Wednesday, January 9, 2019

....The Medicine Cabinet

(original artwork-all rights reserved)



....Most days started and ended in front of the medicine cabinet, whether it was a school day or Saturday. The medicine cabinet was the place we ran to following those cateclysmic bicycle crashes, to doctor up skinned knees with that wonderful red Merthiolate and half a dozen Band-aids. There were always one or two gruesome scabs on our knees and Mom was right—they did get better before we got married.
It was where our mom sent us when we complained of a headache or toothache or sprained ankle with the instruction, “Take an aspirin!” Our moms were wiser than even they were aware of …we’re still being told to "take an aspirin"!
And of course we could always find the Vicks-VapoRub there for when we had colds. A little Vicks rubbed on our chests, a cup of hot chocolate—and seven days later we were just about all better.
Dad kept his shaving cream and razor in the medicine cabinet and when he left for work in the morning the bathroom smelled delightful— Old Spice aftershave..
Now this was a wonderfully care free time of life but there were some disturbing thoughts that occasionally entered my mind. I knew that my dad disposed of his used razor blades in that little slot in the back of the medicine cabinet made especially for the disposal of used razor blades. You can't see it pictured here, because the door isn't opened wide enough, but it's there.

*....What was going to happen when the wall was FULL of razor blades?!


And I was not the only child haunted by that thought.

*...and that childhood fear has come to haunt us—take a look at this picture taken recently by a Fort Worth Texas home inspector!



(note: the Merthiolate bottle in the medicine cabinet above is the actual bottle that was in my neighbor's medicine cabinet when we were kids...)


Thursday, December 13, 2018

Christmas Eve 1956

Christmas Eve as a child in the 50's was always an exciting night—wondering what we would find under the tree in the morning. Would we awake to a white Christmas? That was always very important to me.
This memory—Christmas 1956—is a special one to me.


O come all ye faithful. Joyful and triumphant, O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem.....My eyes were drawn to six stockings hung beneath the mantle and quickly matched each glittered name with a brother singing his very loudest, carols reserved especially for this night. As we encircled the piano, Dad played with purpose, "This is the real meaning of Christmas, " each resounding chord reminded us. Tomorrow at the first glimmer of dawn we would find each stocking overflowing...just as my young heart felt at this moment; my brothers, Dad and Mom, Christmas eve...what more could a five year old girl want? I glanced out the window behind the piano into the night so still. Snow was falling silently, draping our familiar world in soft flannel...It would be a white Christmas for sure!A muffled voice broke through the darkness, as a stranger lost in the storm, desperate for someone to hear. Faintly it came. The playing stopped as we stood motionless, hoping to hear it once again.
"It's a BOY! We have a BOY!"

Dad threw open the window and a gust of chilly winter air swept in the joyous news. Little Nanny Lucy leaned out our neighbor's window, waving her arms ecstatically, heralding the birth of her great grandson. Jimmy John would be a welcome addition to the family of three daughters! Waiting hot chocolate topped off the excitement before heading up to bed.As I lay awake gazing out at the full winter moon I pondered the words we had sung.... "Joy to the world...The Lord is come...Let earth receive her King..."An only son had been born tonight, bringing joy which could not be contained. They wanted to share it with the world...Kind-of like the angels so long ago. God's only son, born on a night such as this...Yet more than just a babe he was...
And he will be called Wonderful Counselor
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace

I thought back a year remembering my oldest brother pointing out the silhouette of Santa's reindeer crossing in front of the moon out my window. I was sure I saw it too! How could I sleep? But this year was different.I closed my eyes and slept so peacefully...
I was not looking for reindeer..
....for I had heard the angels sing!



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Christmas morning I was thrilled to receive the most beautiful doll I had ever seen.
I was always told she was a large Madame Alexander Doll-but I'm not sure that is what she actually was. I'd love to know!
Update: In August 2011, I received a pleasant surprise. One of my brothers, with the help of a friend found a doll like the one I remember after months of searching. It was like being reunited with an old friend!











Sunday, November 25, 2018

"What Would You Like To Be When You Grow Up?"



September 1958 ".... I Pledge Allegiance.... "

I remember feeling very small and insignificant as I entered my new classroom on that chilly fall morning. Second grade would be much harder than first, at least that's what my older brother assured me.
As I sat at my new desk at the very front of the classroom, I was immediately aware that it was too small for me -- or was my chair too tall? All I knew for sure was that my feet did not touch the floor, and I wasn't about to tell anyone.

I looked above the blackboard to the familiar printed alphabet, A through Z. Beneath it was the script we would be expected to learn this year. My eyes followed the letters that extended the full length of the room, so perfectly formed.... how would I ever learn to write like that? My brother was right, second grade would be very hard.

My teacher took a Bible from off her desk and stood before us.
"Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all ye lands..." Psalm 100 --
I remember it as if it was yesterday. We would fold our hands, bow our heads and pray for our class and for the day ahead.
"Please stand and push your chairs under your desks."
That was the only part I didn't look forward to. The boy seated behind me seemed to have such difficulty pushing his chair in without making the most ear-piercing, screeching sound, sending a chill from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. The teacher would give him one of "those looks" and continue.
"Place your right hand over your heart, and now in unison.... 'I pledge allegiance to the flag.... of the United States of America...'"

As I looked around at my classmates reciting in unison, and up at that familiar red, white and blue flag, my little heart would feel a flutter of exhilaration. Was it pride, or an overflow of thankfulness? Now we not only had the blessing of God, maker of heaven and earth on our day, but were reminded once again that we were a part of a very great nation, a nation under God.
Somehow I began to feel less insignificant. It was a very secure feeling, a feeling that gave me confidence, to do my very best -- to learn that script and whatever else was in store for a big second grader.

The second grade classroom was surrounded by pictures of some very important people. Not ordinary people -- presidents of the United States. There was our very first president, George Washington, he was also a very brave military leader, and Abraham Lincoln.... I knew he was the sixteenth -- he was assassinated by a man named John Wilkes Booth. Then there was Dwight D. Eisenhower, who was in office that year, 1958. His wife's name was Mamie. She had bangs and so did I, so my Dad nick-named me 'Mamie'. Little did I know that the name would follow me for the rest of my life.

"... And what would you like to be when you grow up?" was the question often asked during those first years of school. Hands would dart up quickly, desperate to be the first to be called on. "Fireman! Policeman!" most of the boys would blurt out. On occasion one who had not been called on would be asked, "And how about you? What would you like to be when you grow up?"
".... President of the United States."
There would be a hush. Everyone would look over at this classmate and finally let out an "...OOOH!"
Because we all knew that presidents were very special people, and very few people would ever become president.


November 22, 1963... Sixth grade.


The announcement came over the public address system in my sixth grade classroom that our president, John F. Kennedy had been shot. There was a hush -- some tears and commotion in the hallways. My two best friends and I walked quickly home from school shaken by the news.
I ran in to break the news to my parents, but they already knew. Their eyes stared in disbelief at the black and white images on the television set; a motorcade through downtown Dallas, a slow moving Lincoln convertible transporting a smiling waving JFK, suddenly hunched over in the first lady's lap, stricken by a gunman's bullet.
Then came word from newsman Walter Cronkite — “The president has died,” he said, before slowly removing his black framed glasses and becoming visibly choked up. Our nation mourned, the entire world mourned with us. The president of the United Stated, the most prestigious office one could aspire to, the office that sets the tone of our land and the course of our nations future -- open for all the world to observe. Someone killed our president.

Something died in the soul of our nation that day. Whether a Republican or a Democrat, it didn't matter -- our president was dead.
.
In office
January 20, 1961-November 22, 1963



Today is the 52nd anniversary of JFK's assassination.