Fabulous Fifties….

The Fabulous Fifties

 Do you remember the fifties? A lot of us still do and since I went to High School in the fifties, that’s where a lot of memories are.

I remember that our school mascot was a Husky Dog and we were the North Hollywood Huskies. I rode to school with my  friend whose dad was Nudie, the famous tailor to the western stars like Roy Rogers and western singers like ————-. The car was a big white Cadillac convertible with steer horns on the front, a cow horn he blew all the time, and the gear shift was a Colt 45 Pistol.

I think we were mostly embarrassed to be seen in it! Also rode to school with my best buddy Dwayne in his florescent green convertible. We were good friends most of our High School days. And anyone who says a boy and a girl cannot be friends, I will call him a liar.

The school had an 8’ chain link fence all around it and we could not leave the grounds at any time without a pass, even at lunchtime. Of course on the corner across the street from the school were two fast food places! Now in those days, girls were not allowed to wear slacks to school. We had to wear skirts or dresses. Have you ever climbed an 8’ high chain link fence in a skirt?! We actually did wear ‘poodle ‘ skirts and bobby socks. For a while it was in the fashion to also wear a dog collar around your ankle.

I worked in the Library at school. I often wished that my life had gone differently and I had been a Librarian. I love books and I love research but that was not in the cards for me. I learned a lot there, though. Read all the time.

My favorite thing to do was climb up a tree with an apple and a book and I could spend hours there. And this went on until I was over 17! Lol

The fifties were good growing-up years I think, with family values at the top of the training schedule. We were mostly polite and thoughtful with each other and common courtesy was very much in vogue. Then I graduated and went to work for the City of Los Angelesat Georgia St. Receiving Hospital.
A whole other story for later……….

Something to ponder: Ten men and a woman were hanging onto a rope dangling from a helicopter. Suddenly the rope began to fray!  They realized that unless one person sacrificed themselves and dropped off, they all would die.  The silence was deafening…

Finally the woman gave a passionate,  touching speech. “I will give up my life to save the rest of you, because women are used to giving up things for their husbands and children, giving in to men, and not receiving anything in return.  When she finished speaking, all the men started clapping.     

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Grandpa’s Farm

Saturday 16 –skipped

Sunday 17 – Grandpa’s Farm

I decided to write down all the things I could remember about my time on Grandpa’s farm while I was still able to remember. Remarkably, most of these memories are between the ages of about 18 months and 4 years old.

I spent a lot of my time on the farm with Grandpa saying, “don’t do this” and agreeing immediately that I wouldn’t and then going ahead and doing what I wanted. Thankfully I survived my mishaps with only a few scars to show! We had a border collie-type dog they called Collie on the farm, and my mother told me that at 18 months she could set me outside the screen door and that dog took care of me. I remember her quite well and do remember the time she pulled me out of the corral by the seat of the pants. I also remember very well the time I ran into the chicken yard and the gate sprung shut. Collie backed up and jumped the gate but by the time she got there, I was on the ground with a huge white leghorn rooster spurring my cheek. He also nearly put my eye out, the scar was so close. Anyhow, Collie grabbed him off of me and killed him on the spot. She had never killed a chicken before and never did again but she was protecting me. I still carry that scar even though it has moved away from my eye but I don’t like birds that are NOT in cages! Lol

Another time I recall is when one of the sows had little piglets. Grandpa told me don’t play with them as the sow is mean. Welllll, there I was, sitting in the pen by the pighouse with a lap full of little piglets and the sow came around the corner of the house. She looked like a locomotive and sounded like it, too. I jumped to my feet, sending piglets flying all over and ran for the fence. We had a fence made of wood placed crosswise and I hit the lower gap between the fence and the ground and slid through. That sow hit the fence and it creaked all over but it held. I was pretty muddy and pretty scared and Collie was nowhere in site. I think she minded Grandpa better than I did.

Grandpa had cherry trees in the orchard and I frequently climbed as high as I could and ate cherries. I loved to climb trees. Anyhow, my Aunt Tena would come out and say, “If you come down out of the cherry tree, I will make you a cherry pie.” Good way to get me right out of the tree!

I already told you about feeding the little lambs. One thing I still feel guilty about is the kittens in the barn. Grandpa said not to play with them as they were too little and until their eyes opened we should leave them alone. Unfortunately I again misbehaved and handled all of them and they all died. I was devastated. How can a 4-year old have a conscience? I don’t know, but I still remember it.

Grandpa also had two while mules he plowed with, Jenny and Jack. You could ride Jack but had to leave Jenny alone because she was mean.

We had an outhouse, a two-holer, with a lower seat for little ones.  We had a barn, corrals and a corn-crib. There were rats in the corn crib so the cats had a ball.

We also had cows Grandpa milked and I sat on the floor and watched him milk and then spray milk in the mouths of several cats who sat on the floor, too! I never heard Grandpa say bad words until one day one of the cows hit him in the face with her tail and it had manure on it! He did let loose then!

Well that’s all for today. Maybe more will come back to me soon.

Cowboy Wisdom for today: There are two theories for arguing with a woman: neither one works!

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This has been Rodeo Week here in our town. The largest three-day-rodeo is this weekend. This is our 90th rodeo and some of the biggest names show up to ride and perform for us. Joe Baumgartner, Bullfighter, makes his home here and performs every year. The history of the rodeo bullfighters is a long and distinguished one.

When they started introducing the aggressive Brahman bulls and crossbreds, the job became much more than clowning and thus the term bullfighter began to be used. The clowns enter the arena on foot, usually in teams of two or three. Sometimes they have a barrel man, who uses a large padded barrel he can jump in and out of easily. They work to distract the bull and thus protect the riders and each other. If a rider is injured, their task becomes even more important as they put themselves between the bull and the rider. When a rider has been hung up on the bull, they then face the extremely dangerous task of freeing the rider, with one going to the head and the other trying to release the rider’s hand from the rigging. Many a good cowboy has been rescued by a good bullfighter!

This is a picture of Joe Baumgartner and Ryan Heisler distracting the bull.

We don’t make it to the Rodeo anymore and I am sorry we can’t as it has been a long tradition. We have a great parade and the Budweiser Clydesdales are to be here this year, too. The whole town turns out and supports all the events going on this week: Cowboy Poetry, Kid’s Stick Horse Competition, the big Rodeo Dance on Saturday night and even street dances.

Sure brings back memories of the “old days” for sure. What a wonderful celebration!

Here’s some more good old cowboy wisdom: If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around.

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Random thoughts

Drove the 50 miles to the chiropractor today. Gas was $4.09 a gallon. We get pretty good mileage on our old Chevy Lumina but it is getting harder and harder to plan when and where we can travel. Fortunately, we can hit Wal-Mart and Safeway as well. I love going to my chiropractor though, she always fixes me up and she has a great little guy to visit, too. Her little boy is about 9 months old now and starting to stand on his own. I really think he will be walking very shortly and not bother to crawl first! He is the center of attention in the office and doesn’t he know it! He is such a delightful little character, you forget you are hurting! 

We did stop at Wal-Mart and that is such an “enriching” experience to shop there. I always see the most remarkable people there. Again, wondering if these people have mirrors! Always good for some jaw-dropping views. And before you ask, yes I have a mirror and do I try to look human when we go. 

During the drive, we saw the fields blooming with wildflowers, especially the poppies and it reminded me of the time when we came toCalifornia. Daddy stopped and picked an armload of poppies for Momma. They were so beautiful and of course, they did not realize that it was against the law to pick them. We stopped at a gas station and they were so embarrassed when the attendant told them it was illegal. We had some cokes and were sitting in the car and Daddy got after us kids for jumping around. But we were sitting still. It was our first California earthquake! Fortunately, I have never experienced the “big” one that is supposed to be coming and hope I don’t live long enough to.

 Got a cute email today about seniors I would like to share:

                  I know I am a senior citizen because I’m the life of the party…… even if it lasts until 8 p.m. 

                  I’m very good at opening childproof caps…. with a hammer. 

                  I’m awake many hours before my body allows me to get up.

                  I’m smiling all the time because I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.
                  I’m sure everything I can’t find is in a safe secure place, somewhere.
                  I’m wrinkled, saggy, lumpy, and that’s just my left leg.

God Bless all us senior citizens because we do understand the meaning of patriotism, and remember those who have fought and died for our country. Just look at the Seniors with tears in their eyes and pride in their hearts as they stand at attention with their hand over their hearts when our flag passes by!

Until next time………………

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Nothing to say?

Looking at a plain white sheet of paper and nothing to say. Is this what they call writer’s block?  And I cannot imagine me ever having nothing to say……….

So, was reading Time.com today on the internet and looking at pictures of the Civil War, or as they call it in the South, The War of Northern Aggression.

It has been 150 years since the War but it is not forgotten. I remember my Momma (from Illinois) telling my Daddy (from Mississippi), “My grandpappy chased your grandpappy ‘round the cornfield with a cornstalk, so don’t give me any lip!”

There were some photographs also and one was of a boy of 12.  What a horrifying thought but not unheard of. Which brings up the question of WHY do we send our brightest and best young men and women to fight in a war in a country that does not want them there? I pray every day that our young men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan come home. My best friend’s two granddaughters are in the service and one of them is in Kuwait. Young girls! Although Grandmother does have contact with her via Skype and thus can see and talk to her, she should not be there! She should be here at home on American soil, not in the desert. They all should. Ok I am ranting.

On a lighter note, who do you think will win Dancing With the Stars? I really admire Kirsti Alley for being in the competition. Show those younger girls a thing or two! Go Kirsti!

Do you have Call Waiting on your phone? Excuse me, but I think that is probably one of the rudest inventions we ever had. Talking to someone on the phone, only to have them say “wait a minute I have another call and then come back and say I have to take this it is important”. What am I, chopped liver? How insulting can you get? Just another indication of the decline of courtesy and thoughtfulness and manners. We ask why their parents did not teach them better and then realize because their parents did not teach them manners! When did we lose this basic approach to living?

Someone holds the door open for me, I say thank you. I am ahead of someone, I hold the door open. Simple courtesy. Also this is where “random acts of kindness” come in, too. How nice to be on the receiving end of a random act of kindness and how good it feels inside to be on the giving end of one!

Ouote for the day: Be yourself. Everybody else is already taken…..Unknown

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Long and long ago


As I have indicated before, I have been researching my Family Genealogy, hoping to be related to a Royal Family or a President or at least some Celebrity. So far this has not happened but I have traced my roots back to England and Ireland, Scotland, Germany and Switzerland. (I always did want to learn to yodel). I have found Quakers and Protestant Ministers. My folks did not come over on the Mayflower but did come close afterward on ships bearing them to the new land. I cannot but be in awe of the hardships these brave pioneers faced and am so proud to be a descendant of their line. I have veterans of the Revolutionary War, The War of 1812 and the Civil War, on both sides!  In researching the history of these events, it is again brought sharply into focus the enormous sacrifices and strength of these forebears of mine. It makes me feel like a very small piece in the Universe’s Great Plan.

 I have a lot of Irish ancestors and have been looking at Irish history. This is a fascinating type of research. Imagine what your ancestor was doing in 1690 in Ireland? Was he lounging idle in his elegant bedrooms in the castle, sitting at the head table or serving at it? Working in the kitchens, or fields or riding off to War? Wouldn’t it be marvelous if you could have a small peek at what he/she was doing? 

We were coming home from the grocery store today and saw a pasture full of little lambs with their mommas and a large llama to guard them! What a lovely sight. Made me remember sitting on the lawn at my grandpa’s feeding milk to the little baby lambs. Grandpa took an old beer bottle, cut off the finger of a pair of rubber gloves and made a nipple. Those little lambs really hung on to that. I remember looking up at them as I was so small, probably about 4 years old. Anyhow, I also remember looking up at the fence and seeing all their little tails hanging there. I never knew why grandpa cut off their tails but there they were! 

Speaking about the llama guarding the sheep, I learned quite a bit about llamas at the last fair we had. The lady told me that llamas do not consider themselves to be prey, so they do not run, they either attack or defend. Imagine old mister coyote sneaking up on the herd to snatch a baby and instead of everybody running away, he finds himself getting the stuffing stomped out of him. Bet he would be one surprised coyote. Go, llama!   My son has five llamas and I guess they are rescue animals. They do not have anything for them to guard and he is gone so much that they just kind of stand around looking elegant. I have not seen them yet but do look forward to meeting them. I think they rescued them from some relative.

I will leave you with the latest ‘elder humor’ I found.

 Elder Wisdom: WARNING! NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

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Today is Sunday and next week will be Holy Week, the week before Easter. Most of us are thinking about Easter Dinner and children searching for brightly colored eggs, and this is a lovely way to spend the day. It is also, like Christmas a very holy Christian day, and we, as Christians, need to remember that. Sometimes it is easy to forget we are Christians. I have a lot of trouble being rather judgmental (you have not noticed?) and that is not the least of my faults. It is a difficult thing to try to be a good Christian woman. I am afraid I will live my entire life without reaching that ideal goal but Lord knows I have tried and that is all a person can do. 

Speaking of colored Easter eggs reminded me of a story about my son. Whenever I boiled eggs, I always made an “X” on them so I could tell the different between a boiled and an un-boiled egg in case they got mixed up. One day, when he was about 4 or 5, he came to me and very happily said, “I helped you Mommy”. Oh, I replied, “How did you do that?” He led me to the refrigerator and proudly showed me ALL the eggs marked with a large X! What can you say? God love ‘em! 

Skip forward a day and it is Monday, a day that both Garfield and I look forward to with great distaste. Why do Mondays have such a bad rap? Well, it is the day you have to go back to work if you are fortunate enough to have a job in this economy to go back to. And if you are fortunate enough to have a job to go back to, why would you hate Monday? That makes no sense. The name of Monday is derived from Old English Mōnandæg and Middle English Monenday, which means “moon day”. I looked Monday up on Wiki on the Internet and did you know there are sixteen different types of Mondays! Horrors!  

Enough of Monday! Well, one more thing, quote on a coffee cup: Of all the days I hate most, Monday is my favorite.

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