The Mickey Mouse Club

April 12, 2013 //

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 //

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

Dating in the old days

April 7, 2013 //

When you’re watching your grandchildren grow up, you can’t help but compare their lives to yours at the same age. It’s always jarring to look at a picture of yourself and realize you look as old fashioned to them as your grandparents did to you. You only hope that they can look past that and learn from your infinite wisdom, also hoping you have any.

When I was in 7th grade, junior high then, most of us started social dance classes. Other communities had similar places, but, in Tulsa, we had Skilly’s, where we first learned etiquette. They seated the boys on one side and the girls on the other and the boys had to learn how to walk, not run, across the room and politely ask a girl to dance. That was palm-sweating, nerve wracking, embarrassing and, yet, we all learned to be gracious. Not only did we learn to dance – fox trot, waltz, swing, cha cha – in the basic class, but they had dances for us to get real practice. This is me in 7th grade at one of the dances. Since I started junior high at 11, I must have turned 12 by this time, probably wearing my first heels, strapless dress and petticoats.

We had lots of dances in junior high and high school. It seems like there was always something going on. We also had social clubs in junior high and high school for both boys and girls. The clubs had dances, the school had dances, there were dances after football games, friends had dances in their homes where we played our stacks of 45s and 33 rpm records. And rock and roll was growing by leaps and bounds, so we had great music, lots of local bands, and plenty of opportunities to practice our skills. We danced fast and furiously and we danced a lot. At least I did back in the 50s and 60s. New dances came out all the time. The Twist was our new favorite my senior year.

As with most things, there was good and bad in the clubs, which excluded some kids and involved voting on members, not all of which was pretty, kind or fair. But, we learned to organize and plan events under the helpful eyes of our mothers, we learned to invite people out, and we started dating. Dating started with dance school, social club and school dances with your parents driving. There was the giggling with your friends at school while you eyed the boy you wanted to ask you out. There was the cringingly painful waiting by the phone, literally waiting by the phone since we didn’t have either portable or cell phones, and there was the horror when someone asked you out that you didn’t want to go with. And, finally, there was the joy of having the right boy call or ask you out, followed by the awkwardness of being together and getting to know each other. No wonder so many couples went steady, which was when you were supposed to be exclusively with that boy or girl. At least you didn’t have to wonder about the dance.

There weren’t just dances. We dated a lot. There were coke dates (casual dates to go get a coke and either get to know the person or just be together), movies, football games, basketball games, picnics, church events, and anything else we could come up with as an excuse to go out. Once you were going with someone, it wasn’t so much a date as deciding where you were going to tell your parents you were going. One time my future husband and I toured the Wonder Bread factory on a Friday night for a cheap date. I didn’t ever lie about where I was going, but I did end up other places, too. There was a lot of time until our Midnight curfew for most girls. I got to stay out until 1:00 when the dances ended at 12.

We hung out with our friends, too. I spent a lot of time cruising with my girlfriends and even groups of guys. Nobody seemed to ask where we were going on those nights, so we just cruised all over town, laughing, listening to the radio, and looking for whatever Friday night would bring. American Graffiti was the story of my high school days, music and all.

Anyway, I digress with lots of memories here. By the time we got to graduation, most of us had been on lots of dates of various kinds. Here I am at what was called the Southern Ball, a high school sponsored dance, my senior year. I had the dress and heels, had been to the beauty shop, because I know I could never have gotten my hair to do this on my own, and we were headed out. Rockin’ and rollin’ in the big heels and big hair. I think I still had my braces on – they came off right before my prom.

By the time we got to college, we were prepared as much as you can be to jump into the craziness of campus life. Here is a picture of my husband and me at a dance at Oklahoma State University a few months before we got married, my senior year. I love his high water pants – he had gotten out of the Navy that summer and grown a few more inches and his old civilian wardrobe needed some updating. But here we were, engaged and out on a date, going dancing as we had since we met.

My grandkids don’t date as much. They have a few dances, which they hate because there are so many drugs and the dancing isn’t as much fun. At least we knew how to do close dancing as well as do the newest ones and anyone drinking was thrown out. Movies are expensive so that isn’t an every weekend option. There don’t seem to be places for all the kids to hang out and they don’t attend the school sporting events like we did. It’s a new world. I don’t blame their parents for sheltering them more, for keeping them home where there are movies and video games to entertain them. I don’t blame parents for anything. We all do our best to protect and raise our children and who am I to say what I would be doing today. I’m just an observer, looking through the lens of what was and what is.

The word dating has a new generation meaning. Parents go on Date Nights, where we used to just go out with our husbands. The word dating is almost a euphemism these days. I never know for sure what they mean when adults say they are “dating.” It has shaded differences, for sure.

I’m being nostalgic as I remember the fun we had, blocking out the bad dates that also came with the experience. I hope my grandkids date with more than texts and emails, explore meeting different people and falling in love in the best of ways, not matter what they call the process. It’s all about learning to be in relationships where we feel the most comfortable and loved and have the most fun life can offer us. I wish everyone finds that, at least once in their lives.

Tags 50s, 60s, dating, nostalgia, reflections

Categories Entertainment, Family, Memories, Music, Reflections

Good Manners

March 29, 2013 //

Today I was in the check-out line at Sam’s Club and watched a man holding a little boy talking to the elderly woman behind him. Then he had the boy give her a high five, which was cute. It also made me think of something my mother said when high fives were first getting started, “what will happen to shaking hands?” She wasn’t against high fives, but she saw the writing on the wall as to the next generation of greetings. Little boys were taught to politely shake hands when they met adults in the old days.

Then, the line being slow, my mind went to her lessons in manners. And the music started in my head. She had a record, a 78 rpm, called Manners Can Be Fun by Frank Luther. I looked him up and he was a country singer, songwriter, etc, who gained a lot of fame with children’s records way back when. The record was based on the book of the same title by Munro Leaf. Anyway, this was one of my mother’s favorites and we sang it all the time. She laughingly swore later that she played it for us in our sleep. And I can still remember all the words the minute the music starts.

When I had my own children, I found the new version on 33 rpm, and played it for them. I hope it sank in – I’m sure it did. They all have good manners, although I’m not sure the parts about picking up their rooms was so effective as they grew up.

One of the most fun things I ever did for my mother was to dig out the record and send it off to have it made into a CD. It must have been the original 78 because i couldn’t find anyone in town to do it at the time. The man in California who transferred it for me was so entranced that he wrote me that he had made a copy for his kids. I gave copies to my children for my grandchildren in hopes…

I played it for my 3 year old granddaughter in the car the other day and she seemed fascinated as I watched her in the rearview mirror. Maybe it was the fact that I was singing along and knew all the words. If I ever want her to know her great-grandmother, this is the perfect way to start.

Hope this link works so you can enjoy it, too.

Thank you!

01 Manners Can Be Fun

Tags children, family, manners, music

Categories Entertainment, Family, Memories, Music

Shine

March 25, 2013 //

Shine is a term I learned in Hollywood last year, probably from one of the ever present celebrity news shows in L.A. It basically means what people get when they rub up against the stars. Writing about it is a little strange because I sound like I’m dropping names myself, which is not my intention. I was reminded of the meaning of Shine today when an actor friend was telling another friend about his first trip to an autograph show. People lined up for two hours to get his autograph, a new thing for someone who has been a serious actor for almost 50 years and suddenly finds himself in the middle of a popular show. He’s old enough to get a kick out of it, even though he is amazed by it.

I’ve met many famous people through the years, famous for everything from sports to acting to art, cooking, politics, music, whatever. It’s fun to see them in person, and, yes, some of them are larger than life, but I’m always amazed at the reaction of everyone around them, including myself sometimes. I’m not a big autograph person, although I do have some autographed books. I usually have authors sign their name rather than signing it to me, which seems so awkward since I don’t really know them. There were a couple of exceptions with chefs I worked with for several months. I’m also not one for jumping into pictures with the stars, even though I love pictures. I do have a picture of me with Dorothy Hamill, taken years ago. She was sitting on my desk at work, waiting to perform, and I got a picture mainly because I had worn her hair style for years. I don’t remember any other photos of me with anyone. I think I had an autographed picture of Hopalong Cassidy when I was a little girl and met him at a horse show. It also comes from not wanting to bother them while they are trying to be normal people, which is where I usually meet people of fame.

This isn’t to say I don’t understand all of this. I have tons of pictures of people and it’s fun to see fans line up for someone. I love that the “stars” get to meet their fans and feel appreciated, which probably makes the star shine even more. I’m reading yet another book about Joan of Arc, who was a superstar in her time. Even her opponents described the glow that came from within her. If all is true, her shine came from her sacred mission and her purity, although she was as human as the rest of us with her bad temper and stubborn ways.

The “stars” we think of are normal people doing their job, some enormously talented in their field, and a few who are just good people. I’m not going to become a star by meeting famous people or hanging around with them. The reason I’m writing about Shine is to remind myself that I should be getting my Shine from rubbing up against people who are caring and loving and making a difference in the world. These people are all around us. We don’t ask them for autographs or have our picture made with them. They don’t get a concrete star in Hollywood or their name in lights or get mentioned on television every day. I want to shine because I’ve surrounded myself with family and friends who make me better for knowing them.

I do love the term Shine though. It’ll be around as long as there are stars in the sky!

Tags celebrities, Entertainment, Hollywood

Categories Entertainment, Friends, Reflections

Blue Skies

March 24, 2013 //

Sometimes you can’t help being happy. Nothing happened today that is out of the ordinary or too good or too bad. It was cloudy and cold this morning with snow flurries. Now the sun is out, the sky is blue, the enormous Bradford Pear trees in my neighbor’s yard are in full bloom, and Spring is coming for sure.

Sometimes the simple things are all you need to lift your soul! And give you a moment of silliness!

Categories Reflections, Seasons

Irrational Fears

March 23, 2013 //

I don’t remember being afraid of too much until I became a parent. Maybe I was and those fears were minor compared to the ones that come with parenthood. Or, maybe, they come with seeing the real world for all its dangers. I’m talking about those moments when your brain goes berserk with all the possibilities that are out of your control, those times when your imagination takes over reason and you are actually experiencing real symptoms of fear. Pacing. Sweating. Heart racing. Nerves on edge. Sleeplessness. That feeling in the pit of your stomach. Out of control.

There are times when you should be afraid, should know that there may be danger out there. I’m talking about the fear that comes when you really have no specific reason to think the worst, to imagine the worst case scenario. This was all brought home to me when one of my cats disappeared, not even for a very long time. He had an infection and had a shot of antibiotics. He went outside, which he does every night, and didn’t come back first thing in the morning. Did a fox get him? Did he get hit by a car? Did he get catnapped? Totally irrational, because he has done this before, but very real on my part.

It’s like the times your child comes home later than expected or you can’t reach a child at college (this was before cell phones and internet). All the possible horrible things you can imagine come to mind. The human mind is a tricky thing. So is the human heart. The worst things that have happened to me weren’t preceded by this sudden feeling of being out of control. They were shocks, but they weren’t sudden. They had been coming for awhile. Sometimes you feel something isn’t right, but you don’t get these crazy thoughts. These are different.

The good thing about these times when you have let your imagination fly into the worst places is that the object of the fear returns or call, usually with no knowledge of your fear, and the sense of relief is as physical as the fear was. Sometimes followed by embarrassment that you let your mind go so crazy. In my latest case, the cat came sauntering down the street, came when I called and looked at me like “What?!” Probably rolled his eyes, at least to himself. Just like kids.

Our brains are interesting organs, crammed with knowledge, capable of incredible imagination, storage place for all sorts of emotions. These crazy fears are like bad dreams…maybe not as bad. At least an incident triggered this bout. I don’t know if this kind of thing is from love, guilt that you weren’t doing your job, or somewhat of a mixture. I’m not going to go any crazier about it than I already have! Everybody is in the right place for now.

Categories Family, Pets, Reflections

Canned Fruit

March 18, 2013 //

Here’s the kind of conversations I get into with my friends…one friend was looking for spiced peaches to serves and she couldn’t find them at the store. We started talking about how special those were when we were kids and how our mothers served them to guests. She thought it was a southern dish. A real treat to us as children. Then I was with some other friends and mentioned the spiced peaches. None of us had thought of them in years, so we started talking about how good they tasted. And about canned pears with cottage cheese, which ladies served at luncheons. And we moved on to the absolute childish joy of fruit cocktail. And how there were too few cherries in it, so you had to try to get one in your serving.

We all know about trends in foods as well as other things. Today, all those fruits, along with the canned vegetables (canned corn, green beans) we loved before there were frozen vegetables, that were staples of our diets way back when, have been found to have too much sugar or salt. Today, we can get fresh food easier than we used to be able to in the cities back then or cans with less sodium, less sugar, and so on. Companies like Del Monte have been around since the 1880s, so they have always been around in our lifetimes. They were timesavers from the days of growing and canning your own, a help to the modern housewife of the 50s and 60s.

I’m all for the health trend, but we all know what happens when you remember the taste or smell of something from your childhood. My friend and I had looked online to see if they still make spiced peaches, which they do. I was supposed to look for them at the store, but I kept forgetting. Today, I was just about to check out and decided to walk back to the fruit section. There were spiced peaches, right there in front of me. I opened the jar as soon as I got the groceries unpacked to see if they taste the way I remember them.

Yum! Yes, they do. Not only do they taste the way I remember them, but now they are flavored with the memories of childhood with every bite. I may never eat them again, but today I had a sweet taste of my childhood.

Tags canned fruit, family, history, nostalgia

Categories Family, Memories, Recipes

The Spring Nest Project

March 17, 2013 //

When my kids were all three, I taught their Sunday School classes and one of my favorite projects was making spring nests. I’m pretty amazed that I did it with a whole class of little ones, but I was a lot younger then. Today seemed like a good day to try it with my youngest granddaughter. She’s going to demonstrate for us, showing that you can even wear a tutu while cooking.

First, we made the grass. She did it basically all by herself with me putting coconut in a bag with some green food coloring and letting her shake it. Pretty fun to make green grass.

Then we made the nests, which are basically Rice Krispies treats made with Cocoa Krispies. Before there were Cocoa Krispies, we just added cocoa to the mixture of marshmallows and butter. We watched the marshmallows rise in the microwave…

Then we stirred the marshmallows and butter until they were smooth…

Then we added the Cocoa Krispies and stirred everything together.

Then I put big spoonfuls of the mixture on waxed paper…

And then coated my hands with butter so I could shape them into rough nests.

Then we added the grass to the nests, or nestess as she called them.

And added tiny jelly bean eggs.

And she even mastered wrapping them in clear wrap – at least for one.

And we put them in a basket or two.

Spring Nests to give to those we love!

Categories Family, Recipes

The Ugly Words

March 16, 2013 //

There are some ugly words out there, some of them mean and cruel, racist epithets, hateful terms. But there are a couple that I find the ugliest of all.

The first one is Cancer. If you hear this word, no matter what you know or who it’s about, you immediately think DEATH. Tell me you don’t automatically go there, no matter how many people you know who have beat it or are in remission. In those first shocking seconds, that’s what makes you gasp! From what I’ve read, it’s always there and it just gets a foothold on us when our immune system is down or we suffer a trauma or many other reasons. And it never really goes away, even if you’re in remission for years. You may never have another occurrence, but it is always hanging there. If it’s active or recent, you live from scan to scan. Even after the all clear, there has got to be a gulp before a doctor’s visit or every time you feel a twinge or ache. It’s not a death sentence for all, thank goodness, but it’s still pretty devastating to hear it said. I’ve lived through it with my husband and son, both of them gone because of the disease & the treatments, and with friends, some who lived through it, some who are still dealing with it and some who are now gone. It’s just an ugly word.

The second ugliest word to me is Widow. I looked it up and it’s been used since before the 12th century. That’s what it feels like…archaic. It comes from Middle English, Old English, Old High German and Latin variations of the word. The Latin word, videre, means to separate. I learned that widowhood is also called viduity. That’s an obscure, strange term that sounds like…what does that sound like? Anyway, widower doesn’t seem to have the same ugly sound to me. Widowers are men, sad and lonely, who most often will find another woman as quickly as they can. That’s kind of cold, but it’s very often, not always, true. This doesn’t mean they didn’t love their wives, but it’s just a male thing. I’m not making a blanket statement, just an observation. There are always exceptions.

I don’t know what the label Widow does to most women, but I didn’t like it. It’s a strange word to check on forms, an ugly word for a strange club you never wanted to join (as another widow friend of mine said). Here’s what the word conjures up to me.

Now, tell me the truth. Isn’t that the image that jumps to mind? Some variation of this, at least. Especially the wringing the handkerchief part. At least this one isn’t wearing a black veil. I’m not trying to be flip about it, because it is a painful, painful state of being at first. Your heart is ripped apart, if you loved your husband, and you feel like you’ve been torn in two. It’s not an easy thing and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I know people who have suffered through this at all ages, although I guess at some point as you get older, you suspect it will happen to you or your spouse. Even then, it’s not easy and can still be a shock. My parents were married over 50 years and my mother was devastated. She was a strong woman, but this was her life. Like all of life, everyone handles it differently, hence, the merry widow, the black widow, etc.

I don’t know where I’m going with this but it was on my mind since I’m marking 15 years of living with this label. I still think of him every day, I still miss him, I can still hear his voice. Mostly, I remember with love and humor and I’m lucky to see him in our children and grandchildren. My life isn’t like I pictured it when I was young and in love. It’s not even how I pictured it when I was turning 50, but it’s pretty darn good. Maybe because I know how loved I’ve been all my life. But, that crappy word. What can we do about that? Or would any word be just as bad? Just ugly, ugly, ugly!

Tags cancer, death, family, grief, widow

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections

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