Sibling Assignment #187: Sunnyside School Chili Feed

Bill also gave one of our sibling assignments for the month of February:

" Last night’s crab feed got me thinking about the different feeds held in Kellogg when we were youngsters. The first one that popped to mind was the Sunnyside Chili Feed and I’m trying to remember what kind of feed the PTA held in the downstairs lunch room at Silver King. Was it oyster soup/stew? I know we used to have an oyster soup/stew feed at the United Church. Write what you remember about any feeds or a particular feed that occurred in Kellogg."

When I began attending Sunnyside School is second grade I began hearing about The Chili Feed after Christmas vacation. I had never heard of a chili feed. ( If memory serves me right, I think Silver King School started theirs a few years later. ) The Chili Feed was a huge fundraiser  put on by the PTA. I think it was held in February because I remember after finding a parking place a block away, we had to walk through snow. When I attended my first one, these memories are clear in my mind. There was always a line that went down the hall and up the steps to the foyer by the principal's office. When you got closer to the serving line, you walked by the pie room. It was a small room close to the lunchroom  full of slices of homemade pies that all the moms donated. I can remember staring at all the different kinds of pie, wondering which kind I would choose. 

We went through the line just like during the week at hot lunch. The cooks were there serving the chili, this fresh, crisp salad, and the next part is fuzzy. I can't remember if they served cinnamon rolls like they did with chili during lunch or if it was crackers. The lunchroom was packed, families were squeezed into the tables enjoying their chili dinner. Then came the time when we got to choose our piece of pie. I always wanted cream pies then because we didn't have them at home as much. For some reason Dad didn't like going to the Chili Feed, so maybe Mom got food to go for him. 

The other best part of the Chili Feed was the poster contest held when you were a sixth grader. Each student made a poster that were hung around town to advertise the event. I planned and designed that for weeks. I really wanted to win. I made beans that were like people and filled in their bodies with coffee grounds to add more texture. Part of me thinks I may have won a prize, but I can't say for sure. All I know that between looking forward to the feed, waiting for the sixth grade year when I got to enter the poster contest. 

Every time I prepare chili and cinnamon rolls, my mind goes back to those feeds so many years ago. Great memories.

52 Cups of Poetry: Poem #2 : Near the Window

My brother discussed music on his blog this morning, which then caused interesting comments to pop up about the types of music we love and remember from our youth. You can find his post here.

When I was reviewing my collection of poetry I had written through the years this evening I came across the poem below. 

I now live next door to the room with the window. . My brother lives in our childhood home so I can still climb up the stairs, sit by the bed and look our the window. The stereo is gone, the old typewriter is gone, the Nancy Drew books are gone,but I can play that music on Pandora, search for poetry on my computer, use the flashlight on my phone, and read Nancy Drew on my tablet. I just might have to go next door and do that. 

However, I would rather do it like the old days.

Near the Window

 The lamp near the window glowed long into the night,

the wonder of words kept me turning the pages.

Curling up with Nancy Drew, Bess, and George

created a life of intrigue and mysteries to be solved.

Finding poetry at the public library and saving words

as I hunted and pecked on the manual keys.

The stereo filled the hall room with beautiful sounds.

I wore out certain songs as I listened again and again.

I joined the Broadway cast of My Fair Lady and Oklahoma too,

and The Ray Conniff singers backed my up on Somewhere My Love.

How many times could I repeat Three Dog Night singing One

While belting out the lyrics with a makeshift microphone?

Near the window I could breathe in spring,

In winter the panes frosted, then melted in a thaw.

If opened in summer a breeze gave a small reprieve,

Burning leaves crept in at the closing of fall.

The neighbor kids gathered for Kick the Can or Spoons, but

 I cocooned myself in my bedroom upstairs.

Finding comfort near the window with my pile of books

Broadway seemed visible, images from poems remained.

I didn’t pine away about a misspent youth.

I still carry the words and remember the poetry,

And l hear those melodies when I

sit near the window in my childhood room.

Christy Woolum

Sibling Assignment #183: Rediscovering Sunnyside School

Brother Bill gave the assignment this week.
" Last night I was in Best Shots. I admired how it looks now and remembered what it looked like over forty years ago. It triggered memories and stories about the Kopper Keg back in my college days. Write about a place you have been to recently in Kellogg, Cd'A, Moscow, or anywhere else, that is different now than it was in your late teens or early twenties. Write about the physical place then and now and the memories and stories the place triggers. " You can find his here.

I am going to revise the assignment a bit and write about a physical place that is different now than my elementary school days. When Dave Smith Motors continued to grow on the corner of Cameron Ave. and Division St. in Kellogg landmark buildings disappeared. The Rena Theater was replaced with the Service Department building, the veterinarian office became a sales office. Our playground from elementary school became a place to park cars. What did remain intact, but is now used by Dave Smith Motors is Sunnyside School. If you look closely in the picture, you can see the silver Sunnyside School letters still there on the brick.

Last fall we decided it was time to replace our car. I had never been to Dave Smith and as we went from car lot to car lot first, then into the sales room, and then by a fireplace, I was a bit overwhelmed. While the details were being worked out, our saleswoman told us of a restaurant that was down a hall and then around a corner. What I didn't realize as we meandered to this small deli was I was walking back in the elementary wing of Sunnyside School. 

I didn't recognize the rooms or the floor and the pictures of Dick, Jane, Sally, Spot, and Puff had been removed from the walls, but slowly my mind made sense of where we were. When I looked out the window while we waited for our food I was really mixed up. How could Macri's  house be out this window? I actually stood up and walked around and realized I was sitting in the foyer in front of the principal's office of Sunnyside School. The view from the window helped me figure it out. You can't come in the front door of Sunnyside School where the office was, but then I did recognize the door. The glass display cases were gone. There were no October pumpkins, January snowmen or spring flowers created by students on display. I think it was just a wall.

We were all sad when the Rena Theater was torn down. Even though I couldn't figure out how  the sales rooms are connected to the elementary wing and principal's office, I am pleased the company kept the Sunnyside building. The older part of the building looks the same. I believe much of it is used for archived paperwork. I heard workers can use the gym. There is a nice grassy area out front that almost helps you forget our hard, dirty kickball/football field of childhood.

On Monday mornings a line would form outside the Sunnyside office as students purchased their strip of red lunch tickets for the week. I was back in line, but I wasn't getting lunch tickets . I think I purchased a chef salad. The dress shirt clad salesmen with their permasmiles was a big departure from Mr. Koepl as he loomed over us in the foyer, clearing his throat and scaring us with his deep voice. 

I should have stayed longer to see if the Borax soap dispensers were still in the bathrooms with the rough, brown paper towels. Of course, the satellite  dish is new.

Sibling Assignment #164: Back in the Hood

I gave the sibling assignment this week. "Since I will be moving back to the old neighborhood soon here is the assignment: "Share a memory of  hanging out with people from the 'hood during childhood . "

As of July 1st. I will return to living in the neighborhood I grew up in since I was in second grade. There are three big blocks of houses that were always called  "the Bunker houses". They were build in the late 50s and there are are six floor plans for the neighborhood. It is interesting to now drive around and see how the original houses have changed in color and style in sixty years. The house I am moving into is next door to my childhood home which my mother still resides.. 514 W. Cameron has had four owners in that sixty years, I am to become the fifth. 

There are so many memories surrounding the neighborhood growing up. One thing that comes to mind today is Halloween. It was an event shared with glee with all the kids in the neighborhood. Whether it was the Morgans, Absecs, Faracas, Kenyons, Longs, Saaris, Cralls, Higbees, Whites, Reeds, Rinaldis, Chapmans, Cummings, or the Dorendorfs, all would agree that trick or treating in our neighborhood was like the Mother Lode. Each year we could recite who would give us big Hershey's bars, homemade popcorn balls, giant Butterfingers, Snickers, Big Hunks, or Milky Way bars. It was safe. No razor blades in the candy in our neighborhood. The sidewalks were packed with children dressed up and parents following along with the little ones  just in case. It was fun, it was tradition, it was a bit magical in those days. 

By the time we would get home, our bags were very full.  No tricks at the houses in our neighborhood. We also wondered if grumpy J. Hanson would drop us an apple or something nutritious, but even his wife pulled through. 

What I loved about this memory was the community feeling surrounding our neighborhood. At that time we never thought anything of it. That was how Halloween was. Now... I am eager to see in October if I can continue the tradition. Mom still has her huge bowl of candy bars and doesn't give out as much, but the tradition is alive and well. Perhaps I should learn how to make Halloween popcorn balls.

This was the only image above that could have been Halloween. Sister Carol is front and center. The other two siblings are on the sides. I can't explain our costumes. That was the other nice part about Halloween back in the day. We didn't buy costumes. We were creative about what we wore. That was part of the fun.

Fall: On the Streets Where I Lived

Yesterday I did a photo tour of my hometown of Kellogg, Idaho. The leaves are just starting to turn on the tree lined streets  that I remember fondly from childhood. Heading up Depot Hill  I caught an image of the McConnell Hotel, which remains similar in appearance.  I love how the wires are still hanging high on the telephone poles.

Next I sat in the alley next to Mary Pavelich's house where we often played. I reflected back to when the low stone wall was built to the side of her house. As I looked up Maple Street I wondered how tall those trees were when I was six. They always seemed to be tall. I can see why the street was named Maple.

The first home I remember looks quite a bit different on the outside,but I could still picture my brother and I sitting on the front porch with Grandma West. I would love to see the inside.

Looking down Portland Hill the vivid red and orange leaves stood out from afar.

This tree was closer to my second home I lived at on Cameron Avenue.

A fiery orange tree by Stein's Grocery.
photos were enhanced with the Picasa 1960's image processing.

Sibling Assignment #112: Old School Christmas Art Projects

It was my time to give the Sibling Assignment.  "Write a memory about Christmas related to an experience at school." ISilver Valley Girl's wonderful recollection of the Sunnyside Sixth Grade Christmas program is here and Raymond Pert's will be here soon.

When I think about Christmas as a child I have vivid memories about the holiday art projects we created in December. Friday afternoon after recess was always that sacred time for art at Sunnyside School.  Often the projects in December were used to decorate a tree, display in the hall or  lunchroom, plus some to take home as a gift for parents. I don't know how my elementary teachers managed to plan instruction along with the elaborate projects they organized during December. I wonder if art was extended beyond that hour on Friday in December? Retreating into my childhood memories today I remembered many projects, but it sometimes got a bit fuzzy as to what grade each project occurred. All I know is Christmastime during grade school was one big, happy memory of poster paint, glitter, crepe paper, and gold spray paint.

In second grade Mrs. Meyer introduced me to paper mache. She used an old hot plate to heat up the glue mixture we used and there were piles of newspaper strips as we covered ballons with the coating for an ornament. These ornaments were big! I am sure we found a place for mine on the tree, but in my child mind it was big.

I remember the pleasure of getting to choose paint and glitter to adorn on the ornament after it set.  After that year I don't know if I ever did much more paper mache, but I sure remember that ornament.

I wish I could remember the year we did the crepe paper Christmas trees. I am thinking it was either fourth or sixth grade, but maybe some of my Sunnyside classmates will have to fill me in. I know my tree is still at my mom's house. The trees were created by taking pieces of green crepe paper, rolling them into little balls and pasting them all together to make a tree on construction paper. We used yellow balls for the lights, then picked other colors for the ornaments. What sticks in my mind was the glue (no pun intended). If you used too much the crepe paper turned your fingers a bright green. I really must have loved this project because I did it with my own students when I began teaching. What I also remember is how long the project took. I think after too many green hands and colors of crepe paper running together, I switched to using white the next year and creating snowmen.

Another Christmas ornament project I remember seemed almost magical. We made these as a gift for our parents.  The teacher had us find old Christmas card pictures we liked. Then we rubbed Wesson oil on the card picture which made it see-through. Next we glued macaroni on gold canning rings, spraying them gold. We cut the picture to fit the circle inside and put a string to hang it on the tree. These were very beautiful. When the picture was up against a Christmas light, it seemed to glow. I may have to make these again now that I remember how beautiful they were. Mom liked mine so much she made them the next year with her students. I don't know what happened to that ornament. Maybe I will have to check the Christmas archives when I am home this year.

With the pressure of high stakes testing and  leaving no child behind today many projects like these memorable ones I remembered have gone away. My school day as a child wasn't any longer and I managed to learn to read, figure out math, write with neat penmanship, and understand concepts in science and social studies. The teacher had time to read a book after lunch each day, introduce us to poetry, and also provide art experiences. I believe in rigor in my classroom. I want all my students to read, write, and communicate effectively, but if I still had an elementary classroom I would have to figure out how to fit in canning ring or paper mache ornament making. Maybe we would have to get environmentally safe spray paint or masks would have to be worn in class.  The safety inspectors wouldn't let me heat up the glue mixture for paper mache on the counter and probably the crepe paper has something toxic in the dye. 

I don't care. I love old school style art projects. Of course... I still wish everyone a Merry Christmas also!

Memories of Church Coffee Hour and Keepers from the Recipe Box

the United Church in Kellogg, Idaho

When I was a child the highlight of attending church on Sunday at the United Church in Kellogg was Coffee Hour after church. I know I should have been inspired by the Bible verse I learned from Ruth Custis in Sunday School or the moving sermon from the pulpit by Reverend Armstrong, but I always loved Coffee Hour in the Fellowship Hall.

At the United Church the cookies at coffee hour were always homemade. No store bought vanilla wafers or chocolate pinwheels at this table.  Whether it was the Handy Circle or another group in charge that week, you were always guaranteed good cookies and lots of them. Of course, as we got older the ladies had to strategically hover over the cookie table so Chuckie and Jon S. and others wouldn't take too many cookies.  I loved the taste of homemade frosted ginger creams, chocolate chip, and snickerdoodles to name a few. The strong smell of coffee brewing is another memory of those Sunday coffee hours. I was never allowed to drink coffee as a child, but the aroma of the coffee was comforting as I sat through Sunday School at a room close by.

Today I am in charge of treats at our coffee hour at church. Our Garden Valley Church doesn't have quite the amount of people to serve, but I made sure I prepared enough bar cookies last night for everyone. I didn't want to have to hover like the Handy Circle ladies back in the day.  As I was decided what to bake, I came really close to wanting to run to town this morning and get doughnuts from the bakery. Then I remembered how memorable it was to have home baked cookies at coffee hour. The Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars are one of my favorite recipes after I watched Ina Garten make them on her cooking show. I wanted to try the Mincemeat Bars with some pear mincemeat I canned, so this is a first try on the second recipe.
 Years ago women stood in small circles around the room with their coffee in real cups and their cookies on saucers. They shared news of the day and asked each other for recipes.  The men were in their own clusters closer to the coffee pot. I think it actually lasted a full hour.  We don't have a fellowship hall in our church, but the men will stand outside on the porch and visit and the women cluster among the pews and hold our cookies on napkins. I will learn about the good buys on meat at the grocery store and the great deal somebody got on a beautiful dress at the thrift store.  It is a different kind of gathering around the table, but the ritual continues and I find comfort in that.

Enjoy the recipes!

Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars

Copyright 2005, Ina Garten, All Rights Reserved

Prep Time:10 min

Cook Time:45 min

Level:Intermediate

Serves: 24 bars

Ingredients

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 2 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
• 2 cups (18 ounces) creamy peanut butter (recommended: Skippy)
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1 1/2 cups (18 ounces) raspberry jam or other jam
• 2/3 cups salted peanuts, coarsely chopped

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Grease a 9 by 13 by 2-inch cake pan. Line it with parchment paper, then grease and flour the pan.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar on medium speed until light yellow, about 2 minutes. With the mixer on low speed, add the vanilla, eggs, and peanut butter and mix until all ingredients are combined.

In a small bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt. With the mixer on low speed, slowly add the flour mixture to the peanut butter mixture. Mix just until combined.

Spread 2/3 of the dough into the prepared cake pan and spread over the bottom with a knife or offset spatula. Spread the jam evenly over the dough. Drop small globs of the remaining dough evenly over the jam. Don't worry if all the jam isn't covered; it will spread in the oven. Sprinkle with chopped peanuts and bake for 45 minutes, until golden brown. Cool and cut into squares. 

Mincemeat Cookie Bars   Serving Size : 36     1 1/2  c.   flour 1  3/4  c.   rolled oats 2    tsp.     baking powder  1/4  tsp.     salt  1/2  c.      butter -- room temperature  1    c.      packed light brown sugar  1    tsp.     vanilla  1    c.      prepared mincemeat

Preheat oven to 325 °. Lightly grease a 13x9" baking pan. Combine the flour, oats, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, cream butter and brown sugar. Beat in the vanilla. gradually blend in the dry ingredients. Spread half of the dough evenly in the bottom of prepared pan. spread mincemeat over the top, and spread remaining dough over the mincemeat. Press down lightly. Bake for 20-25 min., until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool slightly, then cut into bars and transfer to wire rack to cool.  

Sunday Scribblings: "I Come From"

I come from a childhood entwined in Easter baskets, birthday parties, Dr. Suess, visits to grandmothers' houses, snowy winters, short springs, hide and seek, Leave It To Beaver, fruitcake at Christmas, burning leaves in October, Thanksgiving potlucks, slumber parties, Sunday School, orange Crush,books from the library, the city pool,and Friday night popcorn.

I come from teen years full of spring concerts, "Everybody's Girl", school newspaper, Sadie Hawkins dances, The S& R, Thursday night GAA, Wheat Thins, Pepsi, marching in the Torchlight parade, French, To Kill a Mockingbird, typing class, long phone conversations, stolen kisses, going up the river and out to the lake, and running track.

I come from college years brimming over with laughs, friends, Mort's Club, Taco Time, on the run, the landing, The Perch, the I Tower, Hello Walk, kiddie lit, afro hairdos, Benny and the Jets, student teaching at Ramsey, house president, sunbathing on the deck, working at "the cage", Boville Run, wind,and the arboretum.

I come from early adulthood packed with making bulletin boards, my first car,serious relationships, dancing on week-ends, a wedding, moving away, book groups, going back to school, happy hours, learning piano, teacher friends, "Bowling Babes", writing workshop, changing grade levels, first lattes, dinner gatherings, first dogs, lots of books, fresh pressed cider, recipe collecting, cabin in Idaho, wine tours, hot summers, family gatherings, illness,bird dogs, never slowing down, black holes,The Book Worm, broken marriage, growing flowers, alone, Oregon coast, therapy, moving, good-bye.

I come from a change in life that includes a small school, moving, Friday afternoon football,Lake Roosevelt, finding my place, the guy across the road, dogs and cats, The Hitching Post, coming out of the darkness, writing retreats, four seasons, depression, teaching and learning, therapy, Aunties Bookstore, gardening, July in Moscow, the ferry, family gatherings, pow wows, a camera, road trips, the reservation, camping, new friends and family, Starbucks, finding state parks,nesting, slowing down, blogging, memoirs, Garden Valley Church, being a true fan, red shoes, siblings,online book groups, Camp Aunt Christy, trips to town, love, contentment,peace and quiet.

To read other Sunday Scribblings on " I Come From" go here.

Happy Fiftieth Birthday Barbara Millicent Roberts: You Are Now a Member of AARP!

On March 9th Barbie turned fifty years old. A Brazilian artist did a rendition of what Barbie would look like today if she had aged normally. As many of you know, Barbie has been frozen in time since 1959. She has taken on many careers, new looks, makeovers, and changed friends, but the doll has always remained young and oh so fit.
My first Barbie doll was bought at Oud's Drugstore in Orofino, Idaho one summer in the early sixties. Mine came in the signature box and she was a blonde like me. I remember thinking she looked like she was in her thirties even back then. That makeup was pretty exotic. I remember the glamourous black nightclub dress ensemble I had. My Grandma West also made quite a collection of clothes for my Barbie. I got a carrying case to hold my growing collection of Barbie stuff.
Ken Carson came on the scene in our house a few years later. I had the original Ken that had hair that tended to rub off so he looked bald in the wrong places early on. The original Ken wasn't buffed up... just a perfect guy in swim trunks. I don't think Ken liked it when some girls grabbed their brothers' GI Joes to hang out with Barbie. That was just a bit too much for Ken. I learned last week that Barbie and Ken broke up in 2004 after 43 years together, but reunited in 2006.

Now when Midge Hadley joined the crew in 1963 she was the epitome of cool. Her hair flipped,she wore a two piece bathing suit and she looked like a natural California girl with freckles and a tan. I had the plain Midge, not the one that came out later with movable legs. Just look at her above on the box. She looks so sporty compared to her fashion designer friend. I always liked Midge just a bit better. I wanted my name to be Midge and I wanted my hair to flip. I wonder what Barbie and Midge had in common?

Another Barbie called Bubble Cut Barbie joined the party a bit later. Mine had beautiful auburn hair. I can't imagine why I would have been interested in a doll that was a fashion designer at such an early age, but I loved my Barbie group of friends. I never even saw women wear some of the clothes I wanted for my Barbie. What was the attraction?

I never had Skipper or Midge's boyfriend Allan. In 1968 I didn't get her African American friend Christie or Skipper's friend Scooter. My Barbie didn't have a dream house or drive a sports car. She got along fine with her handmade clothes, and the many adventures she had in the upstairs landing at my house. Ken survived being partly bald.

I also spent hours playing the "Barbie- Queen of the Prom Game". Would she become class president? Would she go steady? Would Ken always be her date to the prom or would it be redheaded Poindexter, athletic Bob, or intellectual Tom? Personally Ken was always a bit "too perfect" for me. I was a Tom girl! He probably enjoyed poetry also. Would she earn enough money to buy the perfect dress? My goodness, it was a lot to be concerned about around the kitchen table on a summer afternoon in the mid-sixties.

Barbie took on so many careers it was hard to keep up. I don't think my Barbies moved on to being astronauts, gold medal winners, or members of the army. In 1992 Barbie ran for president, then discovered Share-a-Smile Becky's hot pink wheelchair in 1997. Also, in 1997 the most popular doll that year was Harley-Davidson Barbie! She became Native American, wore cowboy chic, and also began to talk.

It was hard enough for me to keep up with the small group of friends my Barbies had. I liked the simpler times when Barbie was only a fashion designer and didn't have to decide whether to be a Malibu Barbie or Hispanic. Looking at the natural Barbie above I think she looks great at fifty. I like the natural gray hair and I think she looks like an old soul. How could she not be wiser? She has done almost everything on the planet and been everyone to everybody for fifty years. Come to think of it... she looks great! Maybe now Barbie can be a writer, a grandmother, a blogger, or a Red Hat Lady. Maybe she can be reunited with Tom on Facebook.
My Barbies were passed down to my sister and then passed down to her daughters and I believe they are resting in the basement of Mom's house in their carrying case. I may have to go get reacquainted the next time I go home. Happy Birthday Barbara Millicent Roberts and thanks for the memories.
click to make larger to check out the many faces of Barbie

Sibling Assignment #93: A Perfect Pair

A Little Tricycle by Lauren Hamilton

I gave the sibling assignment this week:
"A Perfect Pair.... find a piece of art and a poem that are a perfect pair. Explain why they are so perfectly matched." Silver Valley Girl is hibernating until spring so we may not hear from her until May. When RP gets out from under his teaching load I will post his.

Recently I have discovered the artwork of Lauren Hamilton. Her paintings depicts simple things such as organic salad, a scooter, and the tricycle above. I love her series with the childlike printing behind the images. Hamilton's painting and the poem are a perfect pair. It is easy to visualize the image of a kindergarten child at the beginning of this poem. As the poem progresses, a theme of what is left behind emerges. I wonder though if she is referring to what is left behind as a child or facing "the big people" as an adult. I also found Anne Sexton reading this poem which is posted below.

The Fury of Overshoes

They sit in a row
outside the kindergarten,
black, red, brown, all
with those brass buckles.
Remember when you couldn't
buckle your own
overshoe
or tie your own
overshoe
or tie your own shoe
or cut your own meat
and the tears
running down like mud
because you fell off your
tricycle?
Remember, big fish,
when you couldn't swim
and simply slipped under
like a stone frog?
The world wasn't
yours.
It belonged to
the big people.
Under your bed
sat the wolf
and he made a shadow
when cars passed by
at night.
They made you give up
your nightlight
and your teddy
and your thumb.
Oh overshoes,
don't you
remember me,
pushing you up and down
in the winter snow?
Oh thumb,
I want a drink,
it is dark,
where are the big people,
when will I get there,
taking giant steps
all day,
each day
and thinking
nothing of it?
-Anne Sexton

Happy Birthday Raymond Pert!

"To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. " ~Clara Ortega

Today has always been a special day in our family. Not only is it Raymond Pert's birthday, but he born on our Grandma West's birthday. She always said he was the best present she ever got. Even though RP and I are less than thirteen months apart in age, he was always the one who learned to do things first. He was the overachiever, I was the follower. At an early age RP took in information at lightening speed. Here he is reciting the states and capitals while I just try to keep up! Ummmm....did you say Bismarck or Boise?He was also an early reader. Mom guessed he learned to read by figuring out the words on the cereal boxes. Here we are at Grandma Woolum's on Bridgeport Avenue in Spokane. RP is giving me a lesson on sounding out the words on the ingredients list and I am trying really hard to pay attention! RP was also a whiz in the kitchen at an young age. Dad always said if you can read, you can cook! Here he is giving Mom some tips on how to eliminate peas and mayonnaise from the dish she is preparing. Again, I am just trying to keep up! Brother RP was always the problem solver in the family. Here we are back at Bridgeport Avenue. I have no idea what is already in the trunk and what is in the box, but you can tell that Thinker RP has a plan!Raymond Pert is a teacher, writer, husband, son, brother, father, actor, blogger, photographer, dog lover, book lover,movie lover, music lover, sports lover, casino lover, and friend. One of the highlights of the last year was inviting him to be our guest writer at the annual writing retreat I help organize in McCall, Idaho for the Northwest Inland Writing Project. Here he is enjoying the evening beauty of Payette Lake.

Happy Birthday Raymond Pert!! You can visit him at his blog here.

Sibling Assignment # 65: Tender, Gentle Heart

The sibling assignment this week came from Raymond Pert. "What do you understand about The Wizard of Oz as an adult that you didn't understand as a child?"

Raymond Pert's will be here and Silver Valley Girl's will be here.

"I'd be tender, I'd be gentle

And awful sentimental

Regarding love and art

I'd be friends with the sparrows

And the boy that shoots the arrows

If I only had a heart."

-EH Harburg

sung by The Tin Woodsman in "The Wizard of Oz"

As a child Judy Garland was my idol so I paid more attention to Dorothy. I knew all the words to " Over the Rainbow" and " We're Off to See the Wizard" and I was pretty good at clicking my shoes and saying, " There's no place like home." The scarecrow always stuck in my mind more as a child that her other two friends. Perhaps I could relate to a scarecrow and the tin woodsman seemed somehow different or odd. The lion certainly provided some comic relief that was needed during a few scary parts of the film, but again it was harder to relate to a scared, talking lion.

As an adult I do relate more to the Tin Woodsman. One scene that always sticks in my mind is when he has tears running down his cheek and feels emotion again. In my early adult life I wore my heart on my sleeve and cried over everything. I was sentimental over old birthday cards and favorite songs. I felt gentle love for puppies in a commercial on TV. I sobbed when I said good-bye to friends at summer camp or college roommates.

Because of a series of events in my adult life I forced myself to stuff those tender, gentle feelings inside. I didn't trust myself and thought sometimes if I started crying I may never stop. I almost had to walk away from students as the year ended because I knew I would tear up and sob at saying good-bye. When I met somebody I really liked I was afraid to get too close. I couldn't sort out my emotional self. I often felt a sadness that I couldn't shake when I left home after a family gathering.

The lesson I have learned as an older adult is the importance of having heart. I trust myself again to show those emotions and not fear a crying breakdown. I am able to show my love through simple gestures or big demonstrations. I can love my pets unconditionally, but am prepared when I have to say good-bye. At least five people in my life have lost husbands or fathers in the last month. Rather than feeling sadness and falling in a black hole for them I now find ways to show love whether it be simple words, a promise for dinner out, or a card. Writing has helped me sort those emotions, whether with a journal, a blog post, or a memoir piece.

I surround myself with people that accept me unconditionally. I try to remove myself from situations when people are hateful or negative. I care deeply for the well-being of my students, and "I am tender, I am gentle" and have a better balance in what I can handle. I put my heart into the beauty of nature, art, the written word, a circle of people, my pets, my faith, and photography.

When you knock on my chest now it doesn't sound hollow. I may still have an emotional breakdown when a student loses a mother or my dog is injured, but the upside of that is the warm feeling that comes when my husband kisses me good-bye in the morning and says he likes that color combination I are wearing or when my sister says thanks for helping her daughters surprise her for Mother's Day.

I just found out when my husband was in elementary school he played in the Wizard of Oz on stage. What part did he play? Of course, the Tin Woodsman! Take a few minutes and enjoy once again "If I Only Had a Heart" from the original movie.

Sibling Assignment # 63: The Good Life

doing dishes with my parents at my grandma's house

Silver Valley Girl gave the sibling assignment this week. What is it about telling people you were born and raised in Kellogg that gives you a sense of pride?

You will find Raymond Pert's remembrance of Silver Valley voices here and Silver Valley Girl's will be here soon.

"A memoir is a piece of autobiographical writing, usually shorter in nature than a comprehensive autobiography. The memoir often tries to capture certain highlights or meaningful moments in one's past, often including a contemplation of the meaning of that event at the time of the writing of the memoir. The memoir may be more emotional and concerned with capturing particular scenes, or a series of events, rather than documenting every fact of a person's life." (Zuwiyya, N. 2000).

In sorting out certain highlights of my past I feel a sense of pride of being raised in Kellogg, Idaho. Ritual was always woven in the meaningful moments of growing up. There is comfort when events of life are always the same. It gives a child something to hang on to, something that can always be counted on. In Kellogg spring was greeted with Camp Fire mint sales. We could count on lilacs filling the air with fragrance every May. There was also the Elk's Round-Up parade that included the newly crowned Miss Kellogg, the Drum and Bugle Corp, and the Kellogg High School band. Soon after the VFW would be out raising money with their poppy sales. There was also the Kiwana's track meet to look forward to before school was out.

Summer meant standing in a long line the first day the pool opened, remembering the cool chlorinated water, hot showers, and green mesh bags that would hold your belongings. It was soft ice cream cones at the Hum Dinger, and dragging sleeping bags outside and falling asleep while watching falling stars. Summer was also slow afternoons that moved into evening with endless games of Spoons in the Terry Trailer at Absecs, Hide and Seek, Sorry, and Monopoly.

The ritual of the Fourth of July at Rose Lake was a significant event of summer. The day included sunburns, recipe sharing during the pot luck, cold drinks, firecrackers, old friends reminiscing about adventures back in the day, and a bonfire with sparklers, roasted marshmallows, a big fireworks display and a chorus of "God Bless America". The evening always finished with family members doing four-part harmony with songs like "Tell Me Why" and " Cockles and Mussels" while friends put arms around each other, got sentimental, and joined in. The final song was a loud rendition the University of Idaho fight song.

I always knew I could hang onto fall with memories of new school clothes, Sunday soup and homemade bread, the smell of burning leaves, trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, Dad's birthday,and riding bikes through the gnats that gathered around Mr. Hanson's hedge that go stuck in our noses and mouths. Fall also meant trips to Spokane for ballgames at Joe Albi stadium, the smell of dill at Grandma's house, and listening to " The Rain, The Park, and Other Things" on KJRB on Grandma's old radio. It was also enjoying Broadway musicals, old standards, and the Ray Conniff Singers on the stereo upstairs or sitting with my dad as he enjoyed brandy, a cigar, Diane Washington, Teresa Brewer, and Nat King Cole.

When the weather grew colder the rituals of the holidays were always anticipated. Thanksgiving with friends included good food, football games, women in the kitchen and kids upstairs, and the first snow. Sleigh riding, Christmas caroling, hot chocolate, and learning to ice skate created meaningful moments in the winter months. Snow up the roof, holiday food and music, snowmen, and wet boots and mittens always take me back to that growing up time.

Reflecting back on growing up in Kellogg reminds me of how those meaningful moments were a glue that held our family, friends, and community together. Rituals were essential. I can see a old friend after twenty years and we jump immediately to a conversation like, " Remember Mungy Day in sixth grade? Did Walden's really sell rotten eggs on Halloween? or Did we really wear hot pants and halter tops?" Laughter followed. We grew up with smelter smoke, lead in the soil, brown hillsides. Men worked in dangerous conditions in the woods, the mines, the smelter, and the zinc plant. Wives packed lunchboxes every morning, the whistle blew ending the day shift, and dirty work clothes came home each Friday. As long as my brother and I had Shasta pop, Super Balls, Silly Puddy, and sunflower seeds we lived the good life. When Silver Valley Girl came along that good life included strollers on the escalator, grits, and "back, butt, hair".

My parents and their friends did the same thing. Many of them were connected by growing up together, meeting in college, or sharing dangerous jobs. The stories were always there. Memories have been captured in photo albums. There was lots of laughter and feelings were worn on the sleeve. Dreams for the good life were held in the heart. They felt pride of families, Kellogg, their country and worked at continuing rituals for their children.

Take a trip back with Tony Bennett and enjoy The Good Life:

Sibling Assignment # 61 : Where I'm From

I gave the sibling assignment this week. " Take the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon and do your own version of where you are from. You will soon find Raymond Pert's here and Silver Valley Girl's here. I posted the original poem during National Poetry Month a year ago. You can read it here. Where I’m From

I’m from Sunbeam mixer
from whipped cream to Tom and Jerry batter,
I’m from fruitcake to Grandma’s banana bread,
potato chip casserole and navy bean soup,
Bazooka, sunflower seeds, and black licorice pipes,
Grape Crush, Shasta, and Canada Dry.

I’m from a bed by the back porch
planted each May
with pansies and petunias from Blum’s Nursery,
and the old metal clothesline
from the front of the lilacs
with the strong scent of spring and childhood.
I’m from Grandma’s rich soil with pickling cucumbers,

dahlias, a snowball bush, and fresh green beans. I’m from Camp Fire mints, YMCA toffee peanuts,
trick-or-treating and Father Daughter banquets.
From Sunnyside Chili Feed, to the church oyster stew feed,
Kellogg Elk’s Roundup and Smelterville Frontier Days.
I’m from Teeter’s Field and the swimming pool.
And up the river and “I’m going to Dick’s.”
and Beautiful Bill, Boo Boo, and little Pooh.
I'm from the roads are slick and
“you just got put back in the will.”

I’m from Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
and sister’s photo ornament hung from the tree,
and a Christmas program and a brown bag of candy.

I’m from Right Guard, Palmolive, Nivea, and VO5,
Breck girls, Clairol girls, Cover Girl
and “only your hairdresser knows for sure.”
Fried eggs and MJB coffee,
Missouri pudding, Bogie Bread, and Olympia beer.

Dr. Suess, Nancy Drew, Erma Bombeck,
Calling All Girls, Seventeen, The Prophet, and Rod McKuen.
From the arm I cut running through the window,
the foot my brother cut while cleaning the garage,
the chin my sister cut trying to shave and
the eye my dad lost to a splinter of wood.

In the storage closet were boxes from The Crescent
with the angel chimes and
bows saved over from a year before,
along with dolls, the Sorry game, sponge curlers, and a make-up mirror.
and memories sharpened by the black and white photos
in a heavy, worn box stuck way in the back.

-by inlandempiregirl

To find other Sunday Scribblings about compose go here.

Celebrating National Poetry Month: #14

The Bowl

In a second
it leaves my clumsy fingers
and crashes to the floor.
You turn at the sound
to find shards of the little red bowl
scattered across the tile.
I look up from the remains
and watch sadness seep
into your face.
And then I realize:
to me it was the whipped cream bowl,
to you it was a bowl of memories,
a tie to your childhood, your children,
your own mother.
I look down at the pieces
of a life
lying in front of me.
Then I turn
to get
the broom.
-Carl Johanson

Familiar Phrases

I attended a poetry writing workshop at a conference on Saturday. We did a prompt that involved a list of "buzz" words connected with a proverb, adage, or familiar phrase.

flickr photo by Amy Watts

Familiar Phrases

"For crying out loud" has a familiar ring

As pans banged on the stove.
Mother's wonderings arose above the whir of the washer.
Did you lick those beaters and put them back in the dough?
Did you sterilize that needle before removing that sliver?
Did you wipe your boots before walking on these floors?
Did you spray the blackberry stains on your new shirt?

"Better safe than sorry" is the warning
that clacks around in my head.
Don't get close to the cliff.. you might fall off,
Go gargle with salt water... you may lose your voice,
Spin slowly so you don't end up sick,
Cradle your sister's head when you pick her up.

Around the corner by the orchard my car
left the snowy road
spinning around to again face north.
Her voice was a whisper I heard in my ear,
" Don't ever drive when the roads are slick."

by inlandempiregirl

Sibling Assignment #52: Sunday Dinner

photo by emilybean on flickr

I gave the sibling assignment this week. " Many say what is lacking with families today is that time sitting together at the dinner table discussing the events of the day. Here is your topic: Think of a memorable time when our whole family was gathered at a dinner table and your reflections on that memory." You will find very different conversations around the table from Raymond Pert's here and Silver Valley Girl's here .

We were a family that sat at the kitchen table to eat dinner. I don't ever remember using the TV trays for regular dinner. I think they only came out for holidays,when company came, or when Dad had to watch a certain game on TV. There were certain rituals surrounding dinner. We always ate earlier on bowling night and if Mom had meetings after school we would eat later. Mom did all the cooking when we, the sibs lived at home. As my sister and I got older we were given some of the responsibility. We all had assigned chairs at the table and my brother and I always fought about doing the dishes. At least Dad reminded us of that long after we left home.

Even though dinner was served every night all the family wasn't always there. Dad would work overtime or be on call sometimes. Raymond Pert would be at sports practice. I might be at Camp Fire or play practice. Silver Valley Girl may have been at dancing or tumbling. If dinner was missed Mom always had a plate covered with foil waiting in the oven or canned chili or stew available to be heated up.

Our father was the epitome of pickiness when it came to dinner food. For that reason we never experienced dishes like tuna casserole or lasagna. Leftovers had to be creative. We got to enjoy two French foods: french fries and french dips. If Dad didn't relish the home cooked meal on a given day we always knew it when the peanut butter jar and a loaf of white bread came out at the end of dinner.

Often the conversation was spirited when Mom shared stories about kids at school and we laughed at what happened that day. If Dad had been working lots of overtime the dinner table felt tense and we gulped our food hoping to catch a rerun of Leave It to Beaver or go outside for an after dinner game of hide and seek with the neighborhood kids. Dinnertime at 516 W. Cameron often was a hectic time on any given week.

Things changed on Sunday. Mom and Dad were a bit more rested. There wasn't a rush to get dinner done because of a PTA meeting or Dad taking off for his moonlighting job at the Sunshine Inn. Dad always liked what we had for Sunday dinner. Even after a week of teaching, laundry, cleaning, and keeping us in line Mom often made homemade bread and rolls on Sunday.

The most memorable dinner we had was navy beans cooked in ham and homemade bread. Dad would always say this dinner tasted " just like his Mom's". That made Mom smile. I remember Mom soaking the beans overnight. When I was really young we had one burner on the stove that had a built in pan that sat deeper than the other burners. Mom always used that for the beans. When the burner quit working she still used that same pan on a different burner. Even after crockpots became vogue Mom always made this signature dish on the stove.

There was the strong aroma of yeast as Mom prepared the bread dough. Watching the bread rise on top of the refrigerator was a timetable as to when dinner might be. I knew when she punched down the dough it was getting closer. The smell of the thick beans simmering on the stove and the bread baking in the oven was heavenly. As we waited for dinner we would write our names in the steam that had collected on the picture window in the living room and Dad would watch the last minutes of a sporting event on TV.

While savoring this favorite Sunday dinner Dad would reminisce about his extended family from back east or tell entertaining stories about Aunt Hattie. His favorite was to bring up how much she ate the last time she came to visit from Tennessee. He always talked in a funny southern accent and mimicked Hattie's drawl when he told those stories. Dinner was relaxed. Everyone laughed. We often got an added treat if Mom made Whip and Chill or Jello pudding that she served in cocktail glasses and topped with whipped cream. ( note: That was real whipped cream. Mr. Picky wouldn't hear of Dream Whip or "that stuff in a can".)

Whether it was beans and bread, pot roast, ham (which the bone went in the freezer for the bean dish) , or homemade vegetable soup Sunday dinner was a fine time to gather around the table at my childhood home.

photo by Dazed81 on flickr