Thursday, June 25, 2009
Life Is Cool
Some times it just becomes necessary to pitch a hissy fit. A strategically placed hissy fit in a Southern Woman's life can bring life in to focus and add a sense of direction. Now don't get me wrong, pitching hissy fits all over the place is not productive and can brand you with an identity that is not named hissy fit pitcher. A woman of southern culture adheres to the unspoken rule, do not to gloat over the spoils of HFP (hissy fit pitching). You just smile like nothing has changed and say things like, my how nice and cool the house feels and what a lovely shawl you have on. That being said I will just retire fully clothed to the sofa and drink a glass of sweet tea.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Air Conditioning War
When you get right down to the nitty-gritty, the phrase climate control can drop the pretense of the word climate and just get to the business of control. Granted there are many factors that regulate the desire or lack there of for air conditioning. We all know that as your muscles age or atrophy from lack of use they loose the ability to generate body heat. Well, maybe we all don't know that but that is how it works. When you are busy, say cleaning house or preparing a meal with the use of an oven or stove top, not only does your internal temperature rise so does the temperature of the house. Throw in the fact that the windows are up letting hot air in and most of the ceiling fans are not on because some older person in a sleeveless gown is "cold" the temperature in your home could actually be say 88 degrees. To say that can make you crabby would be an understatement. The air conditioning war is on.
The first strike was to close the windows and turn on the central air conditioner that has very few miles on it's three years of age. This battle move was not with malice, the temperature was set at 75-76 as our household is anti-digital, but it was with might. The gauntlet was thrown down by stating the air conditioner better not be turned off during the night because someone is cold. There are blankets and other sleep clothing available. The defensive move, that came at some undisclosed time, was to turn the temperature up to 80. This was noted but not acted upon.
To say this is a cold war would not be an understatement. A plan for action was devised with a clear head in the comfort of air conditioning at work. The heat of the day, the ceiling fans turned off, and the stove top on aided in the temperature elevation. A quick check of the temperature control revealed the setting to be cemented on 80. With out a word the stealth attack came with the removal of a blouse while continuing to clean the kitchen. Suddenly there was no one at the dining room table. Mopping a floor can make you really hot so off comes the Capri's. This counter attack was not misinterpreted as an amorous move, a line had been drawn in the hot air.
The near nudity was not mentioned until I calmly sat on the sofa next to my husband, who had shielded his 93 year old mother from my cooling off by putting her to bed, when he sweetly said, "Honey, if you are hot turn the air down". I told him that was a great idea because there was not much more I could take off.
We will see what happens tonight. He knows now that I am fearless. In fact this morning as I left he mentioned I was getting kind of crabby. Georgia heat can do that to you.
The first strike was to close the windows and turn on the central air conditioner that has very few miles on it's three years of age. This battle move was not with malice, the temperature was set at 75-76 as our household is anti-digital, but it was with might. The gauntlet was thrown down by stating the air conditioner better not be turned off during the night because someone is cold. There are blankets and other sleep clothing available. The defensive move, that came at some undisclosed time, was to turn the temperature up to 80. This was noted but not acted upon.
To say this is a cold war would not be an understatement. A plan for action was devised with a clear head in the comfort of air conditioning at work. The heat of the day, the ceiling fans turned off, and the stove top on aided in the temperature elevation. A quick check of the temperature control revealed the setting to be cemented on 80. With out a word the stealth attack came with the removal of a blouse while continuing to clean the kitchen. Suddenly there was no one at the dining room table. Mopping a floor can make you really hot so off comes the Capri's. This counter attack was not misinterpreted as an amorous move, a line had been drawn in the hot air.
The near nudity was not mentioned until I calmly sat on the sofa next to my husband, who had shielded his 93 year old mother from my cooling off by putting her to bed, when he sweetly said, "Honey, if you are hot turn the air down". I told him that was a great idea because there was not much more I could take off.
We will see what happens tonight. He knows now that I am fearless. In fact this morning as I left he mentioned I was getting kind of crabby. Georgia heat can do that to you.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Last Baby
I went to St. Louis to spend a summer with my grandparents and my father in 1959. I loved going to my grandparents home even though my grandfather, who always had a cigar in his hand, was a little grumpy. He worked constantly in his flower garden and wanted nothing to interfere with his handiwork. We secretly called him Mr. Wilson after Dennis the Menace's neighbor. My father, who lived with his parents after his tragic motorcycle accident, was a little odd. His idea of summer entertainment was to work algebra problems. My grandmother made up for all their short comings, she loved me for the little skinny southern girl I was and did not expect me to be anything else. All us children heard from our St. Louis grandparents on Christmas and birthdays with special cigar scented cards topped off with cigar scented cash. The smell of cigars always brought fond memories back to me. Once I worked for the Department of Revenue with cigar smoking Mr. Benson. Every one complained about the cigar smell when he entered a room. I wanted to make him feel better about himself so one day I kindly said, "Mr. Benson, you smell just like my dead grandfather". His reply, "How long has he been dead".
Little did we know just how the summer of 1959 would change our lives forever. I thought my momma and little brother Tim went to Iowa to spend the summer with a friend. Momma came to pick me up with a new husband. He was our daddy from the get go. He worked part time at the Strombecker Toy Factory while he was in his last year of chiropractic college and we couldn't wait to see what factory reject he brought home each day. Who cared if the Bill Dings had a paint kick or the doll house furniture had glue drips. Our own father had brought home items such as a Geiger counter, slides of bombs going off, and an occasional parachute. Beside this, daddy Tom didn't yell at us and scare us half to death. Granted we deserved some of the yelling. My brother Bob and I spent all our money at the trick shop purchasing things like trick ink spills and plastic vomit. We almost got our dog Rover killed over the plastic vomit strategically placed on our father's new Air Force uniform. I would like to point out that Bob led the way in the trick department, but I was a willing participant. The other big surprise when we went back to Montgomery was that momma was pregnant! No one knew momma was married much less pregnant. Mr. Moncrief, one of the less tactfull neighbors, asked momma right to her face when the baby was due and then asked when she got married as he proceeded to count to nine on his fingers.
Tommy came in March and Tim had a playmate five years younger. I was much too old to play baby doll as I was in Junior High School. I was big enough, however, to pick him up. With the new daddy and new baby came a move to Georgia. Moving was the worst part of the deal. We were ripped away from all that we knew and held dear. Tommy was a great consolation. We loved him so much if he even looked like he wanted something we got it for him. That being the case, he did not find it necessary to talk. He looked thirsty, we got water. He loved Gerber Jr. Baby Food. He ate it so long that he would go to the cabinet and pick out the dinner he wanted. Momma made him eat from the table when he could open the jar himself. Poor Tommy, it is a wonder he ever survived having siblings. We used to strap him in a rocking chair with a belt around his tummy and he would rock so hard the chair would turn over and he would hit his head on the floor. Tommy has turned out to be a handsome, well adjusted man with tremendous speech capabilities and Tim and I are happy to say carries no sign of cranial damage from the frequent head trauma. We no longer call him our little brother as he is the biggest kid in the family.
Bob, Tim, and I had the momma who never went anywhere and Tommy had the momma that was never home. This change came when square dancing entered her life. She and daddy were do-si-do-ing all over three states. It was good, clean fun which my brother tagged along until he could opt to stay home. Momma, Daddy, and their square dancing friends always stopped off at a Denny's Restaurant after a night of dancing. You would think that all the Denny's were laid out the same. That's what momma and her friends thought when they went rushing in to the restroom with their crinolines flying to wash their hands after an evening of ala-mand-ing left. They saw a woman standing at the sink washing her hands so they all rushed over. They were in the men's room and it was not a woman standing at the sink washing her hands. The poor man turned around mid stream spraying the entire group. I asked momma what they did, she said they screamed and ran out of the restroom. Some where in Georgia there is a man who has had to spend lots of money on therapy in order to use public restrooms again. Needless to say, Tommy never took up square dancing.
Little did we know just how the summer of 1959 would change our lives forever. I thought my momma and little brother Tim went to Iowa to spend the summer with a friend. Momma came to pick me up with a new husband. He was our daddy from the get go. He worked part time at the Strombecker Toy Factory while he was in his last year of chiropractic college and we couldn't wait to see what factory reject he brought home each day. Who cared if the Bill Dings had a paint kick or the doll house furniture had glue drips. Our own father had brought home items such as a Geiger counter, slides of bombs going off, and an occasional parachute. Beside this, daddy Tom didn't yell at us and scare us half to death. Granted we deserved some of the yelling. My brother Bob and I spent all our money at the trick shop purchasing things like trick ink spills and plastic vomit. We almost got our dog Rover killed over the plastic vomit strategically placed on our father's new Air Force uniform. I would like to point out that Bob led the way in the trick department, but I was a willing participant. The other big surprise when we went back to Montgomery was that momma was pregnant! No one knew momma was married much less pregnant. Mr. Moncrief, one of the less tactfull neighbors, asked momma right to her face when the baby was due and then asked when she got married as he proceeded to count to nine on his fingers.
Tommy came in March and Tim had a playmate five years younger. I was much too old to play baby doll as I was in Junior High School. I was big enough, however, to pick him up. With the new daddy and new baby came a move to Georgia. Moving was the worst part of the deal. We were ripped away from all that we knew and held dear. Tommy was a great consolation. We loved him so much if he even looked like he wanted something we got it for him. That being the case, he did not find it necessary to talk. He looked thirsty, we got water. He loved Gerber Jr. Baby Food. He ate it so long that he would go to the cabinet and pick out the dinner he wanted. Momma made him eat from the table when he could open the jar himself. Poor Tommy, it is a wonder he ever survived having siblings. We used to strap him in a rocking chair with a belt around his tummy and he would rock so hard the chair would turn over and he would hit his head on the floor. Tommy has turned out to be a handsome, well adjusted man with tremendous speech capabilities and Tim and I are happy to say carries no sign of cranial damage from the frequent head trauma. We no longer call him our little brother as he is the biggest kid in the family.
Bob, Tim, and I had the momma who never went anywhere and Tommy had the momma that was never home. This change came when square dancing entered her life. She and daddy were do-si-do-ing all over three states. It was good, clean fun which my brother tagged along until he could opt to stay home. Momma, Daddy, and their square dancing friends always stopped off at a Denny's Restaurant after a night of dancing. You would think that all the Denny's were laid out the same. That's what momma and her friends thought when they went rushing in to the restroom with their crinolines flying to wash their hands after an evening of ala-mand-ing left. They saw a woman standing at the sink washing her hands so they all rushed over. They were in the men's room and it was not a woman standing at the sink washing her hands. The poor man turned around mid stream spraying the entire group. I asked momma what they did, she said they screamed and ran out of the restroom. Some where in Georgia there is a man who has had to spend lots of money on therapy in order to use public restrooms again. Needless to say, Tommy never took up square dancing.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tim
I was seven years old when my brother Tim was born in Clovis, New Mexico. I thought that momma had him just for me. She let me pick the name Tim. I chose it after Sally's toy bear from my Dick and Jane reader. Be careful where you get your baby names because I can tell you now he is not thrilled about being named after a stuffed animal. I told him it could be worse, he could have been named Spot or Puff. Tim came during the heyday of my doll playing days and he was much more fun than Tiny Tears. I wasn't actually big enough to carry him around when he was born. I don't know how big I was then but I distinctly remember the year before being carried around during recess by the older kids at Alabama Christian College. I started first grade when I was 5, weighed 30 pounds, and wore a size three dress. Tim's first sentence was "Eat Linda" so I guess we always looked out for each other.
Tim was two by the time we got back to Montgomery. Momma soon learned to keep his shoes off so he wouldn't slip off to see Uncle Bill down the street. Do not take these excursions all the way down the block as evidence of his bravery, he just loved Uncle Bill and Aunt Lee. The first time Tim really got scared, he scared himself. Momma made him the cutest clown costume for Halloween. The first stop on the Trick or Treat route was our next door neighbor, Ruth Parker. As it turned out, it was also his last stop. She took Tim to see himself in a floor length mirror. He was so frightened by the clown we had to go home. I don't think this actually led to psychological problems but I can tell you this, he never enjoyed the circus.
Our older brother, Bob, liked to use Tim as a date magnet. He would cart him everywhere so the teen aged girls would come by to talk to the cute little boy. He worked the crowd much better than our dog Rover.
Through some poor personal choices of mine, Tim and I ended up one quarter apart in college. Those were the days. Clayton Jr. College only had one building at the time but it did have an enormous parking lot. When I drove my 68 Cougar we parked close to the building, when Tim drove his car we parked in the most remote section where no one in their right mind parked. I was off to chiropractic college one quarter before him. Every quarter we discussed what system of note taking we were going to use. This was important to him because not only did he use my books, he used my notes. The quarter I deiced to use some shorthand was not his favorite. I redeemed myself by purchasing an IBM Selectric Typewriter. It was the bomb. I might not have been so proud of my purchase if I had know the future technology of delete, cut, paste, and spell check. Going to college in the B.C. days, before computers, was not all it was cracked up to be.
I had two young children when I headed off to chiropractic college. Tim gained a wife and a daughter before he graduated. It is a wonder we didn't all starve to death. Momma would come up with some interesting food items for us. Once she gave us a case of Spanish Rice. We donated Spanish Rice to every food drive they had at school. I still hate Spanish Rice. Then there was the little meat fingers made from some mystery meat. I tried every way I could to disguise the taste. Tim would laugh when momma would say, "Linda just loves those little meat fingers". I think he was responsible to me getting so many. We went to college not only prior to computers, we went prior to student loans. The best paying job I could find was as a cocktail waitress at Dobbins AFB. The job paid $5 and hour plus tips. The only problem was I had never even been to a bar much less worked in one. I didn't even know what color different liqueurs were. Tim had a friend whose father had owned a bar that was closed. I used him as a reference because they couldn't check it. Some how I got the job that I needed so badly. Lee, the bartender, took me under his wing and soon I was a top notch waitress. It was like working with your family, the same people there every day. Well, maybe not like working with my family but some one's drunk family. They had an opening at the package store so I got Tim a job. I would go in there to purchase cigarettes for customers and had to look through the entire stock before finding what I was looking for because I didn't know what color packages they were. in. I learned a lot working there. Like for instance, I didn't want that to be my permanent job. I kept my tacky short red cocktail uniform to keep me humble. One day I found it after years of being packed away my husband said, "I bet you can't still wear that." I put that baby right on. It was much shorter than I remember. All Tim had to remember from his package store days was an umbrella left by one of his most frequent customers. I borrowed it, and I use that term loosely, and quickly lost that memento for him.
I graduated and moved to north Georgia and Tim went to practice with our dad. Our oldest brother practices in Alabama, God's country. The baby, who is no longer qualified to be called "our little brother" lives next door to our parents. I have seen so many families not share in the responsibilities of Raising Their Parents, but I am proud to say my brothers are the best. We talk frequently, often starting the conversation by saying, "Your mother....".
Tim was two by the time we got back to Montgomery. Momma soon learned to keep his shoes off so he wouldn't slip off to see Uncle Bill down the street. Do not take these excursions all the way down the block as evidence of his bravery, he just loved Uncle Bill and Aunt Lee. The first time Tim really got scared, he scared himself. Momma made him the cutest clown costume for Halloween. The first stop on the Trick or Treat route was our next door neighbor, Ruth Parker. As it turned out, it was also his last stop. She took Tim to see himself in a floor length mirror. He was so frightened by the clown we had to go home. I don't think this actually led to psychological problems but I can tell you this, he never enjoyed the circus.
Our older brother, Bob, liked to use Tim as a date magnet. He would cart him everywhere so the teen aged girls would come by to talk to the cute little boy. He worked the crowd much better than our dog Rover.
Through some poor personal choices of mine, Tim and I ended up one quarter apart in college. Those were the days. Clayton Jr. College only had one building at the time but it did have an enormous parking lot. When I drove my 68 Cougar we parked close to the building, when Tim drove his car we parked in the most remote section where no one in their right mind parked. I was off to chiropractic college one quarter before him. Every quarter we discussed what system of note taking we were going to use. This was important to him because not only did he use my books, he used my notes. The quarter I deiced to use some shorthand was not his favorite. I redeemed myself by purchasing an IBM Selectric Typewriter. It was the bomb. I might not have been so proud of my purchase if I had know the future technology of delete, cut, paste, and spell check. Going to college in the B.C. days, before computers, was not all it was cracked up to be.
I had two young children when I headed off to chiropractic college. Tim gained a wife and a daughter before he graduated. It is a wonder we didn't all starve to death. Momma would come up with some interesting food items for us. Once she gave us a case of Spanish Rice. We donated Spanish Rice to every food drive they had at school. I still hate Spanish Rice. Then there was the little meat fingers made from some mystery meat. I tried every way I could to disguise the taste. Tim would laugh when momma would say, "Linda just loves those little meat fingers". I think he was responsible to me getting so many. We went to college not only prior to computers, we went prior to student loans. The best paying job I could find was as a cocktail waitress at Dobbins AFB. The job paid $5 and hour plus tips. The only problem was I had never even been to a bar much less worked in one. I didn't even know what color different liqueurs were. Tim had a friend whose father had owned a bar that was closed. I used him as a reference because they couldn't check it. Some how I got the job that I needed so badly. Lee, the bartender, took me under his wing and soon I was a top notch waitress. It was like working with your family, the same people there every day. Well, maybe not like working with my family but some one's drunk family. They had an opening at the package store so I got Tim a job. I would go in there to purchase cigarettes for customers and had to look through the entire stock before finding what I was looking for because I didn't know what color packages they were. in. I learned a lot working there. Like for instance, I didn't want that to be my permanent job. I kept my tacky short red cocktail uniform to keep me humble. One day I found it after years of being packed away my husband said, "I bet you can't still wear that." I put that baby right on. It was much shorter than I remember. All Tim had to remember from his package store days was an umbrella left by one of his most frequent customers. I borrowed it, and I use that term loosely, and quickly lost that memento for him.
I graduated and moved to north Georgia and Tim went to practice with our dad. Our oldest brother practices in Alabama, God's country. The baby, who is no longer qualified to be called "our little brother" lives next door to our parents. I have seen so many families not share in the responsibilities of Raising Their Parents, but I am proud to say my brothers are the best. We talk frequently, often starting the conversation by saying, "Your mother....".
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Mrs. Hooks
Momma called to say that Mrs. Hooks died last week. Out of respect for my elders she will never be Mary to me, forever Mrs. Hooks. I was sad to hear of Joe and John loosing their mother. I was sad to hear of one more piece of my childhood slipping away. I loved Mrs. Hooks. Every time I have ever gone "home" to Montgomery, I always stopped by to see her. She never failed to recognize me and always welcomed me home. She also never failed to remind me that her son John could have met his death at our hands, the hanging she had always prided herself on preventing.
The Hook's house was one of the first homes on Sherwood Drive and it has remained their family home since 1955. Nothing ever changed there. Mrs. Hooks was swept away by the blond furniture rage,she purchased the same dining room furniture we had. Some where along the way we ditched ours but she still had hers the last time I saw her. Mr. Hooks, Joe Tom, passed away long before her. He spent his working days at a company that made dog food. I never remember them having a dog but Rover sure like to go to their house. We all like to go to their house. Mr. & Mrs. Hooks had a way of making you feel welcome, Mr. Hooks always teased us and made us laugh.
Their son Joe and my brother Bob would fight like cats and dogs over some quarrel that I was never privy to. The Hooks never took sides although I do recall them breaking up a fight with a cold spray from the water hose.
Joe Tom and Mary Hooks, they were the Ward and June Cleavers of Sherwood Forest. I can just hear Minerva Kennedy in heaven giving her the scoop on the streets of gold. Aunt Lee, Aunt Dora and Uncle Gene will be there too. All the old neighbors will always have a special place in my heart, especially Mrs. Hooks.
The Hook's house was one of the first homes on Sherwood Drive and it has remained their family home since 1955. Nothing ever changed there. Mrs. Hooks was swept away by the blond furniture rage,she purchased the same dining room furniture we had. Some where along the way we ditched ours but she still had hers the last time I saw her. Mr. Hooks, Joe Tom, passed away long before her. He spent his working days at a company that made dog food. I never remember them having a dog but Rover sure like to go to their house. We all like to go to their house. Mr. & Mrs. Hooks had a way of making you feel welcome, Mr. Hooks always teased us and made us laugh.
Their son Joe and my brother Bob would fight like cats and dogs over some quarrel that I was never privy to. The Hooks never took sides although I do recall them breaking up a fight with a cold spray from the water hose.
Joe Tom and Mary Hooks, they were the Ward and June Cleavers of Sherwood Forest. I can just hear Minerva Kennedy in heaven giving her the scoop on the streets of gold. Aunt Lee, Aunt Dora and Uncle Gene will be there too. All the old neighbors will always have a special place in my heart, especially Mrs. Hooks.
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