Sunday school building
I am going to regress a little, because I think the old Sunday school building needs a shout out. The church truly surrounded the parsonage because Sunday school was held in a whole separate building. This building, since torn down, was on it's last legs when we got there, and it met it's demise in '80 or there about. But until then, it was a quirky old gem of a building.
First off, it had a little two lane bowling alley in the basement. I didn't have an automatic pin setter, so we took turn picking up and resetting pins and sending back balls. There was always the possibility that, if you had an over-eager bowler, you could become one of the targets. I don't remember anybody getting hit, but I think there were a lot of close calls.
There was also a raised caged in ping pong room. You could see into the cage from the gymnasium, so I guess if you wanted to have a tournament, the audience could be safe from stray ping pong balls! I say it was a ping pong room cause that's what we used it for, but who knows the original purpose! Maybe it was for punishing stray Christians...
On the upper floors, there was a large open area and an actual stage. The large room was ringed on all sides with a balcony. the 2nd floor rooms all opened off of the balcony. Under the balcony, were a series of open rooms, slightly elevated from the main floor. One of the upstairs rooms had a definite slant, and we were cautioned not to have more than one person in that room at a time. I think it was condemned!
Oh, and there was an old fashioned coke machine that had its home on the landing heading into the gym. I hope someone rescued that machine, because it would probably be worth a fortune now. For a quarter, you could get a full size glass bottle of coke! That was a deal even then!
I remember my mom producing at least one play on that stage. There had been an active theater group at our Calvary church, where we were members in St. Louis, and we had fun recreating the tradition in Jefferson City, too.
The Sunday School building was the scene of many Spaghetti Suppers, Chili diners, pot lucks, and of course, ice cream socials! Ice cream socials were an excuse to make and eat massive amount of homemade ice cream. Fortunately, Central Dairy made an ice cream starter. I actually think you didn't have to do anything to it except put it in the ice cream maker. I am talking about the old fashioned, crank-until-you-get- tendonitis type ice cream makes. Just add rock salt and crank for what seemed like hours. But the result? Nothing better than soft, runny ice cream straight out of the maker. We must have had a huge number of machines and every kid in the congregation took a turn at the crank. No one argued about doing it, because I don't remember any limits to how much we could eat!
I also want to talk about the massive hill behind the church. The hill bottomed out at the church parking lot and then continued on behind the Sunday school building. In the winter, we would sled down the hill behind the church and sail across the parking lot. If we were really moving, we could keep going down the next hill. We had to be careful, though because that hill evened out onto a seriously busy street (for Jefferson City any way). It does snow in Missouri (for anyone who thinks Missouri is the deep south. When I went to Michigan for grad school, people actually used to ask me if I had ever seen snow...)
We used to park our car in the church parking lot because the garage was scarily small. I learned to drive in Missouri among the hills and later taught myself how to drive a stick shift. (You haven't really driven a stick shift until you've driven one where there are hills!) But at the time, we had a Ford Maverick. I didn't know that I could adjust the seat, so I drove the thing with my 6'5'' father's seat settings. I'm 5'4'' Once when I was at a rehearsal for the Jefferson City Symphony, it snowed so I had to drive home, up and down a bunch of hills, in the new slippery snow. It felt like it took forever. I finally got into the church parking lot, skidded around some more and never got it into our spot. I trudged up the hill to our house (carrying my cello), Got into the house and yelled, "The car's in the middle of the parking lot. If you want to move it you'll have to do it yourself!" My mom says she remembers me using the '"f" word, but I think I wouldn't have at that time. At least not to my parents!
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
Academics
Obviously the main thing I remember about high school is the academics. Okay, that's a lie...
If I do remember a class it was either that I was terrible at it and hated it, or because I loved the teacher. I used to think the math part of my brain was missing. Now I usually say I don't do math because I chose to use my limited IQ points to do something useful instead. Those math teachers who tell you that you will use the school brand of math are full of it. Unless you are going to be an engineer or someone who does something mathy, you don't. God invented calculators, and the only math I consistently do in my head is percentages. You gotta know what to tip, and if 30% off puts the cost of a sweater into your budget. Otherwise, it has not been useful for me. Besides, all the math classes at my school were taught by coaches. I did not like calling my teachers "Coach". They weren't MY coach!
So algebra and geometry were largely a waste and just served to lower my GPA. I also had a coach for one of my history classes. What I most remember about him was that a kid actually lit up a joint in one of his classes. I was not in that class and it may have been an urban legend, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. I like history enough that despite my refusal to call the teacher "Coach", I did okay in that class.
Here is a very surprising thing. I aced economics/ I know that I did better than almost anyone, because I got to go to some economics seminar to observe along with the other kids who did well in that class. I only did well because it was 99% (Ah! A percentage!) memorization and I was good at memorizing and spitting out what I memorized. Fortunately, my fiend, Martin, went to that seminar, too, and we spent the whole tie playing tic tac toe and dots.
I also had a great history class my senior year. We didn't have AP (advanced placement) classes, then but there were a few classes that you had to have certain GPA's to get in. So I got to be in advanced American History. The teacher for this class had a PhD in something like medieval religions. He would sometimes dress like a Calvinaist Minister to tell as we all were predestined to end up in Heaven or Hell. If we were predestined for Hell there wasn't much you could do about it, but if you were destined to Heaven you had to keep your nose clean or you would go to Hell anyway. I guess you really didn't know what would piss God off, so you had to be perfect. Maybe this particular idea was why Calvinism didn't last. People would make one mistake and say "Screw it! I'm going to Hell anyway, so I may as well have fun in the meantime!"
Doc Robert's (the teacher) was pretty irreverent, but I actually think I learned some things in that class. I had him for sociology, too. Most of our grade was based on whether we could come out ahead in our fake marriage. We had to partner up, then you and your faux spouse had to decide how to manage your starter money that you were given according to roll of the dice. This is actually a lot like life. Your start in life is a crap shoot. You could be foolish and spend all your money on a fancy car or an extravagant wardrobe, or you could get insured, invest, save, go to college...Then you had to spin the wheel of fortune. You may get in a fiery car crash or have triplets or be robbed. Your grade was based on whether you got through whatever and still be in the black. It sounds like a no-brainer, but some kids actually failed because of stupid decisions. Teenaged brains are wired to override everything but enjoyment. Some kids couldn't even resist fantasy enjoyment.
My music classes were the ones I enjoyed the most, of course, and I think they deserve a separate blog.
Otherwise, memorable things include passing note with BJ in College Prep English(I still have some of them and we were just CRASS!) and having to square dance as part of PE. For some reason, the PE teacher really liked me, so I actually did well in her class even though, even then, I was lucky to walk without scraping my knuckles on the floor.
Next time I will tell you about my music teachers..
Obviously the main thing I remember about high school is the academics. Okay, that's a lie...
If I do remember a class it was either that I was terrible at it and hated it, or because I loved the teacher. I used to think the math part of my brain was missing. Now I usually say I don't do math because I chose to use my limited IQ points to do something useful instead. Those math teachers who tell you that you will use the school brand of math are full of it. Unless you are going to be an engineer or someone who does something mathy, you don't. God invented calculators, and the only math I consistently do in my head is percentages. You gotta know what to tip, and if 30% off puts the cost of a sweater into your budget. Otherwise, it has not been useful for me. Besides, all the math classes at my school were taught by coaches. I did not like calling my teachers "Coach". They weren't MY coach!
So algebra and geometry were largely a waste and just served to lower my GPA. I also had a coach for one of my history classes. What I most remember about him was that a kid actually lit up a joint in one of his classes. I was not in that class and it may have been an urban legend, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. I like history enough that despite my refusal to call the teacher "Coach", I did okay in that class.
Here is a very surprising thing. I aced economics/ I know that I did better than almost anyone, because I got to go to some economics seminar to observe along with the other kids who did well in that class. I only did well because it was 99% (Ah! A percentage!) memorization and I was good at memorizing and spitting out what I memorized. Fortunately, my fiend, Martin, went to that seminar, too, and we spent the whole tie playing tic tac toe and dots.
I also had a great history class my senior year. We didn't have AP (advanced placement) classes, then but there were a few classes that you had to have certain GPA's to get in. So I got to be in advanced American History. The teacher for this class had a PhD in something like medieval religions. He would sometimes dress like a Calvinaist Minister to tell as we all were predestined to end up in Heaven or Hell. If we were predestined for Hell there wasn't much you could do about it, but if you were destined to Heaven you had to keep your nose clean or you would go to Hell anyway. I guess you really didn't know what would piss God off, so you had to be perfect. Maybe this particular idea was why Calvinism didn't last. People would make one mistake and say "Screw it! I'm going to Hell anyway, so I may as well have fun in the meantime!"
Doc Robert's (the teacher) was pretty irreverent, but I actually think I learned some things in that class. I had him for sociology, too. Most of our grade was based on whether we could come out ahead in our fake marriage. We had to partner up, then you and your faux spouse had to decide how to manage your starter money that you were given according to roll of the dice. This is actually a lot like life. Your start in life is a crap shoot. You could be foolish and spend all your money on a fancy car or an extravagant wardrobe, or you could get insured, invest, save, go to college...Then you had to spin the wheel of fortune. You may get in a fiery car crash or have triplets or be robbed. Your grade was based on whether you got through whatever and still be in the black. It sounds like a no-brainer, but some kids actually failed because of stupid decisions. Teenaged brains are wired to override everything but enjoyment. Some kids couldn't even resist fantasy enjoyment.
My music classes were the ones I enjoyed the most, of course, and I think they deserve a separate blog.
Otherwise, memorable things include passing note with BJ in College Prep English(I still have some of them and we were just CRASS!) and having to square dance as part of PE. For some reason, the PE teacher really liked me, so I actually did well in her class even though, even then, I was lucky to walk without scraping my knuckles on the floor.
Next time I will tell you about my music teachers..
One more basement story:
I thought of another basement story which I think bears mentioning. This incident was not in one of our houses, but was in a home away from home! I have spent a lot of time in church basements
I think church basements all look alike, to some degree. They all have little kitchenettes to store communion wine, and tons of cookie trays for after church reception. One of the church basement (I think at Calvary UCC in Overland Missouri where I actually got married. ) had a tiled in shuffle board court!
A lot of church basements also have pillars to support the upper floors. Theo ne in Godfrey had those. As a kid, I would run around those pillars, holding on with both hands. If I got going fast enough, it felt as if the pillar was spinning instead of me. I had the power to make the whole church spin while I was actually staying in one spot! One day I got a lesson in physic. A body in motion tends to stay in motion. I learned that, when you hands slip off of a slippery church pillar, you tend to fly through the air. I then learned another law of motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. When you land and hit your face on a hard surface, you tend to have your teeth knocked out. The dentist told my parent not to worry since they were baby teeth and I could just wait until my permanent ones came in. This is how I spent what seem like years with no front teeth.
Now on to 7th grade. At least by then, I was no longer toothless. The best thing about seventh grade, was that I had to walk past Central Dairy to get there.
Central Dairy is an old fashioned ice cream parlor with wooden bunches and the best, cheapest Ice Cream creations. Here is a link to their website http://www.centraldairy.biz/commercials.html
Of course, I didn't get ice cream everyday, (although I would have if I could), but it was nice to dream about it. I can't remember the exact situation, but Junior High was broken up in two separate building a block away from each other. At one point, one of the building was a ninth grade only, but somewhere along the line this changed. I just remember that there was a time I had to walk between the two building to get to orchestra. We are not talking a few buildings away here. This was at least one city block and up a huge hill! The building formerly know as junior high is now the performing arts center in Jefferson City http://www.themillercenter.org/ It always did have the best auditorium and it was where all the big performances took place including the High school musicals (we called them operettas) and all the big concerts.
Junior High was not something I was ready to do. I had just gotten used to a certain level of popularity in 6th grad (hard won and not without scars) just to be thrown into a big nix of kids all jockeying for the same social position. It did not help that I was still a dreamy introvert at heart and didn't really understand the necessary interactions need to be "popular". Popular in junior high has nothing to do with how nice or smart you are. It has everything to do with being cute, wearing the right clothes and being able to do the splits. This is not an invective against junior high kids. This is basic neurology and development. Around age 10/11/12 kids identify themselves with their possessions. I have a Nintendo DS, therefore I am. I knew that I would never become relevant in junior high through possessions or appearance, so I attempted to due it through sheer exposure. I ran for student council president and tried out for the talent show. I tried to hang out with kids who had some perceived power. The interesting thing, is that it probably looked from the outside like I was confident and happy with myself. But all of my actions had everything to do with the exact opposite.
Most people think that the term introvert means shy and extrovert mean friendly and outgoing. Actually shy and introvert are not synonyms at all. One can absolutely be a gregarious friendly introvert. An introvert is someone who is more inwardly reflective and who is satisfied doing thing by themselves. Acting and public speaking are frequently easier to an introvert than interacting in a crowd. Although one on one conversations are easier and more satisfying to an introvert, big groups and parties are just tedious and difficult to navigate. Now put an introvert into a big building teeming with 12 and 13 year old, all in varying stages of physical and emotional development and you have a disaster waiting to happy. Pair that with a keen sense of social standing, but without any sense of awareness of appropriate comportment and you have an awkward, clueless disaster happening.
I was a classic victim of the 13/33/63 rule. At thirteen you worry about what everybody else is thinking about you. At 33 you no loner care about what everybody is thinking about you and at 63 you realize no one was ever thinking about you at all!
Lets just leave it this. I made it through 7th and 8th grade semi -intact and move into 9th grade at the big high school on the top of yet another hill. Unfortunately, I no longer had to walk by Central Dairy to do so!
I thought of another basement story which I think bears mentioning. This incident was not in one of our houses, but was in a home away from home! I have spent a lot of time in church basements
I think church basements all look alike, to some degree. They all have little kitchenettes to store communion wine, and tons of cookie trays for after church reception. One of the church basement (I think at Calvary UCC in Overland Missouri where I actually got married. ) had a tiled in shuffle board court!
A lot of church basements also have pillars to support the upper floors. Theo ne in Godfrey had those. As a kid, I would run around those pillars, holding on with both hands. If I got going fast enough, it felt as if the pillar was spinning instead of me. I had the power to make the whole church spin while I was actually staying in one spot! One day I got a lesson in physic. A body in motion tends to stay in motion. I learned that, when you hands slip off of a slippery church pillar, you tend to fly through the air. I then learned another law of motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. When you land and hit your face on a hard surface, you tend to have your teeth knocked out. The dentist told my parent not to worry since they were baby teeth and I could just wait until my permanent ones came in. This is how I spent what seem like years with no front teeth.
Now on to 7th grade. At least by then, I was no longer toothless. The best thing about seventh grade, was that I had to walk past Central Dairy to get there.
Central Dairy is an old fashioned ice cream parlor with wooden bunches and the best, cheapest Ice Cream creations. Here is a link to their website http://www.centraldairy.biz/commercials.html
Of course, I didn't get ice cream everyday, (although I would have if I could), but it was nice to dream about it. I can't remember the exact situation, but Junior High was broken up in two separate building a block away from each other. At one point, one of the building was a ninth grade only, but somewhere along the line this changed. I just remember that there was a time I had to walk between the two building to get to orchestra. We are not talking a few buildings away here. This was at least one city block and up a huge hill! The building formerly know as junior high is now the performing arts center in Jefferson City http://www.themillercenter.org/ It always did have the best auditorium and it was where all the big performances took place including the High school musicals (we called them operettas) and all the big concerts.
Junior High was not something I was ready to do. I had just gotten used to a certain level of popularity in 6th grad (hard won and not without scars) just to be thrown into a big nix of kids all jockeying for the same social position. It did not help that I was still a dreamy introvert at heart and didn't really understand the necessary interactions need to be "popular". Popular in junior high has nothing to do with how nice or smart you are. It has everything to do with being cute, wearing the right clothes and being able to do the splits. This is not an invective against junior high kids. This is basic neurology and development. Around age 10/11/12 kids identify themselves with their possessions. I have a Nintendo DS, therefore I am. I knew that I would never become relevant in junior high through possessions or appearance, so I attempted to due it through sheer exposure. I ran for student council president and tried out for the talent show. I tried to hang out with kids who had some perceived power. The interesting thing, is that it probably looked from the outside like I was confident and happy with myself. But all of my actions had everything to do with the exact opposite.
Most people think that the term introvert means shy and extrovert mean friendly and outgoing. Actually shy and introvert are not synonyms at all. One can absolutely be a gregarious friendly introvert. An introvert is someone who is more inwardly reflective and who is satisfied doing thing by themselves. Acting and public speaking are frequently easier to an introvert than interacting in a crowd. Although one on one conversations are easier and more satisfying to an introvert, big groups and parties are just tedious and difficult to navigate. Now put an introvert into a big building teeming with 12 and 13 year old, all in varying stages of physical and emotional development and you have a disaster waiting to happy. Pair that with a keen sense of social standing, but without any sense of awareness of appropriate comportment and you have an awkward, clueless disaster happening.
I was a classic victim of the 13/33/63 rule. At thirteen you worry about what everybody else is thinking about you. At 33 you no loner care about what everybody is thinking about you and at 63 you realize no one was ever thinking about you at all!
Lets just leave it this. I made it through 7th and 8th grade semi -intact and move into 9th grade at the big high school on the top of yet another hill. Unfortunately, I no longer had to walk by Central Dairy to do so!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Confession
I confess, I was a "mean girl" at least twice in my life. You would think it would have been in St. Louis where I was feeling pretty confident in myself, but confidence does not necessarily breed meanness. Mean girls are not created through feeling good about yourself. They are created through jealousy and fear of losing status. The one thing necessary is feeling of a certain level of power.
I made it through the remainder of fifth grade and started to feel better about myself that summer. I started camp at MoVal and was actually pretty popular and accepted there. I was immersed in church choir and youth groups which further help me like myself a little more. When 6th grade rolled around, I found myself feeling more confident around the other kids. I could actually notice them look at my with new respect when I wasn't being a bragging dweeb.
However, my ego was still pretty fragile and easily bruised. It didn't take much for me to be a mean girl.
My old boss used to have terrific hissy fits about "self esteem". Any time someone used the term he would rant about how research showed that self esteem has nothing to do with positive behavior and that the worst criminals can base their self esteem on being the best safecracker or being able to beat up the most people. Within a definition of self esteem being how you rate yourself against others and how great you are at accomplishing tasks, that is pretty true. There is plenty of research to show that we have gone way overboard in thinking we can't let kids face failure for fear of hurting their ability to achieve. But it is absolutely true that very bad choices can come from a place of feeling incompetent and uncomfortable in one's own skin.
I, (along with actual researchers and scholars, of course) have come to realize that we're not talking about self esteem in those cases. We're talking about shame. Have you ever done something stupid and felt guilty about it? Guilt is a good thing. It keeps you from repeating behaviors. Stop me if I've told this story before...or just skip it or something... Once I was in Michael's craft store. I picked up some little wood beads for 99 cents and stuck them in the cart. I got a few other things and when I went to check out, they weren't there. Bummer, I must have dropped them When I got to the car and reached into my purse for my keys, low and behold, there were the beads. I shoplifted them. Oops! I was a little embarrassed and felt a twinge of guilt! (not enough to go back and pay for them, necessarily. What's 99 cents to a gigantic, overpriced corporation - That's a rationalization. Gotta use those, occasionally) All of that to say, guilt is feeling bad about something you have done, a behavior or action. Shame is a feeling that you are a bad person. I am not a bad person because I accidently shoplifted from Michael's. It was an accidental (I swear) bad behavior. But somehow, when I was a kid, I got the idea that my right to take up space in the universe was directly tied to my ability to seen as intelligent and to get good grades. Mom, Dad, I blame it all on you! No, my parents did the best they could and raised us well. I think this was a built-in, comes-standard-with- this-kid trait that was exacerbated by life circumstance. It's nothing a little intensive psychotherapy couldn't take care of...
So I think shame is at the root of my mean girl behavior because it has absolutely nothing to do with the person I was mean to.
In six grade, my teacher was also the music teacher. She was great. But, there was another teacher who we may have had for math. I don't remember why, but a few of us were hanging out in his room at recess. My dear friend Carole, my rescuer and confidant, was usually part of this group, but for some reason was not in the room that day. How on earth the teacher was talking about this I cannot explain, but at some point he told use that Carole was super smart. The rest of us were fine students but Carole was head and shoulder smarter than the rest of us. Now, Carole IS super smart. Graduated in the top ten in my high school class. But, I did NOT like being compared unfavorably to anyone!
It had never occurred to me to be jealous of someone for being smarter than me! It had certainly never occurred to me to be jealous of Carole! But my fragile ego was badly bruised that day. If I had been older, I could have told that teacher that there were all kinds of intelligence and that trying hard has much more to do with academic achievement that inmate intelligence anyway. If he had said, Carole is just better at achieving and takes more pleasure in trying hard, it wouldn't have cut me to the quick. Since I was in 6th grade and didn't know what I know now, I couldn't tell him what an asshole I thought he was or how badly he hurt me, so I took it out on the person who least deserved it. I was mean to Carole!!
Meanness in girls is not the typical bullying that you see in, say Christmas Story. It isn't making fun or extorting lunch money. It's leaving out and backstabbing. I made it my mission to exclude Carole from sleepovers and to get our other friends to do the same. It didn't hurt my cause that they were probably jealous of Carole, too!
I do not know how long this went on, but since there are lots of reasons to be jealous of Carole, it may have been a while! Back at the parsonage, my dad got wind of Carole's hurt feeling. Doesn't take long for that kind of thing to get through to a minister. Since Carole and her family were good church members, I am sure there were adult conversations and keen behavioral observations and eventually my dad ask me what was going on between me and Carole. I had an epiphany moment, and realized that my being mean to Carole A) had nothing to do with how I actually felt about her and B) I actually hurt her feelings and C), being mean didn't make me smarter than her!
I'm pretty sure I called her up that day to arrange a sleep over and she never said anything to me or asked me why I was so mean to her! She is amazing!
I just have to say that Carole is still one of my favorite people and that I think getting through tough times together makes a friendship that much ore special. Here's to you, Carole. Now let me explain about the 7th grade locker fiasco...
I confess, I was a "mean girl" at least twice in my life. You would think it would have been in St. Louis where I was feeling pretty confident in myself, but confidence does not necessarily breed meanness. Mean girls are not created through feeling good about yourself. They are created through jealousy and fear of losing status. The one thing necessary is feeling of a certain level of power.
I made it through the remainder of fifth grade and started to feel better about myself that summer. I started camp at MoVal and was actually pretty popular and accepted there. I was immersed in church choir and youth groups which further help me like myself a little more. When 6th grade rolled around, I found myself feeling more confident around the other kids. I could actually notice them look at my with new respect when I wasn't being a bragging dweeb.
However, my ego was still pretty fragile and easily bruised. It didn't take much for me to be a mean girl.
My old boss used to have terrific hissy fits about "self esteem". Any time someone used the term he would rant about how research showed that self esteem has nothing to do with positive behavior and that the worst criminals can base their self esteem on being the best safecracker or being able to beat up the most people. Within a definition of self esteem being how you rate yourself against others and how great you are at accomplishing tasks, that is pretty true. There is plenty of research to show that we have gone way overboard in thinking we can't let kids face failure for fear of hurting their ability to achieve. But it is absolutely true that very bad choices can come from a place of feeling incompetent and uncomfortable in one's own skin.
I, (along with actual researchers and scholars, of course) have come to realize that we're not talking about self esteem in those cases. We're talking about shame. Have you ever done something stupid and felt guilty about it? Guilt is a good thing. It keeps you from repeating behaviors. Stop me if I've told this story before...or just skip it or something... Once I was in Michael's craft store. I picked up some little wood beads for 99 cents and stuck them in the cart. I got a few other things and when I went to check out, they weren't there. Bummer, I must have dropped them When I got to the car and reached into my purse for my keys, low and behold, there were the beads. I shoplifted them. Oops! I was a little embarrassed and felt a twinge of guilt! (not enough to go back and pay for them, necessarily. What's 99 cents to a gigantic, overpriced corporation - That's a rationalization. Gotta use those, occasionally) All of that to say, guilt is feeling bad about something you have done, a behavior or action. Shame is a feeling that you are a bad person. I am not a bad person because I accidently shoplifted from Michael's. It was an accidental (I swear) bad behavior. But somehow, when I was a kid, I got the idea that my right to take up space in the universe was directly tied to my ability to seen as intelligent and to get good grades. Mom, Dad, I blame it all on you! No, my parents did the best they could and raised us well. I think this was a built-in, comes-standard-with- this-kid trait that was exacerbated by life circumstance. It's nothing a little intensive psychotherapy couldn't take care of...
So I think shame is at the root of my mean girl behavior because it has absolutely nothing to do with the person I was mean to.
In six grade, my teacher was also the music teacher. She was great. But, there was another teacher who we may have had for math. I don't remember why, but a few of us were hanging out in his room at recess. My dear friend Carole, my rescuer and confidant, was usually part of this group, but for some reason was not in the room that day. How on earth the teacher was talking about this I cannot explain, but at some point he told use that Carole was super smart. The rest of us were fine students but Carole was head and shoulder smarter than the rest of us. Now, Carole IS super smart. Graduated in the top ten in my high school class. But, I did NOT like being compared unfavorably to anyone!
It had never occurred to me to be jealous of someone for being smarter than me! It had certainly never occurred to me to be jealous of Carole! But my fragile ego was badly bruised that day. If I had been older, I could have told that teacher that there were all kinds of intelligence and that trying hard has much more to do with academic achievement that inmate intelligence anyway. If he had said, Carole is just better at achieving and takes more pleasure in trying hard, it wouldn't have cut me to the quick. Since I was in 6th grade and didn't know what I know now, I couldn't tell him what an asshole I thought he was or how badly he hurt me, so I took it out on the person who least deserved it. I was mean to Carole!!
Meanness in girls is not the typical bullying that you see in, say Christmas Story. It isn't making fun or extorting lunch money. It's leaving out and backstabbing. I made it my mission to exclude Carole from sleepovers and to get our other friends to do the same. It didn't hurt my cause that they were probably jealous of Carole, too!
I do not know how long this went on, but since there are lots of reasons to be jealous of Carole, it may have been a while! Back at the parsonage, my dad got wind of Carole's hurt feeling. Doesn't take long for that kind of thing to get through to a minister. Since Carole and her family were good church members, I am sure there were adult conversations and keen behavioral observations and eventually my dad ask me what was going on between me and Carole. I had an epiphany moment, and realized that my being mean to Carole A) had nothing to do with how I actually felt about her and B) I actually hurt her feelings and C), being mean didn't make me smarter than her!
I'm pretty sure I called her up that day to arrange a sleep over and she never said anything to me or asked me why I was so mean to her! She is amazing!
I just have to say that Carole is still one of my favorite people and that I think getting through tough times together makes a friendship that much ore special. Here's to you, Carole. Now let me explain about the 7th grade locker fiasco...
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
5th grade
As I said I previous posts, moving in 5th grade was hard. I have since come to understand, that pre-adolescence and middle school/junior high is a brutal age for girls especially.
The good thing about being the new minister's kid was that there was a built in welcoming committee. The youth group at the church had an roller skating party for on the first night we were there!
( As a disclaimer, I am not changing names. I am only using first names, and if any one of the people I mention would like me to change/not use name/pics, I will do that. But I am not planning on saying anything negative about anyone, anyway)
I think I may have posted or written about Billy elsewhere in this blog, but he figured so strongly that first meeting and throughout my time in Jeff City that I am going to write about him again.
I know that I met a lot of kids that day, some of whom would be great friends, but Billy was the most memorable. Billy was a person whom I think fiction writers wish they could think up in their heads. Billy had not one mean bone in his body, He could be a little catty, mind you, but he was mostly just joyful and eager to meet everyone. Billy was actually a pretty adept ice skater, but he could get around on roller skates well, too. I was so fascinated by his joie de vive and his fancy skating tricks. I cannot remember a time that Billy was smiling or without a devilish twinkle in his eye. He tore up the skating rink that night. One of the kids broke her ankle that night, but the excitement of a broken ankle just did not compare the excitement of watching Billy skate backward and jump into a sit spin!
The next day at church, Billy was talking with my mom. They were discussing blisters he had formed while skating . He said "They feel squishy...Squishy is the only word" I had never met anyone like Billy before! Who talks to adults like that? Billy figured strongly in my life, but for now, I will just say he left quite an impression! More on Billy to come.
Except for overlap in about a billion places, it felt as if my church life and my school life were pretty separate. At church, I felt comfortable and accepted. School was another matter. My one hope for acceptance was my friend, Carole, who was in the other class. We didn't even have lunch together!
Parents, don't kid yourself that kids in grade school are not hierarchical. I could see the class social and academic hierarchies from the first day, and knew that I was going to need to vie for my spot. I had come from a school where I was in the top social strata and was, .let's face it, a true teacher's pet. Once, when we had a substitute in my St. Louis class, the teacher had left a not for the her with instructions to "Have Amy read to the class from The Arabian Nights." And no one in the class jeered or blinked an eye or gave me grief! I read at least one story and got so engrossed, that I forgot I was reading aloud in front of the whole class. Oh the power!!
So I came from one end of the spectrum and landed firmly at the other with no idea how to respond! I tried bragging about how great and popular I was. Total turn off. It wasn't much of a try and I was soon out of ammunition. One day in art class, a girl ( who would become my friend) Told me my picture was cute. I knew she was being condescending (although I didn't know the word for that then), and I hated myself for responding. I also hated that I wasn't an adult favorite. I had never been in trouble with a teacher before, and now, through no fault of my own, (I plead ignorance of the law), I was getting yelled at for walking on the grass, or talking too loud.
This school sucked! I should mention that after my sister's first day of seventh grade, she walked in the house, through down her purse and yelled "I'm never going back to that school again!" .
I played sick for two, maybe three days, before my wise parents (who I know saw through the ruse from the start), gently told me they knew I was faking and told me to get my wimpy self back to school. No, really they asked me what was wrong, and having them listen to my woes was enough for me to get back on the proverbial horse and go to school. Do, you know what saved me? I could sing. I actually had someone say years later, that no one knew what to make of me until I opened my mouth and could actually sing. If I knew that's all it took, I would have walked in singing the National Anthem!
Potential crisis in the parsonage! To be continued...
As I said I previous posts, moving in 5th grade was hard. I have since come to understand, that pre-adolescence and middle school/junior high is a brutal age for girls especially.
The good thing about being the new minister's kid was that there was a built in welcoming committee. The youth group at the church had an roller skating party for on the first night we were there!
( As a disclaimer, I am not changing names. I am only using first names, and if any one of the people I mention would like me to change/not use name/pics, I will do that. But I am not planning on saying anything negative about anyone, anyway)
I think I may have posted or written about Billy elsewhere in this blog, but he figured so strongly that first meeting and throughout my time in Jeff City that I am going to write about him again.
I know that I met a lot of kids that day, some of whom would be great friends, but Billy was the most memorable. Billy was a person whom I think fiction writers wish they could think up in their heads. Billy had not one mean bone in his body, He could be a little catty, mind you, but he was mostly just joyful and eager to meet everyone. Billy was actually a pretty adept ice skater, but he could get around on roller skates well, too. I was so fascinated by his joie de vive and his fancy skating tricks. I cannot remember a time that Billy was smiling or without a devilish twinkle in his eye. He tore up the skating rink that night. One of the kids broke her ankle that night, but the excitement of a broken ankle just did not compare the excitement of watching Billy skate backward and jump into a sit spin!
The next day at church, Billy was talking with my mom. They were discussing blisters he had formed while skating . He said "They feel squishy...Squishy is the only word" I had never met anyone like Billy before! Who talks to adults like that? Billy figured strongly in my life, but for now, I will just say he left quite an impression! More on Billy to come.
Except for overlap in about a billion places, it felt as if my church life and my school life were pretty separate. At church, I felt comfortable and accepted. School was another matter. My one hope for acceptance was my friend, Carole, who was in the other class. We didn't even have lunch together!
Parents, don't kid yourself that kids in grade school are not hierarchical. I could see the class social and academic hierarchies from the first day, and knew that I was going to need to vie for my spot. I had come from a school where I was in the top social strata and was, .let's face it, a true teacher's pet. Once, when we had a substitute in my St. Louis class, the teacher had left a not for the her with instructions to "Have Amy read to the class from The Arabian Nights." And no one in the class jeered or blinked an eye or gave me grief! I read at least one story and got so engrossed, that I forgot I was reading aloud in front of the whole class. Oh the power!!
So I came from one end of the spectrum and landed firmly at the other with no idea how to respond! I tried bragging about how great and popular I was. Total turn off. It wasn't much of a try and I was soon out of ammunition. One day in art class, a girl ( who would become my friend) Told me my picture was cute. I knew she was being condescending (although I didn't know the word for that then), and I hated myself for responding. I also hated that I wasn't an adult favorite. I had never been in trouble with a teacher before, and now, through no fault of my own, (I plead ignorance of the law), I was getting yelled at for walking on the grass, or talking too loud.
This school sucked! I should mention that after my sister's first day of seventh grade, she walked in the house, through down her purse and yelled "I'm never going back to that school again!" .
I played sick for two, maybe three days, before my wise parents (who I know saw through the ruse from the start), gently told me they knew I was faking and told me to get my wimpy self back to school. No, really they asked me what was wrong, and having them listen to my woes was enough for me to get back on the proverbial horse and go to school. Do, you know what saved me? I could sing. I actually had someone say years later, that no one knew what to make of me until I opened my mouth and could actually sing. If I knew that's all it took, I would have walked in singing the National Anthem!
Potential crisis in the parsonage! To be continued...
Monday, September 23, 2013
The Basements
What is it with me and basements? They even figure into my birth story! The story goes that my mom was in labor, and my dad made her stop at the church (where he was a pastor there, of course)before heading to the hospital. She was a little flabbergasted, but went into the church basement where there was a surprise baby shower waiting for her. I guess it scared her out of her labor pains and she stayed at the shower. Maybe she thought it was a false alarm because she wasn't due to have me for another month anyway, so she and Dad just went home after the shower. The car was acting up and since, in those day, car engines had about four parts, he and my future Godfather decided to take it apart in the drive-in basement. Just when they had pulled out all four parts, my mom realized that she needed a ride to the hospital after all. Timing is everything!
I don't remember that basement, but I remember the one in Godfrey, because I fell down the steps going down there once. I tipped over my blanket that I took everywhere like Linus. I called it my blanken and I think I eventually ate the parts that didn't disintegrate on touch, but it was long enough at that time for it to trip me. I obviously survived with no discernible closed head injury. I probably didn't go very far, but when you're two feet tall, four steps seem as tall as the empire state building! I also remember the big (to me ) drain hole in the middle of the floor. It terrified me because I was sure that it ate some of my toys at night and whatever lived in there was probably responsible for tripping me! I had at least one bad dream about being sucked down, never to see the light of day again!
The tiny bedroom house had a finished basement and a subbasement. It was either very small and that's why I remember that it was very small, or it was big and I was too worried that I would find a scary drain hole so I just never explored!
You heard about the big house scary basement, which didn't have drain hole. Bur it had a meat hook which was way scarier! And now we get to the parsonage basement.
The basement was unfinished, of course. This was long before any ideas of a glorious mancave. It had a man cave, alright, but glorious it was not. At one point, I thing someone tried to make a cool teen hangout and drew a pic of Charlie Brown on the wall. He looked a little terrified to be stuck on a craggy, damp stone surface. Fred Flintstone would have been more at home, but even he wuld have said " Get me outta here! This place isn't fit for a stegosaurus!" Needless to say, the basement never got used as a mancave or a teen cave for that matter.
But the absolute worst thing about the basement was not directly apparent until you took a big whiff. The basement smelled of raw sewage (no shit!...pun intended). Soon the smell was not being contained by the basement door. It was like a no smoking area separated from a smoking area by an invisible line. Somehow, the smoke never learned to read that it shouldn't waft across the line. The smell just didn't seem aware that a nauseated family was trying to eat on the next level just beyond the door.
My mom asked the former pastor's wife and previous resident, if she had noticed this smell. She told my mom that the sewage collected in a trough in the basement, and every couple of weeks. she had flushed it out with a hose. EWWW! There was no way my mom was going to flush shit out of her basement with a hose. There is enough crap to deal with as a pastor's wife without adding the indignity of sewage disposal. So, the plumber's were called (probably only after a church board meeting to approve the expense). They dug up the pipes and found that they were set to run uphill. The plumber was surprised that the house hadn't succumbed to toxic waste years earlier.
Maybe that is why I bought a home with no basement!
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Jefferson City
When we moved to Jeff City (no one from JC says the whole thing, We say JC, Jeff or Jeff City) we moved into a true parsonage.
I know that my parents had a million reasons to leave the children's home; better schools, better neighborhood, less stress...One of the reasons life at the home was more difficult, was because Beth and I (7th and 5th grade respectively) were growing from being playmates to the home kids to be competition for the girls, and sexually stimulating to the boys. This was creating lots of issues! It probably didn't help that I was so clueless about my own development and the implications of this.
I can honestly say that the move to Jeff was pivotal moment for me, throwing me into pre-adolescent angst and self doubt. In St. Louis, I was popular with the kids at school. I was at the top of the class, I had good friends who spent the night or asked me to parties or who had me over to their houses. Moving meant actually having to work at making friends. It meant having to prove myself in school. It meant being a preacher's kid and living up to those expectations, too! That's a lot for an awkward tween 5th grader!
But let me tell you about the parsonage! this house was not as old or as big at the house at the home, but it still had plenty of charm and history. That part of Jeff city is the heart of the old Munichsberg (Germantown) area. The parsonage was surrounded on three sides by the church. To the north, the church itself,; to the south, the Sunday School building, and to the west, the parking lot. We went from being surrounded by Dad's work place to being surrounded by...Dad's workplace!
The church was at a high point in the city, with a tall steeple making it appear to rise above the rest of the town.
If you stood on the front sidewalk and looked down the street, you could see directly to the capitol building. Jefferson City is in the Ozark Mountains and is very hilly. When you grow up in the hills, you forget how intimidating those big peaks and valleys can be! Where I live now is so flat we have to have a fake hill for the kids to sled on. It gets so much use, that after awhile the snow is gone, and kids are just sliding on mud!
There are lots of stories about the snow and the hills, but for now, I will focus on the house itself.
This house had four bedrooms and a small office up stairs but only one full bath and a half bath. How did we manage with two teen aged girls and only one shower?
My sister's room was the biggest (after my parents), then mine, and of course my brother got the small room in the back due to the tiny bedroom curse on him. . This house didn't have the grand staircase, but it did have a back stair case which was kinda cool and different. It had the wonderful wrap around front porch and a little screened in back porch that we would sleep n sometimes in the summer because, of course, no central air! God, it gets hot in Missouri!
My room was pretty small, but it had windows on both sides of the bed and I was skinny enough that I could sit on the window sill. With my legs drawn up, I could pull down the shade so I was pretty hidden. At least once, my mom couldn't find me!
Oh yes, we always had wall paper. My was white with pink roses so it wasn't completely hideous. One thing I will thank my mom about right now, it that she never mad a fuss about us hanging up poster or in any other way defiling the walls with tape. I never felt that this was less my home because it was church property. My mom was a PK (preacher's kid), too so she knew the pain of feeling like a guest in your own home. I'm sure my grandmother was much more freaked out by the possibility of marks on the wall!
My sister was lucky because she had the room that had belonged to the last teenage who had lived there and it had some groovy cosmic colorful wallpaper on the wall behind her bed. I'm not sure how she slept with all that crazy color! My room was shaped exactly like her, bur shorter and on the opposite side. You can see those windows which were similar in my room. I just didn't have the cacophonous wallpaper!
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When we moved to Jeff City (no one from JC says the whole thing, We say JC, Jeff or Jeff City) we moved into a true parsonage.
I know that my parents had a million reasons to leave the children's home; better schools, better neighborhood, less stress...One of the reasons life at the home was more difficult, was because Beth and I (7th and 5th grade respectively) were growing from being playmates to the home kids to be competition for the girls, and sexually stimulating to the boys. This was creating lots of issues! It probably didn't help that I was so clueless about my own development and the implications of this.
I can honestly say that the move to Jeff was pivotal moment for me, throwing me into pre-adolescent angst and self doubt. In St. Louis, I was popular with the kids at school. I was at the top of the class, I had good friends who spent the night or asked me to parties or who had me over to their houses. Moving meant actually having to work at making friends. It meant having to prove myself in school. It meant being a preacher's kid and living up to those expectations, too! That's a lot for an awkward tween 5th grader!
But let me tell you about the parsonage! this house was not as old or as big at the house at the home, but it still had plenty of charm and history. That part of Jeff city is the heart of the old Munichsberg (Germantown) area. The parsonage was surrounded on three sides by the church. To the north, the church itself,; to the south, the Sunday School building, and to the west, the parking lot. We went from being surrounded by Dad's work place to being surrounded by...Dad's workplace!
The church was at a high point in the city, with a tall steeple making it appear to rise above the rest of the town.
There are lots of stories about the snow and the hills, but for now, I will focus on the house itself.
This house had four bedrooms and a small office up stairs but only one full bath and a half bath. How did we manage with two teen aged girls and only one shower?
My sister's room was the biggest (after my parents), then mine, and of course my brother got the small room in the back due to the tiny bedroom curse on him. . This house didn't have the grand staircase, but it did have a back stair case which was kinda cool and different. It had the wonderful wrap around front porch and a little screened in back porch that we would sleep n sometimes in the summer because, of course, no central air! God, it gets hot in Missouri!
My room was pretty small, but it had windows on both sides of the bed and I was skinny enough that I could sit on the window sill. With my legs drawn up, I could pull down the shade so I was pretty hidden. At least once, my mom couldn't find me!
Oh yes, we always had wall paper. My was white with pink roses so it wasn't completely hideous. One thing I will thank my mom about right now, it that she never mad a fuss about us hanging up poster or in any other way defiling the walls with tape. I never felt that this was less my home because it was church property. My mom was a PK (preacher's kid), too so she knew the pain of feeling like a guest in your own home. I'm sure my grandmother was much more freaked out by the possibility of marks on the wall!
My sister was lucky because she had the room that had belonged to the last teenage who had lived there and it had some groovy cosmic colorful wallpaper on the wall behind her bed. I'm not sure how she slept with all that crazy color! My room was shaped exactly like her, bur shorter and on the opposite side. You can see those windows which were similar in my room. I just didn't have the cacophonous wallpaper!
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Remember the spooky basement in the last house? Well, this house had a basement, too and it has quite a story.
I think that's enough set up for one day. I will fill you in about the basement next time.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Memories
Before I move on to the next house, I just want to say a a word about memories
Memories are funny things. I love when police shows have the cops ask someone to identify a picture of someone, and they can recall a random person they briefly saw crossing the street or something. Our memories aren't like photocopy machines. Memories are incredibly subjective and degrade over time as well. Do you think you could recognize the person who took your order at some random restaurant if you were asked? I didn't think so!
The reason I am qualifying my memories is because mine may be completely different than the rest of my families. So I am not lying or making things up, my memory may just be different than theirs or yours.
The other reason I want to mention this is because of how much you can tell about a person from what aspect of the situation we remember most vividly.
I'm not sure when this was or why, ( maybe it was when my brother was born) that Beth and I were staying with my aunt and uncle in their palatial (to me) sprawling ranch house. It may have actually been palatial because my uncle is a very successful pharmacist. I have good memories of playing with my cousins, but both my sister and I have a negative memory of my aunt . She was just a little snooty! My sister's memory is that she was admiring a glittery crystal chandelier type table lamp and our aunt told her to keep her hands off the lamp, in no uncertain terms. My memory was that I saw some candy bars in the freezer and I asked if I could have one. I think she let me have one, but yelled at me that those were there for her kids and not for me. It was pretty rude of my to ask for something before it was offered, of course, but since I was all of five years old and in unfamiliar territory, she could have been just a tad bit more gentle about it!
I mention this because it tells you something about my sister and my respective focus in life. She is all about the glitter and I am all about the food!
Now on to more house stories.
At the top of the stairs in the big house, there was a landing big enough to use as a playroom. Beth and I would make elaborate houses for our Barbie Dolls of which we had many! I am sorry to say that we ruined some perfectly good vintage Barbies and their clothes! Hindsight is so painful. We would use all kinds of household items as chairs, closets, cars, (Hey, this cut glass crystal goblet would be a great toilet!)
I also had one of those chemistry sets with the chemicals and everything. I think those chemicals must have been benign because I mixed them with impunity and never blew up the house. We used the microscope to make slides of things like hair and skin, and boogers. Fun!
At some point, my sister and I acquired a small phonograph and a ton of records. They were 33s and 78s and were mostly soundtracks of Disney movies and some random kids stories set to opera. Think of the Three Bears with tunes from Lohengrin!. My favorite was Sleeping Beauty with music from the Tchaikovsky Ballet (I have since realized that the melodies used in the movie were all the best tunes from the Ballet which is actually not Tchaik's best effort!) We also had Alice in Wonderland (with originalm1955 Mouskateer Darlene Gillespie singing the songs). Beth and I would use the records to stage epic shows for our parents, lip syncing all the songs. I always thought Beth was being kind by allowing me the leads, but it was really so she could ham it up as everyone else. She could be the White Rabbit, The Queen of Hearts. Tweedle Dee and Dum all at the same time! It was her tour de force and great prep for a future actor!
I enjoyed performing, also, but I had a dreamy introverted side, too. There was a balcony beyond the play area, and I would sit out there and watch impossibly slow, lazy bumble bees lumber by. If I sat still enough, the squirrels would almost come close enough to touch! I am not sure about the integrity of that balcony, but it was a privacy paradise.
I also liked to pace along the top of the back fence until I was in some pre-hypnogogic state and once spent about two hours doing backdrops on the trampoline to see how long I could go. I made it to two thousand! Really!
So now you know a little bit more about my life in the big house at the Children's Home. Next time, I will move on to Jefferson City. Promise.
Before I move on to the next house, I just want to say a a word about memories
Memories are funny things. I love when police shows have the cops ask someone to identify a picture of someone, and they can recall a random person they briefly saw crossing the street or something. Our memories aren't like photocopy machines. Memories are incredibly subjective and degrade over time as well. Do you think you could recognize the person who took your order at some random restaurant if you were asked? I didn't think so!
The reason I am qualifying my memories is because mine may be completely different than the rest of my families. So I am not lying or making things up, my memory may just be different than theirs or yours.
The other reason I want to mention this is because of how much you can tell about a person from what aspect of the situation we remember most vividly.
I'm not sure when this was or why, ( maybe it was when my brother was born) that Beth and I were staying with my aunt and uncle in their palatial (to me) sprawling ranch house. It may have actually been palatial because my uncle is a very successful pharmacist. I have good memories of playing with my cousins, but both my sister and I have a negative memory of my aunt . She was just a little snooty! My sister's memory is that she was admiring a glittery crystal chandelier type table lamp and our aunt told her to keep her hands off the lamp, in no uncertain terms. My memory was that I saw some candy bars in the freezer and I asked if I could have one. I think she let me have one, but yelled at me that those were there for her kids and not for me. It was pretty rude of my to ask for something before it was offered, of course, but since I was all of five years old and in unfamiliar territory, she could have been just a tad bit more gentle about it!
I mention this because it tells you something about my sister and my respective focus in life. She is all about the glitter and I am all about the food!
Now on to more house stories.
At the top of the stairs in the big house, there was a landing big enough to use as a playroom. Beth and I would make elaborate houses for our Barbie Dolls of which we had many! I am sorry to say that we ruined some perfectly good vintage Barbies and their clothes! Hindsight is so painful. We would use all kinds of household items as chairs, closets, cars, (Hey, this cut glass crystal goblet would be a great toilet!)
I also had one of those chemistry sets with the chemicals and everything. I think those chemicals must have been benign because I mixed them with impunity and never blew up the house. We used the microscope to make slides of things like hair and skin, and boogers. Fun!
At some point, my sister and I acquired a small phonograph and a ton of records. They were 33s and 78s and were mostly soundtracks of Disney movies and some random kids stories set to opera. Think of the Three Bears with tunes from Lohengrin!. My favorite was Sleeping Beauty with music from the Tchaikovsky Ballet (I have since realized that the melodies used in the movie were all the best tunes from the Ballet which is actually not Tchaik's best effort!) We also had Alice in Wonderland (with originalm1955 Mouskateer Darlene Gillespie singing the songs). Beth and I would use the records to stage epic shows for our parents, lip syncing all the songs. I always thought Beth was being kind by allowing me the leads, but it was really so she could ham it up as everyone else. She could be the White Rabbit, The Queen of Hearts. Tweedle Dee and Dum all at the same time! It was her tour de force and great prep for a future actor!
I enjoyed performing, also, but I had a dreamy introverted side, too. There was a balcony beyond the play area, and I would sit out there and watch impossibly slow, lazy bumble bees lumber by. If I sat still enough, the squirrels would almost come close enough to touch! I am not sure about the integrity of that balcony, but it was a privacy paradise.
I also liked to pace along the top of the back fence until I was in some pre-hypnogogic state and once spent about two hours doing backdrops on the trampoline to see how long I could go. I made it to two thousand! Really!
So now you know a little bit more about my life in the big house at the Children's Home. Next time, I will move on to Jefferson City. Promise.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Pet 11
In those days, the children's home kids were well enough behaved to have the opportunity to go to week long overnight camp. Because the home was/is affiliated with the United Church of Christ, the kids went to camp Mo-Val (get it? Missouri Valley?) I actually went there for four summers myself so I can tell you it is a beautiful camp on a lake with lots of forest area nearby. Here is a link to their website so you can see how pretty it is! http://www.campmoval.org/outdoor-education/
Anyway, the camp has lots of ducks and geese nesting on the river. Somehow, one of the kids managed to smuggle home some duck eggs he found. Not only that, but he concealed a little homemade nest and hatched them! Needless to say, he could not keep them in his room. The two ducks that hatched were brought to my dad, who brought them to live in our back yard. We bought on of those plastic kiddie pools so they could swim and they had the run of the rest of the yard. We named them Herman and Henrietta. They were a cute couple. They pretty much kept to themselves and eventually Henrietta made a nest and laid some eggs. I think my parents were thinking duck l'orange or duck comfit but us kids were just thinking more ducks for the back yard! One night I heard the duck cackling like crazy, Henrietta's nest was under my window. I didn't think any thing much about it, except that they were being noisy. (Duck party maybe). But the noise was actually the sound of Henrietta defending her nest against a raccoon. Duck vs raccoon is not really much of a match and the raccoon beheaded poor Henrietta and ate the eggs. . Poor Herman was a lonely duck for awhile.
The positive thing for us was that Herman started to become an actual pet. However, he was my Dad's pet most of all. I guess he bonded with my dad from the start and I think he thought my dad was his mother. Consequently , he started to follow my dad around. He would walk (waddle?) with him up to the administration building and sometimes wait for him outside. On several occasions, my dad would be paged to the front with requests to please, come get his duck out of someone's office. When we would drive off campus, Herman would fly along side the car and look in the window. If duck's were able to look mournful, Herman could do it. I imagine an anthropomorphized sad duck, waiting for his mommy to come home. The best Herman story is when my grandpa came to visit. Grandpa Bassler was one of the smartest people I knew. I can say that since I was named after him (Emil Henry - the Emil part). For some reason, Herman took a liking to him and flew up to sit on top of his head. My grandfather yelled, "Get this Goddamn duck off my head!" Now there is a statement you don't hear everyday!
The beginning of the end for Herman, and in a way our life in the big house, was when my dad brought some geese to live in the back yard. They had taken up residency on the campus pond, so my dad thought they would be nice companions for Herman. They largely ignored him, but I guess Herman felt frisky one day and tried to get one of the younger (better looking?) females to be interest in a little nookie. The mama goose, however, did not think Herman was an appropriate mate and tried to drown him in the kiddie pool. Fortunately, my dad saw the attempted murder and rescued Herman from impending duck heaven The geese, on the other hand were renamed Dinner.
After that, Herman was a little timid and not as adventurous.
We left the Children's home not long after for my dad to take over being the pastor of Central United Church of Christ in Jefferson City. The back yard had been rendered unusable by the geese. (The saying "like shit through a goose" is absolutely true and the quantity is also considerable!) My sister was in 7th grade and my parents were concerned about the increasingly dangerous neighborhood and less than stellar educational opportunities. So off we went to another house.
Herman went on to live a long life (for a duck ) on a farm in... wait for it... Hermann, Missouri!
More on the next house coming up. Oh, by the way, the big house is now serving as the administration building. The people who work there often complain of unexplained noises and creepy feelings when alone. Told you it was haunted!
In those days, the children's home kids were well enough behaved to have the opportunity to go to week long overnight camp. Because the home was/is affiliated with the United Church of Christ, the kids went to camp Mo-Val (get it? Missouri Valley?) I actually went there for four summers myself so I can tell you it is a beautiful camp on a lake with lots of forest area nearby. Here is a link to their website so you can see how pretty it is! http://www.campmoval.org/outdoor-education/
Anyway, the camp has lots of ducks and geese nesting on the river. Somehow, one of the kids managed to smuggle home some duck eggs he found. Not only that, but he concealed a little homemade nest and hatched them! Needless to say, he could not keep them in his room. The two ducks that hatched were brought to my dad, who brought them to live in our back yard. We bought on of those plastic kiddie pools so they could swim and they had the run of the rest of the yard. We named them Herman and Henrietta. They were a cute couple. They pretty much kept to themselves and eventually Henrietta made a nest and laid some eggs. I think my parents were thinking duck l'orange or duck comfit but us kids were just thinking more ducks for the back yard! One night I heard the duck cackling like crazy, Henrietta's nest was under my window. I didn't think any thing much about it, except that they were being noisy. (Duck party maybe). But the noise was actually the sound of Henrietta defending her nest against a raccoon. Duck vs raccoon is not really much of a match and the raccoon beheaded poor Henrietta and ate the eggs. . Poor Herman was a lonely duck for awhile.
The positive thing for us was that Herman started to become an actual pet. However, he was my Dad's pet most of all. I guess he bonded with my dad from the start and I think he thought my dad was his mother. Consequently , he started to follow my dad around. He would walk (waddle?) with him up to the administration building and sometimes wait for him outside. On several occasions, my dad would be paged to the front with requests to please, come get his duck out of someone's office. When we would drive off campus, Herman would fly along side the car and look in the window. If duck's were able to look mournful, Herman could do it. I imagine an anthropomorphized sad duck, waiting for his mommy to come home. The best Herman story is when my grandpa came to visit. Grandpa Bassler was one of the smartest people I knew. I can say that since I was named after him (Emil Henry - the Emil part). For some reason, Herman took a liking to him and flew up to sit on top of his head. My grandfather yelled, "Get this Goddamn duck off my head!" Now there is a statement you don't hear everyday!
The beginning of the end for Herman, and in a way our life in the big house, was when my dad brought some geese to live in the back yard. They had taken up residency on the campus pond, so my dad thought they would be nice companions for Herman. They largely ignored him, but I guess Herman felt frisky one day and tried to get one of the younger (better looking?) females to be interest in a little nookie. The mama goose, however, did not think Herman was an appropriate mate and tried to drown him in the kiddie pool. Fortunately, my dad saw the attempted murder and rescued Herman from impending duck heaven The geese, on the other hand were renamed Dinner.
After that, Herman was a little timid and not as adventurous.
We left the Children's home not long after for my dad to take over being the pastor of Central United Church of Christ in Jefferson City. The back yard had been rendered unusable by the geese. (The saying "like shit through a goose" is absolutely true and the quantity is also considerable!) My sister was in 7th grade and my parents were concerned about the increasingly dangerous neighborhood and less than stellar educational opportunities. So off we went to another house.
Herman went on to live a long life (for a duck ) on a farm in... wait for it... Hermann, Missouri!
More on the next house coming up. Oh, by the way, the big house is now serving as the administration building. The people who work there often complain of unexplained noises and creepy feelings when alone. Told you it was haunted!
Pets
More about the big house
Another cool thing about living on the children's home campus, was the opportunity for pets! With the huge back yard and acreage on and around the campus, it was a small bit of the country in the midst of the almost-inner-city surrounding area.
We had a dog when we moved in; a dachshund named Lady Gertrude (Trudy for short). Trudy was the victim of her ability to roam free on the children's home grounds and probably got ahold of some rat poisoning. This was my first experience with loss, but the beginning of a small stream of other pets.
I don't know when we got our cat, Mittens, who was mean and enormous and liked to have diarrhea in the middle of my bed. He probably did this as a punishment for my dressing him up in doll clothing occasionally. The house was set up in a big circle; enter, through the living room ,kitchen, right into the dining room another through a guest room, through the family room and back where you began. You could also go past the stairs and straight into the dining room. The dining room floor was warped, forming little bumpy hills.
Which brings us to yet another dog. We got a toy rat terrier who was a retired show dog. Her poor little legs had been broken and were crooked, keeping her from being shown. Her name was Tina and she was a third of the size of Mittens the cat. Usually dogs chase cats, but in this case, nervous hyper little Tina liked to provoke Mittens (large mean slow cat) to chase her through the house. Once she had annoyed Mittens enough, a chase would ensue around the circle of rooms. Just as the chase was at it's height, Tina would abruptly change directions and Mittens would scramble to get his big old self to follow. Usually what happened was a failed attempt to get a grip on the floor and he would sail across the dining room and over the mogul-sized bumps on the linoleum and splat against the wall. Tina would stand by watching the spectacle. Mittens would shake himself and walk away with a look of " meant to do that" on his face.
Tina lasted a while. Long enough for me to enjoy lowering her slowly into the snow and watch her frantically dog paddle before she hit the top layer. Probably a lot of dogs do this, but I thought it was pretty funny.
I don't know what order they came in , but for awhile we seemed to go through dogs the was other people go through hamsters. There was Toby, a beagle, who I don't really remember. There was Macgregor, a Scottie, (I think) who was a champion at running away. My dad looked for him at first, but after awhile I think he got fed up and said good riddance.
Some of our pets had come and gone prior to the big house. I never knew my sister's first pet whose name was Uruh because my parents ask me sister what to name him. Being maybe one year old she pointed and said a noise sounding like Uruh. I don't know what became of Uruh, but I am guessing that it was a blessing to no longer have to stand and the porch and yell "Here, Uruh".
At one point we had hamsters until one of them had babies which she promptly chewed up like a carnivorous little cannibal. When my mom opened the cage to feed them and a disembodied head fell out, the were gone.
We had a cat named Puddy who climbed into the car manifold (or something like that) and when my dad started the car...Well, I'm thinking it wasn't pretty
We had a pretty little Siamese cat named Sammy. My mom and I witnessed our neighbor back out of her driveway and send the cat flying through the air. I remember her landing with her legs in the air and writhing and yowling until she final kicked the bucket. My mom and I spent the day crying until my dad got home and said "For Pete's sake! I thought something had happened to Beth the way you were carrying on" Maybe it was a little over the top, but the whole 'back attack" thing was pretty traumatic!
Back to the big house. We had a fish tank briefly, too, but it sprang a leak and the fish got flushed.
We finally had one successful pet which was the unlikeliest and most unusual pet of all.
I think I will leave you hanging, now and let you wonder what the heck came next.
More about the big house
Another cool thing about living on the children's home campus, was the opportunity for pets! With the huge back yard and acreage on and around the campus, it was a small bit of the country in the midst of the almost-inner-city surrounding area.
We had a dog when we moved in; a dachshund named Lady Gertrude (Trudy for short). Trudy was the victim of her ability to roam free on the children's home grounds and probably got ahold of some rat poisoning. This was my first experience with loss, but the beginning of a small stream of other pets.
I don't know when we got our cat, Mittens, who was mean and enormous and liked to have diarrhea in the middle of my bed. He probably did this as a punishment for my dressing him up in doll clothing occasionally. The house was set up in a big circle; enter, through the living room ,kitchen, right into the dining room another through a guest room, through the family room and back where you began. You could also go past the stairs and straight into the dining room. The dining room floor was warped, forming little bumpy hills.
Which brings us to yet another dog. We got a toy rat terrier who was a retired show dog. Her poor little legs had been broken and were crooked, keeping her from being shown. Her name was Tina and she was a third of the size of Mittens the cat. Usually dogs chase cats, but in this case, nervous hyper little Tina liked to provoke Mittens (large mean slow cat) to chase her through the house. Once she had annoyed Mittens enough, a chase would ensue around the circle of rooms. Just as the chase was at it's height, Tina would abruptly change directions and Mittens would scramble to get his big old self to follow. Usually what happened was a failed attempt to get a grip on the floor and he would sail across the dining room and over the mogul-sized bumps on the linoleum and splat against the wall. Tina would stand by watching the spectacle. Mittens would shake himself and walk away with a look of " meant to do that" on his face.
Tina lasted a while. Long enough for me to enjoy lowering her slowly into the snow and watch her frantically dog paddle before she hit the top layer. Probably a lot of dogs do this, but I thought it was pretty funny.
I don't know what order they came in , but for awhile we seemed to go through dogs the was other people go through hamsters. There was Toby, a beagle, who I don't really remember. There was Macgregor, a Scottie, (I think) who was a champion at running away. My dad looked for him at first, but after awhile I think he got fed up and said good riddance.
Some of our pets had come and gone prior to the big house. I never knew my sister's first pet whose name was Uruh because my parents ask me sister what to name him. Being maybe one year old she pointed and said a noise sounding like Uruh. I don't know what became of Uruh, but I am guessing that it was a blessing to no longer have to stand and the porch and yell "Here, Uruh".
At one point we had hamsters until one of them had babies which she promptly chewed up like a carnivorous little cannibal. When my mom opened the cage to feed them and a disembodied head fell out, the were gone.
We had a cat named Puddy who climbed into the car manifold (or something like that) and when my dad started the car...Well, I'm thinking it wasn't pretty
We had a pretty little Siamese cat named Sammy. My mom and I witnessed our neighbor back out of her driveway and send the cat flying through the air. I remember her landing with her legs in the air and writhing and yowling until she final kicked the bucket. My mom and I spent the day crying until my dad got home and said "For Pete's sake! I thought something had happened to Beth the way you were carrying on" Maybe it was a little over the top, but the whole 'back attack" thing was pretty traumatic!
Back to the big house. We had a fish tank briefly, too, but it sprang a leak and the fish got flushed.
We finally had one successful pet which was the unlikeliest and most unusual pet of all.
I think I will leave you hanging, now and let you wonder what the heck came next.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
HOUSES II
We left off with my 4th move in 7 years.
This is the house on Markdale from the previous post.
The next house was the most interesting so far, partly because I actually remember it so well, but also because of the house itself.
My dad was the resident director of a children's home in St. Louis so we moved to a big house on the children's home campus. This was a BIG house. I think it was 100 years old when we moved in and that was ...1968! (OMG) My dad could probably tell me the history of that house, but I just knew it was old and had been part of the children's home from the start. It had five bedrooms, two full baths, and at least one half bath. I don't remember if there was another one downstairs. It had the most terrifying basement in the universe, and not just because we used to make haunted housed down there. I t had one room with a huge meat hook hanging in the middle! ( The stuff of horror movies!)
The house was so old and had such high ceilings that the stairway had to make a 180 degree turn half way up. It had a big enough landing that one of my sister's friend made at least one super 8 movie using it as a throne room.
We went from the tiny bedroom house to one that had enough bedrooms for everyone. However, my brother still had the smallest room in the whole house! This was like some sort of bad curse on him or something. My room was next to the small half bath upstairs. There was an entrance into my dad's office on the other side of the bathroom. This was the second scariest place in the house! This room had a closet with a closet in it! Swear to God! And this house was clearly not built with the modern day closet accommodations with walk in closets so big you have to call a cab to get to the other side. I am surprised there was no meat hook in that closet! My brother had to walk through that room to get to the bath room, but he would rather walk all the way around the other way and go through my room if he need to go. It was that scary.
I am not saying that this house was haunted, but it was. There are at least two incidents that make me say that. The first was, that the faucet in that bathroom used to turn on full blast by itself. I would be in my room, minding my own business, when I would here this loud whoosh. I would go in the bathroom to find the water on. That faucet was not loose and I am not talking a slow leaky drip. Full Blast! Do old faucets do that?
On at least one occasion I watched a bag of groceries fall off a chair in slow motion. It went from sitting in the middle of the chair to tipping over to falling on the floor. Maybe this was just a top heavy bag responding to physics, but I don't think so!
The last truly freaky thing did not actually happen in the house, so I am wondering about poltergeist possibilities! I was walking our dog on the way to pick up my brother at the campus day care center. I was passing one of the cottages ( one of the houses for girls in this case) Something made me look up at the window. I saw it sort of bend and ripple and it suddenly burst into pieces! One of the girls came to the window and yelled, "Hey girl! Did you throw something at that window?" I was pretty freaked out myself! "I was just walking my dog!" I yelled back and burst into tears. The house mother ran up to the window and saw it was me and realized that maybe she shouldn't accuse her bosses daughter of wrong-doing. Plus there was no object that could account for the breakage and the window was at lease two feet over my head so there was no way I could have reached it, not to mention that my ability to throw hard enough to break a window was nil.
So the house was big and old and scary, but it was also a cool place to live. It had a huge back yard. There was a pool on the campus, so we got to swim every day in the summer. There were three trampolines on the campus and we all got pretty good at doing tricks. This was before all the safety rules and liability insurance stuff. The whole time we lived there, no one broke the rules of one person at a time and five minutes per turn and I don't remember anyone getting hurt either.
That's enough for today, but I have a lot more to say about that house, so I will tell you more next time.
I am going to a training tomorrow to become a volunteer at Rainbow Hospice, so I will probably not get a chance to write before Sunday, but I am on a roll and will be back soon. Until then, here is a pic from a surprise going away party my friend Kellie (left side blue shirt) gave me when we moved. You can tell it was a surprise party because I was dressed so dorky! Although, it probably wouldn't have mattered. I think I always dressed dorky then. Oh yeah, I am the one with glasses. That's my brother in the front row. His growth was obviously stunted from being forced to sleep in tiny bedrooms. And that is my sister's arm. She was probably trying to get out of the picture. Epic fail...
We left off with my 4th move in 7 years.
This is the house on Markdale from the previous post.
The next house was the most interesting so far, partly because I actually remember it so well, but also because of the house itself.
My dad was the resident director of a children's home in St. Louis so we moved to a big house on the children's home campus. This was a BIG house. I think it was 100 years old when we moved in and that was ...1968! (OMG) My dad could probably tell me the history of that house, but I just knew it was old and had been part of the children's home from the start. It had five bedrooms, two full baths, and at least one half bath. I don't remember if there was another one downstairs. It had the most terrifying basement in the universe, and not just because we used to make haunted housed down there. I t had one room with a huge meat hook hanging in the middle! ( The stuff of horror movies!)
The house was so old and had such high ceilings that the stairway had to make a 180 degree turn half way up. It had a big enough landing that one of my sister's friend made at least one super 8 movie using it as a throne room.
We went from the tiny bedroom house to one that had enough bedrooms for everyone. However, my brother still had the smallest room in the whole house! This was like some sort of bad curse on him or something. My room was next to the small half bath upstairs. There was an entrance into my dad's office on the other side of the bathroom. This was the second scariest place in the house! This room had a closet with a closet in it! Swear to God! And this house was clearly not built with the modern day closet accommodations with walk in closets so big you have to call a cab to get to the other side. I am surprised there was no meat hook in that closet! My brother had to walk through that room to get to the bath room, but he would rather walk all the way around the other way and go through my room if he need to go. It was that scary.
I am not saying that this house was haunted, but it was. There are at least two incidents that make me say that. The first was, that the faucet in that bathroom used to turn on full blast by itself. I would be in my room, minding my own business, when I would here this loud whoosh. I would go in the bathroom to find the water on. That faucet was not loose and I am not talking a slow leaky drip. Full Blast! Do old faucets do that?
On at least one occasion I watched a bag of groceries fall off a chair in slow motion. It went from sitting in the middle of the chair to tipping over to falling on the floor. Maybe this was just a top heavy bag responding to physics, but I don't think so!
The last truly freaky thing did not actually happen in the house, so I am wondering about poltergeist possibilities! I was walking our dog on the way to pick up my brother at the campus day care center. I was passing one of the cottages ( one of the houses for girls in this case) Something made me look up at the window. I saw it sort of bend and ripple and it suddenly burst into pieces! One of the girls came to the window and yelled, "Hey girl! Did you throw something at that window?" I was pretty freaked out myself! "I was just walking my dog!" I yelled back and burst into tears. The house mother ran up to the window and saw it was me and realized that maybe she shouldn't accuse her bosses daughter of wrong-doing. Plus there was no object that could account for the breakage and the window was at lease two feet over my head so there was no way I could have reached it, not to mention that my ability to throw hard enough to break a window was nil.
So the house was big and old and scary, but it was also a cool place to live. It had a huge back yard. There was a pool on the campus, so we got to swim every day in the summer. There were three trampolines on the campus and we all got pretty good at doing tricks. This was before all the safety rules and liability insurance stuff. The whole time we lived there, no one broke the rules of one person at a time and five minutes per turn and I don't remember anyone getting hurt either.
That's enough for today, but I have a lot more to say about that house, so I will tell you more next time.
I am going to a training tomorrow to become a volunteer at Rainbow Hospice, so I will probably not get a chance to write before Sunday, but I am on a roll and will be back soon. Until then, here is a pic from a surprise going away party my friend Kellie (left side blue shirt) gave me when we moved. You can tell it was a surprise party because I was dressed so dorky! Although, it probably wouldn't have mattered. I think I always dressed dorky then. Oh yeah, I am the one with glasses. That's my brother in the front row. His growth was obviously stunted from being forced to sleep in tiny bedrooms. And that is my sister's arm. She was probably trying to get out of the picture. Epic fail...
Friday, September 13, 2013
Houses
Houses
We lucked out when we bought our current home. We bought when I was pregnant in 1995. This was right before the big real estate bubble began (Fortunate thing #1) and we paid what I thought was a crazy price, but I now know is a crazy low price. The Chicago area, as opposed to the other Midwest towns in which I had previously resided, was much more expensive. Similar houses in, say Jefferson City, where I grew up, were at lease 30 to 50 % less expensive. We wanted something between my job in the city and my husband's job in the west suburbs. We quickly figured out that the northwesr suburbs were not the bargain area of Chicagoland! We finally found some affordable houses in Des Plaines. Des Plaines (pronounced d'splaines all one word, no silent s's) is right above O'Hare airport and being awakned by low flying jets at 2 am is not unusual. But, (fortunate thing #2) we got a house situated close to the major highways with quick access to downtown Chicago (when there is no traffic!) and a decent route to the west as well.
We closed on the house on July 25 which was theoretically before my due date. However, my anxious son decided to enter the world a month early, so his first week on the planet involved attempting to keep him comfortable, fed and out of packing boxes. Since he was early and only 4lbs, this was not an easy task.
However, the move was basically quick and unproblematic. We were able to get the house into live-able condition before hand. Besides the great location of the house, it was below market price for the size due to the fact that it was filthy when we bought it! (Fortunate thing #3). The previous owners were not into cleaning. The toilets appeared stained and I figured we would have to replace them. The owners had used those blue things you hang in the tank as their ONLY cleaning method. After some elbow grease and some scrubbing bubbles, be discovered gleaming porcelain under the puke inducing grime. We were able to pull up the carpeting in the bathrooms as well (yes, carpeting in the bathroom!!)
The people on House Hunters always annoy the Hell out of me. No matter what their budget, they insist on granite counters and the most up-to date colors on the walls. (Gosh, too bad the wall color is the only thing you can't change!) Hey baby, beggars can't be choosers! Just glad for four walls and an attached garage!
Fortunate thing #4 happened when I got diagnosed with MS in 1996. We had looked at and even put a bid on at least one two story Cape Cod style house. The house we bought is a ranch style house on a slab (no basement) with only one step to get in. Thus we avoided the nightmare of retrofitting a house to accommodate my hatred of stairs!
Since being here, we have updated both bathrooms, replaced all the carpeting twice, redone the kitchen, and, oh yeah, gotten the airport sound proofing! This house came standard with window unit air conditioners, and radiant heat. The windows and doors were the original from the late 50's when this home was built. Needles to say, this was not the most airtight or energy efficient home. Due to our close proximity to the airport, we qualified for soundproofing. (Fortunate thing #5) The double hung windows, steel doors, air conditioning and forced air heat completely paid for courtesy of the airport and the Chicago tax payers, has transformed this house from one-step above a mobile home, to a neat little suburban lower middle class oasis!
We have now lived in this home for 18 years which is the longest I've ever lived in one
place! My son, apart from the two weeks in a semi-empty two bedroom apartment, has lived in this house his whole life!
This is weird to me since we moved 4 times before I graduated from High School.
I don't remember the first house I lived in. I thought I had a brief memory of it, but I think I was on a trike and I'm pretty sure that I was too young to reach the pedals on those ginormous old fashioned tricycles before we moved.
The first house I do remember, it the one in Godfrey, Illinois. I remember lots of things about that house. It was a small ranch house at the bottom of a hill. I got chased by a dog running down that hill. He knocked me down and stepped on my forehead, It bled like crazy. My mom thought I had cut my arm as if I was some 4 year old suicidal goth queen. . My sister was yelling at me to run across the hill instead of down and since I chose not to listen to her and got stepped on by the dog, I, blame her for not forcing me to do what she said and therefore scarring me for life. I think that dog's name was Nails.
After kindergarten, we moved to St. Louis so my dad could become the director of Evangelical Children's Home. We lived in a tri-level with the smallest bedrooms I have ever seen. My brother's room was smaller than the sleeping area in a semi truck. I think we had to use a lever of some kind to pry him out every morning. My sister and I shared the "bigger" bed room that had enough space for a bunk bed and twelve thousand stuffed animal, all of which slept in my bed every night. I finished first grade and maybe some of second there. Dad's master plan for the tiny bedroom house to have it be used as a group home for very tiny troubled children, but the neighborhood balked at having even tiny troubled kids in their midst. So, somehow, that meant we had to move again!
The next house was a lot more interesting and since this is a long post (for me), I will leave you hanging and publish more tomorrow.
.
We lucked out when we bought our current home. We bought when I was pregnant in 1995. This was right before the big real estate bubble began (Fortunate thing #1) and we paid what I thought was a crazy price, but I now know is a crazy low price. The Chicago area, as opposed to the other Midwest towns in which I had previously resided, was much more expensive. Similar houses in, say Jefferson City, where I grew up, were at lease 30 to 50 % less expensive. We wanted something between my job in the city and my husband's job in the west suburbs. We quickly figured out that the northwesr suburbs were not the bargain area of Chicagoland! We finally found some affordable houses in Des Plaines. Des Plaines (pronounced d'splaines all one word, no silent s's) is right above O'Hare airport and being awakned by low flying jets at 2 am is not unusual. But, (fortunate thing #2) we got a house situated close to the major highways with quick access to downtown Chicago (when there is no traffic!) and a decent route to the west as well.
We closed on the house on July 25 which was theoretically before my due date. However, my anxious son decided to enter the world a month early, so his first week on the planet involved attempting to keep him comfortable, fed and out of packing boxes. Since he was early and only 4lbs, this was not an easy task.
However, the move was basically quick and unproblematic. We were able to get the house into live-able condition before hand. Besides the great location of the house, it was below market price for the size due to the fact that it was filthy when we bought it! (Fortunate thing #3). The previous owners were not into cleaning. The toilets appeared stained and I figured we would have to replace them. The owners had used those blue things you hang in the tank as their ONLY cleaning method. After some elbow grease and some scrubbing bubbles, be discovered gleaming porcelain under the puke inducing grime. We were able to pull up the carpeting in the bathrooms as well (yes, carpeting in the bathroom!!)
The people on House Hunters always annoy the Hell out of me. No matter what their budget, they insist on granite counters and the most up-to date colors on the walls. (Gosh, too bad the wall color is the only thing you can't change!) Hey baby, beggars can't be choosers! Just glad for four walls and an attached garage!
Fortunate thing #4 happened when I got diagnosed with MS in 1996. We had looked at and even put a bid on at least one two story Cape Cod style house. The house we bought is a ranch style house on a slab (no basement) with only one step to get in. Thus we avoided the nightmare of retrofitting a house to accommodate my hatred of stairs!
Since being here, we have updated both bathrooms, replaced all the carpeting twice, redone the kitchen, and, oh yeah, gotten the airport sound proofing! This house came standard with window unit air conditioners, and radiant heat. The windows and doors were the original from the late 50's when this home was built. Needles to say, this was not the most airtight or energy efficient home. Due to our close proximity to the airport, we qualified for soundproofing. (Fortunate thing #5) The double hung windows, steel doors, air conditioning and forced air heat completely paid for courtesy of the airport and the Chicago tax payers, has transformed this house from one-step above a mobile home, to a neat little suburban lower middle class oasis!
We have now lived in this home for 18 years which is the longest I've ever lived in one
place! My son, apart from the two weeks in a semi-empty two bedroom apartment, has lived in this house his whole life!
This is weird to me since we moved 4 times before I graduated from High School.
I don't remember the first house I lived in. I thought I had a brief memory of it, but I think I was on a trike and I'm pretty sure that I was too young to reach the pedals on those ginormous old fashioned tricycles before we moved.
The first house I do remember, it the one in Godfrey, Illinois. I remember lots of things about that house. It was a small ranch house at the bottom of a hill. I got chased by a dog running down that hill. He knocked me down and stepped on my forehead, It bled like crazy. My mom thought I had cut my arm as if I was some 4 year old suicidal goth queen. . My sister was yelling at me to run across the hill instead of down and since I chose not to listen to her and got stepped on by the dog, I, blame her for not forcing me to do what she said and therefore scarring me for life. I think that dog's name was Nails.
After kindergarten, we moved to St. Louis so my dad could become the director of Evangelical Children's Home. We lived in a tri-level with the smallest bedrooms I have ever seen. My brother's room was smaller than the sleeping area in a semi truck. I think we had to use a lever of some kind to pry him out every morning. My sister and I shared the "bigger" bed room that had enough space for a bunk bed and twelve thousand stuffed animal, all of which slept in my bed every night. I finished first grade and maybe some of second there. Dad's master plan for the tiny bedroom house to have it be used as a group home for very tiny troubled children, but the neighborhood balked at having even tiny troubled kids in their midst. So, somehow, that meant we had to move again!
The next house was a lot more interesting and since this is a long post (for me), I will leave you hanging and publish more tomorrow.
.
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