Happy Thanksgiving

I posted this over on House Panthers, the black cat blog to which I contribute once a week. In case you don't pop over there, I'm reproducing it, with some addendums.

For these things, I am grateful.

Noms.

I don't like people food. Mom can have that, except, oh man, when she brings home deli sliced turkey...

I'm thankful for food they aren't interested in.

My sister...

even if we do sit at opposite ends of the recliner.

My family, even if we're all over the Midwest and rarely get to see each other.

Boxes.

I'm grateful for the stuff that comes in boxes. 

Windows, where I can look out but not be out.

Ditto, especially when being out would not be pleasant. 

Places to scratch.

A place to sit with my feet up...

and a cat in my lap or next to me.

Warm places to sleep...

and peaceful places to relax. 

Best of all. I am thankful I have a home with a mom who loves me and my sister.

I wish all kittehs could sit in someone's lap and get chin scratches this Thanksgiving. Some day. Some day.

I'm grateful and thankful for friends and family who have been with me through thick and thin.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Pilchard, Mija and Deb

Beverage:  hot cocoa

Happy Birthday

My family has always celebrated birthdays. Some of my best memories are of birthday parties. I even linger over the memory of watching my brother Steve's birthday party from my bedroom window because I had measles. It was awful then, but now, I just giggle.

Yes, I got the measles, those red spots that just exploded over my body. They were the "three-day measles", highly contagious, but here and gone in a week. I don't remember much about them other than it was a beautiful early May and I was confined to my second floor bedroom. When I needed to use the bathroom, I had to announce it so everyone got out of the way. Mom brought my meals to me. It was kind of like a hotel except my brother had a birthday party and I sat in my window and watched them having fun when I hadn't been out of the house all week.

Dan's birthday is in October. When mom was teaching me to cook, she had me make his birthday cake one year.

I got to decorate it with M&M's. This was long, way long, before seasonal packages were even considered so I spent an hour sorting the colors and applying them to the orange-flavored frosting. I do remember the frosting was orange-flavored, but I don't remember if it was hand made or something we got from a container. Pre-made frosting in a plastic container was a new idea at this time. I remember when "pre-made frosting" meant you added milk to an instant powder and whipped it. Who else remembers Dream Whip? I see a few hands. You know, I'd buy that if I could find it now. It had so many applications and had a tighter consistency that Cool Whip can replicate.

As we have grown older and spread out to live our lives, our birthdays have become just another day. Some of the family came to my house when I hit the half-century mark. We all gathered when mom hit 70. We'll do it again when she hits 80. Sometimes, I remember to get a card in the mail so it arrives on or before the date. Sometimes, I miss the date but still get the card out. Sometimes, the card doesn't get mailed or even purchased. I look at the calendar and think, "Oh yeah, there was that birthday I forgot." We get busy and it's just one more thing to remember.

And your birth order can have a lot to do with it. As first born, I go through life plowing the way for my siblings. First to turn 18. First to turn 30. First to turn 50. Those milestones can be forgotten when you get to #3 or #4 child. It also matters whether you mention your upcoming birthday. If it's little more than a date on the calendar, we're not so liable to remember. With grandkids running about now, it's easy to feel that birthdays are for the little ones and not for us.

So, when this Iowa trip presented itself, I looked at the calendar and realized the brother who is 18 months younger than me would have a birthday while I was there. Steve tends to be forgotten in the rush of life so why not have a small, simple party to celebrate? Three of the four of us siblings would be there. Sharyn is off to Idaho for a Forest Service job this year, but Dan and I could "celebrate", meaning we'd have cake and ice cream.

Mom set things up and we debated on making a cake. We could do the usual 9x13 pan with purchased frosting and then get candles but I wanted something a bit fancier. We opted to go to the bakery at the local Hy-Vee and buy a premade cake. They would have a baker on site who would be happy to add "Happy Birthday, Steve" to the top of a sheet cake. We'd head over to Christina's, have a little party with paper plates and plastic silverware and everyone would be happy.

We had picked out a rainbow frosted cake when mom spotted this.

How can you not be happy looking at this? It's made of cupcakes. There were chocolate and vanilla cupcakes, half and half; variegated buttercream frosting, sprinkles and a big "happy birthday"! It's perfect. There's no "I don't want that big of a piece" and Christina could easily parcel out the remaining cupcakes to her brood, instead of having to deal with cake pieces.

Cup cake cakes are all the rage now. I've heard of them being used as wedding cakes. I love the vibrant colors in the frosting. We had picked out a sheet cake with the same brilliant hues before mom saw this. It was a big hit and there were just enough cupcakes that people who wanted a second one could have one with only a few left over. Of course, the oldest grandkids wanted the purple and blue frosting.

It was just a small gathering and didn't last beyond 90 minutes, but it was enough to remind everyone that celebrating a birthday can be as simple as cupcakes and ice cream. I'd go for that.

Beverage:  Earl Gray tea

Deb

A Bit of Bling

For Christmas, my siblings, nieces and I exchange $25 gift certificates and a white elephant gift. The gift certificates can be from anywhere, but it helps if you do a bit a research before running out to buy something from, say Hy-Vee grocery stores. If Carole were to get the Hy-Vee gift certificate, she'd have a very hard time redeeming it as Hy-Vee is strictly a midwestern chain. The farthest east they go is Illinois and then, it's strictly western Illinois. So we encourage national chains like Target, Ace Hardware or Applebees. The Target gift card I won in the draw helped buy cereal and bread as it's getting to the end of the month and funds are tight. I'm good now until pay day.

The white elephant gifts are rather interesting. Last year, I got three of those 4x6 photo albums that were so popular about 5-6 years ago. In my mind's eye, I have this "great" idea that I'd go through all my photos, print out photos of interest to my daughter and my nieces and return the books to them as Christmas presents. Of course, that never got done before the hard drive crashed taking any photos that weren't uploaded to my  Flickr account with it. (A friend is going to have a go at it so there is always hope.) Then, I had the bright idea that I'd scan all these old photos, print them out and give them to my siblings. That's still an idea but it would help if I had a working scanner at home. Step 1. Buy a new computer. So these albums sit in the crafting pile, full of good intentions but we'll see if those intentions get beyond just that, intentions.

This year's gift is shown above. The piece comes with a Certificate of Authenticity. (I'm expecting you to "ooh" and "aah" in the appropriate places.) The certificate reads, " Dazzlers Collectibles proudly and honorably presents an exquisite line of cherished collectibles: jewelry boxes, picture frames and decorations. Each piece is meticulously crafted from fine pewter and most are coated in solid 24kt gold. it is then hand enameled and lavishly inlaid with genuine Austrian crystals by skilled artisans. This collection is issued in limited editions and will be valuable keepsakes for those who possess them for years to come." On the back of the certificate, there is the "since 1978" notation.

Let's ignore the typo. This isn't very big, maybe 3 inches, tops. I took it out of the box, set it on the dressing table in the sunshine and was nearly blinded. That's a lot of Austrian crystals there. The thing about the white elephant gift is you don't know who had it and parted with it. Oh sure, if you know hand writing, you can sort of figure out x gift was from Aunt Debbie, but I didn't see a tag on this so I can't deduce whose this might have been originally. I think that's what makes it more fun. If this was given to my sister, who, in their right mind, thought it was the 'perfect' gift for a woman who spends most of her time out of doors. Perfume attracts bugs. So, I giggle at the thought that someone perhaps gave this to my sister.

What am I going to do with it? Well, I'm ignoring the 'valuable collectible' idea. I can't see this being any more valuable than the original bottle in which perfume or cologne comes.What was cool about this is that it came with a funnel. I've had perfume bottles before, lovely things in pretty glass, where getting the cologne into them has been an exercise in major spillage and frustration. A small plastic funnel. What a concept!

I'm actually thinking of using it. Last year, I started using up these small bottles of cologne, the freebies given out by comely lasses as you walk through the department store. I'm down to 4 of those tester bottles left from the 10 I had back in July. Then, I need to look through what I have and decide the next batch of scents to work on. In the 1920's, fashionable ladies had a bottle of a special scent on their dresser and one that they took with them when they traveled. I could combine small bottles of the same scent into this. It could be a novelty.

And then, it could go back in the box to be passed to someone this coming Christmas. We joked about how we could have one or two gifts that just get passed back and forth every year. Maybe it's an ugly vase and your task it so glue something else to it. Maybe I could give this at Christmas, filled with a scent that I wouldn't wear if you paid me. Given the number of celebrities with eponymous scents, I'm sure I can find one that, "whoa", that'll take paint off a wall.

If I were my family, I'd be worried now.

Beverage:  Darjeeling tea

Deb

Why That Memory?

Memory is such a fickle thing. I can't remember where I put my car keys, but I had a memory spring into mind, totally unbidden, and fresh as if I'd had it happen yesterday.

There is an anniversary approaching. One year ago, my friend, April, was involved in a car accident. She hit black ice on her way to work and then hit a retaining wall. Had it not been for the airbags in her car, she would have been seriously injured. Her husband, Perry, took to Facebook to announce her accident. There was silence for hours for those of us too far away to be contacted quickly. It was evening before we learned she was shaken and bruised and very sore, but okay.

Why remember that? It came, like a flash, through my mind over the weekend; totally unbidden and quite unexpected. I wasn't really thinking about them. I think about my friends daily, offering a silent, "Hope you have a good day" to the ether in desire to send them good wishes. But actually thinking about them? No, I wasn't consciously. Suddenly, the event was just there, in the forefront of my memory and I could see, in my mind's eye, the photos Perry posted of the car.

Other memories came sweeping back last weekend. We got 6 inches of snow from Friday mid-morning to Saturday early morning. We were sent home around 2:45 so that those with longer drives would make it home in decent time. There is a school bus stop just north of the house. I heard the bus come by and stop.

I took the bus to school all my years from kindergarten to senior year. I did get a car in my senior year but sometimes it was needed by a parent so I would wind up taking the bus. We had a garage out by the road. It was strategically placed, I realized in later years, so that if you had to shovel to get out, you didn't have to shovel the long, long drive from the house to the road. We never used the garage as anything but storage so we still wound up shoveling.

You would stand in the garage, which faced north, to watch for the school bus as it headed up the road to the house. In the spring and fall, you'd stand out by the road unless it was raining. In the winter, the garage was a very necessary shelter from the cold.

As I watched the few kids who do ride the bus (This bus is for middle school kids.) get off, I remembered the cold. I remembered getting off as a storm was bearing down on us and I could feel the sting of wind-driven snow. I went to school during the last vestiges of my public school requiring female students to wear skirts or dresses. In the winter, we could wear pants under our skirts but those had to be removed when you got to school. I can remember times where we'd just grab our pants and go to the bus, either putting them on after we took our seats or carrying them home. It was such a hassle. If you chose not to put your pants on, your bare legs would be ice cold from the walk to the house after getting off the bus.

I haven't thought of my elementary school winters in decades. I don't know what the trigger was for April's memory. The trigger for my grade school past was hearing and seeing the bus stop in the storm. I don't know that the memories mean anything overarching, like dreams do. They were just called up from the great filing cabinet that is my brain.

As I get older and I have days where I can't remember anything, I worry, as perhaps most of us my age do, that the demon of dementia is creeping up on me. I can't find my car keys. I leave my carefully prepared lunch on the stove. I do a load of wash and forget it's in the machine. I don't know where I put my slippers. I take a message because someone is on another call and forget to give it to them until 2 hours later. My doctor said several years ago when I voiced my concerns to him about memory loss, that I have reached the age where there is a lot to remember in my life. If I really stopped to think about the things I do and all the years I have of things I've done, I have much more to remember than a college student. Therefore, it stands to reason that in all the processing my brain does, some things are going to get lost.

What we suddenly remember, what suddenly springs to mind totally unbidden, is quite interesting. I can remember, with vivid detail, something I'd truly like to forget and the surprise birthday party my parents threw me on my 18th birthday is nowhere to be found other than, yeah, it happened. Today is my sister's birthday. I can remember a rather loud argument we had during preparations for her wedding. I'm trying to remember times when we had fun together in spite of the 6 year age difference. Those memories, rather than the yelling at each other, are what I long to remember. I've had my brother ask me, "Remember when x happened?" and I haven't a clue. How can he remember something like that when I can't remember, some days, what I had for breakfast?

So, I'm back to why remember that April's car accident anniversary is close? April is well, hale and hearty and has spent the past year in physical transformation. She's an incredible inspiration, "brave", for those who get the inside joke. Maybe this memory popping in the conscious is a mini reminder to tell her how much she means to those of us who know her, how what she's done this past year is nothing short of remarkable.

Now that I've done that, do you know what I did with that list of things I needed to get done today?

Beverage:  Darjeeling tea

Deb

Genetics

When you get your family together, particularly if there are children younger than 3, invariably the conversation turns to "Who does x look like?" Of course we did that this weekend. My thoughts, however, turned to the larger issue of genetics and how I am alike and different from my family.

Here's the four of us with mom.

I resemble my mother. In fact, a couple of people at the open house remarked that they didn't know Sandy had a sister. "I'm her oldest daughter. She's an only child." There is no way to not feel stupid after you make a remark like that regardless of how much I said I wasn't offended. People remarked it was obvious we were related because we do look alike and, right now, I have the same gait that she does. Mom's had knee problems too although her's are because of age. She didn't fall. She's not clumsy.

My niece, Christina, remarked that she hopes my sister, my mom and I never live together because we sound alike on the phone. "I would never be able to tell the three of you apart and I just know you'd figure out a way to confuse me more because of that." Who? Us?

In conversation, my mom, sister and I all have cold feet, particularly in the winter. My sister wears socks to bed almost year 'round. I'm not that bad but I do have a heating pad on the bed where my feet are in an effort to be comfortable. With three of us having cold feet, it's got to be genetic. So we wonder if other female cousins have cold feet. "Hey," Sharyn said. "Let's conduct a poll on Facebook and see." I'm actually thinking that might be an interesting thing to start a conversation with my cousins. I can't remember if my daughter has cold feet in the winter or not.

Genetics really comes into play when you have the little ones around. Witness my niece Christina and her family. These three kids couldn't look more alike if you'd custom mixed their DNA. They all have similar temperaments, too.

Think back to your primary school years. I'll bet you can remember the kids who had siblings that didn't bear any resemblance to them; the brown haired blue-eyed girls with the blond haired brown-eyed brother. I remember the twins who could pass for each other and sometimes did because teachers had difficulty telling them apart and the boy-girl twins who didn't look anything alike. When Christina's kids smile, they are the spitting image of each other. It is really neat to see.

The youngest of the next generation is kind of hard to place. Harlee Kay was born in June. Right now, she doesn't quite have features we can put with either mom or dad. What she does have are 'chipmunk cheeks'. She has the sweet disposition of Christina's kids and the bright blue eyes of the Thompson side of the family. My sister is rather irritated that no one has produced brown-eyed kids. "You better be getting on that, right now," she said. Yes, Christina and Amber rolled their eyes. Mom has the brown eyes. Dad had the blue eyes as did his father and his father before him. Gotta hand down something in the family.

Part of the weekend was devoted to going through boxes mom has stored, deciding what we wanted and what really needs to be given away. We stumbled upon a photo of Christina at age 6. She held it up, showed it to her daughter and said, "Who is this?" Makayla's eyes grew wide and she said, "That's me!" Honestly, it could have been. The resemblance was uncanny.

When Carole was 3, I found a photo of my sister at that age. They could have been sisters, the resemblance was so strong.

In an age where DNA can find a lot of things and the sci-fi stories of designing your own kids don't seem that far off, the natural progression of traits through a family is a beautiful thing to see.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

"I didn't come all this way not to have some family bonding, dammit."

Saturday night, my brother, Daniel, called the house to get information on the where and whens of this event. He made some remark about not showing up for the event and my sister, Sharyn, made the above comment. That became the running joke.

We're not the closest of families. Each one of us lives our lives pretty much out of the orbit of the other siblings. There's nothing necessarily good, bad or indifferent about that, it's just the way we've evolved. The boys live closest to mom while Sharyn and I live farther away. Life took us to Michigan and Illinois, respectively. We've had our periods of silence when someone's life seemed to be heading in a not very positive direction. We don't really keep in touch, but I like to think, as we've grown older, the value in staying somewhat connected has dawned on us. We'll never be calling each other monthly, let alone daily as some siblings do, but we won't snap at each other quite so much as we have in the past.

So, it is a pretty big deal when we can all get together.

We know that it made both mom and Dale extremely happy to have all of us there. For my part, although mom said I could be excused due to the need to go up and down stairs around her house, there was never a doubt that I wouldn't be there.

Dan drove out to the farm early so we could all go together to the church hall, mainly because we weren't exactly sure where it was in town. I knew it was off the main drag and all we had to do was look for a lot of cars. The first thing he did when he walked into the house was grab me, hug me and say, "I'm here for my bonding!" Thanks to Sharyn and her "family bonding" comment, we would, occasionally, stop and say, "family bonding moment" and hug some unprepared sibling, niece or nephew. It's the kind of thing that can be perpetuated for a long, long time, every time we get together. "Ooooh! Family bonding moment!" Grab. Hug.

As Dan was preparing to head home, we had to capture the "bonding moment". And a new tradition is born.

Beverage:  Dr Pepper

Deb

Day 10- The first novel you remember reading

Today's book challenge post is much easier than yesterday's. I was even quite surprised that one of the books I chose is still available and I could find a photo of the cover.

My mother is a voracious reader. I don't remember a time when she didn't read. I don't have memories of her reading to me, but I do have memories of being taken to the Monona Public Library, sitting at the kids table and being allowed to page through books with incredible pictures while she went to the left, into those dark stacks and came out with two or three books that didn't have pictures. Why would you want to read something that just had words on the page? Pictures make the words come alive.

I believe mom was encouraged to read by her parents. My grandmother received, probably, 6-8 different magazines every month and read each one of them. She read the newspaper, all of it, ads and everything. I don't remember my grandfather having books around, but he was a numismatist, an antique's dealer and a philatelist, and I remember magazines devoted to those hobbies lying around. My grandfather's parents had a few books in their home.

Reading was encouraged in all of us kids. My brothers don't read as my sister and I do. My ex-husband came from a family of readers so it would be natural to hand down the love of reading and the love of books to Carole. She's a couple days ahead of me on this challenge and her answer to this theme was her father's Hardy Boys books.

As I aged, the public library became a more wondrous place. Girl Scouts was in the basement of this building, the town hall. The library was just beyond the town clerk and the mayor's office. I can smell the smell that greeted you when you scampered up the stairs, across the lobby to the large wooden doors that said "Public Library" on them. The librarians were two ladies everyone knew and they made it their business to recommend books.

I think, the summer between 3rd and 4th grade is when I made the transition to non-illustrated chapter books. We went to the library and the librarian suggested I start reading Nancy Drew. She said the beauty of these books was that there were more of them in this series, meaning Nancy and her friends, these characters I could get to know, would have more adventures. Well, okay, I'll give it a try.

I don't know if I read The Secret of the Old Clock first. That is the first one in the series. I do know that once I started reading these, I was hooked.

At the time I was reading them, new books were showing up in the library every 6-10 weeks. I wasn't the only 4th grader reading Nancy Drew and 3 of us would, before Girl Scouts, go to the library to see if a new book was in. We had read all the others so a new one was a treasure. But, we did have arguments over who had checked out the last new book so whose "turn" it was to check the newest book out first.

That's when the librarian stepped in and said she would start a list. She would keep tabs on who checked out the book first and rotate it between the three of us. It was a good system. If one of us came in and found the newest book on the shelf but it wasn't our "turn" to check it out, she would call and find out if we were going to come in soon or could she let someone else check it out. I think this lasted a year before we moved on to other books.

In the back of my mind, there is the idea that there was a series I read before Nancy Drew, but Nancy Drew is the chapter book I remember most clearly.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Wedding Number 2

Mr. and Mrs. Blake Kjoes. 

This is my eldest niece, Christina and her husband, Blake, leaving the church after their wedding on June 11. Christina had a big wedding. There were 6 bridesmaids and 6 groomsmen. Her colors were burgundy and lemon yellow which, when you first think about it, don't strike you as going together. But, as the decorations on the table show, they worked very well together. 

Blake and Christina have been together for 5 years now. They have three kids, Makayla, Wyatt and Kalub. The wedding was kind of the icing on the cake of their relationship. They have had their ups and downs but they obviously love each other and this event showed everyone how much love they have.

I think the best part was seeing my youngest brother in a tux. Yes, we teased him about how nicely he cleans up. That's my other brother, Steve. My sister, Sharyn, is in the Outer Banks of North Carolina working for the National Audubon Society counting birds so getting back was an impossibility for her. The outfit for Carole's wedding made appearance number 2 here.

It was also nice to see my niece, Amber, who is expecting her first child any second now, as I type this. Here we all are, with Steve's wife, Diane and my mother.

As part of the whole event, all the women in the bridal party went to a local cosmetology school to have their hair done by the students. You do have to sign a waiver that you know these are supervised students and you understand the risks associated with having students do your hair. But there is a tremendous cost savings. As all the attendants had long hair, there were curls all over the place. There was one oops. I mention it because it was striking to me.

My mother has lovely salt and pepper hair. It's more salt than pepper now, but it's curled and she takes a curling iron to it and it looks very nice. She looked lovely at Carole's wedding.

She was having her hair done by a gal at the school. It had been spritzed and sprayed and the gal started in with the curling iron and it changed color. My mom became a strawberry blonde. I'm told it was a little more strawberry than blonde but they were able to tone down the red.

I picked up Steve and Diane and drove them to the wedding. When we walked into the church, I wasn't quite sure where mom was. Then I spotted her husband Dale and the woman sitting next to him stood up. "That's my mother?" I thought. "What happened to her hair?" Now, it's not obnoxious, in fact, it's quite elegant. They did a wonderful job of styling it and making it frame her face perfectly. She does, however, look very much like her mother. Gram's hair was strawberry blonde to the day she died. It was quite interesting to see Gram. When I pointed it out, my mom agreed. In a way, it was nice to think that Gram was with us at this very special event.

After the mid-afternoon wedding, Christina and Blake drove around to various bars. There is a custom where if a bride walks into a bar, people supposedly buy the party a round of drinks. I'm not familiar with that "custom", but they were off to frequent some spots in Cedar Rapids as well as have more photos taken.

The meal was buffet-style followed by dancing. We had our choice of chocolate or vanilla cake. Christina and Blake danced their first dance to Frank Sinatra and "The Way You Look Tonight". I'm finding a number of "kids" chose that song as their first dance. Frank does a great job with it but you really need to rent the movie Top Hat and watch Fred sing it to Ginger. Her dress was light blue in the movie.

One of the amusing things in the dancing was the selection of 1970's-era music to dance to. Yes, I do know all the words to all these songs. It was like walking into my senior prom or attending the weddings of my high school friends. Perhaps it's a reflection of the kind of music produced today. There's nothing that's really danceable. You have to go backwards, back to a time that often gets derided for the quality of music, to find love songs and danceable songs.

It was a fun event. It was nice to be with family and to celebrate a milestone.

Beverage:  Huckleberry Tea

Deb

A Gift of Special Importance

After several years of exchanging gifts with everyone in the family, we went to a draw names gift exchange. With spouses, it was getting kind of out of hand for us. Usually, around Thanksgiving, someone would volunteer to toss everyone's name in the hat and you draw. The only rule was you weren't being assigned an immediate family member's name. Hence, I couldn't get Carole's name. Sometimes, that simply required assigning people names if the draws didn't go quite right. This year, I got my sister. But I decided to, finally, give everyone a present I have had in pieces for 5 years.

When my mother turned 70, we all got together to celebrate. We took her out for dinner and breakfast. After breakfast, she wanted a photo of all her kids and grandkids. We did a shortest to tallest photo but that didn't come out very well. Then someone hit on the idea of climbing the apple tree in the yard. This was the result.

 

I had 5x7's made for everyone and had them matted. That step sat in a bag in my home office for the next 4 years. In November, I finally finished my part of the project. I took vellum, printed everyone's birth date and glued the name and date onto the mat in line with their photo. This was then professionally framed in complimentary colored metal frames. They came out beautifully. 

Upon opening their packages, my siblings and nieces could not remember when the photo was taken. They remember it being taken but not when. 

In the 5 years since this was taken, we have acquired 3 great-grandchildren (a new one just this past Sunday), one on the way and 5 significant others. We're probably about due for another photo but getting everyone together is the problem. It's something to shoot for. I just shouldn't wait 5 years to get the result framed. 

Beverage:  Scottish Blend tea

Deb

Happy Birthday, Sis!

Today is my sister's birthday. I'm having fun with the scanner in the office since my home scanner doesn't want to work.

First week of September 1970, before school.

I can't seem to get the photos square, however.

Spitting watermelon seeds at the gas station where dad worked. That's him in the background. They were having an open house event over July 4th, 1976. You had to get the seeds into a box and you won a prize.

 

And finally, on a merry-go-round at Paul Bunyan State Park in Bemidji, Minnesota in 1973.

Hope your birthday is special.



Beverage:  Blackberry Sage Tea


Deb

Xylophone is Never on a Billboard

When I was growing up, we farmed. Farm families rarely get what could be termed a "vacation". Someone has to come milk the cows and feed the pigs. Forget a summer vacation because there might be hay to bring in or corn to cultivate. School runs from the end of August to the end of May. The best you could do was drive to a cousin's for an extended weekend, assuming you could find someone to watch the animals.

My dad had wanderlust. He loved to travel. He liked farming, it's what he knew, the life he grew up in. But he really wanted to travel. Once he sold the milk cows and got out of that, we went places and did things.

We went to the Black Hills in 1972. Dad took a look at the map and saw how close this place called "Devil's Tower" was, so, we crossed into Wyoming and drove to see that. This was waaaay before Steven Spielberg turned it into an icon for alien life enthusiasts. I went back in 1974 but have not been back since.

We went to Chattanooga, Tennessee in 1974. It was part of a two week vacation that saw us leave Iowa, heading east, hang a right towards Indianapolis, head south to the Gulf of Mexico at Mobile, Alabama, turn right and drive over Lake Pontchartrain in Louisiana, turn around and head north along the Mississippi, through St. Louis and home again. It was great, even if, at times, you wanted to kill your siblings. My friend, Jon, lives in Chattanooga and says the view from Lookout Mountain hasn't changed all that much although there is more development. That cannon, he says, is still there.

I couldn't, and still can't, read in a moving car or bus, without getting motion sickness. I can do cross-stitch and I remember knitting and crocheting, but while my sister and brothers could read, I was left watching the scenery. I also wound up taking 90% of the photos so you'll rarely see me in any of them. I would get bored and we kids would get antsy. Somewhere along the line, my mother stumbled across a book of travel games. It was a big, thick book that had word searches, crosswords, finish the photo, match the picture, all sorts of games. It was passed around to each of us and we could do one thing from it. Crossword puzzles didn't seem to bother me so I would do one of those, which sparked lively discussions of a 5-letter word for a container, usually for beer. My mother has a great vocabulary and my dad would, occasionally, surprise everyone with what he knew.

At the back of this book were suggestions for games that could be played without paper or pencil and required simple observation. One of our family favorites was called "Bury the Cow". In this game, you picked a side of the road and counted the cows as you passed them. If you passed a cemetery, you lost your cows and had to start over. At first, this was a fun game to occupy the 2 hour drive to grandma's. But, as there weren't a lot of routes between Monona and Cedar Rapids, you eventually figured out, if we took Highway 13, the person on the right side of the car was going to lose. There were more cemeteries on the right side of the road than on the left.

For long road trips, particularly ones involving Interstate driving, another game became a family favorite. Called the "Billboard Alphabet Game", the premise was finding a word on a billboard, street sign, or building name that started with a letter of the alphabet. Everyone could play and what letter you got depended upon who started, and stayed because sometimes someone would drop out, in the game.

One grew to hate certain letters, however. Why does "Kwik-Trip" have to be spelled that way? There are only so many "Dairy Queens" around. "V" wasn't much better. At least with "U", traveling on the Interstate would net you the "No U-Turn" signs. Shell's "V-Power" gas hadn't been invented yet.

"X" is, absolutely, the worst letter to get in this game. Even the book said someone getting "x" could use a word that contained the letter and not try to find a word that started with "x". Back when we were traveling as a family, triple X stores weren't that common on our routes. Thank heaven for "Exit 263" ahead.

As a parent, I handed down the Billboard Alphabet Game to my daughter. It really is a great game to play with kids, particularly kids learning the alphabet. It teaches not only words, but also observation. I find myself, on long drives, such as going to Connecticut to visit Carole and David in November, playing the game in my head. "Okay, I need an 'F'." It's a great way to pass the time on a drive.

Now that you've read this post, I'm willing to bet on your next drive, you'll be more observant, looking for words that start with the more obscure letters. Let me know if you find something other than "XXX-Rated!!!"

Beverage:  Irish Breakfast Tea

Deb