smiley." He always called her that when she visited because she was always laughing and smiling.
April's brother nicknamed her Ape Girl. Luckily, she loves him and didn't care. But Ape Girl? Another of her friends calls her Grape Ape! I'm just shaking my head!
Nicknames can also be really, really bad. I was called nicknames in HS - not because they wanted to tease me in a fun way. They wanted to hurt me. I'm 60 now, and to remember that hurt after all these years says something about the power of bad nicknames.
My granddaughter kind of got a nickname for having to wear a mask at school so she wouldn't get sick. She has autoimmune hepatitis and is in chronic liver failure. The one she heard the most was "Bird Flu, Bird Flu." It hurt! So do names like Fatty, Fatso, Pitface, Nerd, etc. etc. etc. Some are meant to hurt, while others are just in fun.
I had one class who for whatever reason decided they all needed nicknames for me to call them by. It was quite comical because one student chose BOB because that was his initials. Wish I had written them all down because some were downright funny, some were wistful thinking, and some were about who they felt they were. Loved those kids that year. Smart, funny and certainly imaginative!
And of course, we all have our pet nicknames for the spouses! Most of mine probably aren't appropriate for a blog, so I'll just leave you wondering. So adios, Sweet Pea, Sis, DJ, Alaina Bean, Cally Wally Doodle, Miss K, and Lillie. May you forever be loved.
First and foremost - Marty is a nickname. My given name was Martha, named after my aunt. By the time I was 16, I had pretty much changed to Marty to everyone but my family. My mother was indignant. She told me, "I gave you a perfectly good name. You don't need a nickname." Sorry, mom. It happened anyway.
Since then, my husband has added his own version. He calls me squaw (apologies to any Native Americans reading this), midget (again apologies to little people) and Smurf (no apologies there, I'm just not blue!)
My daughter in law loves to call me Martha June to get my attention. Her girls do the same now cause I chase them around and tell them not to call me Martha June. They just fall on the floor giggling. My cousin, who is now struggling with Alzheimers, also called me Martha June all my life.
Each of our grandchildren has a nickname that papa gave them. I told him some of them don't make sense, but he laughs and continues on anyway.
I remember giving my son two nicknames - Little Charley and Sweet Pea. He informed me very severely when he was in high school that I really should quit calling him Little Charley cause he was not LITTLE anymore. He was almost six foot by then, so guess he had a point. The Sweet Pea came to a halt when he was in junior high. He gently asked me if I would please stop calling him that in public, because it embarrased him. So Sweet Pea, I quit calling you that! :)
I am still not sure how this started, but I called my daughter "sis" off and on for years. She answered to both her name and sis for years. It might have come about because Charley Jr. could not pronounce April when he was little so he called her sissy until he was older.
I have a nickname for my 5th graders. I call them Rugrats (definitely not after the stupid cartoon). They think it is quite funny!
My teaching partner/friend's little boy hangs out in both of our rooms after school. He's become my adopted boy grandchild, I guess! I started calling him Squirt. He asked me one day why I called him Squirt. I explained that nicknames are sometimes given to people that you love as a special name, just for them. He thought about that for a minute, nodded and went on. That night when I told him goodbye, I said, "Goodbye Squirt, I'll see you in the morning." He grinned really big, clasped both hands together and held them to his heart! Got tears in my eye.
I had a friend who named her boy, Michael. She was adamant that no one should ever call him Mike. He never was called Mike, and now that he is an adult with children of his own - he is difinitely not a Mike. I wondered if she saw into the future and knew that he would always be a Michael, not a Mike.
When our first granddaughter was born, she was named Danielle June. But her parents had already decided to put the two names together and call her DJ. She's been DJ since the day she was born. That even has been shortened occasionally to Deeej. When she gets called Danielle by her parents, she knows she in deep, deep trouble If she gets called Danielle June, she might as well pack her bags and run away!
DJ for awhile in kindergarten had a "boyfriend" named TJ. She said they were going to get married and have a kid and call him P.J. No comment!
When April was in HS, she had a friend who's dad called her June. She still remembers that name fondly from her dad's friend.
My own dad nicknamed April's best friend as "Smiley." He always called her that when she visited because she was always laughing and smiling.
April's brother nicknamed her Ape Girl. Luckily, she loves him and didn't care. But Ape Girl? Another of her friends calls her Grape Ape! I'm just shaking my head!
Nicknames can also be really, really bad. I was called nicknames in HS - not because they wanted to tease me in a fun way. They wanted to hurt me. I'm 60 now, and to remember that hurt after all these years says something about the power of bad nicknames.
My granddaughter kind of got a nickname for having to wear a mask at school so she wouldn't get sick. She has autoimmune hepatitis and is in chronic liver failure. The one she heard the most was "Bird Flu, Bird Flu." It hurt! So do names like Fatty, Fatso, Pitface, Nerd, etc. etc. etc. Some are meant to hurt, while others are just in fun.
I had one class who for whatever reason decided they all needed nicknames for me to call them by. It was quite comical because one student chose BOB because that was his initials. Wish I had written them all down because some were downright funny, some were wistful thinking, and some were about who they felt they were. Loved those kids that year. Smart, funny and certainly imaginative!
And of course, we all have our pet nicknames for the spouses! Most of mine probably aren't appropriate for a blog, so I'll just leave you wondering. So adios, Sweet Pea, Sis, DJ, Alaina Bean, Cally Wally Doodle, Miss K, and Lillie. May you forever be loved.
Grandparents - they do a body good!
Grandparents are made in heaven. I love being a grandma or rather Mimi to my five girls. There is nothing sweeter than a phone call in the morning and hearing their little voices across the miles. Our NE girls called today to sing happy birthday to Papa cause they ran out of time yesterday. Our AZ girls called yesterday and sang to him. My parents started this tradition years ago - mom singing soprano, and dad singing in bass. It started with them singing Happy Birthday to Charley and I, then continued to our kids. Our kids have continued the tradition. We can't wait for our singing phone call. Makes our day. We continue the tradition and call both kids, spouses and all five grandchildren on their birthday.
All this got me to thinking about grandparents. About how much I loved mine. Two sets, two different lives and two different states - but one thing in common. They loved us unconditionally. I can only write about one set of grandparents at a time, because the memories are so numerous.
My paternal grandmother lived in the OK panhandle with my grandpa (step grandpa actually, but I never knew my other grandpa). I am in absolute awe about how my grandma made it during the depression days, raising 3 children without a daddy. My grandpa was kicked by a horse when grandma was pregnant with my dad. He died a week later, leaving my grandma with a 2 year old, a 1 year old and a baby on the way. I never fail to be amazed that for 10 years, she was mom and dad to her three kids, and ran the farm, the house, paid the bills, milked, gathered eggs, sewed, made clothing, quilts and still kept her sanity.
She did remarry and had 4 stepchildren and then one "theirs". When we got to visit her from Kansas, us kids would pile out of the car and grab grandma and nearly knock her down. She'd bake bread on Saturday night for Sunday, and take one look at our faces as it was baking and just laugh. She'd get out the butter and let us tear into a fresh loaf just out of the oven on Saturday night. Oh my! She always asked us what we wanted for Saturday morning breakfast. My mom warned us to not make her extra work, but I guess we kids never listened. We always asked for buckwheat pancakes. This required making the starter the night before and letting is rise, then mixing the final batch on Saturday morning. OH MY - I can still taste them with her Dutch Honey she made, and butter. Nothing comes close to them now!
Daddy said that many times there would be no food other than what the farm provided. They had lots of chickens so many times their meal would be fried eggs - as many as they could eat. He had vivid memories of the dust bowl days when grandma would try her best to keep the dust out. She would turn the plates upside down on the supper table, to keep the dust off. When they would turn them over to eat, there would be a huge white ring where they had been, surrounded by dust.
Grandma was an avid quilter. I was lucky enough to get one of her old calendars when she passed away. It was her journal, and she wrote on it each day. Lots of times she wrote about piecing together a quilt top, and then quilting for long hours at a time. She must have been fast according to her journal and the length of time it took her to finish it. All of us kids got a quilt from her. It is my prized possession.
My grandpa always did the honors by chopping off the chickens heads and cleaning them so we could have fried chicken for Sunday dinner. We went to church with them occasionally, and prayed all the way to the church. My grandpa was a horrible driver - his idea of staying on the road was from ditch to ditch. One time he got mad because there was a fly in the car and proceeded to swat at the fly for miles as we jerked back and forth between the ditches. I was ready to kiss the ground when we finally got to the church!
Grandma started the tradition of the Christmas Pie of presents. Money was really tight back then - not an extra cent for anything. So she would gather small presents all year long as she could afford it, and store them. At Christmas, she would wrap them and put them in a huge tub. She attached a string to each one, and ran it outside the rim. Then she covered the top with a piece of brown paper, marked to look like a pie. At present time, we would all get a string and pull. The presents weren't much - maybe cost a dime back then, but that was the highlight of our Christmas. I will never forget the thrill of pulling a string from the pie and seeing what I got. I still don't know how she did it, because grandma had a huge family and lots of grandkids.
Grandpa and grandma cleared out the old brooder house, and painted it, and then put in a bed and amenities for company. That, plus the old dugout connected to their house, provided lots of sleeping space. Crawling into the bed with crsip, clean white sheets smelling of outdoors was imprinted on my memory from a tiny child.
Grandma had a beautiful set of depression glasses in a rose color. The only thing I wanted from her house when she passed away, was a glass to remember her by. When we got to the house, most of her things were already gone to other members of the family. There was ONE glass left which I got. It has been in my kitchen ever since.
Grandma made ice cream in the ground. Yep, you read right, in the ground. They would dig a huge hole, line it was straw, put in the ice cream mix in a container and put it in the middle of the straw. Then they packed ice and salt around the container. Within hours it was frozen, creamy and out of this world. They did get a crank freezer eventually, and the ice cream was still fabulous - but I still remember that ice cream from the ground. Kind of magical.
So saying this - grandparents are the center of our extended family lives. When my grandma passed away, the pastor at her funeral gave us the analogy of a wheel. Grandma was the hub of the wheel, and we as her family were the spokes scattered around the hub. He said since grandma was gone, we were now tasked with making our own wheels with us as a hub, and our children and loved ones around us.
Rest in peace grandma. I still miss you after 28 years.
All this got me to thinking about grandparents. About how much I loved mine. Two sets, two different lives and two different states - but one thing in common. They loved us unconditionally. I can only write about one set of grandparents at a time, because the memories are so numerous.
My paternal grandmother lived in the OK panhandle with my grandpa (step grandpa actually, but I never knew my other grandpa). I am in absolute awe about how my grandma made it during the depression days, raising 3 children without a daddy. My grandpa was kicked by a horse when grandma was pregnant with my dad. He died a week later, leaving my grandma with a 2 year old, a 1 year old and a baby on the way. I never fail to be amazed that for 10 years, she was mom and dad to her three kids, and ran the farm, the house, paid the bills, milked, gathered eggs, sewed, made clothing, quilts and still kept her sanity.
She did remarry and had 4 stepchildren and then one "theirs". When we got to visit her from Kansas, us kids would pile out of the car and grab grandma and nearly knock her down. She'd bake bread on Saturday night for Sunday, and take one look at our faces as it was baking and just laugh. She'd get out the butter and let us tear into a fresh loaf just out of the oven on Saturday night. Oh my! She always asked us what we wanted for Saturday morning breakfast. My mom warned us to not make her extra work, but I guess we kids never listened. We always asked for buckwheat pancakes. This required making the starter the night before and letting is rise, then mixing the final batch on Saturday morning. OH MY - I can still taste them with her Dutch Honey she made, and butter. Nothing comes close to them now!
Daddy said that many times there would be no food other than what the farm provided. They had lots of chickens so many times their meal would be fried eggs - as many as they could eat. He had vivid memories of the dust bowl days when grandma would try her best to keep the dust out. She would turn the plates upside down on the supper table, to keep the dust off. When they would turn them over to eat, there would be a huge white ring where they had been, surrounded by dust.
Grandma was an avid quilter. I was lucky enough to get one of her old calendars when she passed away. It was her journal, and she wrote on it each day. Lots of times she wrote about piecing together a quilt top, and then quilting for long hours at a time. She must have been fast according to her journal and the length of time it took her to finish it. All of us kids got a quilt from her. It is my prized possession.
My grandpa always did the honors by chopping off the chickens heads and cleaning them so we could have fried chicken for Sunday dinner. We went to church with them occasionally, and prayed all the way to the church. My grandpa was a horrible driver - his idea of staying on the road was from ditch to ditch. One time he got mad because there was a fly in the car and proceeded to swat at the fly for miles as we jerked back and forth between the ditches. I was ready to kiss the ground when we finally got to the church!
Grandma started the tradition of the Christmas Pie of presents. Money was really tight back then - not an extra cent for anything. So she would gather small presents all year long as she could afford it, and store them. At Christmas, she would wrap them and put them in a huge tub. She attached a string to each one, and ran it outside the rim. Then she covered the top with a piece of brown paper, marked to look like a pie. At present time, we would all get a string and pull. The presents weren't much - maybe cost a dime back then, but that was the highlight of our Christmas. I will never forget the thrill of pulling a string from the pie and seeing what I got. I still don't know how she did it, because grandma had a huge family and lots of grandkids.
Grandpa and grandma cleared out the old brooder house, and painted it, and then put in a bed and amenities for company. That, plus the old dugout connected to their house, provided lots of sleeping space. Crawling into the bed with crsip, clean white sheets smelling of outdoors was imprinted on my memory from a tiny child.
Grandma had a beautiful set of depression glasses in a rose color. The only thing I wanted from her house when she passed away, was a glass to remember her by. When we got to the house, most of her things were already gone to other members of the family. There was ONE glass left which I got. It has been in my kitchen ever since.
Grandma made ice cream in the ground. Yep, you read right, in the ground. They would dig a huge hole, line it was straw, put in the ice cream mix in a container and put it in the middle of the straw. Then they packed ice and salt around the container. Within hours it was frozen, creamy and out of this world. They did get a crank freezer eventually, and the ice cream was still fabulous - but I still remember that ice cream from the ground. Kind of magical.
So saying this - grandparents are the center of our extended family lives. When my grandma passed away, the pastor at her funeral gave us the analogy of a wheel. Grandma was the hub of the wheel, and we as her family were the spokes scattered around the hub. He said since grandma was gone, we were now tasked with making our own wheels with us as a hub, and our children and loved ones around us.
Rest in peace grandma. I still miss you after 28 years.
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