Archives for category: Memories

Motherhood…if you know nothing.

May 27, 2013 //

I played with dolls a lot when I was little, was the oldest child, did a little bit of babysitting…but wasn’t thinking about being a mother at all. I married when I was barely 21 and wanted to live happily ever after. The craziness of birth control in the 1960s was supposed to be sure fire and make it so I didn’t have to think about it. I went on birth control pills, like we all did, and then found that the high strength of the ones they used then was making me gain weight and have migraines. Off of those and on to something else…and I got pregnant on that one. Hmmm. I’d only been married nine months and we’d even gotten a dog to keep us from thinking about having kids. Farthest thing from our minds.

When it was obvious that something was up, I went to the doctor – no home pregnancy tests in those days. They called to tell me that the test was positive. Positive what? Positive I am or positive I’m not? That’s how little I knew. My husband was so excited that he called all our friends and we had a party. They did…I remember sitting there by myself wondering what in the world this was going to be like…don’t remember if I was scared or it was just such an unknown.

Being in college, I immediately started reading what the doctor gave me and anything else I could find. My mother got me the newest edition of Better Homes & Gardens Baby Book, the instruction book she had used when she had me. How many times did I read that? I was in graduate school, so it was probably like studying for a final that was coming up months away, a long semester.

I threw up a lot, slept a lot, read the book to make sure I was doing it right. My mother took me shopping for maternity clothes, pretty hideous in those days, although I did have some cute mini-length dresses. My mother-in-law made me a couple of tops. I ate lots of ice cream – good excuse. I’d quit teaching, graduate assistant in Freshman comp, since the baby was due the first week in June, so I read a lot. The only book I can remember is Rosemary’s Baby, which was probably not the best choice. But humorous. My husband and I always joked about the chocolate mousse. You have to read the book or see the movie…

So, I lazied along, getting bigger, looking more and more like a knocked-up teenager, waddling along. We felt the baby kick, I began to feel like a turtle on its back when I laid down. I read the name books over and over, searching for the absolutely perfect name. I didn’t want something that could be a nickname, so I went with a cute name with a more traditional middle name, picking a name from one of my favorite childhood stories if this was a girl, something more Scottish sounding if it was a boy. No tests to see if it was a boy or a girl…waiting to see.

May 27 came along and I felt funny. My husband went to his part-time job at the pizza place, classes may have been over for the semester. I kept thinking this was really bad gas, getting up and going back to bed. Afternoon, he was home and we decided to call the doctor. They said to come over and checked me, saying I needed to get to the hospital, I was halfway there. See? What did I know? I said goodbye to my husband as he headed for the father’s waiting room. No fathers in the delivery back then. They prepped me and I waited. It never got too bad, or the drugs they gave me made me forget. I had a spinal, and then she was born…my first child, my first daughter. When I woke up, my husband was there, so excited. He could only see her through the nursery window and I only saw her at appointed times. When they brought her to me, I couldn’t believe it. She was so beautiful…love at first sight. I fell back asleep and woke to find my father sitting beside me. I asked him what he was doing…he’d driven to Stillwater from Tulsa and couldn’t see the baby this late. He had come to see his baby. On the way, he’d stopped and run into my father-in-law returning from seeing his baby, my husband. Our mothers thought it was the funniest thing…very sweet.

In a couple of days, we took her home. No car seat, no instructions. Off on our own. We took her to her room and put her in her crib, held our dog up to see who this newest member of the family was, and just stared. She stared back solemnly. She knew! She knew she had been born to the most ignorant parents in the world and there was no way they could get this right. Anyone who knows her today understands the look. We burst out laughing. Thank God for our senses of humor. And I marveled every day at this little perfect miracle of ours. Such a love as I had never known…

My mother came over for a couple of days. I think she slept in a chair in our duplex or on the sofa. She was a big help…the two of us opened the baby book, propped it up on the changing table and followed the photo directions for changing, bathing, feeding. Awesome. We laughed a lot. After a couple of days, she started going home each night, 1 1/2 hour drive, and coming back in the morning. She wanted to be with my father and she didn’t want to intrude on my husband and me. Incredible mother! I learned to use the newest thing, Playtex bottles with disposable liners, boiling the nipples and lids every day as I made a refrigerator full of formula. Breast feeding was just beginning to make a comeback, which is an odd thing to say. Only a few hippies were doing it then. Regardless, the baby thrived, never had allergies, and grew very fast. We had a diaper service since we didn’t have a washer and dryer, used the new disposable diapers for trips. Very few gadgets actually. We didn’t need them.

We started taking her home to Tulsa in a couple of weeks and my mother would dress her up and we would drive around to show her off to her friends. I was one of my first friends to have a baby. Actually, at 22, I had been one of the oldest mothers in the hospital. I would have been a younger mother today.

It doesn’t suck to have the first grandchild on both sides. We got lots of help and lots of attention. Thank goodness! We didn’t need it later. The months went on and we got better and better at it. When she was about four months old, I got her to smile at us. We were driving and she was in her carrier in my lap…no car seats or seat belts, for this matter. I was reciting nursery rhymes to her while we ran errands and was saying, “Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?”…and she smiled. Miracle of all miracles. We were passing her test and making it as parents. She was beginning to think we might pull this off!

After she was born, I had an IUD inserted, thinking there were no hormones associated with this. A little over a year later, I felt like I had so much love overflowing from this baby that we should have another one. The IUD was removed and I got pregnant almost immediately. Getting pregnant was never my problem…wish I could have shared that ability with those who need it. Another girl. The pregnancy was very different but having another baby was a piece of cake. Two adorable little girls we loved with all our hearts.

A couple of years passed and we decided to go for another one…maybe we’d have a boy this time, not that it mattered. Pregnant quickly again. Easy pregnancy, third girl was born. We were done…three beautiful little girls. Motherhood was the best thing I’d ever done. My husband was a great father, we were enjoying it all, having so much fun watching them grow up. I loved it all, so surprised that this was where I found my joy.

A couple of years later, I was pregnant again…unplanned. Who plans their second and third children and has four? It was almost scandalous at the time. People were into zero population growth, only have two children to replace themselves, and here we were having four. Oh well. We made sure this would be our last…good grief…and waited for the next one. Amazingly, the last one was a boy! More joy for all of us, although four girls would have been precious. The story went on and on.

Some women are meant to be mothers, some aren’t, and some of us just get thrown into it like jumping off a cliff. It was the biggest blind leap I ever took. It’s been educational, thrilling, scary, emotional, frustrating, exasperating, fun, silly, sweet and loving. I wouldn’t ever trade this experience. My grandchildren are a joy, but it is even better to watch my children as parents, having the same journey I had. Forty-five years ago today, I stepped off the cliff and became a mother. It’s filled my heart ever since!

Tags birth, birth control, children, grandparents, motherhood, parents

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections

Pool’s Open!

May 25, 2013 //

Not much is more exciting than the first trip to the pool in the summer! My friend in Montana is still battling snow and in Oklahoma we’re sunbathing. Like everything else, your excitement varies along with your age. Watching the pure joy in my 3 1/2 year old granddaughter’s face was priceless.

The older kids are a little more blasé, especially the ones who have their own pool at home, but they still look forward to it. For the moms and dads, it’s a signal for a break from the school year routine, a break before the new summer routine. For grandparents, it’s just pure fun to watch your kids and grandkids enjoy fun in the sun together, whether it’s the pool, the lake, the ocean.

Of course, there’s the flood of memories that come with age…mental pictures of yourself as a child, your own children splashing in the water, the cries of “Mommy, Mommy, watch me,” repeated so many times that I still turn when I hear any child saying those words. Automatically. Strong conditioned reflex.

Today, my youngest grandchild is tall enough to go down the big slide…she ran to the measuring stick first thing. At 3 she remembered that from last summer. She’s tall, so she made it! I told her she had to wait for me to be at the bottom to catch her since she can’t swim yet. I forced myself into the icy water…it may be hot out, but the water hasn’t caught up yet…and stood there, waiting. A dad asked me if it wasn’t freezing in there and I told him I would only do this for a grandchild. YIKES! The look on her face as she approached the end of the slide will be etched in my heart forever. She did it!

But…dang it…that’s another milestone passed. They grow up so so fast! She’s be racing through each step of growing up at a pace I want to keep up with. I’m grateful for each step I get to share with these kids and their parents. Here’s to the fun times of summer and making memories for them to remember as they watch their own children and grandchildren. That’s how we roll…

Tags family, memories, Oklahoma, pool, summer

Categories Friends, Memories, Reflections, Seasons

Living with Tornadoes

May 21, 2013 //

As a life-long Oklahoman, I know about tornadoes. Not that I’ve ever seen one, but I know a lot about them. Our weather forecasts are intense during the season with everyone looking for the red on the radar maps, recognizing the appearance of a hook showing circulation, just like we’re experts.

I was trying to remember tornadoes as a child in the 50s & 60s in Tulsa. We hadn’t seen The Wizard of Oz until it became an annual event on television. There were no videos or DVDs to play. The weathercasts on television were relatively new and showed maps with vague forecasts. In grade school, I don’t remember doing tornado drills, but I remember bomb drills. I think we got under our desks, a big deal in the 50s. We also did fire drills. Tornado drills? Not that I remember. There was a time we began to go to the hallways…when was that? I’m sure that was a tornado drill.

In 8th grade, we had a unit on weather and learned to identify all the clouds. Part of the assignment was watching the weather on television and learning to follow what they were talking about. Still not a lot on tornadoes. Isn’t that strange? I know we must have had them. My parents never talked about them or acted scared, but we also didn’t have 24/7 weather and news.

In college, I was in Stillwater at Oklahoma State University, where the wind whips across the plains and the campus. I remember tornadoes then for sure. We knew to go to the basement. During my first year of marriage, we had to evacuate to a local funeral home, crammed in with other people in a building built of solid walls. After we moved back to Tulsa, there was a time when my husband, children, the dog and I huddled under a mattress in our hallway while a tornado roared overhead close to us. Then we lived in a house with a basement and took refuge there on occasion. The day of my middle daughter’s wedding, we were sitting on the basement stairs, away from the basement windows, waiting out a storm.

Tulsa hasn’t had as many tornadoes as other parts of the state for whatever reason you want to hang on it. The older parts of town are supposedly protected by the river and by the advice of the Indians to build the city there where it wouldn’t be hit. That doesn’t help the people who live in the expanded city limits away from that legendary protection, of course. At one time, I volunteered for and then worked for the American Red Cross, teaching disaster preparedness, trained in disaster response. Shoes, flashlights, blankets, radios, a communications plan, and all the things you should know for any type of disaster. I bombarded my grown children with information to keep their families safe. It’s still my number one place to send funds in a disaster because I know they will get the money to the victims and back into the communities.

For people who don’t live in tornado-prone areas, let me tell you that we do take them seriously. Our weather experts are the best and we listen and watch intently. It’s a great way to learn your state’s geography as you watch a storm move through tiny towns you’ve never heard of. But, there are all kinds of disasters in life and each is as tragic or life-changing as the others to the people who are in it. Floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, fires, ice storms…I’ve been through all of those and they are pretty horrific. Man-made disasters are even more frightening in these days of terrorists and shooters and bombs.

In Oklahoma, we’ve had our share of tough times. Try the Dust Bowl for starters…there’s a disaster that went on for a decade! We are a stoic people, people of the land that is grand! We stand up to all the troubles that are blown our way with a sense of responsibility to each other, to help each other get back up. We’re awfully good at hugs. We care about each other. Today, I was driving home from a quick vacation in the south eastern part of the state. The trip was cut a few hours short in order to get home the safest way possible with the storms. When I saw clouds like these…

…I knew that a tornado could drop out at any time, whirling right at me. I wasn’t particularly worried, although I did look for a bar ditch to lay flat in for a worst case solution. There was something majestic about the storm clouds…you have to respect them. And be so very thankful that you and your family are safe for another day.

Tears and prayers and hugs for the victims of our latest storms…in Shawnee and Moore this week. Stay safe Oklahoma!

Tags American Red Cross, Oklahoma, Oklahoma State University, tornado

Categories Family, Friends, Memories, Places, Reflections, Seasons

Mommy Me

May 11, 2013 //

2

The only things that prepared me for being a Mommy were my own terrific mother and grandmothers and my ability to read anything I could on the subject. And my friends as we shared parenthood and its adventures together. I was one of the first of my friends to have a baby and I was still in college, graduate school, so I hadn’t been around any babies. I was the oldest child in my family, but we were close enough together that I didn’t remember anything about taking care of them.

I was a novice with a Better Homes & Gardens Baby Book propped open on the changing table to show me what to do. I was a good student, so I guess I approached it that same way. It was funny at the time and funnier now that I’ve had four children and eight grandchildren. That’s the first thing you’d better learn – to laugh at yourself. My husband and I often would look at each other and burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

A fantasy book I wanted to write while in the thick of motherhood was going to start “I had no idea how much shit I was going to handle in my lifetime…” I meant that literally and figuratively. To be more polite, let’s change that to messes of one sort or another. There’s the messy bottoms, faces, and vomit at the bottom of that mess pile. We can throw in the pet messes along with that – dogs, cats, hamsters, rabbits, chameleons. What else did we have? Then there are just messes that kids make. How many Legos have I picked up in my lifetime? Star Wars characters with their itsy bitsy guns? Blocks, books, balls of all kinds, shoes, socks…it goes on and on. Some of my kids were neat and some were messy. A couple lived their teen years in rooms so bad that we just closed the door – I’d learned not to pick up for them by then. There were cooking messes…

and dirt and mud, especially when I had a soccer goalie daughter who didn’t mind wallowing in the muddy goal. I never seemed to have towels in the car to get her home.

And then there were life messes to clean up. Hurt feelings, anger, bad tempers, broken hearts, disappointments. You grit your teeth and pick up the physical messes. You gird your heart to take care of life’s breaks and falls.

Being a Mommy was the best thing that ever happened to me…still. I’ve been through the worst of it and the best of it and would do it all again. That would be in another lifetime…I’ve earned my stripes in this one. My son called me Mom and my girls call me Mommy. My daughter-in-law calls me Karen. They’ve grown up to be wonderful adults and parents and I’m so proud of them and for them.

Being a Mommy is a great class that never stops teaching you about yourself. You learn how far you can be pushed before you break into anger, laughter, or tears. You laugh a lot at the adorable things your children and grandchildren do and say and at yourself along the way. You are angry at yourself, at them, at others when they do the wrong thing or someone wrongs them. You learn that life isn’t fair, your children aren’t perfect, you can take on way more than you think. You learn that you cry for them, with them, and when they accomplish something big or small. I’ve cried through some pretty silly school programs. It could be that the most uncontrollable tears of all are the ones of pride.

Most of all you learn that your heart is way bigger than before they came into it. You learn that it swells with pride and a love you never understood before. You learn that it can be broken and that they help it heal.

This Mother’s Day weekend, I rejoice in the lessons this Mommy has learned. I remember with gratitude the love that I was surrounded with from my own Mommy and grandmothers and aunts. I send much love to the precious Mommies in my family who make me so proud of them and their children.

And love to all Mommies out there. Have fun, be proud of what you do and laugh at yourself with joy! Happy Mother’s Day!

Tags children, love, messes, Mommy, mother, Mother's Day, parent

Categories Family, Friends, Holidays, Memories, Reflections

The Me Doll

May 7, 2013 //

0

As a mother, I kept a lot of the kids’ things…pictures, notes, cards. Things that are precious to me. My mother kept a paper carnation I made in preschool or kindergarten, made out of kleenex or something that couldn’t possibly hold up, but she had that poor little limp treasure until she died. Most mothers I know understand the simple sentence in the Bible, speaking of Mary remembering events with her son, “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”

My son was one of those kids that kept you hopping. You had to keep up with him both physically and mentally from day one. Maybe he was born knowing his time would be short, so he had to live fast. Or he was just a funny kid, testing your patience, making you laugh, making you worry, making you smile and love him.

I found his Me Doll the other day. It was a project at pre-school, making a doll that looked like you. Something only a mother would ooh and ahh over. This one had a lot of personality, says the mother. I had to run an errand after I picked him up from school the day he brought it home. We were walking up some stairs and he spotted a mailbox and dropped the doll in the slot. Come on, mothers, you know how you feel. I gritted my teeth and checked the pickup times, finished my errand and sat to wait for the mailman. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long. He retrieved it for us and that was that.

I always think of that story when I look at the funny Me Doll with his stick out hair, his crooked face, the three dots for the private parts. Oh my. These are the things that make you love being a mother – once you get the doll out of the mailbox. These are the things that a mother ponders in her heart. And smiles…

Tags doll, motherhood, parent, preschool

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections, Uncategorized

Giant

May 6, 2013 //

0

One of my favorite all-time movies is “Giant” – maybe my number one. It’s right up there. I saw it for the first time in 1956 when I was 11 years old. My memory is taking my friends to see it for my birthday. Whatever, I loved it then and I love it now. There are movies that begin to seem dated or aren’t as good when you see them years later. This one holds up for me. When it comes on, I can’t stop watching, even though I know it so well.

Edna Ferber wrote the book, creating the characters that told a 25 year story of Texas…cattle…oil…immigration…prejudice…love…family. Bick Benedict, Leslie Benedict, Jett Rink. Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean. No wonder they’ve never had to do it again – they were all magnificent. Great love story, great saga, one of the greatest fight scenes on film. Big vistas, big characters, big story.

The movie was on TV recently and I watched it, even though I have a copy to watch anytime, remembering things I’d forgotten, discovering new moments that mean more to me now than when I was 11. I’ve got the book here to read. Written in 1952, the story covers subjects that I wish weren’t as current as they are. The book has its variations from the movie, but I’m ok with that, even though I hate when movies mess too much with a story.

When it comes on or you get a chance, spend an evening with “Giant.” It sticks with you.

Tags 1952, 1956, Edna Ferber, Elizabeth Taylor, Giant, James Dean, movie, Rock Hudson, Texas

Categories Entertainment, Memories, Reflections

Wanderlust

May 3, 2013 //

0

It’s that time of year when I’m stricken with Wanderlust. “Wanderlust is a strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world” – Wikipedia. The word says it all. I’m ready to go…anywhere, anytime. Wanderlust has many symptoms – desire to see new things or revisit favorite places – desire to see people you miss – desire to explore and, literally, wander – desire to learn – desire to cleanse your soul of the everyday routine and worries of life.

I’ve got a bad case of it, but I’m not sure which way I want to go this year…I’ve been all over the place but there are so many places I haven’t seen, so many places I want to see again. Each time I travel there is something new. The places I saw as a child or earlier in my life have new meanings, look different now. I both know more and learn more. Lately, I’ve been heading west…there’s so much there…but I’ve been east, north, south too…and to other continents…such a rich planet is our earth.

It’s all good. As long as I have my camera to catch memories, help me remember, I’m ready. Here are a few of the places I’ve been in the United States – I’d go back to any of them…or elsewhere around the world…

Florida sunrise

Grand Canyon of Yellowstone

Sunrise over the Tetons

Elephant seals on California coast

Seattle

Grand Canyon

Zion National Park

Monument Valley

Santa Fe

San Francisco

Denali Highway, Alaska

Glacier National Park

I love cities, I love mountains, I love the ocean. Oceans and mountains, running water, green forests…all necessary to restore my soul.

Maps are out, research has begun…where to go? Wanderlust…I’ve got a bad case of it!

Tags Alaska, California coast, Florida, Monument Valley, San Francisco, Santa Fe, Seattle, Tetons, travel, Yellowstone, Zion National Park

Categories Entertainment, History, Memories, Places, Reflections, Travel

Norman Rockwell

April 23, 2013 //

0

When I was growing up, my parents subscribed to lots of magazines, and I read all of them through and through. Many are gone today, but there was Look, Life, Readers Digest, Ladies Home Journal, Newsweek, McCall’s, men’s magazines, women’s magazines, kids’s magazines like Highlights for Children. One of our favorites was the Saturday Evening Post. The Norman Rockwell covers were something to look forward to, knowing they would be something we studied carefully for all the clever details. We were used to his work as an illustrator for ads for Colgate, Kellogg’s, and other companies, instantly recognizable.

In 1999, my son and I took a day trip to Mark Twain’s hometown, Hannibal, Missouri. We were fortunate to arrive during an exhibition of the original paintings for Norman Rockwell’s illustrations for Tom Sawyer. I remember they were large paintings and so much richer than the flat pictures we were so familiar with in our day to day life. They were amazing works and their beauty stayed with me.

Yesterday, I went to see the Norman Rockwell exhibition of over 50 of his paintings and 300+ of his Saturday Evening Post covers at Crystal Bridges Museum in Bentonville, AR. I’ve not a professional art critic, even though I studied art history in college and worked in an art museum for over 7 years, but I do know that Norman Rockwell is a great artist. As is typical for artists in their own era, his work was scoffed at in art circles as too sentimental, too idealistic, although I don’t see what’s wrong with that myself. There are many great artists who included humor and sentiment in their works throughout the ages. An artist in his own time, alas…

The gallery was packed yesterday, mostly with older people (and I have to include myself in that group, shockingly), but it was a Monday. I watched their faces as they listened to the audio guides, studied the paintings. There were tender smiles, chuckles, pensive thinking. The main thing is that everyone was relating to the paintings. What more can art do?

Here are some of my favorites and the reasons why…

This one just made me laugh. It was Rockwell’s take on the recent idea that small towns should use speed traps to raise revenue…

This one also made me laugh and smile and study the details…the grandmother in the back who never changed expressions, the tired parents, the kids in various stages. Who can’t make up a story with these images?

Saying Grace is so sweet that you are silent with them, you want to bow your head. Then you see the details in the curtains, the clothing, the grandmother’s rear sticking through the chair, the grandfather’s cane on the floor. Another story for us to all fill in the extra lines…

My love of Santa is well known and there were some lovely Santa portraits along with all the Christmas covers of the Post. This is still one of my favorites for all of us who keep believing even knowing the evidence…

A Day in the Life of a Girl is so fun, so sweet, with elements that all females will remember. The boy version wasn’t on display, but it’s just as great…

Rosie the Riveter is part of the museum’s collection and a whimsical look at the women who worked at home during World War II. This was a bonus after the travelling exhibition.

Besides the fun, sweet portraits of America as we were at times and would always like to be, there were powerful portraits of Presidents Eisenhower and Kennedy, and two of Rockwell’s most important works during the Civil Rights Movement. The exhibition had preliminary drawings and different drafts of his painting of 3 Civil Rights workers for a powerful, haunting, not-so-pretty picture of a moment in America’s history…

The iconic The Problem We All Live With was so beautiful in person. It was so familiar, such a powerful statement. But, the thing that struck me so strongly was the beauty of the painting, of the work itself. Norman Rockwell was a fabulous painter. His work is so real, so detailed, so skilled. The concrete wall behind the girl felt like real concrete, making me want to reach out and touch it. I didn’t of course – I know my museum manners. But, I’ve been up close to many of the world’s great paintings and these were as good as any I’ve seen. That’s to my untrained eye, but I do know what I’m looking at and it’s honest, thought-provoking, greatness.

Rockwell’s self portrait is so famous that you almost go by it, having seen it reproduced so many times. Looking at the details, I was taken with not only the cleverness, the originality, the self-deprecating humor, but also the skill. On his easel, he has small paintings, homages to some of the greatest painters, all painted beautifully. That’s not easy to do either.

I recommend that you find the closest place to see this exhibition or go to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Massachusetts to see more. It’s such a treat for those of us who grew up loving him and for those just discovering his incredible legacy. I think that future critics will be kinder and hopefully, recognize his important place in art, American history, and the American heart. I understand his personal life was not always as rosy as his portraits of life, but that’s what being a human is all about. We thank him for the vision of our country that he shared to make us think, feel, smile and laugh, remember, care. There should be more geniuses with a sense of humor, shouldn’t there?…

Tags 50s, 60s, art, children, civil rights, family, Norman Rockwell, nostalgia, reflections, trips

Categories Art, Entertainment, Events, History, Memories, Places, Reflections, Travel

The Mickey Mouse Club

April 12, 2013 //

0

A friend asked me to write a blog about Annette Funicello, who died earlier this week. We met her on TV when The Mickey Mouse Club first aired in 1955. It’s hard to describe to generations who always have had TV and have multiple 24/7 channels what this show meant to us back then. It was in black and white, or gray, as my kids used to call it, because we didn’t have color TV yet. Amazing, isn’t it?

The Mickey Mouse Club was on every day after school and we waited eagerly for it every day, like clockwork. If you missed it, you missed it. No videotape or DVR. Probably not even reruns. This was a variety show for kids in the days of Ed Sullivan, Milton Berle and numerous adult or family variety shows. This one was just for us. We also weren’t as sophisticated as 9 & 10 year olds today. Unless you had older brothers or sisters, you weren’t really exposed to the teenage things. By some odd coincidence, almost all of my friends were the oldest in their family, so we were pretty much kids. We didn’t hit puberty as early, we didn’t dress like small adults, and we didn’t talk about adult things very much.

The Mickey Mouse Club was part of the magic that was Walt Disney. It was a world of imagination and fantasy and innocence that we loved. I found this photo online of the Mouseketeers from those days.

It seems so silly today that these kids clowned around with mouse ears, singing and dancing for us. Annette was adorable, a sweetheart both inside and out. You always knew that. She stood out from the rest from the beginning.

One of my favorite things on the show were the serials, continuing “dramas” featuring Annette, Tim Considine, Tommy Kirk. We couldn’t miss an episode of “Spin & Marty,” “The Hardy Boys,” “Corky and White Shadow.” The serials were fun, starring kids our age or a little older. They were the perfect way for us to have star crushes. Who didn’t think Tim Considine was just way too cute and Tommy Kirk was so funny and fun. And then there was Annette. I’m sure there were boys our age who were still watching The Mickey Mouse Club long after they had outgrown it just to see her. This Mousketeer was blossoming and it wasn’t hard to see what the boys were watching. She graduated on to her Beach Party movies, where that fully developed body and her singing were on full display. But, before that, she was the Mouseketeer all the boys loved and all the girls wanted to be. Always sweet.

We all outgrew the show and moved on to the boys and girls in our real lives, but those days with The Mickey Mouse Club are special memories. Who doesn’t hear that music start up and begin to sing…M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E. We really did have sweet childhoods way back then.

Here’s some Spin & Marty for you…

Tags 50s, children, nostalgia, reflections

Categories Entertainment, History, Memories

When your children are 40

April 9, 2013 //

0

My youngest daughter turns 40 today. I’m looking at pictures from her life and wondering how does time pass so quickly. She was just born, wasn’t she? And then all those years become a reality and you see that little baby transform into a beautiful woman, a wife and mother. That’s fun to see and I’m grateful to have watched it, been a part of it. My son, my youngest, will be forever 35, so I’m well aware of how lucky I am, we all are, to get to watch our children grow up and develop their own personalities and talents and see where life is taking them and I’m grateful for every minute of the time we have together. no matter how long each life will be.

When your children are 40, your role is different – thank goodness! I’m a part of their lives, but they are their lives and I’m privileged to enjoy as much as I can with them. I’ve always tried not to offer unwanted advice or be critical and to give them their space away from me. I hope I’ve succeeded in that most of the time. I’m lucky they all live close by so I don’t have to travel or Skype and I can see my grandchildren. I’m forever grateful for that.

Hopefully, your children become your friends at this stage in all of your lives. It’s different from friends your own age, who share memories of growing up together or being together in a certain time. Your children are always your children and you always worry about them and take pride in their accomplishments and hurt for them and with them. But, now, you can enjoy them as adults. One of my favorite things is to listen to them together or with their friends. I don’t have to talk to enjoy the joy of their lives and see how they interact and what makes them laugh. Those things make me happy. Seeing them happy in their marriages, with their children, with their friends, in their work and play warms a special place in my heart. Hearing them laughing together, remembering funny family memories, is the best. When I get to be a part of that, it’s just all the better.

I’m choosing to ignore the obvious thing about having your children turn 40. What does that make me? Inside, I don’t think I feel 40, but I’m constantly reminded that I’m much more than that. Having children who are 40 is a pretty blatant reminder for all the world to see. The good thing is that there are days I feel 16 and days I feel as old as I am and I try to remember how I felt at each age along the way so I can pull it out and weigh it against how I feel today. I can’t go back because then I wouldn’t have all the memories I’ve had since I was 40, all the people I’ve met, all the fun things I’ve done. Even the heartaches are worth the journey.

Having children who are 40 is a milestone for all of us. We’ve made it this far together, we’re grateful for all we’ve learned and shared together, and our lives go on for as long as we have. 40 is a big birthday for each of us – no denying that you’re all grown up now. When you’re the parent of 40 year olds, it’s not such a bad reminder that life rushes by more quickly than we can imagine. No time for pettiness, selfishness, and all the negatives that waste our time and energies. It’s a time to celebrate all we have, all we’ve been and all that lies ahead. Life is all we’ve got and each year is a treasure to spend wisely, surrounded by those you love.

Tags 40, aging, children, family

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections

« Older Entries

Newer Entries »