B S...

Nothing dirty about the title. Calm down. Simply means boxes and shelves. I acquired a life-long fascination with antique oak furniture right after Hubs and I got married, decades ago. First finding an adorable dresser at a garage sale for 5 bucks. I didn't know then just how bad this hobby would suck me in. Or how much my tastes would change. From its very inception, I was drawn to a certain furniture type, even though we were on a shoestring budget. Shoestring meaning pretty much zero dollars to spend on anything besides heat, food, gas, rent and insurance. Tough way to start an antique lover's career.

 

Dainty little claw feet on my Deacon's bench and curved glass china closet...

 

Cranberry Sauce...

I wish I could remember more about my life before Larry died, when I was 7. I'm able to conjure up playing drive-in across the street with the Beumer girls or the Schmidt kids on the corner. Learning to ride my bike, playing hopscotch, or spending hours in the playhouse Dad built. Just being a little kid. But my most vivid memories, came after his tragic death in 1958.

 

Awesome playhouse that Dad built. This is about 1954....

Calendar Girl...

During the mid-60's my Mom was on a mission. We had lived in our house on 15th street for a decade. Larry had been gone for 8 years, and Mona was married with a couple of boys. This time frame was during my angry, rebellious, fun-loving mid-teens. Dad was working for the State Hiway Commission, and Mom was a nurse's aide at Valley Manor. Her mission? New furniture. She was totally smitten with Early American Hard Rock Maple furniture. From Vanderploeg's in Sioux Center, her old stomping grounds.

 

Mom's favorite, her Hard Rock Maple clock, about 1966...

14 Days...

It's been a long 2 weeks. We hired a local crew to pick up our measly 14,000 pounds of stuff from a storage unit 18 miles away. They brought about 2/3 of it one day in a straight truck. Decided not to go back for what remained, but had it here by noon the following day. John insisted I literally stand on the deck and dictate where each piece of furniture, every antique, the miscellaneous 200 boxes, and 50 containers should be placed. (Might have a bit of scaling back to do again in the future. Perhaps a ton or so). Plus I was trying to set up my new, smaller kitchen. Sounds like a perfect storm brewing.

 

A pittance of what belongs in my kitchen...

Transition...

Ok kids, raise your hand if you enjoy upheaval and major changes in your life. Right, me either. Until recently. I was so eagerly anticipating this move, it was hard not be bubbling with enthusiasm. Those feelings waned rather quickly in 90 degree heat. Packing stuff ourselves. Which wasn't a first in our long marriage, but we hadn't done that part of moving for 40 years. Always completed and paid for by the company who had just hired Hubs. The kicker was we had no "next place" lined up where to hang our hats. That was an uncomfortable first.

 

Have not missed this house for 1 second since we moved...

Murder, She Wrote...

Although we loved living near the Mississippi River in Davenport Iowa, a couple of pretty bizarre events occurred while we were part of that community. Guess it's only logical once you figure the numbers game. Take my little town of Rock Valley, where I grew up. The town consisted of about 2,500 folks. You could safely assume a few of them were whack jobs.The population of Davenport in the mid 80's was around 100,000 people. Equals out to lots more nut jobs. Not trying to be disrespectful. These were some seriously mentally ill individuals. Here's my memories of 2 tragedies that happened while we lived there.

 

One of several bridges crossing the Mississippi from Davenport...

The Parlour...

Strange to think a business in Jackson, Michigan has been weaving it's way through our lives since 1986. John moved to Jackson about 4 months before the rest of our family. But the rest of us went to Jackson for a long weekends every couple weeks. Hubs was staying at a new hotel called Budgetel, which was right next door to the Holiday Inn. When we were looking for a house, John would move to the Holiday Inn so the kids 16, 11, and 7 had a pool to enjoy. During one of those trips we would discover an ice cream shop which was pretty close to being world renown.

 

Several name changes, but always great treats...

The Nimitz...

How the Hubs and I became acquainted with these 3 fellas was kind of a fluke. Tom, Tileo, and John sat in the pew behind us during church. Tom had been widowed for years, and was in the middle of writing a book about the history of our church. Tileo sat with them was because his wife was in the choir singing every Sunday. John's wife was having some health issues and rarely made it to the church service anymore.

 

Where the conversations were held-before and during the service...

Nomads...

I was raised to stay put. Until serious health issues forced Mom and Dad to make some necessary, but unwanted changes, they had only lived in 2 houses through 62 years of marriage. Both in Rock Valley. In 1955, when I was 4, we moved to 1711 15th Street, which would remain their home for 50 years. Hard to imagine. Back then, most things they were involved with were long term. Dad worked at the Iowa State Hiway Commission over 30 years. This wasn't just a small town Iowa thing either. As a rookie, if you started your baseball career with the Chicago Cubs, odds were 20 some years later, you were still playing with those lovable losers. So what happened to me? How come I didn't stay in Rock Valley? Heck, I even moved away from Iowa.

 

1711 15th St. where I grew up...

Moving 101...

It should be compared to a lengthy, difficult labor. Except there's no newborn to smell, swaddle and nurse. Besides the good Lord gave new moms the ability to gradually forget about those perfectly timed, excruciating pains when you shouted the Hubs name. Claiming if he ever comes near you again, there would be hell to pay. Hell. To. Pay. Nope, not going to forget this for a quite a spell.

 

1979 with newborn Adam...

100 & Counting...

It's a significant day. Realistically, when I started blogging in June of 2014, I had no idea there would still be words and stories in my head. Pretty secure in saying, I'm the only person who's read every single one. And more than once. Ugh. Instead of celebrating this milestone, I decided to read the first 99 again. My eyes, my eyes. My head, my head. I tried to remain objective. Hoping to see them from the perspective of reader instead of inept writer. I was determined to find at least 10% worthy of reading more than once. This is going to be a hard sell. Some arm twisting and bribery may be involved.

 

Yay Neese...

Pending...

We've had a For Sale sign in our front yard for 3 years. Had you told me in 2012 the nicest home we've ever owned would take this long to sell, I would have had you committed. It's lake property people. Certainly not a mansion compared to some in the neighborhood, but still a nice home. I've lived in this house longer than I lived in my childhood home town of Rock Valley, Iowa, although it doesn't seem that long. Except for that stinking sign still out front.

 

The sign has truly worn out its welcome...

Dad & Skip...

Boy, it's been some week. As my Dad used to say, "I want to share this with you." I was knee deep trying to get my last blog posted. Remember, it was the one about all the letters I wrote my Mom and Dad? Spanning the years from 1974-1976. After we had moved to eastern Iowa, about 325 miles away. I had letters everywhere. Reading each one, copying down paragraphs from certain ones that I wanted to use. I probably had written down 35 snippets.

 

The letters from me to my Mom and Dad, 1974-1976..

Two years...

I've been tripping. Not literally the fall down kind. The memory lane variety. It all started with our basement. Our house is about 120 feet from Muskegon Lake. The basement is only 30 inches deep. A royal pain. The only thing I really hate about this house. Want the dozen containers holding all our Christmas paraphernalia? Go crawl around the basement cement floor for an hour.

 

Just before we moved to eastern Iowa. John, Denise, Shannon, 1973...

Elly & Dewey...

It wasn't exactly awkward, but still rather unusual. John and I started dating in the mid-60's. His only sister Elly, had already been married for several years with 4 children! Wow. Jim and Mag were champions when it came to spacing children! Meaning, Elly got married when John was about 2. She became a mother for the first time a couple years after I was born. I didn't see them very often. They lived in Sioux Falls at the time and were busy raising their family. A few years later they moved to Spencer. John and I were too busy making out to be real involved with Elly and her family. Oh how things would change.

 

Holidays with Elly and Dewey, mid-1970's...

Boo-boos...

Since my kids were evenly spaced, you'd think they wouldn't have much in common. And that was true as they got older. None of them were ever even in high school together. However their mother remained sane. Which was the whole purpose of having them spaced to begin with. But when I looked at some old pictures, I see the kids, mostly the boys played together quite a bit. At least for the first several years.

 

Absolutely priceless. Adam and Joshua, 1983...

Birthdays & Christmas...

Have you noticed people celebrate birthdays differently? As a young mother, I usually made a big deal of our children's birthdays. Inviting relatives and a few kids their age. Unless I could buy them off. I wasn't above bribing them with cold hard cash. If one of the kids wanted something really expensive, sometimes they could be convinced to give up the party. Take the money and run. Really, birthdays should be a bigger deal in the life of a kid than Christmas. Celebrating their own uniqueness of the special day they came into and made your life so much better.

 

Shy, introverted Adam's 4th birthday, Davenport, 1983...

'Da Birch Trees...

I'll own up to this one. I've had a love-hate relationship with trees since I moved to Michigan 28 years ago. Before moving to this tree stuffed state, I never thought about trees much. The last Michigan tree to human census taken totaled 5,691 trees to 1 person. They're everywhere. Except at Lake Michigan. What a relief. The only place I can really breathe.

 

Lake Michigan on a very windy day...

Lest I forget...

To infinity and beyond! Here's hoping for at least another 10-15 good years. My Mom's life headed south when she was around 70. My Dad though, was about 90. I'll stick with 80-ish. So we are in the year 2031. My incredible memory is fading. I am somewhat dependent on others, and none to happy about it. Names, faces and stories are on the tip of my tongue, but at times I can no longer retrieve them. Foggy brained and frustrated, I've become somewhat cranky. Now there's a surprise. Visitors tend to forget I've lost most of my hearing. So they mumble, or talk when not facing me. This gives them the impression I have chosen not to join in their conversation or answer them. When nothing could be further from the truth. Here's a snippet of my imagined future life as I age. At least my side of the topics and conversations. And some of my very favorite pictures of those I love. Plus me.

 

Baby Neese, 1951. Braids, 1955...

Downsizing...

I just read the funniest blog post ever. Of course it wasn't mine. I'm not funny. Groan. And I don't write well. Sigh. It's my lack of vocabulary. Lazy. Plus my inability to put my thoughts down on paper well. Should have made an effort in school. Slacker. I do however, admit wholeheartedly, I am green with envy about her writing ability. Did I mention very dark, dark green? How I wish I was funny and could really write. Not to be. Well, maybe I'd tone down her style a bit. She was fairly free with the salty language. Ok, it might have been a bit raunchy, but the content was hilarious. She wrote about the movement embraced by thousands. On living tiny.

 

Yup, tried it with Shannon in 1973...

Gini & Hyle...

It was the second marriage for both of them. Each had lost their spouse. Hyle was a bit older than Gini. Actually I met them first socially. As Parish Visitor I was visiting Charlie and Opal (blog post, October 2014). Hyle and Gini were friends of theirs, plus members of our church. So I added them to my regular visiting list. They lived in North Muskegon, a couple miles from me.

 

Gini and Hyle, 2008...

Jim...

I should wait until his birthday on the 9th. But his favorite holiday was always the 4th of July. Jim enjoyed sitting in his front yard, watching and waving as folks drove by. Someone might stop and visit for awhile. He was very fond of cold beer, something grilled, and Mag's famous potato salad. As it got dark, he'd watch the grandkids (mildly amused) run around like nut-cases with sparklers. Or mucking up his sidewalk with snakes and snaps. The holiday highlight though was watching the fireworks from the nearby ball diamond.

 

Jim in the front yard in Rock Valley, about 1980...

The House Due East...

During our 45 plus years of wedded bliss, we've moved a lot. About 15 times. If you factor that we've been in our lake home for 21 years, that's not letting much grass grow under our feet anywhere else. Many were rentals. We've only bought 4 homes. And I've liked them all. This house was only 2 years old when we bought it. All the rest were significantly older. I always felt I was born to have a boatload of antiques (I do) and live happily in a 3-story, 1890's Victorian. (Never have) Now my nearly 65 year old knees sees the writing on the wall about that little bucket list item.

 

Not to be. Too old to covet a 3 story house, sigh...

The Hole...

I've never been the brightest string of lights on the tree. I'm not an over achiever in any endeavor. Often don't even compete or complete. Shouldn't complain. Mostly content with my fair-to-middling life. I have been very lucky and blessed. No serious illness, and have a wonderful family. So when something so foreign and alien nicked me with a good right hook, I felt 3 things all at once. 1. Wow, I sure didn't see that coming. 2. I think I just got clipped along side the head with a Louisville Slugger. 3. You coulda' knocked me over with a feather.

 

Looks soft and delicate. Ha! Knocked me for a loop...

Jean...

Jean was a member of my women's church circle for several decades before I joined. Quiet, petite and very nice. She was also a Stephen Minister for our congregation. Taking a class consisting of 50 hours of training in the art of listening. Meeting one on one with someone going through a traumatic experience about an hour a week. These ongoing sessions sometimes lasted a few weeks, sometimes years. Loss of a spouse, job, illness, divorce etc. Jean was vibrant, active and busy. I was drawn to her immediately.

 

My dear friend Jean. About 2005...

JPS...

Had I known how disillusioned and disgusted we would be about the public education system in Michigan after living here a couple years, I never would have consented to move at all. Adam was attending a small elementary, consisting of kindergarten through second grade. So before he started 3rd grade, he moved to a much larger school building. He was now in the same facility where big brother Josh had been going since we moved to Jackson.

Joshua 11, Adam 7. Around the time we moved to Michigan, 1987...

Dog Days...

Like most families, our kids had their fair share of pets over the years. For a few years, they tried to one up each other in the variety department. Iguana, hamsters, gerbils and a parakeet named Don that lived for about a decade in Joshua's room. Most with success and love. Others, not so much. We tried a gorgeous Quaker parrot. Horrible little snot. That dude could fling his poop about 10 feet across the room. And he did it on purpose. Our dog Chico was petrified of him. I was too. And a bird was my idea. I should have known better. I am the least pet person in our family.

 

Barely visible Max and Adam. Camouflage among the leaves, 1985...

Sibs...

One year ago. A whole year since I published my first blog post. It's been immensely satisfying, therapeutic, and scary. Painful much of the time. But I'm hooked. At least until the words and stories in my head empty out. Since I've been leaning to one side lately when I walk, my head is probably sitting below half a tank. I will run out of stuff to write one day. Fair warning. Yeah, I know, you're all devastated. For my first story there was no doubt what I would write about. Someone very important who I loved with all my heart. My brother Larry, killed in 1958 when he was 12 and I was 7. It seemed only fitting that after a year of evading, avoidance, sticking my head in the sand, and generally beating around the bush, I finally tell the story about my sister Mona. And me. So here goes.

 

Larry 4, Mona 7, 1950...

Evenly Spaced...

I can justify my opinion on how I feel about something. At least to myself and in my head. Usually. However, when that certain subject pops up in my mind, if this immediately brings a small frown to my face, it probably means my way of thinking on that topic is slightly off kilter. And I somehow know it, but don't want to dredge up why I feel (and still believe) the way I do. Now don't go thinking this is some deep matter of life importance. Remember who's doing the typing here. I'm still pretty firm in my belief on how I dealt with this situation when I was young. Maybe I wish I would have felt differently though.

 

Shannon 9, Adam 3 mo., Joshua 4-1/2, 1979...

Cards & Letters...

I wonder if sending someone a card has become a lost art? Has writing a letter become gauche, old-fashioned, and dated? Like me? Facebook is so smart, it lets me know on the day when one of my "friends" is celebrating a birthday. The next step is me going to their home page, write a 2 sentence (max) snippet, wishing them a great day. Time to move on. What in the world happened to writing a letter or sending a card? I used to be queen of sending cards. Not just birthday, anniversary or thank you cards. For all occasions. Better yet, a no occasion card. My favorite kind of card to get in the mail.

 

My favorite card I've ever gotten...

My Life in flannel...

I, unfortunately was born with Chronic Icy-Cold Arm Syndrome. It can literally be 90 degrees outside, yet my arms feel downright chilly. I get goose bumps, and the 3 hairs on each arm stand straight up. (I didn't come from a hairy bunch). Since I'm unable to substantiate when exactly this strange phenomenon struck me, I'm going with my birth at home, December 1950. I have found a couple of photos with me as a normal kid. And I'm baring it all. Well, I mean all of my arms. But I think those pictures have been doctored.

 

Neese 1953. Pic has been doctored. I'm wearing a hoody...

Cloth, Disposable, Depends...

I've never been ashamed of my age. Most days I'm in awe and a little panicky at how fast the years keep clipping along. But this is my life, and it's been pretty great so far. No major illness, my family is healthy. Thanks God. I've earned every one of my worry lines (ok, more like my fair share of wrinkles). It wasn't easy learning how to cook when I couldn't boil water, trying to raise kids when I was so clueless on mothering, and moving around a lot during nearly 46 years of marriage. But boy did I feel old, out of touch, even ancient, when I started thinking about simple pieces of cloth today.

 

Shannon w/ grandpa Rich. Don't think he was changing her diaper. June, 1971...

 

Ariana...

 

Let me set the stage for you. It was May, 1990. We had been living in Michigan for about 3 years. John and I had done something remarkable. Monumental actually. We had both stopped smoking, cold turkey on May 5th. It was about 2 weeks later. Neither of us had yet spoken ONE civil word to each other. But we hadn't snuck any smokes either. The insides of John's cheeks (the upper ones in his head) were gnawed and chewed up, resembling ground chuck from chomping gum with a vengeance 24-7. I'd like to say I remained cool, calm and collected, but I was a mess too. Headaches, insomnia, major bitchy-ness plaguing me big time. Joshua was 15, Adam, 10. Shannon was 19. It was the end of her freshman year at Michigan State.

 

Shannon, Joshua, John, me and Adam. About 1990...

-

Mom...

Looking over my blog posts, I realize not many have been about Mom. And most of the ones I've written about her haven't been in a very positive light. Slightly askew. Sorry Mom. I know much of your life wasn't easy. An unhappy marriage. Tragically losing your 12 year old son Larry in 1958, when you were only 32. I think these insurmountable challenges throughout your life were almost more than you could bear.

 

Mom and newborn me, early 1951...

Becca...

She just appeared one Wednesday morning at staff meeting. Curious, we gawked and waited. Preacher man, alias Two Fish for those keeping up with my blog, introduced us to Becca. She would soon be graduating from seminary with a MDiv degree. Our children's director position had been open for a couple months again. TF had canned the last two directors since I'd been working for him, maybe 3 years. Which was odd since we hardly had any children in the congregation. Guess he thought he should just keep hiring people until one miraculously started mass-producing kids from thin air for our aging church.

 

Becca, 2008...

Ann & Robert...

They were both retired when they moved back to Muskegon, 20 some years ago. Ann had an aging mother, and a spinster aunt living here, both of whom needed help. Bob and Ann had lived most of their married lives in Greenville, which is northeast of Grand Rapids. Muskegon is northwest of Grand Rapids. They were familiar with the area and had their church papers transferred back to the same church they had attended when they lived here years ago. It was like coming home. There were many renewed friendships, and this move fit them like a glove.

 

Ann and Bob, about 2000...

Red Fish, Blue Fish...

I'm really ready to move on. The hurt and anger are just a dull ache lately. And that's good. For you Johnny-come-lately's who haven't kept up with my blog, (for shame) this is the final installment (I promise) about lamenting over my 4 lousy bosses. Yes, I wrote 4. My work was a terrific mission. I can't really call it a job, it was more like a calling. Definitely not the last you'll hear about my little people. It was work that I loved, and was very good at it. Most of you know how I feel about elderly people. They have been close to my heart since I was a little girl.

 

A yearly luncheon held for the home bound and guests when I was Parish Visitor...

Bob & Nancy...

This special couple, one of many, have been part of my life for one reason or another in recent years. Many folks for years or longer than a decade. One lady, only a few minutes, some a few weeks or months. Each have made a lasting impression. God put them in my life for a specific reason. I have been immeasurably blessed by each and every one of them. Maybe one of the reasons is telling you a snippet of their story. Guess I won't know the reason until I ask Him. Hopefully that will be much, much later.

 

Bob and Nancy, hopelessly devoted. Around 2000...

Road trips...

I have been a collector of "stuff" most of my adult life. Not borderline hoarder, but getting close to needing an intervention to stop. Maybe a long term program to ease me slowly off that addicting "hunt" which usually concluded in the one piece to make my life complete. It took me many years of pretty intense collecting to realize I had acquired the inner fortitude to say quite honestly, "I need to think about this for awhile." Or the skills needed to just walk away from the deal completely. Couldn't and didn't do that 30 years ago.

 

My beautiful oak wardrobe. Only had it 20 some years...

Concert Junkies...

I chide myself for stuff I didn't do when I was younger. More often though about stuff I did and wish I hadn't. You're all familiar with many of those incidents and events because I declare ownership on all by putting them in print. Sometimes in excruciating detail. Ugh. One of my silliest regrets is that I didn't run away from home to attend some concerts as a teen. Three to be exact. How I wish I would have gone to see the Beatles, Doors, and Johnny Cash. Cash is a strange one for me since his music should not appeal to me. But it does and I love him. The first "real band" I saw in person were the Buckingham's. Lake Okoboji at the Roof Garden, about 1967. "Kind of a Drag."

 

Neese at Lake Okoboji. Roof Garden, John, Buckingham's, 1967...

Batter up...

It all started on our vacation trip to California back in 1961. Just Mom, Dad, and me, then 10 years old. Plus 2 paying passengers joining me in the backseat of our 1958 Canyon Pink, Chevy Biscayne. Sigh. A 2-door without air. Sigh. Our west coast relatives did their best to entertain and introduce us to new things. Knott's Berry Farm and Disneyland were fantastic. Swimming in the Pacific was chilly but unforgettable. They took us out for Chinese food. Mom would only eat the fortune cookies and drink the tea. For me, following her lead, it would mean another 2 decades before John literally forced me to try Chinese cuisine again. Guess what? I love it. But when the relatives took us to the newly transplanted L.A. Dodger's field for a baseball game against the Cubs, Mom discovered a new exciting pastime in her life.

 

Mom and Dad in California, 1961...

69's...

Oh the significance of the numbers 69 in my life! Some lasted several years, others were one-time events. First one. I'm from the class of 1969. You know that always used to have a recent sound to it. Lately it sounds kind of ancient. I don't feel ancient. It seems I might have slept through about 25 years. Or they zipped by in such a hurry, I didn't realize that they were already gone. Here's some memories of being part of the class of '69.

 

Holy spit-curls Batman! My kindergarten picture...

Mother-in-law...

We've all heard the horror stories. Or maybe you've lived through them. Remember the lyrics of that old song, "Mother-in-law" stating, "she was sent from down below?" Couples whose lives are in turmoil, miserable or they end up getting divorced because of a impossible, intrusive, meddling mother-in-law. Mother-in-law's who assume, demand and insist on running (and often ruining) their son's, daughter's or grandchildren's lives. Fortunately this is NOT one of those stories. When I reflect on the life of my mother-in-law Mag, it's with deep affection and gratitude.

 

Joshua, Mag and Adam at Lake Michigan's beach. 1988...

Easter Eggs...

I met Betty in 2004. A petite, soft-spoken 85 year old who was very active. She had a lovely condo, drove all over, ate out with friends, and helped care for her husband. Hubby was in an assisted living facility. She was visiting him every time I stopped. With memory issues, he had ceased to join our conversations on most days. His input consisted of, "what should we do now Betty?" She was most patient answering him a dozen times during my visit. After she left him, she went to a nursing home to see her grade school friend who had fallen off a swing 75 years before and was paralyzed. Every day.

 

Such exquisite Easter eggs. Made simply...

I'm Walking...

I day dream when I walk. I've got my Bose headphones perched on my head. (Thanks Rosemary). Making me look like Mickey Mouse. Listening to my funky, hip-hop music to keep my slow feet and slower following butt moving. I'm usually singing along. Smiling, glancing at the sky, lake, ground, or oncoming traffic. Making up my own lyrics along the way. Cause I don't have a clue what P!nk, Maroon 5, Pitbull, Flo-rida, Ke$ha, or Enrique are really saying most of the time. Ah, the joys of being severely hearing impaired. If someone is nearby, I hope my made up lyrics give them a laugh.

 

Headphones, lip balm, iPod, key. Umm yup it's a knife and some mace go walking with me...

Name Game...

There are special people in my life who are in it for the long haul. Others, through no fault of their own, flit in and out. I read a quote stating people in your life are a blessing or a lesson. Since I've been married (to the same guy) for 45 years, I would venture that John is "in it" for the duration. Except for some teenage angst years, Shannon, Joshua and Adam have always been in my corner. These four have always had my back and are true blessings.

 

Josh, Adam and Shannon, 1984. BTA (before teenage angst)....

Sunday's...

You ever have one of those epiphany moments? I experienced one this morning. The light bulb was so bright, I'm still wearing my shades. A giant piece of the "why is she so stinking weird?" puzzle has been solved. I'm here to share the good news. You remember the TV series Bonanza? It debuted in 1959 and ran until 1973. Guess when I saw my first episode? Late fall of 1969. After I got married. Ben Cartwright's oldest son Adam had already left the show! That's right. I missed the first 10 years (that's a decade) of Bonanza--people. Why you ask? Because I was in church.

 

This was the addition where we sat after RCYF...

Pair-A-Docs...

I'm so glad I grew up with the freedom of living in a small town. During the '50's and '60's I didn't have the run of the town, but close to it. My town was safe. I was safe. I lost some of those freedoms after Larry died. Mom was a little over-protective. But there were still many things I could do. I guess we were free-range kids back then. There was no cell phone app to keep track of our every move 24/7. We played outside as long as it was light out and weather permitted. Folks were pretty lenient too about the weather part, considering it was northwest Iowa. We headed home when the whistle blew.

Me strolling Cindy Schmidt, 1957...

Invisible Threads...

It's funny what you lug behind after you leave home. You don't even realize that "they're" along for the life ride, let alone maybe a bit different or strange. It may take years before you discover "they're" trying to kick their way out in the open and have some say. Some of these threads are from my home town of Rock Valley, Iowa. Back in the '50's and '60's this was a pretty small, somewhat isolated, mostly Dutch community of about 2,500 folks. Much of our population was farmers, though I was always a townie. Other threads were instilled in my home as I was growing up.

Neese sitting in front of the house I grew up in. Rock Valley, Iowa 1959..

Shuffle & Deal...

I wonder what ever happened to good old-fashioned family card games? Do families still play certain card games when they get together? We didn't play cards at my house when I was a kid. Pretty sure that wasn't on the approved activity list. But I played cards everywhere else. By the time I hit my mid teens it was one of my favorite past-times. OK, sneaking smokes was number 1, but cards were definitely number 2. Well, maybe after boys, but it was definitely number 3. Yeah, we'll let cards stand at number 3.

 

Pinochle game 1970's. Jim & Mag Van Berkum, Eleanor VB & Elly Lawrence...