Since this post is to reference my "early years," there aren't a lot of places to tell about, but there is plenty to tell about them. I lived in exactly two houses before I left home for college. I don't have access to my pictures of either house right now, but at some future date, I'll add photos of them to this post.
My first home was one built by my great-grandfather William Haag, my maternal grandmother's father. I never really heard it said, but I'm of the impression that the Haag family was fairly well off, at least prior to the depression.While I know Grandma (Haag) Hill was raised on a farm, at some point they moved into "town" (Aurora) and great-grandpa Haag began building houses. They were multiple family dwellings and whether they were built with the intent of income as rental units or to keep the family close together, I'm unsure.
There is a great deal of history behind the houses at 415 and 425 North Avenue and 450 S 4th Street in Aurora, but for the purpose of this post, I'm to focus on the one I lived in.
When I was born, my family was living in the 4th Street house. It was about 3 blocks from Copley Hospital where I was born and my mother walked there. The 4th Street house was a huge 2-story building with one upper and one lower flat, a full basement and a walk up attic that went the full length of the house. Each floor had an entryway, a living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, 2 bedrooms, a sun porch off the kitchen and a huge front porch off the entryway. The house had beautiful oak cabinets, flooring and trim. Each level also had a gorgeous colonnade. On the lower floor, it separated the living room from the dining room; on the upper floor it separated the entry from the living room. The upper flat also had an oak staircase that went down to the lower front porch.
For my first few years, I slept in my parents' room of the lower flat and my brothers had the second bedroom. I'm guessing I was around 4 or 5 when my dad did some remodeling and turned the back porch into a bedroom for my brothers and I moved into their old room. While doing the remodel on the main floor, he added a cement block foundation under the boys' room and knocked out a "doorway" into the original basement. That new room in the basement became the "train room." My brothers had a huge train set with buildings and "trees" to create a whole community. You had to crawl under the table to get to the middle operating section of the train. I don't remember ever being allowed to run the train, but I remember enjoying being with my brothers while they did. The steam engine and the hand car were especially fascinating to me.
Before the remodel, we had a good-sized fenced in backyard with a big old tree, my swing set and a bunny hutch. My brothers had a couple of rabbits: Copper and Snowball. One day, they found Copper dead in the hutch with a bee bee in her head. Someone had purposely shot her. They suspected it was the ornery neighbor boys, but there was no proof. Snowball was donated to the Phillips Park Zoo shortly thereafter and the following year a visit to the zoo had a large number of pure white rabbits hopping around! In addition to the tame rabbits in our yard, we had a squirrel named Skippy. Why Skippy? Because I could take a Skippy peanut butter sandwich out to the yard, put it in the tree and then step back and watch as Skippy came to eat it.
Another phase of remodeling at the 4th Street house involved tearing down the old 1 car garage and replacing it with a 3-car garage where the backyard used to be and pouring a large driveway from the alley to the garage. (That driveway is where I learned to ride my bike.) Now there was plenty of parking available for both apartments.
I also remember being in elementary school and noticing a hole in the dining room wall that was about 2" in diameter. I asked my mother why there was a hole in our wall and she told me that I had done it. I was appalled! I couldn't imagine that I would have done anything to create a hole...she must have been mistaken! Then she told me the story. Apparently, when I was still in my walker, I had gotten hold of a spoon in the kitchen. As I've mentioned before, I was a quiet child and by the time my mother came looking for me, the damage was done. She caught me with my feet propped up on the wall, sitting on the seat of my walker and digging away at the plaster with the spoon. Since my dad was a carpenter by trade, I know it would have been an easy fix, so I'm not really certain why the hole was still there years later, unless it was to just be able to show me what I had done and tell me the story of it later!
My dad always wanted to return to farming; to have a farm of his own and when I was in 2nd grade, he bought a farm in Watertown, Wisconsin. The farm was still owned by the original family, the Mullens who also owned the dairy in town. Dad and Al moved to Wisconsin right away to start to build the herd of cows and to do the spring planting. Mom stayed behind with Bill and me as Bill was finishing his senior year of high school. Weekend trips were the norm until school got out and we moved north to join Dad and Al.
The house on the 160-acre farm was a cape cod style house that replaced the original old farmhouse that was destroyed in a fire. The front porch of the house was still from the original house and a partial wall around the back patio was also a wall of the old house. The patio was actually poured over all the remnants and debris of the fire. The house had a living room, kitchen, 2 bedrooms and a bath on the first floor with 2 bedrooms and three small walk-in attic spaces off the bedrooms upstairs. I claimed the largest of the attic spaces to be my Barbie room. It had the two windows from the front of the house for some natural light and was off my walk-in closet.
We had a huge barn, with a great hay mow and grain bins. The hay mow was complete with generations of bats that gave my brothers and dad plenty of opportunities for target practice with the "22." The barn had an electric barn cleaner for the manure, 3 pens for calves and a stinky silo that had the most amazing echo! My sister-in-law, Marcia, recently told me that the barn has been torn down. Other buildings on the farm were a large tool shed (large enough to store the tractors), a couple of corn cribs, a chicken coop and brooder house, and a hog barn. The barnyard was surrounded on three sides by the barn, the hog barn and the chicken coop/brooder house/garage. There was a small pasture behind the hog barn for the pigs and ponies and a large pasture a ways from all the buildings, surrounded by the fields. The pasture area wasn't suitable for growing anything except grass as the soil there was boggy and it housed a knoll that my mother swore was an Indian burial ground.
My dad planted alfalfa, oats and field corn and we usually had about 40-50 head of cattle. I had my own Ayrshire cow named Ada. She was a homely thing; actually mixed Ayrshire and Holstein. She gave me my baby bull, Bambi who my dad told me he had sold. I was distraught the day I learned we were eating him, but in retrospect, he was some pretty good eating. Dad was patient with me and let me name a lot of the calves that were born; most memorable being Valentine (born on Valentine's Day, of course) and Venus, just 2 days younger than Valentine. I only remember one pig's name: Skunk. Not exactly sure why my dad named him that. It's not like one pig smelled any worse than another...
I got to host a Halloween party two of the four Halloweens we lived in Wisconsin. I invited all the kids from my class in school and played all the typical games like bobbing for apples with a grand finale of a hay ride. That was a lot of fun until my brother got annoyed with one of the girls who kept horsing around on the wagon so he hung her upside down by the feet off the back of the wagon!
Friends from Illinois always came to visit for a weekend, since we were just 2 hours away from Aurora.And some of our friends would come stay for a week or more. One of my brother's friends, Steve would spend the whole summer with us! His dad was our milkman in Aurora and since "Oleo" (margarine) was illegal to sell in the "dairy state," he would bring the contraband for my mother to put in our freezer whenever they came to visit.
The last couple of years we were in Wisconsin, Dad gradually got away from the dairy/livestock and focused on crops. He purchased a combine and a sprayer and hired himself out to spray and then harvest crops for other farmers in the area.
I loved living on the farm; being surrounded by animals and fresh air. I cried myself to sleep the night I found out my parents had sold the farm, 2 days before my 12th birthday. Grandma Hill had Alzheimer's and had passed away about a year before and DeeDee was having a hard time taking care of Grandpa and all the rental properties alone. So, back to Aurora we went.
Back to the same house. Although, this time we lived in the upstairs flat as my brother Al and his wife Marcia were living in the lower unit. Shortly after moving in, Dad began to remodel the small upstairs kitchen. He tore out all the old original oak cabinets as well as the wall to the sun porch. The porch became a dining nook and he ordered all new modern kitchen cabinetry with built in stainless steel appliances. He also carpeted the back stairs with a new phenomena: indoor/outdoor carpeting!!! Each floor also got a new remodeled bathroom which, sadly, meant the removal of the claw-foot bathtubs on each floor. The upstairs front porch was a great place to spend a hot summer night and with the security/privacy it offered, was a great place to sleep on those really hot nights.
Living back in the same house with Al, gave me opportunities to "play" with my big brother again; all the games he made up with balloons or kicking a tennis ball through the holes in the block on the front porch. It was great having Marcia there too. She was the big sister I never had and she always treated me well. Their children were born there, Gail, literally, was born in the house and I loved being able to run downstairs to see my niece and nephew or hear them coming up the back steps on a Saturday morning yelling for me to make them breakfast!
I truly loved that house. I loved the memories and I loved the tradition. I never returned "home" anymore after my dad died. Al had gotten divorced and lived there with his new wife, Ellen, Dad was gone and it just didn't feel like home anymore. We sold the house in 1980 when I was living in Utah, Al was in Florida and Bill was in Michigan. It just didn't make sense to hold on to it with no one there to take care of it or appreciate it. Whenever I have the opportunity to return to Aurora for a visit, though, it always includes a drive by the old 4th Street house where I shed a tear or two as I remember my life there and the rich family heritage that went with it.
Saturday, May 11, 2019
Friday, May 10, 2019
EY #4: How did you contribute to the family, financial or otherwise?
As the "baby of the family," I was actually pretty spoiled without many expectations other than to do my best in school. On the other hand, I was a pretty quiet child who didn't particularly like messes, so I didn't create many. My bedroom was generally well organized because I liked having things in their proper places.
As I got older, my mother did teach me how to help with some household chores. I loved running the vacuum, but probably didn't do a very good job of it. I believe I only ran it in the open spaces. I still remember the day she taught me to dust. I was in kindergarten. She taught me to aim the Pledge at whatever I was going to dust, push the button on top of the can and then wipe it with the dust cloth. What she DIDN'T teach me was to make sure the hole where the spray came out was pointed at the object I was dusting. (Cans didn't have the safety caps they do now to direct the spray.) As you've probably guessed, I sprayed the Pledge directly in my eyes! I don't think I finished dusting that day...but I learned to be much more cautious the next time!
When we moved to the farm in Wisconsin, I joined 4H. Not being too enthused about raising animals to take to the fair, I took the homemaking route and learned the "proper" way to do dishes: glasses first, silverware second, then plates and bowls and finally cookware (with the greasiest/messiest pans last). I still get twitches if I see someone wash glasses after the messy plates!
I also began to learn to sew under the direction of my aunt, Miem. I got better at sewing after 1-1/2 years of sewing classes in Jr. High and began to make a lot of my own clothes. I suppose that was a financial contribution to the family as it was pretty cheap to sew your own clothes. I even made myself a coat in high school!
On occasion, I would try to help in the barn at milking time. I would try to carry the milk pails from a cow to pour into the milk can, but unless the cow was a poor milker, the pails were generally too heavy for me to carry and then lift to pour into the can. My dad taught me how to scrape the manure off the barn floor into the trough that cleaned the manure out of the barn, but I think I purposely didn't do a very good job of it so he wouldn't ask me to do that anymore. I mean, I loved being close to my dad and feeling like I was helping, but let's face it. Manure STINKS and I did NOT want to scrape and shovel manure on a regular basis. So, the best way I learned to help at milking time was feeding the cows. We had a rolling bin that had ground feed in it. Each cow received a specific amount of feed and I had to know which cows got 1, 1-1/2 or 2 scoops. I had some good conversations with the cows as I walked to each one and they said "thank you" with their beautiful, big brown eyes. Maybe that's when I fell in love with brown eyes....
Long about 6th grade, when I actually started to worry about what my hair looked like and I learned how to wash and "set" it, I also started to do my mom's hair for her between visits to the beauty parlor for a perm.She had thin, really straight hair and when the perms faded, it could be quite the challenge to make it look good. When I would try to curl my daughter, Sami's hair when she was little, I was always reminded of doing my mom's hair. That same thin, straight hair was best just put into a ponytail!
My real family contributions came later than that though, when I was around 14 and my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I didn't realize she was doing it at the time, but my mother began to train me to take over for her. She taught me how to keep the books for my father's construction jobs, how to pay the bills and how to balance the checkbook. She taught me how to do the laundry and clean the bathroom. She taught me how to babysit my niece and nephew (Dan & Gail) who lived downstairs, which really taught me how to be a mom. She taught me about responsibility for my Grandpa and aunt, DeeDee who lived three blocks away. As she got sicker, I learned patient care as I had to help her to the bathroom or change the bandages covering the holes in her breast that burned through to her back from the radiation therapy.
By the time Mom passed away, 8 days before my 16th birthday, I was effectively running the house and when I got my driver's license a few short months later, I was also doing all the banking, weekly grocery shopping and other household errands after school and on the weekends. As I mentioned responsibility for Grandpa and Dee, I also made sure DeeDee got to the grocery store, her bank and doctor appointments. (Grandpa passed away three months before Mom did.)
It's funny. Writing all this makes it sound like I did a lot; like I had a lot of responsibility and contributed a lot. It never really felt like that though. It was my home. It was my family. I can't imagine NOT doing those things that I did, especially after my mom got sick. But, now as I look at my grandchildren, I can't imagine them DOING all the things that I accepted as a part of life. Comparing ages with my granddaughters, I can't imagine Abigail scraping manure in the barn or feeding the cows. I can't imagine Soni doing Sami's hair. And I can't imagine Andi, Cari or Sarai being responsible for running the household or maintaining the family budget. I have no doubt that they could, I'm just thankful none of them have to...
As I got older, my mother did teach me how to help with some household chores. I loved running the vacuum, but probably didn't do a very good job of it. I believe I only ran it in the open spaces. I still remember the day she taught me to dust. I was in kindergarten. She taught me to aim the Pledge at whatever I was going to dust, push the button on top of the can and then wipe it with the dust cloth. What she DIDN'T teach me was to make sure the hole where the spray came out was pointed at the object I was dusting. (Cans didn't have the safety caps they do now to direct the spray.) As you've probably guessed, I sprayed the Pledge directly in my eyes! I don't think I finished dusting that day...but I learned to be much more cautious the next time!
When we moved to the farm in Wisconsin, I joined 4H. Not being too enthused about raising animals to take to the fair, I took the homemaking route and learned the "proper" way to do dishes: glasses first, silverware second, then plates and bowls and finally cookware (with the greasiest/messiest pans last). I still get twitches if I see someone wash glasses after the messy plates!
I also began to learn to sew under the direction of my aunt, Miem. I got better at sewing after 1-1/2 years of sewing classes in Jr. High and began to make a lot of my own clothes. I suppose that was a financial contribution to the family as it was pretty cheap to sew your own clothes. I even made myself a coat in high school!
On occasion, I would try to help in the barn at milking time. I would try to carry the milk pails from a cow to pour into the milk can, but unless the cow was a poor milker, the pails were generally too heavy for me to carry and then lift to pour into the can. My dad taught me how to scrape the manure off the barn floor into the trough that cleaned the manure out of the barn, but I think I purposely didn't do a very good job of it so he wouldn't ask me to do that anymore. I mean, I loved being close to my dad and feeling like I was helping, but let's face it. Manure STINKS and I did NOT want to scrape and shovel manure on a regular basis. So, the best way I learned to help at milking time was feeding the cows. We had a rolling bin that had ground feed in it. Each cow received a specific amount of feed and I had to know which cows got 1, 1-1/2 or 2 scoops. I had some good conversations with the cows as I walked to each one and they said "thank you" with their beautiful, big brown eyes. Maybe that's when I fell in love with brown eyes....
Long about 6th grade, when I actually started to worry about what my hair looked like and I learned how to wash and "set" it, I also started to do my mom's hair for her between visits to the beauty parlor for a perm.She had thin, really straight hair and when the perms faded, it could be quite the challenge to make it look good. When I would try to curl my daughter, Sami's hair when she was little, I was always reminded of doing my mom's hair. That same thin, straight hair was best just put into a ponytail!
My real family contributions came later than that though, when I was around 14 and my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I didn't realize she was doing it at the time, but my mother began to train me to take over for her. She taught me how to keep the books for my father's construction jobs, how to pay the bills and how to balance the checkbook. She taught me how to do the laundry and clean the bathroom. She taught me how to babysit my niece and nephew (Dan & Gail) who lived downstairs, which really taught me how to be a mom. She taught me about responsibility for my Grandpa and aunt, DeeDee who lived three blocks away. As she got sicker, I learned patient care as I had to help her to the bathroom or change the bandages covering the holes in her breast that burned through to her back from the radiation therapy.
By the time Mom passed away, 8 days before my 16th birthday, I was effectively running the house and when I got my driver's license a few short months later, I was also doing all the banking, weekly grocery shopping and other household errands after school and on the weekends. As I mentioned responsibility for Grandpa and Dee, I also made sure DeeDee got to the grocery store, her bank and doctor appointments. (Grandpa passed away three months before Mom did.)
It's funny. Writing all this makes it sound like I did a lot; like I had a lot of responsibility and contributed a lot. It never really felt like that though. It was my home. It was my family. I can't imagine NOT doing those things that I did, especially after my mom got sick. But, now as I look at my grandchildren, I can't imagine them DOING all the things that I accepted as a part of life. Comparing ages with my granddaughters, I can't imagine Abigail scraping manure in the barn or feeding the cows. I can't imagine Soni doing Sami's hair. And I can't imagine Andi, Cari or Sarai being responsible for running the household or maintaining the family budget. I have no doubt that they could, I'm just thankful none of them have to...
Thursday, May 9, 2019
EY #3 & #21: Tell about activities you enjoyed growing up; Tell about spare time activities (hobbies, stories, games & toys)
As we've already established, I was not athletic or coordinated--- AT ALL--- so you definitely won't see here that I enjoyed any type of sports. The closest I got to enjoying physical activities would be Tag, Duck Duck Goose or Statue. Even those weren't my first go-to activities because, well, they involved running and a certain amount of coordination is beneficial in running!
I did enjoy bike riding!!! I rode my bike ALL. THE. TIME! I remember Dad taking the training wheels off my small bike. When I was having trouble balancing the bike, he suggested I start with my bike by the back door of our house, just lift my feet off the ground and focus on just keeping my balance as the bike rolled down the small decline of the driveway. It sounds ridiculous, but as I got better at maintaining balance, one day without even thinking about it, I put my feet on the pedals and started RIDING!!! I was so excited that day I just rode around and around in circles on our driveway until I ran inside to tell Mom what I had done! Soon, my dad realized that little bike wasn't going to work anymore and he bought be a beautiful blue 26" bike. It seemed way too big, but Dad said he wasn't going to buy me a 24" that he'd just have to replace again in a few years. So, I learned to ride standing up first to be able to boost myself onto the seat. When we lived on the farm, my bike and the dogs were my favorite pastime. I'd ride down the country road with Copper, Buck and Lady close behind. When we moved back to Aurora, I got a new bike and a new friend to go bike riding with. Lanie and I rode EVERYWHERE after school or in the summer. We'd go downtown, to Phillips Park, to the tennis courts or, just around. Bike riding slowed down after I got my driver's license, but didn't actually stop 'til I went to college.
I played "house" a lot. Usually just in my bedroom where I had my dolls' cradle and bunk bed set up, but there was one summer on the farm when I used an empty section of the barn loft for my playhouse and moved my doll furniture, my little table and chairs and some blankets in. It was great, except there were no lights, so I could only play in there when good natural light was coming in the small window. I had several dolls: a hard plastic baby doll (about the size of an 8-month-old), a Chatty Cathy and Tandy, a 3-foot-tall doll who "walked" and "talked." My favorite doll, though, was one I rarely played with. She was my mother's baby doll with a china head and sawdust body. I didn't play with her much because her head was cracked and she had a hole in her cloth toe, so she leaked sawdust. I always wanted to take her to a doll hospital for repairs, but she got thrown away after my dad died and I was away at college. She was always the "good baby" that slept in her cradle (also my mom's).
I played outside in the snow quite a bit on the farm as well. I'd build myself a small snow fort or go "trekking" in the drifts by the barn. A snow fort wasn't terribly fun after I had it built, however. With no one to play with, it was protecting me from an imaginary enemy! Speaking of snow drifts, though... there was a boy at school who thought it was all kinds of funny to push the girls down in the piles on the playground. He only pushed me down once. The next time, I was ready for him and anticipated when he was coming for me from behind. Just before he laid his hands on me to push, I reached over my shoulder, grabbed him by the coat collar and threw HIM over my shoulder into the snow. Old David never bothered me again! That move may have been the origin of my elementary school nickname of "Super Zielke." Come to think of it, I don't remember him pushing any of my friends in the snow after that day either.
Playing with my Barbie dolls filled up hours of each day! I had quite a collection with my original blonde ponytail Barbie, my brunette "bubble cut" Barbie, the Barbie with the first bendable legs, eyes that closed and a painted head that allowed interchanging her three wigs for different looks. Barbie's family grew. I had a Ken (Barbie's boyfriend), Midge (Barbie's best friend), Alan (Midge's boyfriend), Skipper (Barbie's little sister), Skooter (Midge's little sister), Ricky (Alan's little brother), Francie (Barbie's cousin), Casey (Francie's friend), Tutti and Todd (Barbie's & Skipper's little twin brother and sister) and Christy (Tutti's friend). They all lived in a mansion I created by hooking together my Barbie Dream House with my Barbie Fashion Show store, but it was pretty hard to get them anywhere with her little 2-seater convertible!
I played games by myself. Hours of Monopoly alone helped me learn to count money and move around the board without counting spaces. Scrabble helped me learn to do crosswords and build my vocabulary and hours of Solitaire helped me learn to shuffle cards well. I enjoyed playing with Play-doh (Boy, would I have fun with all those Play-Doh sets available now!) and Silly Putty, pulling up pictures out of the Sunday comic strips.
But my last great love was reading. I still love to read. Bobbsey Twin novels were my absolute favorite. My first Bobbsey Twin book had been my mother's when she was young. I would get one or two every Christmas and Birthday and lots of them in between. Since I knew my mother had a twin brother who died when they were very small, I used to pretend Bert and Nan Bobbsey were my mom and her brother; always having grand adventures together. I also enjoyed reading biographies and read every one I could get my hands on. My poor mother was constantly being harassed to take me to the library again.
That about covers my "activities." Some may read this and think I was a pretty boring kid. Maybe I was. But with brothers so much older than me, I learned early on to entertain myself. I had no opportunity to be bored, because my imagination always took me to new places and experiences.There were no limits to the adventures I could have in my mind; and I was creative enough to be able to see my imaginary world in the real world that surrounded me.I feel sorry for kids who tell me they're bored. To me, that just means they've never learned how to use their imaginations and create their own fun.
I did enjoy bike riding!!! I rode my bike ALL. THE. TIME! I remember Dad taking the training wheels off my small bike. When I was having trouble balancing the bike, he suggested I start with my bike by the back door of our house, just lift my feet off the ground and focus on just keeping my balance as the bike rolled down the small decline of the driveway. It sounds ridiculous, but as I got better at maintaining balance, one day without even thinking about it, I put my feet on the pedals and started RIDING!!! I was so excited that day I just rode around and around in circles on our driveway until I ran inside to tell Mom what I had done! Soon, my dad realized that little bike wasn't going to work anymore and he bought be a beautiful blue 26" bike. It seemed way too big, but Dad said he wasn't going to buy me a 24" that he'd just have to replace again in a few years. So, I learned to ride standing up first to be able to boost myself onto the seat. When we lived on the farm, my bike and the dogs were my favorite pastime. I'd ride down the country road with Copper, Buck and Lady close behind. When we moved back to Aurora, I got a new bike and a new friend to go bike riding with. Lanie and I rode EVERYWHERE after school or in the summer. We'd go downtown, to Phillips Park, to the tennis courts or, just around. Bike riding slowed down after I got my driver's license, but didn't actually stop 'til I went to college.
I played "house" a lot. Usually just in my bedroom where I had my dolls' cradle and bunk bed set up, but there was one summer on the farm when I used an empty section of the barn loft for my playhouse and moved my doll furniture, my little table and chairs and some blankets in. It was great, except there were no lights, so I could only play in there when good natural light was coming in the small window. I had several dolls: a hard plastic baby doll (about the size of an 8-month-old), a Chatty Cathy and Tandy, a 3-foot-tall doll who "walked" and "talked." My favorite doll, though, was one I rarely played with. She was my mother's baby doll with a china head and sawdust body. I didn't play with her much because her head was cracked and she had a hole in her cloth toe, so she leaked sawdust. I always wanted to take her to a doll hospital for repairs, but she got thrown away after my dad died and I was away at college. She was always the "good baby" that slept in her cradle (also my mom's).
I played outside in the snow quite a bit on the farm as well. I'd build myself a small snow fort or go "trekking" in the drifts by the barn. A snow fort wasn't terribly fun after I had it built, however. With no one to play with, it was protecting me from an imaginary enemy! Speaking of snow drifts, though... there was a boy at school who thought it was all kinds of funny to push the girls down in the piles on the playground. He only pushed me down once. The next time, I was ready for him and anticipated when he was coming for me from behind. Just before he laid his hands on me to push, I reached over my shoulder, grabbed him by the coat collar and threw HIM over my shoulder into the snow. Old David never bothered me again! That move may have been the origin of my elementary school nickname of "Super Zielke." Come to think of it, I don't remember him pushing any of my friends in the snow after that day either.
Playing with my Barbie dolls filled up hours of each day! I had quite a collection with my original blonde ponytail Barbie, my brunette "bubble cut" Barbie, the Barbie with the first bendable legs, eyes that closed and a painted head that allowed interchanging her three wigs for different looks. Barbie's family grew. I had a Ken (Barbie's boyfriend), Midge (Barbie's best friend), Alan (Midge's boyfriend), Skipper (Barbie's little sister), Skooter (Midge's little sister), Ricky (Alan's little brother), Francie (Barbie's cousin), Casey (Francie's friend), Tutti and Todd (Barbie's & Skipper's little twin brother and sister) and Christy (Tutti's friend). They all lived in a mansion I created by hooking together my Barbie Dream House with my Barbie Fashion Show store, but it was pretty hard to get them anywhere with her little 2-seater convertible!
I played games by myself. Hours of Monopoly alone helped me learn to count money and move around the board without counting spaces. Scrabble helped me learn to do crosswords and build my vocabulary and hours of Solitaire helped me learn to shuffle cards well. I enjoyed playing with Play-doh (Boy, would I have fun with all those Play-Doh sets available now!) and Silly Putty, pulling up pictures out of the Sunday comic strips.
But my last great love was reading. I still love to read. Bobbsey Twin novels were my absolute favorite. My first Bobbsey Twin book had been my mother's when she was young. I would get one or two every Christmas and Birthday and lots of them in between. Since I knew my mother had a twin brother who died when they were very small, I used to pretend Bert and Nan Bobbsey were my mom and her brother; always having grand adventures together. I also enjoyed reading biographies and read every one I could get my hands on. My poor mother was constantly being harassed to take me to the library again.
That about covers my "activities." Some may read this and think I was a pretty boring kid. Maybe I was. But with brothers so much older than me, I learned early on to entertain myself. I had no opportunity to be bored, because my imagination always took me to new places and experiences.There were no limits to the adventures I could have in my mind; and I was creative enough to be able to see my imaginary world in the real world that surrounded me.I feel sorry for kids who tell me they're bored. To me, that just means they've never learned how to use their imaginations and create their own fun.
Wednesday, May 8, 2019
EY #2: Tell about your family growing up, including pets
As I begin this post, I want to preface it by saying that last Saturday I attended a Family Discovery Day hosted by our church. It was a full day of learning how to better search out our family histories. One of the "classes" I attended was "Everyone has a Story." While it was primarily about interviewing "elderly" family members to preserve their memories and histories, it really hit home to me that when she created this blog and accompanying book of questions for me, my daughter Brooks was really "interviewing" me in a way that she knew would be rather fun for me and that would also preserve my information. So, now that I've gone through the topics that most interested me, I'm going back to the beginning of her questions and just going to start answering them...
So. My family. A rather typical family of the 50s & 60s, I'd say. Dad went to work as a General Contractor every day. I know he still helped out sometimes on his family's farm in Oswego, IL. I only know that because I remember going with my mom to take him lunch during planting or harvesting times and I remember crying for the sheep that I saw him shearing in the barn. I was definitely a "Daddy's girl" and looked forward to sitting on his lap watching TV with him on the evenings he was at home. Bonanza on Sunday nights and Ben Casey on Monday nights were the best! Not that I particularly liked the shows or understood what they were about, but I sure liked having those special times with my dad.
My mom was a real mom. Not much of a homemaker from the cooking/cleaning aspect but a mom who taught me love, manners, respect, and how to laugh. I've always thought of her as a women's libber before her time. She had a plaque in her kitchen that said "My home is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy." And it was.She taught me how to do the dishes, dust and vacuum. She let me turn the handle on the meat grinder to turn Sunday's leftover roast beef into homemade hash. She let me put the chocolate chip cookie dough on the cookie sheets after she sliced them from the Pillsbury wrapper and she let me lick the beaters after she mixed a cake from the Betty Crocker cake mix.She was the PTA president, room mother, cub scout den mother, school volunteer and member of a bowling league. (That's where she was on Monday nights when my dad and I watched Ben Casey!) She'd help in the barn at milking time when my brothers were gone and she'd drive the tractor while my dad stood on the wagon to grab the bales of hay. She never quite got the hang of the clutch and nearly threw Dad off the wagon on multiple occasions! She had a temper and would become even angrier as my brothers taunted her by running in circles around the dining room table as she chased them with the belt. (I never remember her actually hitting them with it, but watching the chase was enough to put me in tears.) She loved sports, particularly baseball and it seemed like we LIVED at the baseball park in the summers as Al played pony league and Bill major league.She loved to participate in a family game of ball in the yard on the farm, but I fear I was a great disappointment with ZERO athletic talent or coordination.
People today refer to the "perfect" Leave it to Beaver-type family and say it's unrealistic, but I think I come from one of those families. Far from perfect, with it's share of worries, heartache, laughter and love, but if you tune in and watch any of those old shows, you'll come to realize that those families weren't perfect either. Every episode would have a challenge or situation to overcome. Ward and June didn't always see eye-to-eye. Wally and Beaver were NOT perfect kids and they had some friends who were NOT good influences (i.e. Eddie Haskell), but in each episode, you would see the family work together to RESOLVE the problem, to learn and to grow. What made that family perfect was their desire to work together and to know their binding link was the love they shared. Yeah, I was pretty blessed to have the family I had and pray that my children can look back and feel that I tried my best to create that kind of family for them as well.
So. My family. A rather typical family of the 50s & 60s, I'd say. Dad went to work as a General Contractor every day. I know he still helped out sometimes on his family's farm in Oswego, IL. I only know that because I remember going with my mom to take him lunch during planting or harvesting times and I remember crying for the sheep that I saw him shearing in the barn. I was definitely a "Daddy's girl" and looked forward to sitting on his lap watching TV with him on the evenings he was at home. Bonanza on Sunday nights and Ben Casey on Monday nights were the best! Not that I particularly liked the shows or understood what they were about, but I sure liked having those special times with my dad.
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| With my dad in his rocking chair. Picture taken with our new Polaroid Instant Camera!!! |
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| Mom in a dreaded dress with "Miem" at Grandma Zielke's house (Pants were much more the norm for my mom!!!) |
Bill was 10-years-old when I was born. He was my protector and did the big brother things like reading to me and remembering to win stuffed animals for me at the fair. His friends were pretty attentive to me and I remember that I always planned on marrying his friend Roy Parker when I grew up. Bill played the trumpet in band and orchestra; was a boy scout and played football and baseball. I still remember sitting on the couch in the living room and looking at his senior picture a few weeks after we had taken him to Iowa to start his freshman year of college. Suddenly, I burst into tears, not even really understanding why. All I knew was that I wanted my big brother to be at home.
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| Boy Scout, Billy |
Al, who was seven when I was born, was the fun brother. He played more games with me; made up most of them and NEVER showed me any mercy to let me win. (At least that's how it seemed...) I remember having VERY RED hands after playing a hand slap game where I'd have to put my hands, palms down, on top of his hands, palms up, and try to pull them away before he could flip his hands over to slap mine. Remember, I said I wasn't very coordinated; my reflexes weren't that great either apparently. Al played the trombone in band and orchestra, was a boy scout and played baseball and basketball.
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| Al's senior picutre 1965 |
There were always pets. When I was born, we had a Boston Terrier (exactly one year and two days older than me) named Boots. When we moved to the farm in Wisconsin we had dogs: Boots, a collie named Copper, a black lab named Buck (cuz Bill bought him for $1), an abandoned black lab named Lady, Little Buck and Pickles. (Little Buck was the son of Buck and Lady; Pickles was the daughter of Lady and the neighborhood Beagle...) There were also about 10 cats (Slippers, Snoop, DC, Goldie, etc.), 2 ponies: Sandy was mine; Sputnick was Al's with a few special cows and pigs...When we sold the farm and moved back to Aurora, there was another Boston Terrier rescued from an animal shelter: Samson, who had digestive "issues" (...man, Samson could clear a room!) and later, Tinkerbelle, my beagle mix, a birthday present from Bill's family after Samson had to be put down after swallowing one of my beading needles.
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| Dad with me and Boots |
Friday, September 28, 2018
LN #9: Tell about your hobbies
Another blog at Brooks' request. I keep telling her I'm not a "hobby" type of person. I read. A lot. Historical fiction, Fantasy, Young Adult, Romance, Mystery. I enjoy it all, but it's not too entertaining to write about reading.
I enjoy writing. I won several awards in Jr. High and High School for essays and short stories I wrote. I love putting myself in the moment of the stories and being able to take others into my mind's eye to picture what I'm seeing or to feel what I'm feeling. I'm frequently told I should write a book and I'd love to, but whenever I actually consider it,I freeze. No thoughts ideas or inspiration. I keep hoping that one night I'll have a dream like Stephenie Meyer did and my book will come to life...
I had a real hobby once upon a time. Remember Love Beads? Yeah. I strung love beads, but I went beyond that. I had a loom of sorts, made of a 2x4, nails, thread and, of course, beads. Using graph paper, I would create designs and then weave the patterns with my beads to create native american style jewelry or spirit necklaces of red and black for my high school.
I used to do embroidery and sew as well. Through my teens, I made a lot of my clothes and continued to sew for Megan when she was small, but as the family grew and time evaporated, sewing went way back on the burner. I'd like to take up embroidery again. Not what people do now with sewing machines, but the pillowcases and dresser scarves embroidered by hand; thimbles, embroidery floss, patterns, pin pricks and all!
Some people consider travel a hobby. While I truly enjoy travel, for me, it's more of a bucket list. There are places I want to go: the remaining 6 states in the Northeast to make all 50 states; Boston for the 4th of July; cruise to Australia/ New Zealand; and Ireland, just because. I'd like to go other places as well, but those are the top of my list.
My final real interest, something I want to dive into and succeed with is Family History. We've been able to gather some information based on information, documents and contributions of others. We have very basic pedigrees for Hansings and Haags, a greater volume of information about Staffeldts, but next to nothing on the Zielkes and Hills. And then we have the information about Alice Gustafsen & Ted Voorhees, his mysterious second family and the TRUE story about how my mother ended up in an orphanage. Perhaps that's a novel waiting to be written, but I have to put the piecces of the puzzle together first...
As I'm at an age to truly contemplate retirement, maybe I'll begin to take a more genuine interest in some of these things, because, to me, a hobby is fueled by passion with a deep desire for accomplishment. I know myself well enough to know that forcing myself to do any of them will make them a drudgery instead, so only time will tell, but if you get to read my first great novel or receive an embroidered pillowcase, you'll know where my passion has taken me!
Thursday, September 27, 2018
EY #34: Tell about your first kiss
My first kiss. For some reason, Brooks seems a little obsessed with this one. I'm not sure she believes I was the boring nerd that I was; probably because I was such a cool mom with some crazy college/sorority stories. Any of my high school or college friends who may read this, feel free to confirm my nerdiness...
That said, I will go on to say, I made it all the way through high school with no kisses other than a good night or goodbye for my dad or a brother. I thought I had a boyfriend my Junior year of high school. Ed was a guy I had fun with at the lake or when I went to visit my oldest brother, exchanged gifts with and exchanged letters with on a regular basis. I won't deny, as a teenager with a crush, I thought about kissing him; probably a lot. But before my fantasy could become a reality, he decided it would be fun to make out with my best friend, breaking my heart and betraying HIS best friend in the process. I never blamed her. I knew how cute Ed was and how persuasive he could be. I was appalled, however, that knowing his best friend had a crush on her for years, that he could do that to his friend. Obviously, no kiss there.
So when was my first kiss? Sadly, there's not too much I can say about it. I was in Cornucopia with Lanie. We were driving back to the cabins late one evening and we passed a couple of guys walking alongside the road and offered them a ride. Since I was driving, I don't recall conversations in the car on the way, but after parking in our driveway, the guy sitting on the bench seat of my Olds 98 next to me thanked me and kissed me. While I don't recall the kiss as unpleasant, there may have even been more than one, I know it wasn't knock my socks off wonderful either. As unremarkable as it was, that was my first kiss.
Now, let's go on to my first memorable, meaningful kiss, because there were a few others after that kiss in my 1970 Olsmobile. The first one that really counts in my book, was during my Sophomore year of college at our Zeta spring formal. I had been going out with Randy for about four months at this point, but the spring formal was our first real, formal date. After dinner, Randy and I were dancing and the DJ put on a slow song; Olivia Newton-John's "I Honestly Love You." I know it's very cliche' these days, but back then it was a new, popular song. As we danced and listened to the song, as she sang the words "If we both were born in another place and time," Randy looked at me and said, "This is our song. If we both were born in another place and time, we never would have met and we wouldn't be here now." And he kissed me. Three times. Not short. Not long. Not sloppy. Just right. Sweet. Romantic. Loving. Not personality traits Randy typically exhibited, but in that moment, enough to confirm for me that he was indeed the young man I would marry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ac24COCKTVM
That said, I will go on to say, I made it all the way through high school with no kisses other than a good night or goodbye for my dad or a brother. I thought I had a boyfriend my Junior year of high school. Ed was a guy I had fun with at the lake or when I went to visit my oldest brother, exchanged gifts with and exchanged letters with on a regular basis. I won't deny, as a teenager with a crush, I thought about kissing him; probably a lot. But before my fantasy could become a reality, he decided it would be fun to make out with my best friend, breaking my heart and betraying HIS best friend in the process. I never blamed her. I knew how cute Ed was and how persuasive he could be. I was appalled, however, that knowing his best friend had a crush on her for years, that he could do that to his friend. Obviously, no kiss there.
So when was my first kiss? Sadly, there's not too much I can say about it. I was in Cornucopia with Lanie. We were driving back to the cabins late one evening and we passed a couple of guys walking alongside the road and offered them a ride. Since I was driving, I don't recall conversations in the car on the way, but after parking in our driveway, the guy sitting on the bench seat of my Olds 98 next to me thanked me and kissed me. While I don't recall the kiss as unpleasant, there may have even been more than one, I know it wasn't knock my socks off wonderful either. As unremarkable as it was, that was my first kiss.
Now, let's go on to my first memorable, meaningful kiss, because there were a few others after that kiss in my 1970 Olsmobile. The first one that really counts in my book, was during my Sophomore year of college at our Zeta spring formal. I had been going out with Randy for about four months at this point, but the spring formal was our first real, formal date. After dinner, Randy and I were dancing and the DJ put on a slow song; Olivia Newton-John's "I Honestly Love You." I know it's very cliche' these days, but back then it was a new, popular song. As we danced and listened to the song, as she sang the words "If we both were born in another place and time," Randy looked at me and said, "This is our song. If we both were born in another place and time, we never would have met and we wouldn't be here now." And he kissed me. Three times. Not short. Not long. Not sloppy. Just right. Sweet. Romantic. Loving. Not personality traits Randy typically exhibited, but in that moment, enough to confirm for me that he was indeed the young man I would marry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ac24COCKTVM
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| Zeta Spring Formal 1975 Randy, Me, Robyn Wise, Randy's brother Judd |
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
ML#16: Does your family have any heirlooms...?
I've been staying with Brooks for the past month while I've been recovering from two different surgeries and decided I needed to do something productive with my time. Since Brooks created this blog for me, I told her that she could choose my topics. Recently, I told my kids it was time to begin claiming and retrieving items that I still had that held special memories or significance to them. Brooks decided it would be good if I made a record of those items and why they were special. While most of these items have no value, they hold special memories for one or more members of my family. For any/all who read this blog, I hope it will encourage you to recognize the worth of those little moments, those hidden treasures that are part of our lives each day. So, here goes:
Mom's Locket: A ,"birthday present for my mother from my father before they were married. It holds pictures of each of them in their young days. Mom wore it for her wedding. I wore it for my wedding. Each of my daughters wore it for their weddings. As the "family historian" Brooks will keep possession of the locket to ensure each of my granddaughters has the opportunity to wear it for their weddings as well.
Native American dolls: I began collecting Native American dolls in 2010 when I first visited Leavenworth, Washington and fell in love with one that I saw in a shop there. It brought back memories of my dad bringing me Indian dolls on the occasions he would go out of town on construction jobs. I'm not exactly sure if he brought them home because I liked them or if I liked them because he brought them home to me, but either way, I loved them. They were special to me and every new one I bought, brought back those special memories. As the granddaughters who receive them look at them, I hope they'll have a special memory of me attached.
After I began collecting my Indian dolls, I decided that one would go to each of my granddaughters. However, when I visited a giftshop in Estonia a few years ago, I fell in love with a different kind of doll that, for some reason, just reminded me of my granddaughter, Claire. I bought that doll with the intent it would always be for her.
Totem Poles: I began collecting totem poles because of my love for Indian lore. As a child, I remember my mother telling me of the Indian legend that they're waiting for "the great white God" to return as he promised. As I investigated the LDS church and learned of the resurrected Christ visiting his people in other lands, the legend took on even more meaning.
Cut Glass Beverage Set: Coming through the Haag line of our family, this pitcher and glass set came from Germany. Every time we'd have a holiday dinner at Grandma Hills house, I remember looking at the beautiful set and wondering why we couldn't use them. I was always told they were too special and fragile, yet they were made to be admired AND used.
Cuckoo Clock: I've always been proud of my German heritage and was VERY excited when I began taking German in 9th grade. I didn't just study the vocabulary, I studied the pronunciation for hours! I had to get it right. Since my dad was so aware of my love for German culture, when his friend Ralph Weber was going to Germany, Dad asked him to bring me a cuckoo clock. I LOVE my clock. It cuckooed once on the half hour. On the hour, it cuckooed the appropriate number of times and then played a tune while German children danced in circles. It even hung on my wall at college. After several years of use, it was wound too tight and wouldn't work anymore 'til Brandon and Brooks sneaked it out of my closet when I lived in Idaho and had it repaired. It's never been quite the same, but every time I hear the cuckoo and the little song, it brings back more loving memories of my dad.
Victrola: While I have my own fond memories of persuading my aunt DeeDee to wind up the old victrola in my Grandma's parlor, even greater are the memories of regularly sharing the magical experiences of bringing days gone by to life for my children by playing the old 78 rpm records: A favorite anytime was Rufe Davis singing The Old Sow Song
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBMBkeCafjQ
At Easter there was Here Comes Peter Cottontail. At Christmas, there was the original Gene Autry recording of Rudolph
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j11rwc6Sf4o
and then EVERYONE'S FAVORITE that I played each year for the first snowfall: Suzy Snowflake!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrTS_Z67waA
Suzy was such an important part our family tradition that I received a phone call from Megan early one morning during the fall of her freshman year at college. she was sobbing and being hundreds of miles away, I didn't know what to do until I realized she was saying it had snowed the night before in Rexburg, Idaho and she was homesick for Suzy! So, I wound up the victrola and played it over the phone, which terribly confused the rest of the family when they saw no snow...
Mom's Rocking Chair: A child's rocker that my mother remembered as being hers, inherited from her mother as a little girl. She always called it the "cherry" rocker. When I was in high school, I retrieved it from my grandma's basement and my father had a friend "restore" it for me. In the restoration, however, we learned that it wasn't actually made of cherry wood and it had never had a caned bottom. It was stained in a cherry finish, the bottom was caned, and the rocker survived many moves and aided me as I rocked and sang to each of my babies before bed. Unfortunately, the rocker is currently broken with a couple of the spindles being broken off where they attach to the chair. I hope one of my children will love my rocker enough to replace the broken legs and make it usable once again.
My bookcase: Although it's not been in my possession for many years, my bookcase is extremely near and dear to my heart. As I was preparing to move into my sorority house my Sophomore year of college,I realized the bedrooms had no bookcases. So, I asked my dad to build me one. While he was a carpenter, he was not a furniture builder. My bookcase was ugly as sin, but, by golly, it was heavy, sturdy and strong. My father died 6 months after building it for me and became very special to me as the years went on. It was the closest I could get to my lifelong dream of my father building a house for me...
Vinyl Record collection: 33 rpm albums & 45 rpm singles from my pre-teen and teen years in the 60s and 70s don't contain music that's hard to find, it's the memories connected to looking through them, selecting the ones to play, dancing in the living room while cleaning on Saturdays, introducing songs that ended up having long-term affects (i.e. Brooks decision to name a daughter Claire after Gilbert O'Sullivan's hit song) or watching performances to some of their favorites that some still remember! (i.e. Daddy Dewdrop's Chick-a-Boom)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6PJCb1daug
And then, there are the memories attached to the children's albums and the Christmas records, Elvis, Bing and the family favorite, the Lennon Sisters.
Christmas Tree Skirt: Randy crocheted our Christmas tree skirt to match the family Christmas stockings and each year as we began to decorate the tree, as the Lennon Sisters would begin to sing Christmas Island, Samantha would don the tree skirt and entertain all with the Christmas Island Hula.
Christmas Ornaments: I think most everyone has memories around their ornaments whether they are Hallmark Keepsakes, special gifts, ones the kids brought home from school, ones the family made together or purchased on memorable trips. We had all of those as well, but probably the most precious on our family tree were the Disney ornaments that hung on the Zielke family tree my whole life, the most special of which was Thumper, who hung at the top center front every year (so he was visible AND protected from little hands!
Princess Aurora: Sleeping Beauty was always my favorite Disney movie and, consequently Princess Aurora and Merriweather (my favorite fairy) were a sure win as a gift for me, whether a figurine, a doll or ornaments!
Childhood Books: Books have always been important to me. My kids grew up with some of my favorites from my teaching years like Leo, the Late Bloomer or Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I still have my Mother Goose Book and a reprint of my favorite Christmas book, Santa's Workshop. Most sentimental, though are my copies of Disney's Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella that were always kept in the play cupboard at Grandma's house. My hands had to be clean to be allowed to touch them. More remarkably was the older edition of Cinderella with the inscription in the front cover, "To Mary Ellen, From Virginia" We have no idea who Virginia was, although she was probably a key link to my mother's past. She remembered going on a train to Chicago once each year to see this woman until the day she asked my grandmother who the lady was. She never saw her again.
Other toys from Grandma's house: Handmade beanbag clowns and discs to play a bowling type of game; Gyroscope (to me, it was always a top, that could spin forever) that we used to play with on the parlor floor at Grandma's for hours!
China & Crystal: When Randy & I got engaged the first time, we bought a china and crystal set. We pulled it out 3 times a year (Easter, Thanksgiving & Christmas) to set a fancy holiday table. Over the years, through auctions, Randy added some Depression glass and a couple pf pink crystal glasses to add more options for the holiday punch.
Beatles RockBand: Not really a FAMILY memory, but a degree of nostalgia anyway, bringing the Beatles music to life through a video game!
Jewelry: While of little monetary value, my jewelry has immeasurable worth in sentiment.
Diamonds: The diamond and sapphire earrings Randy gave me for Christmas 1975 (Silly me, I saw the size of the box and thought he was giving me an engagement ring!) My engagement and wedding rings, my mother's engagement ring and my grandmother's engagement ring.
Pearls: The strand of pearls Randy gave me with matching earrings. He believed every woman needed a classy set of pearls, so he made sure I had mine. He always told me that I was to wear mine with a simple black dress to his funeral. As we're divorced and he's told others he doesn't want a funeral and he wants to be cremated, I guess I'm no longer obligated, but maybe I'll choose a day when he's gone, put on my black dress and add my pearls. Just because. The earrings each have a diamond attached. Unfortunately, both the necklace and one earring need repairs. Randy got Sami to give restringing of my pearls a valiant try, but perhaps being restrung professionally would be a good idea.
Opals: My first opals were earrings Lanie gave me to wear in her wedding. The matching opal necklace I got later has gone missing over the years. I purchased an opal and silver ring that I loved at the Sequim Indian Reservation in western Washington. Finally, a ring belonging to my great grandmother has two opals, surrounded by black pearls and four rubies.
Locket: In addition to my mother's locket, there is also one that belonged to my grandmother with hers and grandpa's pictures inside.
Baby rings: My baby ring, a simple gold band that I last wore on my pinkie finger in my 3-year-old picture. My mother's baby ring has an emerald birthstone. Hopefully, one day, a grand-daughter or great-granddaughter will be born in May to inherit this one!
Signet ring: My dad's initial ring R.
There's no special way to close this post. No profound words to pass on, so I will just say to each of my children or grandchildren, if you find yourself in possession of any of these items you will hold them dear to your heart, pass on the stories connected with them and work hard to create memories of your own with your families. It's the memories that are truly priceless.
Mom's Locket: A ,"birthday present for my mother from my father before they were married. It holds pictures of each of them in their young days. Mom wore it for her wedding. I wore it for my wedding. Each of my daughters wore it for their weddings. As the "family historian" Brooks will keep possession of the locket to ensure each of my granddaughters has the opportunity to wear it for their weddings as well.
Native American dolls: I began collecting Native American dolls in 2010 when I first visited Leavenworth, Washington and fell in love with one that I saw in a shop there. It brought back memories of my dad bringing me Indian dolls on the occasions he would go out of town on construction jobs. I'm not exactly sure if he brought them home because I liked them or if I liked them because he brought them home to me, but either way, I loved them. They were special to me and every new one I bought, brought back those special memories. As the granddaughters who receive them look at them, I hope they'll have a special memory of me attached.
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| My first doll purchased in Leavenworth and my Eskimo purchased in Alaska with 3 totem poles. |
Totem Poles: I began collecting totem poles because of my love for Indian lore. As a child, I remember my mother telling me of the Indian legend that they're waiting for "the great white God" to return as he promised. As I investigated the LDS church and learned of the resurrected Christ visiting his people in other lands, the legend took on even more meaning.
Cut Glass Beverage Set: Coming through the Haag line of our family, this pitcher and glass set came from Germany. Every time we'd have a holiday dinner at Grandma Hills house, I remember looking at the beautiful set and wondering why we couldn't use them. I was always told they were too special and fragile, yet they were made to be admired AND used.
Cuckoo Clock: I've always been proud of my German heritage and was VERY excited when I began taking German in 9th grade. I didn't just study the vocabulary, I studied the pronunciation for hours! I had to get it right. Since my dad was so aware of my love for German culture, when his friend Ralph Weber was going to Germany, Dad asked him to bring me a cuckoo clock. I LOVE my clock. It cuckooed once on the half hour. On the hour, it cuckooed the appropriate number of times and then played a tune while German children danced in circles. It even hung on my wall at college. After several years of use, it was wound too tight and wouldn't work anymore 'til Brandon and Brooks sneaked it out of my closet when I lived in Idaho and had it repaired. It's never been quite the same, but every time I hear the cuckoo and the little song, it brings back more loving memories of my dad.
Victrola: While I have my own fond memories of persuading my aunt DeeDee to wind up the old victrola in my Grandma's parlor, even greater are the memories of regularly sharing the magical experiences of bringing days gone by to life for my children by playing the old 78 rpm records: A favorite anytime was Rufe Davis singing The Old Sow Song
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBMBkeCafjQ
At Easter there was Here Comes Peter Cottontail. At Christmas, there was the original Gene Autry recording of Rudolph
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j11rwc6Sf4o
and then EVERYONE'S FAVORITE that I played each year for the first snowfall: Suzy Snowflake!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrTS_Z67waA
Suzy was such an important part our family tradition that I received a phone call from Megan early one morning during the fall of her freshman year at college. she was sobbing and being hundreds of miles away, I didn't know what to do until I realized she was saying it had snowed the night before in Rexburg, Idaho and she was homesick for Suzy! So, I wound up the victrola and played it over the phone, which terribly confused the rest of the family when they saw no snow...
Mom's Rocking Chair: A child's rocker that my mother remembered as being hers, inherited from her mother as a little girl. She always called it the "cherry" rocker. When I was in high school, I retrieved it from my grandma's basement and my father had a friend "restore" it for me. In the restoration, however, we learned that it wasn't actually made of cherry wood and it had never had a caned bottom. It was stained in a cherry finish, the bottom was caned, and the rocker survived many moves and aided me as I rocked and sang to each of my babies before bed. Unfortunately, the rocker is currently broken with a couple of the spindles being broken off where they attach to the chair. I hope one of my children will love my rocker enough to replace the broken legs and make it usable once again.
My bookcase: Although it's not been in my possession for many years, my bookcase is extremely near and dear to my heart. As I was preparing to move into my sorority house my Sophomore year of college,I realized the bedrooms had no bookcases. So, I asked my dad to build me one. While he was a carpenter, he was not a furniture builder. My bookcase was ugly as sin, but, by golly, it was heavy, sturdy and strong. My father died 6 months after building it for me and became very special to me as the years went on. It was the closest I could get to my lifelong dream of my father building a house for me...
Vinyl Record collection: 33 rpm albums & 45 rpm singles from my pre-teen and teen years in the 60s and 70s don't contain music that's hard to find, it's the memories connected to looking through them, selecting the ones to play, dancing in the living room while cleaning on Saturdays, introducing songs that ended up having long-term affects (i.e. Brooks decision to name a daughter Claire after Gilbert O'Sullivan's hit song) or watching performances to some of their favorites that some still remember! (i.e. Daddy Dewdrop's Chick-a-Boom)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6PJCb1daug
And then, there are the memories attached to the children's albums and the Christmas records, Elvis, Bing and the family favorite, the Lennon Sisters.
Christmas Tree Skirt: Randy crocheted our Christmas tree skirt to match the family Christmas stockings and each year as we began to decorate the tree, as the Lennon Sisters would begin to sing Christmas Island, Samantha would don the tree skirt and entertain all with the Christmas Island Hula.
Christmas Ornaments: I think most everyone has memories around their ornaments whether they are Hallmark Keepsakes, special gifts, ones the kids brought home from school, ones the family made together or purchased on memorable trips. We had all of those as well, but probably the most precious on our family tree were the Disney ornaments that hung on the Zielke family tree my whole life, the most special of which was Thumper, who hung at the top center front every year (so he was visible AND protected from little hands!
Princess Aurora: Sleeping Beauty was always my favorite Disney movie and, consequently Princess Aurora and Merriweather (my favorite fairy) were a sure win as a gift for me, whether a figurine, a doll or ornaments!
Childhood Books: Books have always been important to me. My kids grew up with some of my favorites from my teaching years like Leo, the Late Bloomer or Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I still have my Mother Goose Book and a reprint of my favorite Christmas book, Santa's Workshop. Most sentimental, though are my copies of Disney's Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella that were always kept in the play cupboard at Grandma's house. My hands had to be clean to be allowed to touch them. More remarkably was the older edition of Cinderella with the inscription in the front cover, "To Mary Ellen, From Virginia" We have no idea who Virginia was, although she was probably a key link to my mother's past. She remembered going on a train to Chicago once each year to see this woman until the day she asked my grandmother who the lady was. She never saw her again.
Other toys from Grandma's house: Handmade beanbag clowns and discs to play a bowling type of game; Gyroscope (to me, it was always a top, that could spin forever) that we used to play with on the parlor floor at Grandma's for hours!
China & Crystal: When Randy & I got engaged the first time, we bought a china and crystal set. We pulled it out 3 times a year (Easter, Thanksgiving & Christmas) to set a fancy holiday table. Over the years, through auctions, Randy added some Depression glass and a couple pf pink crystal glasses to add more options for the holiday punch.
Beatles RockBand: Not really a FAMILY memory, but a degree of nostalgia anyway, bringing the Beatles music to life through a video game!
Jewelry: While of little monetary value, my jewelry has immeasurable worth in sentiment.
Diamonds: The diamond and sapphire earrings Randy gave me for Christmas 1975 (Silly me, I saw the size of the box and thought he was giving me an engagement ring!) My engagement and wedding rings, my mother's engagement ring and my grandmother's engagement ring.
Pearls: The strand of pearls Randy gave me with matching earrings. He believed every woman needed a classy set of pearls, so he made sure I had mine. He always told me that I was to wear mine with a simple black dress to his funeral. As we're divorced and he's told others he doesn't want a funeral and he wants to be cremated, I guess I'm no longer obligated, but maybe I'll choose a day when he's gone, put on my black dress and add my pearls. Just because. The earrings each have a diamond attached. Unfortunately, both the necklace and one earring need repairs. Randy got Sami to give restringing of my pearls a valiant try, but perhaps being restrung professionally would be a good idea.
Opals: My first opals were earrings Lanie gave me to wear in her wedding. The matching opal necklace I got later has gone missing over the years. I purchased an opal and silver ring that I loved at the Sequim Indian Reservation in western Washington. Finally, a ring belonging to my great grandmother has two opals, surrounded by black pearls and four rubies.
Locket: In addition to my mother's locket, there is also one that belonged to my grandmother with hers and grandpa's pictures inside.
Baby rings: My baby ring, a simple gold band that I last wore on my pinkie finger in my 3-year-old picture. My mother's baby ring has an emerald birthstone. Hopefully, one day, a grand-daughter or great-granddaughter will be born in May to inherit this one!
Signet ring: My dad's initial ring R.
There's no special way to close this post. No profound words to pass on, so I will just say to each of my children or grandchildren, if you find yourself in possession of any of these items you will hold them dear to your heart, pass on the stories connected with them and work hard to create memories of your own with your families. It's the memories that are truly priceless.
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