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...

Ticked or Tickled...

A couple of days ago, I mentioned to John that I was working on story # 60 for my blog. Shaking his head in total amazement and wonder he inquired, "what on earth can you still find to write about?" Ugh. Thanks Hon. While number 50 wasn't a big deal to me, I feel differently about number 60. Huh. So all 4 of you lucky readers get a sneak peek into what makes me tick-and what ticks me off. In no particular order and without further ado:

 

Two favorites. Potato salad in a Blue Delft bowl...

Life After Larry...

In 1958 my brother Larry was killed. I was 7. My sister Mona got married a couple years later. So basically from then on I was like an only child. I was old enough to stay home after school by myself until Mom and Dad got off work. By 5:30 we were sitting down to a big supper. In the span of 2 short years, our once family of 5 was suddenly down to a sad, measly 3.

 

California trip to visit Dad's sis and Mom's brother in 1961. Disney and Knott's inc...

 

Opposites...

So I've been thinking about this wonderful institution of marriage. Actually I was cleaning up the kitchen after supper. I was sliding bread crumbs off the cutting board into the garbage. We had homemade vegetable beef barley soup with a slice of crusty bread. On the counter sat this tub of Olivio. I guess it's a buttery tasting concoction made from olive oil. John's eaten it for a long time. This after years of eating "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." Ugh. I believe it. Right next to the Olivio sat my little Rubermaid container. Cuddling 2 sticks of buttery stuff. Called butter.

 

Butter versus Olivio. No contest says me, the butter lover...