My husband was a man, a big kid actually, who loved Halloween and everything about it.  Every fall, we drove out into the country, when it didn’t take so long to find the bare countryside, to look for the perfect pumpkins.  Everybody had to have their own, with his being the biggest one.  This was one of those holidays when I was along for the ride because I wasn’t good at making costumes and he was in charge of the carving and I just made popcorn balls and caramel apples and handed out the treats on the big night while he walked the streets with the kids and other fathers in the neighborhood.

We didn’t take as many photos in those days of film and flashbulbs, but I treasure the ones I have, especially now that my husband and son are both gone.  I’m pretty sure they have pumpkins in heaven however.  No doubt in my mind that they are getting ready for the big night in whatever afterlife they inhabit.  Scan 19Scan 16By the time our grandchildren were born, the pumpkin patch had expanded with animals and rides and photo ops galore.  Taking the grandkids to the patch was a way to keep my own kids’ memories alive and well.  So there are lots of pictures of these kids, now in high school, getting their pumpkins, just as their parents did.   Scan 19 86777-PH-5Oct2001-012 86777-PH-5Oct2001-017 Zac

86777-PH-9Oct2002-002And their parents take pictures that are part of the family tradition, the things that remind us of the best of times and hold us together in all times.   All my grandchildren are in middle school or high school now, except for the youngest, my son’s daughter.  He went to the patch with his nephews and niece when he was in college…Scan 19And took his own daughter for her first visit, his last before he died.  IMG_1476She gets to go back now, following family traditions, making her own.  DSC_0051They say that all we can really give our children are memories, and these are some of the best.  These days I look at my family and go back to look at the years that have done by way too quickly and I’m strengthened by the continuity of the traditions and the love I see in the photos.  The Pumpkin Patch is important in our family, but so are other traditions.  We can all make our own…and should.  IMG_5221

It was hard to leave the central coast of Oregon but time to come back.  I never tire of watching the waves crash around me, so we went up the coast to get back to Portland this time.  One more look at crashing waves, please.DSC_0441 DSC_0418We drove up the coast, leaving Highway 101 to hit the coast drive to Cape Kiwanda…DSC_1330 and Cape Lookout, both with their views and beach warning signs.  Believe me, I wasn’t planning on going off any cliffs.DSC_1337The final Cape was Cape Meares, which was the most delightful of all.   Besides the views…DSC_1344there was the Octopus Tree, a 300 year old Sitka Spruce tree that fits into my memorable trees collection.DSC_1350And the shortest lighthouse, at 38 feet, on the coast.DSC_1363My tour was interesting, giving me insight into the life and work of the lighthouse men of our past.  Not an easy job.  This one had the original glass for the clear sections, beautiful in the sunshine.DSC_1374 DSC_1375We headed back to Highway 101, stopping in Tillamook, where barn quilts decorate buildings all over town.  I wasn’t familiar with this until this summer, so now I’m looking for them when I travel.  Here are a few I saw.DSC_1381 DSC_1382 DSC_1385I can’t go to Oregon without getting Tillamook Ice Cream, the creamiest ever.  Besides they have wonderful flavors like Marionberry Pie and Huckleberry.  Tillamook Cheese is a destination, a farmers’ co-op where you can watch the cheese being made, shop and eat, tasting all the flavors of ice cream, milk and cheese.  I can get the cheese at home, but not the ice cream!  I always have to stop, joining the crowds who share my passion.DSC_1389Our next stop was at one of the amazing beaches in the world, Cannon Beach, home of Haystack Rock.  On this particular day, it was sunny and warm.  People were sunbathing in Oregon in October.  I had to stop at both ends of the beach for the beautiful views of the rock.  Here’s looking from the south to north.  DSC_1390And north to south with the rock shining in the late afternoon sun.  You can’t imagine how big this thing is.  And how big the beach is.  Incredibly beautiful.  And fun.DSC_1399I got a clear shot of Tillamook Lighthouse, perched on its lonely, dangerous rock, from the beach, looking north.DSC_1402Although I could have dawdled all day on the beach, we were trying to reach Astoria by dark, so we headed north.  It was late in the day, but we were able to go to the top of the hill where the Astoria Column, concrete carved with the history of the region, sits.  I was too tired to climb the 168 steps to the top, but the views from below were incredible and the column is an incredible piece of art.DSC_1416Looking towards Astoria, you see the bridge that takes you from Oregon to Washington, and you feel chills thinking of the Lewis & Clark expedition charting these waters.  Looking to the view, where the mighty Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean is breathtaking in its importance.  DSC_1410On the other side of the hill, the Youngs River and the Lewis & Clark River enter Youngs Bay before joining the Columbia.  DSC_1428The charming city of Astoria is the oldest settlement in America west of the Rockies.  I’ll return for more.  I did love the trash cans in Astoria, symbolic of one of the major industries of the area.DSC_1435We headed east to Portland, leaving the coast behind us.  The next day, we went into Portland for the underground tour, which was very little underground, but a lot of colorful history of the wild and wooly days of early Portland.  Very fun.DSC_1440I’ve been to Portland various times in the past five years, enjoying the diversity and casualness of this beautiful city.  We had a wonderful tea and late lunch in one of the few Chinese restaurants left in Chinatown.  DSC_1441DSC_1448I really wanted the Hung Farlow to still be open, but they are saving the sign.  DSC_1443Portland has the signs saying “Keep Portland Weird,” just as Austin has signs that beg us to “Keep Austin Weird.”  I’m thinking “weird” is just a word for being open to everything.  There were more homeless than I remembered from my last visit, but just as many colorful people, trying to be as weird as possible or to fit in however they can.  It’s part of the charm really.   We finished our tour and joined local friends for a fun Thai dinner, watching the sport of Sepak Takraw, a combination of hackey sack and volleyball, on the television.  DSC_1462We’d passed the famous Voodoo doughnut place on our tour, but stopped at the second location on the other side of the river to stock up on the notorious doughnuts.  We HAD to have this Portland experience and included one Voodoo man doughnut in our box for fun.DSC_1458 DSC_1480The next day, our final day in Oregon, we traveled to Timberline Lodge on Mt Hood.  It was a beautiful day, warm even at 6,000 feet, and the views were spectacular.DSC_1485DSC_1492Timberline is an old WPA lodge and everything inside is hand made from local materials, including the furniture, drapes, hand wrought iron, carvings.  The building, used in the opening shots of “The Shining,” is a tribute to the craftsmen and women who worked in the program, not only grateful for jobs during the depression but showing deep pride in their creations.  It was a total delight.  The six-sided fireplace, made of local rocks, runs up through the three stories of the main lobby, with three fireplaces on two levels.DSC_1514I loved the scenes carved in linoleum on the walls of a meeting room.DSC_1504The views of Mt Jefferson and Mt St Helens in the distance were lovely.DSC_1527And the mists over the hills gave us the layers of blue against the clear sky.  DSC_1532The top of Mt Hood was rocky, but they continue to manicure the dusty snow for the skiers we passed coming and going up the mountain.DSC_1519Our Oregon trip ended with meals with friends before we headed back to Oklahoma the next day.  This Okie left with more lovely Oregon memories to fill my senses.  Okie in Oregon.  That’s me.

Traveling coastal Oregon along Highway 101, there are signs that we just don’t see in Oklahoma.  We have tornadoes, earthquakes, and thunderstorms, but we don’t have tsunamis.  Everywhere you go, there are warnings and I find myself trying to figure out how I’m going to get high enough to escape the giant waves.  In Oregon, the forests reach the coast, often on high cliffs.  You’d have to scramble to get up, up, up!

DSC_0471 DSC_1340 DSC_1317 DSC_0942 DSC_0539DSC_0780The “run like hell” sign is a joke, but that’s basically what you do.  Not to be messed with.  But most of the highway is delightful and scenic with beaches and trails around every turn, different each time you visit.

DSC_0461 DSC_1404I love the beauty of Florida beaches with their smooth white sands, unique shells, gorgeous sunsets, and warm sun, but there is a dangerous element with the Oregon beaches that brings ever-changing surprises.  You never know what the beach will hold.  This year, we had the mildest, most perfect weather imaginable with only a few hours of drizzle preceded and followed by warm sun and calm seas.  You still enter every beach by passing by the instructions and warnings for visiting.  DSC_0829 DSC_0384DSC_0940And then, you’re at the ocean on small beaches, long beaches, wide beaches.  Surfers, beachcombers, sunbathers, picnickers, dogs and children.  Perfect beaches.DSC_0908 DSC_1262 DSC_1266 DSC_1286 DSC_0837 DSC_0852 DSC_0483Coming from Oklahoma, I eat all the fresh seafood I can get.  I haven’t had a bad meal on the coast yet.  Here are some of my favorite places that we add to our list every time.  There’s Mo’s with locations up and down the coast, but we like the one at Otter Creek.  Mo’s is famous for their clam chowder, but a friend had a wonderful Oregon shrimp sandwich.DSC_0467Gracie’s Sea Hag in Depoe Bay is right on Highway 101 and our favorite place on a Saturday night, eating in the bar, when there is entertainment, dancing, and bartenders playing tunes on the liquor bottles.  It’s a perfect seaside vibe, right across the street from the sea wall.DSC_0523 DSC_0490We have several favorites in Newport, although I’m sure there are many more.  Lunch at Port Dock One is a must because your dining companions are sea lions, at least in the fall, when the males come up from California and you can be seated right beside them.  They are constantly entertaining, but then I don’t have to listen to them all day.  The food is good, too!IMG_5168DSC_1299I love Gino’s, with the owners from a fishing family.  The popcorn shrimp is delicious and the soups scrumptious.  It’s on the bay front without a water view, but they make up for it with their masses of colorful buoys.  DSC_0815It’s clean, fun, good.  Love Gino’s.DSC_0816 DSC_0824And you HAVE to stop on Highway 101, south of the Newport bridge for crab.  It’s a fish market, restaurant, convenience store combo.  Yum.DSC_1150 IMG_5213 IMG_5212For the nicest dinner possible, go to Depoe Bay and visit Tidal Raves, again on Highway 101.  You must have a reservation as there are few tables, but an outstanding view and incredible food.  I love the Seahawk bread, which could be a meal in itself, and the Rock Fish.  Oh my.   IMG_5210IMG_5188
If it’s raining or you’re just in Lincoln City, sit near the fireplace at Pier 101 for more seafood!  Can you ever get enough when you’re on the coast?  I had the Cedar Plank Salmon, which was crusted with a maple bourbon sauce.  Need I say more?DSC_1329
Enough with the food.  I’m ready to fly back now, although I have to admit that I went for a hamburger as soon as I got home to beef country.  Oregon is known for its greens, forests of pine trees carpeted with masses of ferns and decorated with moss and lichens.  The coast gives you the contrast of the blues of the ocean with the colorful nautical elements.  Besides the buoys, there are the crab  cages stacked by the fishing boats and the containers ready for the ships in port in Newport.DSC_1306
 
The famous bridges designed by Conde B. McCullough are elegant in their Art Deco beauty.  I discovered the one in Florence on this trip, but they are everywhere in the state, including Newport.  Here’s the one in Florence.DSC_0966
North of Florence is Cape Perpetua with cliffs, forests and extraordinary views.  The park encompasses the mountain and the coast for a sample of the natural wonders of the state.  With the Heceta Head lighthouse at the south endDSC_0990DSC_0996The view from the point is endless, especially from the World War II lookout where you can stare out to the open seas.DSC_1020DSC_1016Back along Highway 101, you can see the raging wonders of The Devil’s Churn, where the waters froth like fresh cream…DSC_1048 DSC_1058…The Spouting Horn spurts up as the waves rush in…DSC_1108…and the pounding waves sink into Thor’s Well in an ever fascinating rush of water.DSC_1128

Our glorious days on the Oregon coast ended with a different sunset every evening…DSC_0532 DSC_1157

…and our final night in Depoe Bay found us watching half a dozen whales spouting and leaping in the orange waves.  The perfect ending to our days on the Oregon coast.

DSC_1323Watch my blog for our final days of this trip.

This Okie girl likes to travel just about anywhere, near or far from home.  On my third fall vacation on the Oregon coast, I found my favorite places, discovered new ones, and brought home all the photos and memories I could jam into 12 days.

My friends and I fly into Portland to spend the night before heading for the coast.  Our traditional beginning is to stop at the fruit and vegetable stand and stock up for the week.  It’s not that we don’t have good fresh items at home, but it’s fun to see the bounty of Oregon.IMG_5741 IMG_5743The fruits and vegetables delight, as do the dahlias.  We see fields of them blooming, ready for picking in September.

DSC_0242 DSC_0238This year, we stopped for some wine tastings along the way.  The vineyards are gorgeous and lush in the Oregon valleys, even with the droughts that have plagued the state.  We visited Raptor Ridge, Adelsheim, and Stoller – all wonderful vintners whom I have worked with in Oklahoma.  It was fun to see their vineyards in person.DSC_0263 DSC_0253 DSC_0257Not only are the vineyards and orchards full of ripe fruits, but the hazelnut harvest is underway in the fall.DSC_0265Our other favorite stop is always Farmer John’s for some strawberry shortcake and more fruits and vegetables in another beautiful Oregon valley.

DSC_0299 DSC_0290 DSC_0300 IMG_5108On the way out, we noticed this reminder of the fires that are always a threat to this beautifully wooded state.DSC_0304Our next stop is the ocean, traveling through valleys that end with the sea, heading south to Depoe Bay, located on the central Oregon coast, our headquarters and home for the next week.  The sun was shining, the air was warm and our view of our little cove on the north end of Depoe Bay’s sea wall was magical.DSC_0488It was a homecoming this time, all of us familiar with the setting.  We spotted whales from our balcony, spouting close by.  That was a first for us, even though this is the whale watching capital of the world.  DSC_0320Our day ended with the sunset seen from the sea wallDSC_0353 before we headed to the comfort of The Spouting Horn, overlooking the world’s smallest harbor, for our first taste of seafood, followed by homemade pie.  I had Marionberry pie because I can’t get that at home.  The lady who makes the pies is in her 80s and I take advantage of her skills at every opportunity.DSC_0340 DSC_0363We ended our first day in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth as the evening cooled.  We were back in Oregon, ready for our next adventures.  I woke early the next morning and went walking along the point, looking back to see the fog come in over Depoe Bay.  DSC_0383This Okie girl feels right at home, even though it couldn’t be further from my beloved Oklahoma.  It has a special place in my heart.

Come back for more Oregon adventures tomorrow.

When I get to the sea, I’m constantly reminded of all the wonderful creatures, beautiful and unique, who glide through these waters. I know whales are out there, have seen a quick sighting in Alaska and a couple of closer encounters two years ago in Oregon. Ve stayed on the coast these past three years, in Depoe Bay, the Whale Watching Capital of the world along with boasting the smallest harbor in the world.

This time the weather was perfect, we are seeing whales spouting from our balcony all day long and we went back out to get up close. I can feebly try to put words with the experience, but my photos tell the story in a much more exciting way. We are all visual people, aren’t we?

We rode on Zodiac boats, like the coast guard uses, with a whale scientist as our leader. Here is her boat with her whale hunting dog on watch.IMG_6067On the way out, we stopped at the bay’s buoy, where sea lions rested in the sun.imageWe spotted our first whales and the sun made rainbows in their spouts.
IMG_6088The day was a delight for children, seasoned whale watchers, our guides, anyone alive! At one point, we had four whales all around us, with three of them playing between the two boats, chasing each other.imageimage
Having two grey whales come up beside you, within twenty-five feet is quite a thrill.
We learned so much, like watching for the Fluke Print, the flat water left when the whale submerges and displaces the water.
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By the end of our trip, we had seen at least ten whales, most of them regulars to this area, known by name. Only an insensitive soul wouldn’t be touched by the grandeur of these giants, gliding by, leaving us in wonder with a flip of their mighty tails.
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My Whales’ Tale is a joy to be shared!

As I wait for my newest phone to arrive, the images of all the phones I’ve used over the years came to mind.  It’s hard not to compare the progression of the phone in my own lifetime to the fast changing have-to-have phones of today.

My parents moved us to Tulsa when I was about 2 1/2 years old and the first phone that I can remember was located in a little phone room, no bigger than a closet, and looked like this, I think.  I’m pretty sure we had dials by then. Unknown

There was only one phone in the house, the one in the closet.  One of the wicked things I did when I got old enough was to sneak in there and call the operator to make a call to my grandmother.  My grandmother’s phone was even more interesting.  She lived in Ardmore and was on a party line.  You picked up the receiver to talk to the operator, who knew everyone, and had her call whoever you needed.  My grandmother had a special ring to let her know a call was for her.  The neatest thing was to pick it up very quietly and listen to the other people’s conversations, which wasn’t very nice, but oh so interesting to a curious little girl.

Our phone number at home was 75973 for many years.  When they added prefixes, it became RIverside 75973.  My father’s office number started with the prefix GIbson and I spent a week one summer when I was about 9 or 10 at his office handwriting the GIbson in front of the number on some postcards that had been printed earlier.

Through the years, not much changed with our black dial phones.  Then plastics came into wide use and we suddenly had colors and plastic dials.  When we built our new house when I was in 5th grade, we had beige phones and there were three, count ’em, three in the house.  There was a black wall phone in the kitchen, a beige desk phone in my parents’ bedroom and another beige phone in the hallway in a little cut-out holder in the wall.  That was for my brother, sister, and me to use.

The Princess model was a big hit when I was in junior high school, especially the pink one.  Girls with a pink princess phone were pretty cool.  We didn’t get the pink model, however.  Eventually, we got something just as good – a long cord from the wall so we could carry the phone into a closet or another room to talk privately.  With the hours we spent on the phone as teenagers, talking to friends we had just left about who we’d seen, who was going steady with who, who had looked twice at us, who we had a crush on, what we were going to do the next day or the next weekend, what to wear, how tiring our parents were, and other important topics, you just needed some privacy.  Really.   And the time we spent waiting by the phone for someone to call…sigh.

When I went to college, there was a phone on the wall in each hallway of the dorm, but you couldn’t make long distance calls from it.  For that, we went downstairs to a bank of pay phones with a pile of change.  To make a long distance call, back in 1963, you had to call the operator and have her (always female operators) dial it for you.  I was also able to charge calls to my parents’ phone through the operator.  I spent many an hour in that phone booth with piles of change talking to my boyfriend, later fiancé.  He would call me from phone booths in California after he was in the Navy, adding the quarters as the operator told us our time was up.

Sometime along the way, direct dial was invented, a miraculous thing.  And the prefixes we’d had in Tulsa changed to just the numbers.  Riverside 75973 changed to 747-5973, which was the same thing.  Novelty phones were the rage with Mickey Mouse, hamburger, clear phones and other fun things to brighten our lives.  As a mom, my favorite phone of the day was my red wall phone in my kitchen/breakfast room with an extra long cord that let me talk while I cooked or set the table or cleaned or whatever.  I was the ultimate multi-tasker as I worked on my volunteers committees, planned PTA events, changed carpools, scheduled appointments, all while I was doing my mom thing at home.

Oh yes, I still had a dial tone and used my dial for numbers, right up until I moved into my present home in 2002.  There was touch tone technology, but you had to pay extra and I didn’t think I would ever be so lazy that I couldn’t turn that dial wheel.  Eventually, I had touch tone because you couldn’t make long distance calls without it, but I still used that rotary dial until I moved.

So now I’ve covered over 50 years of my phone life and we haven’t even gotten to cell phones yet.  Technology was a whole lot slower coming and who knew?

The first mobile phone we had was a bag phone, a bag with a battery and a phone inside, that we kept in the car.  This was in the mid 1990s – way back then.  My husband got it because he was visiting customers all over the state and it was great for calling ahead, for emergency calls, and to let me know he was on his way home.  I don’t know how long we had that.  And I can’t even remember much about my first cell phone or mobile phone after that, probably because they’ve changed so quickly.   I had a pager when I worked for the American Red Cross and had to listen for it 24 hours a day in case of emergencies.  That was in 2001, so we hadn’t started using our cell phones so much yet.

The joke with our first cell phones was how small they were.  I remember someone on Johnny Carson trying to punch the tiny little buttons and holding up this little gadget to his ear.  But, they caught on quickly, very quickly.  Why wouldn’t they?

The day I got my first iPhone, I remember staring at it, absolutely mesmerized by all the information in my hand.  Wow!  I hadn’t even had a computer that many years and now all of that information was in my phone, too!  Look at where we are now with changes coming every year.  Amazing and wonderful technology.

So, I’ve got my new phone coming and am wondering if the larger size will fit in my small purse I carry.  The tiny phones that were the rage are now growing larger with expanded capabilities.  I would say that I use it as much for other things as I do for calls.

The irony of all this came back to me the other day when the land line, that I keep for emergencies and because I’ve had that same number for 47 years, quit working.  In order to test it, AT&T advised me to take my corded phone (meaning a phone with a cord other than the cordless ones that are all over the house) outside to the phone box and plug it in to see if it works.  I had to borrow a corded phone when I couldn’t find my emergency one, which is a little old beige princess model.  Makes me smile.

The other change is that I feel at a loss if I forget to take my phone with me.  What will happen if my car breaks down since there are few pay phones around?  What if I’m running late or my grandkids need to be picked up or where will my grocery list be without my phone? How will I find my way there without my maps?  What if I miss a text?  It’s a very vulnerable feeling, a sign of the times.

Oh well, I’ll have my new phone soon and we can test it Old School.  Call me!

 

 

 

 

One of the college seniors I’m working with asked me how I stay so hip.   Flattering?  Well, sure.  At least I hold my own with younger people to some degree, but I’m not trying to be anything but what I am.  I’m not sure I’ve ever considered myself hip, come to think of it.  I may be as hip as I’ll ever get right now and it’s taken me a long time to get here.  Made me think – and I’m grateful that I still can.

Here’s my list of ways to stay kind of “with it” as you get older.  Take it or leave it – just my random thoughts.

1.  Don’t try to act younger than you are.  When people tell you that you look 10 or 20 years younger than you are, just say Thank You.  The truth is that you look good for your age.  That’s all we can hope for.  We are what we are.  Oh yes – dress your age.  You should have found your own style by now.  I always heard that if we’d worn some fad style before, then we shouldn’t try and do it the second time.  Think bubble hairstyles or bell bottom jeans.

2.  Don’t be judgmental.  Younger people, all ages of younger people, do things differently than we did.  That’s ok.  I don’t agree with some of it, but I remember that my parents probably didn’t like some of the things I did either.  Today is different than yesterday in so many ways.  Don’t sit there going Tsk! Tsk!

3.  Don’t be afraid to try new things or to dream of new things.  What have you got lose at this point?  Time’s a flyin’ and it’s now or never.  Make that bucket list!

4.  Keep up with pop culture – to a degree.  You don’t have to know the name of every music group or the latest young star or slang, but you can have a familiarity with some of it.  Listen to some new music.  A lot of it is great.  Remember how shocked our parents were at what we listened to?  It’s the same now.  If you hear something you don’t get, look it up on the internet.  It may shock you, but at least you won’t be clueless.

5.  Keep up with technology.  We’ll never be as fast or as knowledgeable as the generations after us, but there’s a lot that’s wonderful and makes our lives more fun and easier.  If you don’t like it, don’t use it, but don’t act superior about it or turn your nose up.

6.  Enjoy people of all ages.  Don’t complain that children are noisy or teens are disrespectful or your grown children are living the wrong lifestyle.  We used to be them.  Enjoy where you were and where you are now.  We all have to go through it.

7.  Don’t be disappointed in how your life turned out.  Everyone has something happen they didn’t expect, whether it’s about jobs or marriages or children or health or any number of things.  You don’t want to be one of those old people shaking your cane at the universe and how unfair it’s been to you.  Don’t be a curmudgeon!

8.  Smile a lot, laugh a lot, surround yourself with friends and family and people as much as you can.

You can choose to be happy and happiness is probably what makes you hipper than you would ever dream.

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Four is an amazing age, taking a little one from toddler to school kid in way too short a time.  I’m watching yet another one of my offspring finish up the year, turning five in a few weeks.  A wonder to behold.

Four is the champion year for make-believe, dress up, pretend, toys.  A four year old is forever dressing in costume, being a super hero or a princess or whatever strikes his/her fancy at the moment.  They name their toys and surround themselves with stuffed animals or cars or action heroes in a fantasy world of their own.  They project the world they’ve heard about onto their play, creating situations based on their understanding of what they hear and see.  It’s funny to listen to one talk to a stuffed baby unicorn about what they are going to do today.  Or watch them place their dolls or action heroes into lego houses to mimic the adults who talk to them in tones that translate into something different when you hear it through a four year old’s voice.

Four is an age of individuality.  Let a four year old pick out his or her own outfit and you’ll know a lot about what’s to come.  And you’ll definitely smile!

Four is the age when you start to really relate to your friends.  It’s having another four year old come up to you and say, “You can be my friend.”  And thinking that’s great.  Until something happens and you get your feelings hurt and don’t understand.  It’s a time when girls hug when they see each other and boys just talk to other boys like they’ve known them all their lives because they are both standing in front of a display of action heroes in a store.  “I’ve got that one.  Which one do you have?”  I’ve watched big boys, known as adult men, do the same thing.

Four is the age of thinking you can do anything, of thinking you know more than you do.  Your speech is clearer, you know more words, you’re more coordinated than you were at three.  Four year olds think they’re there!  But, of course, they aren’t.  I have the most independent granddaughter of any child I’ve ever met.  She keeps telling me “I can take care of myself.”  She honestly thinks she can, but I have to remind her that she is four and that she needs to listen to what we tell her.  I think of her father…oh my!

Four year olds are learning skills, some in their own mind.  You have to watch them because they think they know how to cook, work the computer, turn on machines, pour milk…the list is endless.  They know a little bit too much, but not enough, sometimes.

Four is the age when the magic of associating letters and numbers with reading and writing and adding is starting to form.  I read a lot about how kids are being forced to read too early and kindergartens are taking away their childhoods.  I can agree with that – a lot.  I also was watching this little one read and spell her first words with that light of understanding in her eyes.  Nobody forced her.  Reading is one of the more unpredictable miracles of all times and we don’t know when a little brain will click with the recognition.  This child is bright, I’ll give her that with a grandmother’s pride, but she isn’t the only bright child out there.  She’s been playing with an iPad since she was a few months old, she’s had interactive television shows, and there is that branding of companies that seems to be our first reading lesson for children.  How old do they have to be before they recognize the sign at McDonalds or the ice cream store?  It would almost be stranger if she wasn’t starting to put it all together.

Mostly, and it does also have its challenges for parents and teachers, four is a precious age.  Four year olds still cuddle, still look adorable when they are frustrated trying to tackle a new task, and still have a joy of childhood in their eyes.  There’s no going back.  Five is coming, still a wonderful age.  Five year olds have more of the world in them, more to taint their innocence and more to take them a step further away from your protection.  I’m going to treasure this last couple of weeks with a four year old, watching this magical transformation that has taken place from four to five.  I can’t wait to see what’s next for this one?DSC_0011

We graduated from high school and started college 51 years ago.  We graduated in the 60s and now we’re in our 60s.  When we get together, we begin finding out what’s going on with our kids, our grandkids, ourselves, passing photos, usually on our phones these days.  That’s the pretty standard ice-breaker, although we really don’t need one.  Yesterday was typical as I went to brunch with five women I knew from high school because one of them was in town for the holiday and this  group showed up when an email was sent to the class.

It’s said that men talk about things or ideas and women talk about people.  Pretty true, really, although I think it’s more about the fact that women get right down to the personal and men may never do that.  At our age, women are nicely outspoken, at least the women I know and want to be with.  By now, we’ve all been through things we never envisioned and our views on what’s right and wrong have been shaped by what we’ve lived as much as by what we were taught.

Our conversation yesterday veered into a story of one of our classmates whose life would make a terrific novel.  Briefly, she was in a major car wreck in high school, suffered brain and other physical injuries, was in love with a boy who stayed by her side even when her parents wanted him gone, secretly married him, was sent to a Catholic school far away when her parents found out and annulled the marriage, he kept visiting her, they both married others but always loved each other.  Cutting through to the end, she still loved him and they were about to get back together just a few years ago and he died.  She made it to the funeral on her walker and was greeted warmly by his second wife.  We don’t know if she’s in assisted living now or not.

That story led us to a discussion of our lives in the early sixties.  Of course, there were some more adventurous than we were, but this was a table of what were then considered “nice” girls.  The girl in the story snuck off to be married because you didn’t have sex before you were married.  We talked of another girl in our class, a close friend of mine, who committed suicide at 15 when she found out she was pregnant.  Besides the sadness of the story, there were those who didn’t know she was pregnant until our brunch.  I didn’t find out until over 45 years later.  We discussed the fact that children, even teenagers, weren’t supposed to hear about “adult” things.  I have a feeling that my parents, and the other parents, knew what happened and didn’t tell us.  Everyone agreed.

The sixties were a time of experimentation later on, but, for those of who who were one of the last graduating classes in an age of somewhat innocence, it was a time when you jumped from the shelter of your home into the reality of the world without much in the way of preparedness.  We had strict curfews in college and had to check out in writing to let the adults know where you would be.  One of my friends even had chaperones at the girls’ college she attended.  When I was in school, boys could live off campus from the moment they arrived, but girls couldn’t live off campus until they were 23, unless they were married.  No wonder people married early!  Between the draft exemption for married men and the restrictions on the girls, many chose to jump into marriage and the “freedom” it offered.  I will note that, while some of those marriages ended in divorce, many are still intact, proving that marriage is a tricky business with no guarantees.  Since most women jumped from being supported by their daddies to marriage, many women, even with college degrees, were thrown into the real world only after divorce or death forced them to cope.  No wonder the Women’s Movement was such a huge part of our lives back in the day.

The women I know, respect and love have mellowed and adapted, not because we don’t believe in the lessons we were taught, but because the realities of life have been laid in our laps.  We don’t give up on our kids and our grandkids when they don’t do things the way we did or the way we wanted them to, we face each new adversity and challenge with strengths we didn’t know we had, and we lean on each other to understand.  No matter how close you are to your children, no matter how many older and younger friends and relatives you have, there is nothing like your peers, those who started with you and have traveled the same decades.  We understand things about each other that others don’t quite get because we’ve been there together, have the same context for facing the world.

The other wonderful thing about friends is that you don’t always have to be together in person because you can pick up right where you left off when the conversation is opened.

The best part is discovering how friends have grown and changed through the years and being able to laugh at it all together.  We’re grateful for every memory, every lesson learned, and every day we have left.  Personally, I love the twinkle in the eyes of my friends as we oh so quickly approach our seventies.  Watch out world – we’re still comin’ at you!photo

 

My fascination with deserted houses is never-ending, a continual source of questions.  As a city girl, I’m intrigued by the fact that houses are left to devolve back into nature in rural areas.  There’s nobody to impress, nobody to come on your property and tell you what to do with the house unless you get lucky and some creative designer or artist wants to buy the weathered wood for a project.

Every state has rural areas, so don’t get all “it’s because you’re an Okie” on me.  I see them everywhere, especially when I’m off the highways.  I want to know the stories, imagine who lived there and when.

Here are four Okie houses…

The first one is in the Oklahoma panhandle.  I wonder if it was deserted during the Dust Bowl?  Did the people who made it a home put cloths in the windows to keep out the dust and finally just have to leave when the crops were dead and they couldn’t make it anymore?  There are so many stories out here…OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis one is from northeastern Oklahoma.  Tiny home for who?  Or storage?  Or storm shelter?DSC_0012I spotted this one on a dirt road in southwestern Oklahoma.  There’s still a window reflecting the countryside.  Was there a family here?  Or was it for storage? Were the people happy?  What happened?IMG_3487And then, there’s this one in central Oklahoma.  A lot of work to drag all those rocks to build it.  There’s also another structure and rusting oil storage tanks further up the land.  This was oil country.  Did the oil run off the farmers?  Who lived here?  Who planted the Crepe Myrtle?DSC_0002I can’t stop wondering, knowing these houses tell us so much of our history.  Aren’t you curious when you drive by?