Boomers, Do You Remember Your First Kiss?

Do You Remember Your First Kiss?

Some folks received flowers and candy today.  Others enjoyed a romantic dinner or a movie. For Valentine’s Day, I had a flash back to the past.  Yes, a flash back!  Now we are talking a long way back.

There was a hand made Valentine”s holder pinned to the wall.  It was stuffed with Valentines.  As a matter of fact, it had more in it than all the other holders on the wall.  Slowly, I removed the holder from the wall.  I laid it gently on the table.  Then I reached for the largest valentine in the folder.  The envelope was bright red.  The words, I love you were printed in bold on the front next to my name.  With my small hands shaking, I slowly took the card out of the envelope, as others watched in anticipation.

I opened the card.  It was signed, “Love, Johnnie.”  My heart beat fast as I read the words.  I looked up and it happened right there.  Yes it did!  Johnnie puckered up and laid the big one on my lips.  It was wet and messy.  The others started to giggle.  Yep, that was my first kiss.  The memory is as strong as if it just happened yesterday.  It was kinder garden class.  The giggles echoed from my friends.  Johnnie’s two front teeth were missing and there he was with a dumb GRIN  on his face.  What a visual!  I didn’t know whether to crawl under the class room table or cry.

Now I can look back and laugh about the silliness of being a child.  There has been a few years since that episode happened.  Many kisses have passed these baby boomer lips.  That kiss was special, even though it did not feel like it at the time,because it was the FIRST.  Now I am waiting for my last kiss.   If his teeth are missing so be it.  I say, “No matter what age you are pucker up and enjoy the moment!”  These baby boomer lips are not ready to retire.  🙂

In all sincerity, I hope each of you had a wonderful Valentine’s Day.  Do you remember your first kiss?

Originally posted 2012-02-14 22:14:59.

Grandchildren and Grandparents

The other day, I found myself thinking back to the days when I visited my grandparent’s house. I lived in a very small town and they lived just a couple of blocks away. I would grab my rope and skip down to their house as I sang a happy song along the way. I was just doing what most kids did at six years old in a small town. Their house had two bedrooms. One of the bedrooms, if I remember correctly, was connected to the dining room. The larger bedroom had a feather bed. Now if you do not know what a feather bed is, then I will describe it. A feather bed is made of goose feathers. Most folks made their own feather beds. When you laid on it, you sank. There was no way of turning over. One thing for sure, they were warm and a lot of fun. The bed was always covered in homemade quilts. A quilt box was in the room with more quilts for those cold winter nights. On the dresser was a shoe box filled with black and white family pictures.

The living room was small. In the winter the room was heated by a coal stove which was very messy. Grandpa was always up by 4am in the morning to get the stove fired up. He and grandma backed up to it and warmed their behinds. Grandpa always sat in a rocking chair right by his cuckoo clock. The clock totally amazed me. I loved watching the little bird pop our and cuckoo. By the clock sat an old radio. Of course it only had an AM station. FM had not come into to play yet in those years. Over by the other chair was the old rotary type telephone. It was used for emergencies only. Sometimes when they were not in the room, I would pick up the receiver and listen in on the town folk’s gossip. I sure miss those party lines. Back in those days that could be very informative and entertaining for a seven year old mischievous kid like me. It was kind of like a community family telephone because some of us didn’t have a telephone in our houses.

My favorite room was the kitchen. Grandma was always cooking something that aroused your taste buds. The wonderful aroma from her kitchen still sticks with me today. Home made pies cooked in the oven and were set on the window sills to cool. Grandma boiled her potatoes and chopped them up with a potato masher. No, there were no mixers in those days. A woman in the kitchen had to have strong hands. Grandma would always let me lick the cake batter off of the spoon when she baked a cake. I would watch, sit real still, and wait for that special moment when I was allowed to grab that spoon and bowl. Then I would lick to my hearts content, wrapping my tongue up and down that big wooden spoon. What a delight! Those were some good times! There were lots of wooden pine shelves on the wall. The shelves contained rows of mason jars. The jars were of all sizes. They were filled with corn, jams, jellies, and any kind of beans that you could imagine. There were jars of relishes, potatoes, soup, dill pickles and almost anything that you can find in today’s grocery store. This was real down home cooking. A fly swatter hung on the wall by the door. That was a job assigned to me. If a fly found its way into Grandma’s kitchen I would give it a good swat.

From the kitchen you could go outside through the old back door. It was always especially important to remember to close the screen door or I would be batting flies again.

The yard had flowers of all kind. The roses and snow balls were the prettiest. I always had an urge to pick a few but I didn’t want a paddling. Now a paddling was a good swat on the bottom side of ones lower part. A huge tree stood with its branches swaying in the wind. The tree provided shade during hot summer days. There was no such thing as air conditioning in that house. My grandparents would have said even a fan would give you a cold.

Further to the back of the yard was a chicken coop where Grandma fed the chicken’s everyday. Sometimes I helped gather the eggs. Some of the eggs were brown and some white. That always amazed me too. I could not understand how white chickens laid brown eggs. I was told that the brown eggs tasted better but I am not quite sure of that. Beyond that point was the vegetable garden. The rows were always straight and kept clean of weeds. Grandpa had a man plow the dirt some time in late February or early March. Each year the man came down the streets of the town with his mule and plow to do up the town folk’s gardens.

Even today, I can remember Grandma in her long apron that she wore to keep her dress clean. Now back in those days, it was important to keep ones clothes from getting dirty because washing was a real chore. Do you remember the old ringer type washer? Grandma filled it up with water from a garden hose. After that she put the clothes in it. Each piece of clothing was hand fed through a ringer to get the soapy water partly out. Then they were rinsed in a wash tub and hung on a clothes line to dry. I can still remember the old clothes pen bag. Those sheets would just be flapping in the wind as the strong sun shine beat down on them. After they were dry, I can’t say they were soft but oh did they ever smell good. Even until today clean fresh sheets are my favorite smell.

My Grandpa dressed in his bib overalls and had whiskers. I remember his shaving mug, brush and long blade straight razor that he used when shaving. Maybe this sticks out in my mind about him more than anything else because he had trick he used to play on me. It gave him a good chuckle but I just got a red cheek from it. He always wanted his grandpa hug and then he would allow those whiskers to touch my face. Grandpa called that whiskering. As I remember it, I called it uncomfortable. Now you know I was always grateful when I met up with Grandpa on a Sunday morning when he had just shaved.

Yes, being Grandparents and grandchildren back in those days was quite different than it is today. Today I am the Grandmother. My house is an apartment. There is no Grandpa with me. My groceries come from the grocery store. My laundry is done in an automatic washer and dryer. When I make a cake, it comes from a box. I mix the cake with an electric mixer. My flowers are indoors and made of silk. I buy my pies already baked. My grandkids don’t skip a rope to Grandma’s house. My granddaughter drives her own car. My grandson has his skate board. They both text . I have my I phone to watch videos of them. I see their faces on Facebook.

Just like most of you that may still have grandparents or even are grandparents yourself, there is ONE thing still the same. That one thing is the Love that is there between Grandparents and Grandchildren! I just hope that someday, my grandchildren will be able to remember something special about me.

Originally posted 2011-03-13 17:04:05.

The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show Feb 9, 1964

The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show

On February 9, 1964 my wife Mary Ann washed her hair late Sunday PM so that she wouldn’t have to go to church. The reason?  To stay home and watch The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show along with 73 million other people.  She took these photos that she still has. There are like 30 photos and the cost to process was $1.03. The photos held up well. Enjoy!

photo of George Harrison on Ed Sullivan
Mary Ann’s favorite George Harrison

 

the beatles on the ed sullivan show
The Beatles on Ed Sullivan
Paul McCartney on ed sullivan
Dreamy eyes Paul McCartney

 

John Lennon photo Ed Sullivan
John: Sorry Girls, He’s Married

 

Ringo Starr on the Ed Sullivan Show
Ringo Starr
John Lennon on Ed Sullivan
John Lennon

 

 

 

photos
Photo package. $1.03 to process 30 photos

 

Originally posted 2014-02-09 07:26:27.

Baby Boomers Journey On The Road Of Life

The journey of life is just that a journey. Sometimes it is smooth and sometimes not. The journey changes each second, each minute, each hour and day. As we go through the times we often wonder why this or that is happening. Then many years later we look back and see more clearly the reason. It is then that we know the purpose and appreciate the wisdom that we gained. Boomers of today are doing just that. Today our lives are being touched in many ways. We may be repeatedly asking why or searching for an answer. As we search, there is a possibility that we are missing that which is most precious. It may be very close to us as we search with our intellect and disregard our hearts. We may be caught up in the day to day clutter of our minds.

The journey of life is just that a journey.  Sometimes it is smooth and sometimes not.  The journey changes each second, each minute, each hour and day.  As we go through the times we often wonder why this or that is happening.  Then many years later we look back and see more clearly the reason.  It is then that we know the purpose and appreciate the wisdom that we gained.  Boomers of today are doing just that. Today our lives are being touched in many ways.  We may be repeatedly asking why or searching for an answer.  As we search, there is a possibility that we are missing that which is most precious in our lives.  It may be very close to us as we search with our intellect and disregard our hearts. We may be caught up in the day to day clutter of our minds.

Elisabeth Kubler Ross, Swiss-author and psychiatrist said, “Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has a purpose.  There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are given to us to learn from.”  I find this so very true.  As we boomers look back at our past, our life has been a journey of learning experiences.  Our experiences are not over.  We can use those experience to maintain our life today and share with others.  So many times, we allow ourselves to get wrapped up in the “what isn’t”, instead of focusing on the positive of “what is”.  Many years ago Dr. Ross wrote the five stages of grief which are (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.)  Not only can this be used with dealing with death, it can be used to deal with other life situations that are connected with loss.  You can find out more about the five stage model of grief at Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Foundation’s website.  The bottom line is, with acceptance comes peace.  Peace comes in the quietness or stillness of the mind.  Only then can we truly appreciate true beauty and keep ourselves connected with the sunlight of the spirit.

Today I choose to remain in the present in order to carry myself as a humble but proud boomer.  I have a story.  There is something to be learned from my story for someone out in this world.  The events may not have been as society would have judged them as the best but it was my life.  I learned, and will continue learning, as I continue on with life’s journey.  With that said, I will end this with one of my favorite quotes from Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.

“As far as service goes, it can take the form of a million things.  To do service, you don’t have to be a doctor in the slums for free, or become a social worker.  Your position in life and what you do doesn’t matter as much as how you do what you do.”

I encourage each and every boomer to share your experiences and your story.  Continue to learn on your journey!

Originally posted 2011-08-24 10:13:25.

Boomer Childhood Memories

If you are a boomer reading this I hope it took you to a place of importance in your life. I hope you will share your story with others that will listen. Most of all, I hope that it has instilled in you the memory of what is really important. Simple can sometimes be the most priceless of things that we have! Ask yourself, is it too late? Maybe your family can still have some of this on a beautiful week end coming up soon.

As I awaken from a short nap today and sat enjoying a cup of cappuccino, my mind went back in time to my childhood.  I thought of the big city of St. Louis, Missouri where I was born.  It was a city not suburbs as some of us call city today.  I remember the two and four family flats around the neighborhood.  Most families rented.  The flats were not air conditioned.  Instead, a fan was placed in the window for cooling.  Neighbors sat on the front porch steps to cool in the evening.  Those buildings were very hot in the summer time.  Children played on the sidewalks such games as hop scotch and jacks.  Some kids were lucky enough to own a bicycle.  Our treat consisted of getting a nice cold snow cone from the snow cone man when we heard the musical sound of his truck coming. Our parents were blue collar workers. They were proud to have jobs in factories near by.  After a hard day of work some listened to the Cardinal baseball game on the AM station of their radio.  You could smell the aroma of home cooking coming the apartments. Dinner time was called super time and lunch was dinner.  A hearty lunch consisted of half a bologna sandwich and a can of Campbell’s chicken and noodle soup.  Super usually included some form of potatoes, a meat and gravy, peas or beans.  Children did not complain about their meals and Mom’s enjoyed cooking them.

Week ends came and some Dads might have a beer or two.  Mothers did the weekly grocery shopping at an outside fruit and vegetable market.  Meat was purchased from a butcher at the meat store.  The butcher was a friendly sort of chap with meat blood stains on his apron.  He always cut and wrapped a generous good portion in white freezer paper. The butcher knew all his customers by a first name basis.

Some times families enjoyed the parks on Sunday.  I remember the bright colored plastic table clothes spread out on picnic benches.  Huge bowls of potato salad, slaw and all the fixings were there for a wonderful picnic meal.  Adults and children played softball, badminton and shared a lot of laughter and fun.  At the end of the day we were relaxed, a little tired, sometimes sun burned, but happy. That was life in the big city.

Later I remember the move to a small town.  It was a much slower pace.  The town has one grocery store not a butchers shop.  There was a town square that sat right in the middle of the town with the stores around it.  You could see the old cotton gin where farmers brought their cotton in wagons to be ginned and bailed.  Sometimes there was country music players in the square for the town folks entertainment.  It was very important to get to town at the right time on Saturday evening for the town drawing.  I remember waiting anxiously to hear who would win the prize for the week.

On Sunday most folks put on their go to meeting clothes and attended church.  Everyone’s shoes were shined and dressed in their best clothes.  You could see men’s faces freshly shaved.  Women looked as though they just walked out of a country fashion magazine.   Hats were properly taken off prior to entering the building except for the ladies.  Of course they displayed their hats proudly on their heads clipped on with hat pins.

Sunday dinner was a big thing in the small town.  Tables were prepared with the best dishes.  The windows of the houses were open.  Curtains were swinging back and forth in the windows.  You could smell chicken and okra frying.  Potatoes were being mashed with real butter.  The gravy was simmering in the skillet. Fresh pies were coming out of the ovens.  Beautiful red tomatoes were sliced from the garden.  The families gathered around at the table and enjoyed a feast.  After dinner some nodded off for a nap while others just relaxed as if there was not a care in the world.

If you are a boomer reading this I hope it took you to a place of importance in your life.  I hope you will share your story with others that will listen.  Most of all, I hope that it has instilled in you the memory of what is really important.  Simple can sometimes be the most priceless of things that we have!  Ask yourself, is it too late?  Maybe your family can still have some of this on a beautiful week end coming up soon.

Originally posted 2011-08-09 20:39:20.

My Nightmare Story

As a night shift worker, I sometimes have sleep problems so I get up and write. Writing can be done at any time. Writing clears my mind and brings a sense of accomplishment. One can write anything that their heart desires. So here I sit writing at midnight about something that happened which was rather alarming for a short time.

As a night shift worker, I sometimes have sleep problems so I get up and write.  Writing can be done at any time. Writing clears my mind and brings a sense of accomplishment.  One can write anything that their heart desires.  So here I sit writing at midnight about something that happened which was rather alarming for a short time.

The day was overcast with no sun in sight as I drove to the bank, post office, and grocery store.  After completing my chores, I returned home. I stuck a nice pot roast in the crock pot for dinner. I prepared myself some comfort food for a very late lunch. For desert I ate chocolate peanut butter ice cream.  As normal, I started to feel drowsy. I laid down on the cot by my computer to rest a bit.

Suddenly, odd things started to happen with the computer.  My face book screen was flipping.  Then something even more unusual took place.  Up popped different kinds of screens.  One had my favorite movie on it.  Another pop up stated I had just won a meat market.   A cartoon character appeared on the screen dancing around. The speakers came on very loud.  Heavy metal rock music started to blast through them.  My printer started printing.  Then it began banging.  After all this confusion, face book totally bit the dust.  None of the problems on the screen had any x out buttons.   I just used my mouse and started clicking.  The more I clicked, the more the computer went wild.  There were dogs playing on one side of my screen.  Then I received an email demanding that I publish a story.  Another pop up had a picture of a big hairy thing sticking its tongue out at me.  Having had enough of this nonsense, I tried to shut the computer down, but failed.  “Oh my, I must have been hit by Trojan horses and hacked.”I thought to myself.  I grabbed for the computer plug and disconnected it.  The printer continued to print. The heavy medal continued to play. All the nutty stuff continued to invade my computer screen.

Suddenly I awakened.  My dog was sitting on my stomach. My body was drenched in sweat.  The cover from the cot was on the floor.  The television had a crazy science fiction movie playing.  I glanced at the clock which said 12 midnight.  I looked over at my computer which was turned off.  My broken printer was silent.  What a drag!  I had fallen asleep and had a  NIGHTMARE!

According to wikipedia.org/wk./Nightmare, a nightmare can be caused by fear, stress or anxiety and  psychological problems.  Nightmares can also be caused by some foods that we eat before falling asleep.  “That is it!” I thought to myself as I began to remember what I had eaten earlier.

My suggestion for the prevention of a nightmare and peaceful rest is; Don’t eat a chicken salad sandwich, cheddar and bacon potato skins, dill pickles, and peanut chocolate ice cream before laying down after a comfy food feast. If you have a hairy dog, make sure it has its own sleeping spot.  Set your alarm clock in case you fall asleep since you may not want to mess up a good evening.  Above all, be more reasonable about your eating habits than I was.  Henry The Eighth I am NOT!  Even though I love to write stories, I would prefer to eliminate the Nightmares while I continue to write at odd hours of the night.

Originally posted 2011-03-10 21:24:07.