Archives for category: Memories

High School Revisit

February 14, 2013 //

Yesterday was an interesting juxtaposition of years of my life. I was working on my 50th high school reunion in the morning and received emails out of the blue from the guy who was our senior class president and another who was Mr. Edison that year. It’s Edison Week, the week Thomas A. Edison High School in Tulsa, Oklahoma celebrates the namesake’s birthday with a week of celebrations, culminating today in the awarding of the next Mr. and Miss Edison, along with class superlatives.

Yesterday afternoon, I was at Edison for several hours to watch one of my grandsons in guy cheerleading, a fun tradition of Edison Week. I hadn’t thought about any of this until last night while I was watching videos of the day with him. When I go in the doors of Edison, I immediately feel at home. The halls look smaller, but I can go back and picture the kids, in their various cliques, grouped around the front hall, waiting for the bell to ring, as they were back in my day. The outside has some changes structurally and there aren’t motorcycles out front as much as cars, which is a change. We didn’t have too many kids with cars back in my day. The girls aren’t wearing hoop skirts either!

We didn’t have drugs, but we had the smoke hole. We had more dances and they may have been more fun since kids don’t really date or dance the way we did. There were downsides to that, too, for those who didn’t have dates. Today’s kids are more group oriented when they go out, but that can be a good thing. How can they possibly afford to take someone to a movie or out to dinner? Nobody goes on Coke dates anymore. There are dance classes, but few take them. They can learn the latest from YouTube.

But, when I started really looking back, there are so many things that are basically the same. We decorated the halls of the school…

…just as they do today. This picture is a great illustration of the teenage boy’s brain as he improvises a way to hang a banner by balancing on a 2 inch brick when standing on a chair on a table didn’t work. There were ladders close by, by the way.

The school has fewer students today, but they have more cheerleaders. Here are the cheerleaders in 1963…

Today, they do intricate routines, way beyond 2-4-6-8, who do we appreciate. The gymnastics are incredible.

Face it. The kids are much more fit than we were, especially the girls. It’s a different kind of training, different kind of body toning than we knew. Even our biggest, strongest athletes couldn’t match the bodies I saw yesterday. Or the jumps, leaps and throws. I’m not sure that girls today could even relate to the quaint, which is a kind word for those hideous outfits we purchased at Sears and had our names monogrammed on, gym suits we wore. Jumping jacks and sit ups were pretty much our exercises, although we did get to do some modern dancing, play a few basketball and softball games, and swim. Swimming was awful because we didn’t have blow dryers and you had to walk around all day with your hair in a scarf. I guess you could wear rollers to class – ha!

Edison Week really hasn’t changed much. We had a gridiron show and I found pictures of our version of guy cheerleaders, 50 years ago. These were the football players and the other jocks. The guys have gotten more creative through the years with intricate routines that are SO teen age boy in their enthusiasm and silliness. I have film of my son’s guy cheerleading group.

Here is my grandson’s sophomore class guy cheerleading group…

One of my sons-in-law was Mr. Edison, way back in 1990. It’s a shock to my kids that Nostalgia Day this year was a look back at the 90s, with the kids wearing the styles of that era. My kids are cringing and I’m smiling and trying to remember what they wore. What the heck did I wear way back then, by the way? It’s so far back… Yesterday was Luau Day with all the school dressed for the islands. We had some Hawaiian skits and my kids had luaus, too. It’s always a good party theme.

One of the nice things about living where you grew up is seeing the continuity of life and viewing the changes through different generations. My parents were from other places, so I felt no connection with where they went to school. My kids and grandkids are walking the same halls in high school that their father (for part of junior high) and I did. Yesterday, I got to share in their youth and it was refreshing to be surrounded by all that energy and excitement. I loved the cheers and screams and laughter…mostly, I loved that I got to breathe in some of that rarified air that goes with all that can be good with teenagers.

I watched with pride as the kids said the Pledge of Allegiance and sang the National Anthem. That hasn’t changed.

Mostly, I guess that what I wish for the next generation is that they continue the traditions, making them their own. I do wish they had sung “Hail, Hail to Edison” for me. Just for old times sake…but, yesterday wasn’t about me…it was about them. My past and our future!

Tags high school, memories

Categories Family, Friends, Memories, Places, Reflections

The Perfect Day

February 12, 2013 //

When I try to think of a perfect day, I always go to this photo.

Don’t ask me why. I know I’ve had days that were more fun or adventures that lasted longer. We’d been fishing at a private pond and we’d all caught fish. On the way home, we stopped to show my parents and my father took this picture. Simple in all ways.

We had lots of days that were less than perfect and we had many days that were beyond perfect. Why this one? Maybe it captures a minute with all of us not trying to be anything but what we were. It was a pretty day, we’d piled in the car and gone fishing. It was the middle of all our days, the middle days with four healthy children, a happy couple, and our dog, moving through life.

I’m not sure any of us would remember too many details about this day, but it was a conglomeration of many others in many places. Daddy trying to get everyone’s line in the water and thrilled when we caught a fish. Mommy trying to get us fed and keep the kids from falling in the pond. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Maybe, just maybe, I consider this one perfect because memories like this are what kept us all together and got us through the harder times, the sad times. And, times like this are the foundation of our other happy and happier days. And, maybe, because it’s always good to remember that there are people who never get to have a Perfect Day when we’ve had so many. And, to remember that the Perfect Day may not be, and probably won’t be, something you plan. It will just happen and then stay in your heart forever!

Tags family, fishing, memory, photo

Categories Family, Memories

Aggie’s Ice Box Cookies

February 3, 2013 //

Baking has always been fun for me since I got my first cookbook and started making little bitty cakes and pies and cupcakes in my tiny oven, before Easy Bake or maybe an early edition. I just know I had little pans and made little things to eat. Then I graduated to my mother’s pots and pans and stove. Maybe that’s why I still have her old mixing bowls and still think they are the best bowls ever.

Today, I was hungry for my grandmother’s ice box cookies, but heaven help me if I make something that starts with a pound of butter when I don’t have a crowd in the house. Yikes! My paternal grandmother, Aggie, made these when I was little. I keep her cookie jar, minus the lid, in my kitchen window.

My mother made them, too. Nothing was better than the cookie dough pressed into squared rolls and wrapped in waxed paper in the refrigerator. As kids, we would sneak in and slice off a hunk, making no pretense of polite slices, and eat the dough raw. Can’t believe how wickedly good it was. I made them for my four kids when they were little, but I must have…okay, I know I did…been caught with the dough and they picked up on it. One of them told me she couldn’t remember having these baked. For your information, they are nice little butter pecan cookies. Really.

I’m not sure Aggie ever ate the dough but there was a twinkle about her, so maybe.

Many years later, I was teaching a course for the American Red Cross on Safe and Healthy Kitchens and we had to tell the people that it wasn’t healthy to eat raw cookie dough. That was the hardest bit of information for me to give anyone, nonbeliever that I am.

I’m trying to restrain myself from running to the kitchen to start creaming the butter and sugar right now. Help! You go make them for me. Note: The recipe doesn’t say how long to bake them. What does that tell you?

Aggie’s Ice Box Cookies

Preheat oven to 350

1 lb butter

2 1/2 cups sugar

3 eggs

1 Tbl Karo syrup

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp sode

5 1/2 cups flour

1 cup nuts

Cream butter and sugar together. Add eggs and vanilla. Add 1 cup flour sifted with soda and salt. Add rest of flour with nuts.

Work on board and make 4 loaves. Wrap in waxed paper and keep in refrigerator.

Slice and bake as needed.

Tags grandmother, ice box cookies, memory, recipe

Categories Memories, Recipes

Home and Heart Furnishings

January 25, 2013 //

When I got married, everyone decorated their first home in “early family.” There was no style since you were just glad to have furniture of any kind. My mother thought you should have accessories, so she helped us get some extra pieces to make it more than just a series of bare rooms. The rest of our place was things we picked up in thrift stores – we “antiqued” some pieces, the going thing at the time. It was cute to have my mother’s first coffee table that I painted and a headboard that we covered in gold burlap and a paper lamp from Pier 1. Young, funky and fun.

Through the years, we upgraded to furniture we liked and purchased mixed with more hand-me-downs from our families. I got the desk that had been my maternal great-grandmother’s refinished by my paternal grandfather that had been in my room as a girl. And I would find something on sale. Or I would find an antique I liked at a shop or auction, mostly with my mother teaching me how to bid. And I would buy paintings on a trip. This didn’t happen overnight, but it was a never-ending accumulation. When I down-sized, I gave away various items to my kids, but I replaced them with my mother’s things when she died. And more things I found.

Somewhere in this mix through the years, I think my basic hoarding inclination took over. It’s not that I mean to hoard furnishings, but I do hoard memories.

Anyone who comes in my house sees a lot of stuff. I see a memory on every table, wall, available space. There are paintings by artist friends, a couple by my mother, others from galleries and my parents. There are photographs that need no explanation. There are contemporary furnishings mixed with American, English and French antiques, Western and Greek sculptures mixed with carved wood bears.

Accessories include my great-grandmother’s coffee grinder, my grandmother’s cookie jar, my other grandmother’s little syrup jar, wooden elephants that my father brought back from Africa in World War II along with this statue of a man with a frog on his head that scared me to death when I was little.

I have clay heads my son made in high school and clay figures my grandkids made. There is the huge Oklahoma map that was behind my father’s desk at work when I was a little girl. On the shelf over my desk is one of my son’s lunch boxes from his collection and a mug we got at The Ugly Mug coffee house in Seattle. There’s a collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s works that I used to read at my grandparents’ along with my father’s copy of “The Emerald City of Oz.” And more books.

It goes on and on throughout the house. I am beyond eclectic in style. I can’t say “early family” anymore since I’m at the old end of that chain. There is a memory that I need to shift every time I get ready to let go of something. Some things aren’t so easy because I remember when I got them, who I was with, why I liked it. It’s not that I never part with anything…I just tend to hang on. And I’m not apologizing. I love everything I have around me or I would get rid of it. I definitely live surrounded by warm memories.

And, I still need to clean out some things. I’ve just learned there are still memories to come and I need to make room.

I guess my decorating style defies a professional decorating definition. Let’s just say it’s personal.

Tags heart, home furnishings

Categories Memories, Reflections

Paper Dolls

January 15, 2013 //

This one’s for Patsy, who reminded me about paper dolls.

I played with all kinds of dolls when I was little and paper dolls were one of the best. I had a box I kept them all in after I carefully cut out the dolls and their costumes. It’s kind of amazing to think that I did that as I didn’t exactly excel at scissors. My kindergarten report card gave me a low grade in that area, so maybe I was trying to compensate in my later years. I’ve always found that to be so funny. I was a very good student, but I’ve chosen to focus on the fact that I was a little weak in scissors when I was four or five years old.

We got books of paper dolls, but what I remember the most is Betsy McCall. My mother subscribed to all the ladies magazines, including McCall’s. Each month, they featured a page with Betsy with a story and new paper dolls and clothes. It was something to look forward to. I had to wait for my mother to read the magazine and then I could tear out my page and start cutting.

I also found some pictures of old valentines with paper dolls. Those were a special treat in our decorated shoe boxes of valentines from our classmates.

I remember spreading all my dolls out and dressing them with the various outfits, bending the little paper tabs that kept the clothes on the doll. I think we used to paste the dolls from magazines onto cardboard to keep them strong enough to stand up and be in the stories we made up about the lives of these paper people. We got cardboard from our daddy’s shirts when they came from the cleaners. We used those cardboard pieces for all kinds of activities.

In this fast paced world, it’s hard to imagine kids sitting for hours cutting those very intricate little pieces of clothing and patiently standing up the dolls to show off their newest outfit or making up a story for them to act out. The other day, I was watching my granddaughter play with a Mickey Mouse iPad app where she dressed him in different rock star outfits. Pretty cute, but not the innocence of Betsy McCall. When she gets older, I’ll try to explain about paper dolls. She’ll listen, wide-eyed, and wonder about that old fashioned world her grandmother grew up in. Or, if I wait too long, she may just roll her eyes.

Sometimes I have to admit what an antique girl I am.

Tags 1950s, Betsy McCall, memories, nostalgia, paper dolls

Categories Memories

Monday, Monday

January 14, 2013 //

One of those lazy Mondays when sometimes a song gets into my head and I’m full of the memories. If I were a whole lot younger, this might be a confessional, but I’m not, so it’s just a memory.

I was a junior at Oklahoma State University in May 1966, and had a brand new silver Impala with white leather seats that I had gotten for my 20th birthday. Probably for being a pretty good kid, making good grades, not causing problems. I was actually embarrassed that my father had spent that much money on me, but he was pleased he could do it. Not many of us had cars in 1966 so it was easy to find people to cruise with.

A popular movie a few years back was “Where the Boys Are,” which featured a group of college kids on spring break in Florida. Spring Break wasn’t as much back then – I’m not even sure we got a week. The idea of going somewhere was also pretty new to us – not an entitlement of youth. Anyway, the title song hung around and we still had romantic visions of meeting a young Jim Hutton on a beach (at least he was the one I liked).

I’m not sure where the idea came from or how we suddenly became obsessed with going to the beach, but we did. It wasn’t even the right time. A bunch of us just decided that would be the coolest thing ever. The closest beach was in Galveston, Texas, and there must have been a rumor of something happening there. What were we thinking? I’m not sure if we told our parents or just took off, but four of us left Stillwater after classes on Thursday and drove to Norman to pick up another friend at OU. I’m not a drinker, so it’s a good thing I was driving my car, cool as it was. We spent the night at someone’s apartment, meeting a bunch of guys there and everyone drinking beer before we fell asleep on the floor, couch, etc. Did I also mention that I was engaged at the time and not looking for guys, just looking for a fun adventure. In fact, we tried to get my fiance (future husband) to fly in from California where he was in the Navy and join us for the weekend.

We stopped in Dallas to find out that my guy couldn’t get there, visited the JFK Memorial and headed on to Galveston. How many miles/hours was that? We had the music blaring in the age before cell phones or even 8 tracks. Just the radio and us. And, we made it there. We must have driven all night.

Nothing looked quite like the movies. It was a dirtier beach than Florida and there were no people. We had a motel room right there, but there were no people, much less college students. But we were here. On Saturday, we hit the water – it wasn’t even sunny. And, suddenly, there was a group of guys. They had cute southern accents and had come over from Monroe (pronounced MON roe) Louisiana. Better than nothing. We also befriended the lifeguard, who took this picture.

That night, the group drank and we danced, some of us on the table in the room. It was pretty innocent, actually. Very innocent, when I look back. You’d think I’d remember more since I was the sober one, but it’s just a blur of silliness now. Nobody ended up together, nobody did anything illegal. Just kids meeting other kids for fun. We didn’t make any stupid mistakes – maybe the movie taught us the consequences of that.

And, back to my point. We drove back to school, arriving Monday in time for some of our classes. As we drove, we kept hearing the Mamas and the Papas singing “Monday, Monday,” on that rainy Monday at the end of our big adventure. Back to normal lives, finishing finals, planning my wedding. The Louisiana guys came to see us, but it wasn’t quite the same. Nice guys, but…

So, I randomly remember this trip when I hear that song. When my own kids wanted to do things, I tried to remember what it was like to want to break out of the norm. I tried to not worry since I had done the same with nothing bad happening. Of course, I knew better and did worry. I’m a Mom, after all.

I have to smile when I think of this really not so wild adventure. It was still fun! “Monday, Monday” always brings it back to me.

Tags Mamas & Papas, memories, music

Categories Memories

Losing a Child

January 10, 2013 //

My first instinct is to ignore the fact that my son died two years ago today, but people keep telling me they’re thinking of me and I feel obligated to share. I wasn’t dreading this day, wasn’t even thinking about it, but here it is. You know the things people say when they don’t know what to say…it’s not natural to lose your child, he was too young, he had so much more to do. We all say them, but living them is a little different.

I was a little less in shock when Clay died because I had already lost my husband. I guess I can thank him for giving me experience in the loss of a loved one to help me through. It’s still a shock and it hurts. It’s another splintering of your heart, another mending with scars growing to keep your heart functioning. But, we keep on going. Or not. Those are the choices. Last night I saw a character on a tv show ask another one how she was able to smile when she had lost several members of her family. The one with the losses said she chooses to smile. So do I.

One of my wisdoms of life is that we are never ready to lose those we love. It doesn’t matter if it is a sudden death or after a long illness or a long life…we’re never ready. We can be told that the person will die in the next five minutes and we’re still totally unprepared for the shock of them being here and then they’re not. Where are they? They were just here…where did they go? Your beliefs may help you, but it’s still a shock. I know this for sure!

Every person deals with loss differently. Here’s what I do. First, when you lose a loved one, you feel like the whole world has gone on while your world has stopped. When you crawl out of your immediate grief, you find that you aren’t alone. At my son’s service, I was struck by how many people I know who have lost a child. For a bit, it seemed like everyone I saw had lost a child and all I could think was how ill prepared I was to relate to them at the time of their loss. There were children lost to accidents, murder, disease, car wrecks, suicides…all manner of horrible losses, all the same pain for the parents. We all have loss in our lives…death is part of life. With children, we are always lucky to have them for as long as we do. I’m amazed that we don’t lose more of them when they’re little because we can’t watch them every minute, no matter how hard we try. It doesn’t matter if we lose a child as a baby, toddler, child, teen or adult…we don’t want to lose them ever. They grow within us or we bring them into our lives in another way and they attach themselves to our hearts. It seems like every day is a challenge to keep them here with us as we struggle with our parental responsibilities. We grieve when our children die for what we will miss with them and for what others will miss. We wanted them to live longer than we will because they were the way that our selves would continue after we are gone. It doesn’t always work that way even if we want to believe it.

Life is a cycle. I’ve learned to contemplate this truth, helped by the fact that the deaths I’ve endured have been balanced by the joy of life. When my husband died, we had three brand new grandsons to help me through. It was hard to grieve the loss of one life when you needed to rejoice at the new ones. When my son died, we had his 15 month old daughter to keep us balanced. She didn’t understand the enormity of her loss and her joy of life keeps a smile on our faces even when we think of all he and she will miss together. Who knows anyway…she seems to know he’s with her in ways we can’t even comprehend.

None of us know how long our life will be or how long anyone we know will live. I just saw a statistic that there are now 7 billion people on the earth, up a billion from not too long ago. Even with people dying, we have more people. We can’t all live to be old – we’re just like other animals and plants and everything else on the planet. We have a life cycle of our own and our only job is to try and make the best of the time we have, however long that may be. I know that I’ve had loss and will have other losses, which I dread, but I will try to keep them all in the universal perspective.

I’m a photo nut and have been since I was a little girl. I like any kind of photo and love that they capture a moment, a look, a thought, a place. When my husband died, I remember looking for photos, knowing that there would be no more. I gathered all I could, getting a picture of his life and it was comforting to know it had been a complete one, even if it ended before I wanted it to – or before he wanted it to. With my son, I have an album of pictures of his life on my computer – I’ve shared it before. It’s my screen saver, so I see a slide show of pieces of his life every time my computer is winding down. It’s comforting for me because the images bring back memories of a sweet impish funny caring little boy who was always uniquely himself and carried those traits throughout his life, enriching the lives of those who knew him. And new pictures surface here and there, little surprises, that add another moment to the hours I wasn’t with him or teach me something new about him. I smile a lot.

A couple of months after Clay died, a friend lost her son in a car wreck. She gave me a book that she was given, a little book, “Healing After Loss” by Martha Whitmore Hickman. It’s a book of daily devotions written by an author who lost her 12 year old daughter years ago. I say she is Christian, but it’s a book I would give to anyone because she uses quotes from all religions and thoughts that anyone can relate to. She writes to people, not based on your beliefs or lack of them. A page a day. I read it just about every day and go back to read the ones I missed if I’ve forgotten. I’m on my second or third round. It’s amazingly relevant for life in general. I’ve been given and read lots of poems, books, etc on loss and grief. This one is my favorite. I have it on my iPad and iPhone – I’ve given away several copies of the paperback. It’s not for everyone, but it might help someone.

So another anniversary has come and they’re never as bad for me as just some random memory. I still flinch at the sound of ambulances and jump when the phone rings and have flashbacks at odd times that I have to push away from. Holidays aren’t so bad because I’m surrounded by family and we laugh and share funny stories. I’m lucky that my loss of my son is softened by having his daughter near. I feel the huge responsibility to her and my other grandchildren to keep on living as healthy a life as I can so I can share stories with them and give them a sense of the family they won’t get to know. For my son’s daughter, I have a box of stories about her father, copies of photos and videos for her to understand a little bit about who he was and what his life meant to all of us. I collect the funny things his friends write about him and the things I find. Someday, she can go through and read them all. At three, she is beginning to look at stories of “baby Daddy” and relate to the fact that he was once little like she is. I gave her a necklace with a picture of them together and she told me it is “bootiful.” My heart melts.

I had a memory of Clay a couple of weeks ago that came out of nowhere. He had just gotten back home after his treatment for cancer in Seattle. The radiation hadn’t begun to change his ability to talk and eat yet and he was feeling grateful for having been able to have this new treatment. When we were at the hospital in Seattle, he told me how much seeing the little children with cancer affected him. One of the first things he did when he got home was go to the hospital and volunteer to help by visiting other cancer patients. They loved him there as he was one of their youngest volunteers. Even as a volunteer myself, I thought it was remarkable that he could give back in that way. I’m not sure I would have wanted to go near the hospital, but he didn’t think about himself. The internet was somewhat new in 2001, at least in our home. He went online and found a community of people with the same rare cancer he had and reached out to them. I thought he was finding out more for himself, but I happened to see some of his exchanges since we shared the computer. He was comforting them, helping them through it.

I don’t know why that memory popped into my mind, but it’s one of the things that helps. This boy of mine lived a complete life for the time he had on this earth. He lived and laughed and loved for all his days. May we all do so well with the time we are given.

Tags books, cancer, death, grief, Healing After Loss, Losing a child

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections

More Hamburgers

January 7, 2013 //

I must be starving for hamburgers. There are lots of great hamburgers in the world and we’re lucky to still have some of the ones I grew up with here in Tulsa. They’re probably still my favorites, maybe because they come with a side order of memories.

Van’s was great, but Van sold his location on Peoria to Claud’s long ago. It’s nice to know he was passing it along and it still is owned by the family. I love the tiny space where you can watch the whole operation while you wait. Nice to get a bag of burgers and fries just like the old days.

Across the street is Weber’s with its unique history. Dating back to the 1890s, Mr. Weber made his own root beer and invented the burger. That fact was validated by the governor of Oklahoma and I love the fact that it’s still owned by the family and they use the same grill he used way back when. They still make their root beer and their onion rings are awesome. That little orange building has moved a few spaces since I was a kid, but it’s a welcome sight…gives me sense of stability to see those two families still in business at 38th and Peoria after all these years.

Hank’s goes back even further, 1949. Nothing has changed in there, for sure. Still a great burger, great fries and a malt like I remember them. Way out on Admiral, but fun for an occasional fix.

My husband was a big fan of the original Ron’s on 15th. He would head over there on Saturdays to pick up his burger with chili. I miss the little diner, but at least we can get the burgers at all the locations now.

I discovered Ted’s, over on Edison, many years ago while doing volunteer work in the area. Great hamburgers.

Brownie’s started as root beer stand, according to a friend who lived in the area when we were kids. It became a hamburger and root beer place way back when. My husband and I spent many a weekend lunch or dinner in there. We loved the staff that had been there forever, the atmosphere with all the little toys on the shelf, pictures of customer’s children lining the check-out and the food. When Brownie died, it floundered a little, but a young couple bought it and it’s as good as ever. My favorites are the hamburger and fries with a frosty mug of milk. And the pies…I try to resist the chocolate meringue but that’s always a weakness of mine. They make a lot of pies and they even have a food truck now.

And then there’s Goldies. It first opened as Goldies Patio Grill at 51st and Lewis with a par three golf course adjoining. My dad was invited to the opening and set the first course record. Their steak is a great bargain, but it’s the hamburgers, the Goldies Special being my favorite. Whatever the secret spices they use are, you can’t mistake that flavor. The quality has been consistently terrific through the years. I forgo the fries and get the slaw, unique for it’s creamy dressing. And there are the pickles. Where else do you get a pickle bar? Where else do you sit and munch on a bowl of pickles while you wait for your order?

I guess that’s my tour of my favorite local burgers with memories fried in. There are lots of great burgers, but I like mine the way I remember them. Who knows how long these places will be around…I’m going to start taking my grandkids. A little Tulsa history with a yummy burger thrown in.

Tags 1950s, 1960s, hamburgers, memories, nostalgia, restaurants, Tulsa

Categories Memories, Restaurants

Hamburger Memories

January 5, 2013 //

On my list of things to have with me on a desert island are hamburgers – not the most practical or healthy choice. Hamburgers are comfort food, loaded with memories.

When my grandmother would stay with us, she would cook hamburgers and make french fries. We would get little cups of ketchup, just like going out.

The first hamburger place I really remember was Van’s. They had more than one location eventually, but the one I loved was on 15th Street, east of Lewis.

On special Saturday nights, I could go to Van’s with my Daddy. We stood in line, waiting for our order, listening to the waitress with her droning question, “do you want onions on that?” The guy who cooked the hamburgers was an artist with his spatula. He had long dark hair, combed back under his hat. Watching him take a ball of ground beef and throw it on the well used griddle, where he proceeded to flatten it, shape it and turn it, was an endless fascination. He worked like lightning with skills that I still admire. When they were done, the burgers were wrapped in wax paper and the fries were placed in the little paper envelope. Riding home with that greasy brown bag of burgers makes me drool even now.

But Pennington’s was the place where memories of the food mingle with all kinds of rites of growing up. Pennington’s Drive-In Restaurant was on Peoria and was the heart of my life for many years.

I started going there with my parents, but caught on easily that this was a cool place to be. We would order our hamburger in a basket with either onion rings (Pennington’s were uniquely thin and delicious) or fries. Whoever invented the basket for hamburgers deserves a place in museums of industrial design. Those colorful plastic baskets have never been improved on for ease while eating in the car. Our order would come with a stack of baskets of chicken, burgers, shrimp or any of Pennington’s favorites. Early on, the carhops were on roller skates, when that was the newest thing.

As I grew into junior high, Pennington’s became the hangout for Tulsa’s teens. When you’re not quite teen-aged, it was embarrassing to be there with your parents. Soc Row was the middle row, with pole position being the spot at the end near the restaurant. Here you could wave and honk at your friends as they cruised through, looking for a parking place and everyone could see that you were there. I confess that Daddy thought this was hilarious and I can remember him parking in the prime place, yelling “Whee” as the teenaged girls giggled by. I, of course, was sitting on the floor of the car, mortified and sure that my future life was ruined. Daddy, Daddy. Silly Daddy.

This was my home away from home all the way through high school. We raced to get there and back on our 30 minute lunch hour. If I ran an errand for my mother after school, it involved picking up a friend and stopping at Pennington’s. We went on dates that began or ended there, we piled in cars after football games to drive through, honking our school honk. We decorated our parents’ cars with our social club colors and drove through during our annual rush of new pledges. In the summer, we cruised Peoria in the evenings, looping through Pennington’s as we searched for our other cruising friends. It was where you could see who was with who and you could be seen. Reputations were made there!

We knew the Penningtons, Arch and Lola, and could see them inside behind the counter. Sherry was everyone’s favorite carhop and I’m sure she got more than her share of cocky teenaged boys trying to show her how grown up they were. We weren’t allowed to get out of our cars, for fear of being approached by Jake, the security guard. It was a time when we listened to the rules, although some tried to push him to his limits.

Pennington’s had great food, but my hamburgers, dinner rolls, vanilla Dr. Peppers, black bottom pie and onion rings are interwoven with the memories of first dates, special dates, cruising through with cars full of friends just to see who was there or who could see us, and, even the times with my parents. I miss the old places…

Tags 1950s, 1960s, hamburgers, memories, nostalgia, Pennington's, restaurants, Tulsa, Van's

Categories Memories, Restaurants

New Year’s Eve

December 31, 2012 //

New Year’s Eve is kind of a funny holiday for me. I can remember celebrating it in a bunch of different ways, from 7 parties one year…and it was icy & snowy out, for gosh sakes…to staying home with the kids, banging pans on the front porch. It’s such an interesting ritual, watching the calendar change and hoping for a better year coming in. Even when the last year was a good one, we always hope for a better one. When it was a bad year, we hold our breath. It can’t get any worse, can it?

We’re somewhat obligated to do something. We’re either part of the festivity or we watch it on TV. We can celebrate all around the world as the new year comes round to us. We can get up and cook black-eyed peas (yuk) and watch football, even though the bowls aren’t what they used to be, and then it’s back to what we were doing the next day. We wake up on January 2 with resolutions to lose weight, exercise, get organized, be a better person, and anything else that comes to mind.

And, I like that we do this…take stock of ourselves and our lives and the world…see how to make us or it better. What a positive way to start a fresh new year.

This year is a quiet one here. My three year old party animal has flaked out on celebrating, so we’ll do it tomorrow. What does she care?

Here’s my oldest grandson celebrating with me when he was almost two…he’s almost 16 now. One thing about it…the years keep coming, thank goodness!

Cheers to you from my family! May your new year be all that you want it to be with a few adventures thrown in for excitement!

Tags holidays, New Year's Eve

Categories Family, Friends, Holidays, Memories, Reflections

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