It takes so little to make kids happy.

I was at Garrett and Jillian's the other day and I got some scissors and an old furniture catalog out for Garrett.  He cut out couches, lamps, mirrors, chairs and rugs for me.  He was totally absorbed for almost an hour.  I can remember when my brother, Allen,and I were really little---he was probably five and I was three.  One rainy afternoon Mom sent us out to an old smokehouse that sat in our yard, gave us each a pair of scissors and a Sears Catalog and we had the best time.................it seemed like we cut things out of the catalog all afternoon.  I'm not sure why I remember that, but I can picture us sitting on the floor with the catalog open between us, clipping away while the rain pounded on the tin roof.  It was bliss.....................and it was probably bliss for Mom because we were out of her hair for awhile.  Any way, here is Garrett hard at work, and Jilli with her blankee.

Big Sally

This is Sally.  She is 25 years old and she came to live at my house when Rachel was about 4 years old.  Santa brought her that Christmas and Rachel played with her a little, but not a whole lot.  Sally sat in Rachel's room for many years.  I would try to talk to her a little when I happen to notice her, but  still she was very lonely.  She finally was stuffed in a big plastic bag, imprisoned in a storage bin and was stored for many years.  I try not to think what that must have been like for her, but no one wanted to play with her.  At times, I thought I could hear voices from the storage room, but when I would open the door, there was nothing.  I decided it was my imagination.  There were plenty of "people" she could have been talking to...............Teddy, Jason's bear, Roll Over Rover, Jason's stuffed dog, the beautiful Japanese doll that Marvin had sent to his mother from Japan, Flippo, the frog, many nameless dolls that Rachel had once played with.  I guess there were lots of lonely "people" imprisoned in that storage room.  

But one day, many years later,  my little Shea wanted to know what was in all those boxes in my storage room.  I chose one for her that was marked "Rachel" and brought it into the living room for her to open. I guess it was just like Christmas to her.  She emptied the storage bin of it's content, looking carefully at each  toy.  In the bottom was a big white trash bag..........it was Sally.

Shea loved Sally and played with her much more than Rachel had ever played with her.  She even asked if Sally could have a sleepover at her house, so I sent her home with Shea.  She did this many times and when I would go to pick up Sally, I would ask Shea if she had been good.  Sometimes she had been good, but most of the time Shea told me that she had been bad and had to have time out in the corner.  One time Mamie even punished Sally by making her touch her nose to the wall where she had to look behind the refrigerator and watch the spider crawl around on her web------really scary stuff!

When Shea got big enough to play school, Sally would play with us.  Again she would cause all the trouble in class and had to have time out.  She frequently wet her pants in class and had to go to the nurse's room.  She was really bad compared to Shea.  She still plays a little with Sally, but not like she did in the past.  She is growing up.

Sally is still living with me and now Jillian is beginning to notice her.  It is a matter of time before Jillian asks if Sally can have a sleepover at her house.  Sally can't wait!

I made Sally from a pattern and managed to hang on to the pattern all of these years.  2 years ago, I made Shea her own version of Sally.  I will get a photo of her on the blog soon.  The dress that Sally is wearing in this photo is one of Shea's that she has outgrown.  My, but little girls grow up fast.  It is so sad.................

The Locket

I turned seven years old in September of 1957 and was asked to be the flower girl for a second cousin's wedding.  I had no idea what that meant, but I began to show some interest when I was asked to my aunt's home one Saturday morning to be fitted for the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.  It was a soft lavender dress trimmed in a narrow velvet ribbon.  It made me feel like a princess.

The weekend of the wedding I was so excited to be involved in the celebration.  It was fun because my cousin David was the ring bearer and everyone was telling us what a good job we were doing.  That Saturday morning I walked down the aisle of  St. George Catholic Church  in Hermann, Missouri, carrying a bouquet of flowers and stepping in time with the music.  I felt so pretty and I was especially proud of the little gold locket that the bride had given me to wear with my dress.  I had never had a locket before and I kept opening and closing it.  It was truly a treasure.

When I went back to school the following Monday I wore my locket and proudly showed it to my teacher and friends.  They all admired it and I promised myself that I would keep it forever.  I wore it to school everyday and everyone in the entire Big Spring Elementary School knew about my locket.

One day, later that Fall, when I came in from afternoon recess I discovered that my locket was missing.  I was so upset that my teacher allowed me to go out to the playground to search for it................even though I would be missing class to do so.  I looked everywhere I remembered being during recess, but I could not find my locket.  That day I left school in tears.  When I got home, my mom drove me back to school and helped me look on the playground again, but we could not find it.  Within a few weeks I had lost the locket I had vowed to keep the rest of my life.

The next morning the teacher could see how sad I was so she encouraged me to tell  my class and all the classes in the entire school about my lost locket.  She hoped that perhaps someone would find it and return it to me.  Some of my friends even helped me look for it at recess, but we could not find it anywhere.  I knew it had to be on the playground somewhere, but it was so tiny it would be hard to find in the grass and dirt.

I continued to look for my locket when I went to the playground, but soon winter set in and we began having recess in the gym.  I never forgot about my necklace and never gave up hope that someday someone would find it.  Winter turned into Spring and we began having recess outside again.

One Spring day when we were having our afternoon writing class, a girl from fourth grade knocked on the door of our classroom.  When my teacher acknowledged her, she walked up to her desk and whispered something in her ear, showing her something held in the palm of her hand.  I couldn't hear what she said, nor see what she had shown my teacher,  but as they whispered to each other they looked at me.  She had found my locket where it lay for five months in the rain and snow beneath the seesaws on the playground. 

That was 53 years ago and I still have my little locket.  I have kept my promise to myself to keep it the rest of my life and I hope to someday pass it on to a granddaughter who will cherish it as much as I have.  I will forever be grateful to the  little girl who found it and returned it to me.  She could have just as easily kept it for herself.  It is a testament to the honesty of the families in my little community and school of Big Spring, Missouri. 

Can you see the little locket I am wearing?

Look what I got in the mail today.............

I got this envelope from Reminisce Magazine and couldn't imagine what it was.  Turns out, it was a manuscript and photo that I had submitted to them on June 2, 2004.  As usual, my writing ended up in a slush pile on or near the editor's desk, or perhaps near the trash can.  Most of my writing ends up that way.  From what I can tell, the editor had kept it (they usually return it to the author with a nice REJECTION letter), thinking he might use it, but evidently, he had a huge slush pile.  I can just picture it in a pile of manuscripts that reached to the ceiling.  Anyway, the poor editor passed away in December of 2009------probably bored to death by writers like me.  It has taken them almost a year to wade through the slush pile and discover my submission.  They were nice enough to return my manuscript and photo to me.

I looked at the photo and it took me back 53 years----yes 53 years(I can't believe I admitted that) to a September Saturday in 1957 when I was flower girl for my second cousin's wedding.  Oh, how sad.  I look at that little girl and I could easily be the little sister sittin' on the porch with the banjo picker from Deliverance--you know, THAT movie.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, ask your mom or grandma--they will remember Deliverance if they saw it.  It was quite unforgettable---shocking and unforgettable.

Any way, at seven years of age I was bashful, backwards, and bound and determined not to smile for the camera.  The wedding was held at St. George Catholic Church in Hermann.  I was really excited about being in the wedding, but my excitement didn't last past the vows.  As all Catholic weddings went back then, the nuptials were performed in the morning, followed by the entire wedding party piling into cars and tearing around town visiting bar after bar in celebration.  This would take place until it was time for the wedding dinner of close friends and family.  Then there would be more riding around declaring their nuptial bliss with honking horns and rounds of beer at the home of relatives and friends until it was time for the evening reception where the cake was cut, gifts were opened (yes, they opened gifts back then ) and the bouquet and garter were thrown.

 Well, at seven, I wasn't too interested in beer and the reveling, honking of horns and fast driving scared me.  I just knew this dream of being flower girl in a wedding would turn into a nightmare to me.  I would end up a crumpled mess on the side of the road, my beautiful lavender dress covered in my blood, my young lifeless body  a testament to the evils of drunk driving.  So I was so relieved when we headed to the hall for dinner.  I went straight to my mommy and told her I was scared and didn't want to go with the wedding party that afternoon.  She didn't make me go.  All afternoon, I expected the adults to say the entire wedding party had crashed into the Missouri River  and all had perished.   It was really boring  to spend the afternoon at the hall with no one to play with......cousin David, the ringbearer apparently liked the wild life and he hit the road with the rest of them.  He would find out that I was the only sane one in the bunch when he lay crumpled by the side of the road, his blood splattered on his new suit.

However, all things ended well, my cousin David made fun of me, and I had the experience of being a flower girl in a wedding.  But it kinda marred my idealized version of the wedding day.  My education on love and marriage came from fairy tales where the prince and the princess got married and lived happily ever after.      Just seeing my second cousin in her beautiful white dress and veil going from bar to bar, drinking frosty glasses of German beer just didn't seem very romantic to me.  I guess it is a good thing I couldn't comprehend the wedding night.......................it would have scarred me forever.  I was a weird little girl--still am!


Anyway.......................here is the photo for you to laugh at and the story that lay in a slush pile on the editor's floor for six years will come tomorrow.