Margaret's Random Thoughts

Next home: "the Rib," 1976-77.

2011-01-02T21:24:00.000-08:00

The significance of the first photo on this page, a photo of a snowball bush, will be explained in the last paragraph of this blog entry.

The second photo on this page shows the front porch of the house where I lived my sophomore year at KU: 312 W. 16th St in Lawrence, KS. I haven't been able to find a photo of the whole house while it was yellow, the color it was when I lived there, so this will do for now. I also haven't been able to find a photo of myself and the house.

The Rib: Home for "Girls"

The house was called "The Rib" because it was intended as a house for females when "the Mustard Seed," a house kitty-corner behind it, was inhabited by males. (As we read in Genesis, woman was made by God taking a rib from the first man and crafting it into a complementary "helpmate" for him.)

I Was "Just 19" if You Know What I Mean

I am not aware of any similar photo of myself and this house, although I would love to have one if one ever turns up. Although the young lady in this photo (Pam, who is now a Facebook friend of mine) did not live there when I did, the photo is pretty contemporary with the time I was there -- probably within a few months or so of the time frame I was there, which was fall of 1976-spring of 1977. I no doubt sometimes sat on those same steps in a similar manner. I was 19 years old when I moved in.

Why "the Rib"?

I had several reasons for deciding to live there that school year. First of all, I had been an active participant in the Mustard Seed fellowship that had its physical origins in the nearby house at 1538 Tennessee Street. I believe the Mustard Seed as a loosely organized charismatic Christian fellowship group had its beginnings in Lawrence in 1973. I will double check that year and change it here if necessary. There is an entire book that lays out many of the early events in that group, entitled History of the Mustard Seed by Nick Willems, published a couple of years ago. I do not intend to go into all of that in detail here, but rather, focus on my experience in this house. Anyway, I had been involved in the Mustard Seed during my freshman year at KU, while living in Corbin Hall.

Leadership at "the Rib"

The "Rib" house was "headed" by a young couple from the Mustard Seed named Pieter and Alice Willems. I believe they had just been married a couple of years or less, not sure about that. I assume they were allowed to live there rent free in exchange for keeping order for those of us girls who lived there. Pieter was a graduate student at KU majoring in counseling psychology. (Today, he is the pastor of the now-pretty-large Mustard Seed Church -- located quite a bit west of the KU area -- the present-day incarnation of the original house-based group. Alice became pregnant during the year that I lived there. I believe that Pieter and Alice went on to have about 5 kids.) I guess Pieter and Alice didn't have that much privacy for a young married couple, living in a house of a bunch of students and such. But they were gracious and kind people to be around. I remember enjoying their presence. I think we may have had short weekly meetings during which we divvied up housekeeping chores, although I don't recall for sure.

Mealtime

We ate our evening meals over at the "the Seed," as we called the Tennessee Street house, along with the folks who lived there (all males plus another married couple.) All of us took turns signing up for cooking or after-dinner clean-up duties. With quite a few people in the two houses, we only needed to do one of those duties about once a week. Weekends, breakfast and lunch were "on our own," and I think we all kept our own food for those times in separate areas of the refrigerator, although to be honest, I don't remember that aspect in detail.

Ownership

Both houses had the same owner, Steve Churchill, who together with Bob Mendelsohn had started the Mustard Seed in '73 if that's when it was. (Today, Bob is leader of Jews for Jesus in Australia, and Steve has been a successful businessman for many years.) I believe both had moved out by the fall of 1976, and that the Mustard Seed house was headed by a couple named Dave and Darlene, who had a similar role for that house as Pieter and Alice at our house.

As I understand, Steve and Bob had started out in partnership through their association in the Agape fellowship in Kansas City, where I had been a participant since about 1972, but I did not know them personally in Kansas City.

The Role of the Mustard Seed in Our Lives at "the Rib"

I don't believe we had organized prayer groups at either house while I was living at the Rib (I could be wrong there), but I believe we all "went to the Mustard Seed" most Sunday evenings, which by then was quite a growing and evolving organized quasi church-like group, meeting in a nearby school gymnasium about 2 long blocks south of "the Rib." Leadership in the Mustard Seed fellowship was in the process of transition from Bob to the Willems family during that period of time. The houses had become more a place for a bunch of us to live than a hub of activity like Bible studies, as had originally been the case. At least that's what I recall. Memories do get fuzzy over the years, so I could be wrong on some of these details!

Background & Connections

The reason I got clued in on the Mustard Seed before even arriving at KU was that a number of my friends at my high school (Shawnee Mission South in nearby Overland Park) who were a year older than I was, had been involved. One of them, Chris Haas, lived in the Mustard Seed house the year before I lived in the Rib. (He went on to become a history professor specializing in ancient history focusing on the spread of Christianity throughout Europe.) These friends' welcome provided a natural segue from Agape to the Mustard Seed by way of the connection with them. I then of course went on to make many new friends in the Mustard Seed.

Drawing Cards

Anyway, I moved into "the Rib" after spending a summer in Mexico through KU's summer abroad program. I think monthly rent at the Rib was quite inexpensive -- something like $85 a month, though not sure about that, since dinners were included and that sounds kind of low. Whatever it was, I know that economical living had been one of the drawing cards for me (as opposed to living in a dorm again), since my father sponsored my tuition and living costs at KU completely and we did not rely on student loans at all -- and I was a very full-time student, working few hours or none at all. In fact, I do not remember working that school year, but I always carried a heavy academic load -- so much so that I graduated at the end of three years plus one summer "with distinction" (one notch down from "with honors.") A quiet environment for studying was very important to me, and I think the Rib was usually pretty quiet. Living with Christians who did not drink or party was a priority for me for a number of reasons.

Family Ties

The Rib was also attractive to me because it was located just a block and a half from my grandparents' house. They had moved to Lawrence during the summer of 1975, and during all my years at KU, I spent lots of time with them, which was generally relaxing and enjoyable time together. They did not want me to "help" them, which I assumed I would do since they were 76 and 84 years old the year I was at the Rib. Rather, they seemed to want to "take care of me" as if I were a child. I sometimes even spent Saturday night at their house, went to their church with them and ate Sunday meals with them in a restaurant or at their house, and they insisted that I be a guest, not helping much with cooking or cleaning up, even. But they seemed to love my company, and I enjoyed the homelike familiarity. I was always welcome at their home and in their lives. They also hosted lots of family events at their house like birthdays, Easter dinners, graduations and pre-wedding gatherings for my cousins, aunts and uncles, siblings, our parents and myself. (My parents lived about an hour away, so my mother came to town fairly often to visit my grandparents, too -- another drawing card for living at the Rib.)

All in All a Winner of a Choice

So living at the Rib allowed me to continue friendships with Mustard Seed people, stay connected with family by living within walking distance of my grandparents' house -- which was a gathering place for my extended family, be able to walk to campus for my KU life and also live economically in an informal setting in a historic home, which was my favorite kind of house to be in (and still is; the house that I own today was built in 1924. The Rib house was probably built in the very early 1900s.)

Roomies

I believe that the other girls in the house were Kathy the music major and pianist, another Kathy who I think was working somewhere during that year; don't recall that she was a student, but I'm not sure about that (I understand that she later did, in fact, go on to get a masters degree in English at KU, some years later); Rocky, my roommate who was very young, from Tonganoxie and also not in school; and Pat, who had her own bedroom downstairs and was a cello student at KU intending to major in music therapy. We shared a common background of being from Oklahoma, among other things.

Students and Otherwise

I was originally disappointed when I moved in to discover that not all residents of the Rib were KU students, as I really wanted to live with students who would have similar schedules and priorities. But we all got along OK, as I recall. Rocky and I shared a bunk bed! I think she worked evenings, which made it possible for me to use the room for studying. I brought two of my own pieces of furniture from Overland Park: my dresser and a wooden desk belonging to my mother. If for any reason I needed a quiet place to study and the house wasn't quiet for some reason, I could use the KU library nearby or my grandparents' house, where I think I did take refuge a few times for study purposes.

Ambiance

I remember lots of hours in warm weather (which would have been the first and last couple of months of the school year) hanging out with one of the Kathys or Pat or anyone else on the screen porch and enjoying some leisurely porch time. I recall that the house was full of garage sale type furniture. At the end of the school year, we heard that the house was gong to be sold and that some clutter around here and there needed to be removed. So Pat and I, with Pieter's permission, helped ourselves to a few items including some china dishes and a big old manual typewriter (Pat took that). That was kind of fun.

A Funny Old Car on Loan

I also remember once when the Kathy who was not a student was lent a car to use by someone in the Mustard Seed that was about a 1949 or so car! It had buttons to push to change gears! I did not have a car, as she didn't, and for whatever reasons (which I don't recall now), I was allowed to borrow it a few times to get places, and found it a real hoot to drive.

Huey the Cat

Another standout memory was when my brother, who lived a few blocks away, had a cat that he needed to get rid of in a hurry because of severe allergies. The cat had been the kitten of my sister's Persian cat in Overland Park. He had very thick long, white hair and his name was Huey. We had been told "no pets" in the Rib, but I asked Pieter if I could please keep Huey in the basement at the Rib for a short time. He said OK. Pat was a little jealous because she had been told she could not bring her Siamese cat to live with her in the Rib, but she, like others at the Rib, were soon won over by Huey, who had a very friendly, likable personality. (I, on the other hand, was jealous that she had her own room, with no roommate . . . )

Although he supposedly lived in the basement, I was allowed to take Huey to my room (which I shared with Rocky) for visits with the door closed, which I did often. When warm springtime arrived, we started letting him outside for short periods of time, and he always hung out around the back door of the house, so we thought it was safe. I don't recall whether he was "fixed," but sooner or later the inevitable happened, and Huey was killed in traffic on Tennessee Street. It was of course short-sighted of me to allow him to go outside so close to that street.

Pat Was a Kind Friend the Night Huey Died

Anyway, Pat was very kind and consoling the night that I was grieving Huey's death. I don't remember whether his body was returned to me by the police or just his collar with my name, address and phone number on it. (If his body was returned to me, then Pat and I must have buried him somewhere, but I honestly don't remember that part for sure.) In any case, Pat and I had a nice conversation that I clearly remember in which I told her liked to imagine that the matter of Huey's body would be recycled into some beautiful feature of nature, and we came up with the idea that he might be reincarnated as a "snowball bush."

At the end of the school year, Pat and I moved out, rented a house at 2134 Massachusetts, and recruited two other Mustard Seed girls to live there with us.

I will write about life at that house in another blog entry!

Photo credits:

(1) Snowball bush photo taken from the Internet from this source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jim-ar/4564974989/

(2) Photo of Pam in front of "the Rib" provided by Bob Mendelsohn.

Summer Abroad: Guadalajara

2010-10-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

The summer between my freshman year and sophomore year at KU, I did a "summer abroad" experience in Guadalajara, Mexico, organized and sponsored by the Spanish department at the university. As I recall, I paid for it myself! Amazing that it was that affordable. The finances came from some weekend and Christmas vacation waitressing at a Chinese restaurant, and also from working in the cafeteria dormitory at Corbin several mornings a week, serving breakfast. I thought that was an easy way to make money; all I lost out on was a little snoozing late in the mornings. I was excited by all the tips I made at the Chinese restaurant (back in Overland Park) during every major break during the year. Didn't realize til many years later that I was supposed to declare those tips . . .oops . . . um . . never mind. OK.

Anyway, I was able to pay for tuition, bus transportation and room and board in Guadalajara with money saved all year. (My father kindly supported me at KU so I did not have to worry about the basics during the year). OK, well, to get to Guadalajara, I took a Greyhound bus to the border of Mexico, where I was met by my Mexican beau. He took me to the home of some cousins to stay for a week or so before going on to Guadalajara. He accompanied me on my bus ride down there, which was an overnight bus from Monterrey.

First Home in Guadalajara: Room and Board
I arrived at the home of some older ladies who took in room & board students. I shared a room with an American girl (KU student whom I hadn't known before) at this house for one month. It was pleasant enough. I remember the big garden out one of their windows. They had created a cascading garden on a rocky wall . . and that was the view from their living room. I learned to take the bus to the campus where my KU classes were. Went to a church led by missionaries on Sunday evenings. Went to Tlaquepaque and the main plaza of Guadalajara pretty often . . . sometimes alone and sometimes with other KU students. My very favorite place that I visited was Lake Chapala. I still fantasize about living there in my old age. Who knows, could happen.

Second Home: Ofelia's House
Meanwhile, at the church I was going to, I made friends with a Mexican young lady named Ofelia. She invited me to live in her house. At the end of the month, my roommate was going to move out, and the old ladies I was living with were going to raise the rent on me, being just one person. Instead, I moved to Ofelia's house for the second month. I think I must have photos of some of these things, but not very many. I don't think I took pictures of the houses that I lived in, for some strange reason. To illustrate this blog entry, I will have to borrow some photo of Guadalajara from the Internet.

When Summer Was Over
Will go find such a photo now! And hope to expand on this entry pretty soon. At the end of the summer, my Mexican beau once again came to escort me back to Monterrey, where I was met by my parents who drove down with my little sister for a brief vacation! They all visited Galeana, the little mountain village that he was from, and where the mission was that received some financial support from my parents' church in Kansas City. After that, they and I returned home by a long route: through Chihuahua (where we saw the home of Pancho Villa's widow -- and she was there! Still alive!) and New Mexico (where we visited an aunt of mine -- sister of my father.) Then home. And pretty soon, it would be time to go back to KU, where I was planning to live in the "Rib." In my next entry, I will explain what the Rib was.

(I borrowed that photo from somewhere on the Internet. Here is the URL: http://www.destination360.com/north-america/mexico/images/s/mexico-guadalajara-s.jpg. I did see this cathedral in Guadalajara many times that summer.)

Leaving Home: My First Home Away From Home (#4)

2010-07-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

I spent a couple of summers in Mexico before actually leaving home, but I will save description of the Mexico trips for another blog.

At the Dorm

This one will be about my first home away from home after graduating from high school (in Overland Park, a southwestern suburb of the Greater Kansas City area). I think my high school graduating class had 700+ students in it. Lots of us headed over to Lawrence, Kansas, to the University of Kansas, just less than an hour drive away. A new piece of highway was completed sometime in my early days at KU, making it a very easy drive.

Why KU?

I had considered going to the University of Texas at Austin because of their great Spanish department, which was going to be my major, but there was no source that I knew of the extra money I would need beyond the cost of going to KU, which was what my father said he could and would sponsor. In-state tuition at KU in those days was about $250/semester or less. Housing in the most affordable dormitory, double occupancy, was about $1300 for the year if I remember correctly. Can that be true? Or was that per semester? It was pretty cheap, anyway!

Corbin and GSP, Freshman Girls' Dorms Side by Side

OK, so, the dorm that I stayed in was called Corbin, located several blocks north of the KU campus. It was part of a 2-dorm complex called GSP-Corbin, and was all girls. I had wanted to stay at Hashinger, a coed dorm where various of my cousins had stayed, but we sent in the dorm application too late, and I didnt get in. When I learned that various of my Christian friends from my high school were going to be in Corbin, I was less disappointed about that. But I WAS disappointed that I ended up being the odd girl out when it came to matching up with roommates, so I was going to take potluck with roommate selection. My roommate ended up being a spunky and interesting girl from Canada, named Helen. We were different in lots of ways, but got along well. Right away, she proposed coordinating our bedspreads, so we went shopping at JCPenney and got matching ones, complete with pillow shams. I still have mine! I also bought a piece of carpet to match the color scheme, which was various shades of blue.

Room Specifics

Anyway, Corbin Hall was a rather historic building, from what I understood . . . being one of the oldest dorms west of the Mississippi or something like that. Our room was basic, but had a great benefit compared to other dorms that I have seen: it had a little closet room with just a sink in it. Though not as convenient as having a toilet and/or shower there, this meant that in the mornings, we could brush our teeth, fix our hair or whatever, without disturbing each other too much. I did end up working some breakfast shifts in the dorm cafeteria, so this was beneficial.

Like a Hotel or Mansion

Otherwise, it was like a huge hotel or a huge house with many rooms. Did not look too institutional; had a more homey feeling than some dorms, which are more like office buildings or school buildings. I think there was a fireplace in a lobby on the ground floor, if I recall, and a very nice media room with stereos and such, where a person could go listen to music or record music from records to cassette tapes. I made lots of those cassette tapes for myself in preparation for my summer abroad in Mexico the following summer. There was a recreational area in the basement with a ping pong table and I'm not sure what else.

I will write more about Corbin as my memory gets jogged. For now, this is the basic run-down on my first home away from home.

Next home (#3): suburban Kansas City Colonial style

2009-07-11T19:47:00.000-07:00

Our family was blindsided back in 1969 by a sudden need to uproot from our beloved Oklahoma City home and move to the Kansas City area because of a job change for my father.

Tough Times for Dear Old Dad

Thinking back, I take pity on him in my mind as he must have been terribly burdened by (1) learning that his company was moving to Texas . . . where he did not want to go; (2) the job hunt that landed him the Kansas City job; (3) taking care of all that needed tending with regard to both his job and the household in both places . . . the place we were leaving and the place we went to.

Parents With Their Hands Full!

Of course, my parents had a one-income, two parent marriage which meant that my mother could take care of many details regarding the family and houses in both places . . . but she also had a toddler. I honestly don't know how they did it all. They were in their mid 40s; there were four of us kids to contend with, each of us with very different losses in the old place and challenges in the new place.

Looked at 20+ Houses Til They Found "the One"

Sigh. Anyway. Move we did . . . and I think my parents said they looked at more than 20 houses in one day. "Looked at" usually meant going inside. I don't know how many days they had for the house search. I do know that they ended up with a two-story red brick house in a large suburb of Kansas City which, housewise, was an amazing find.

Four (later five) BR, four baths, corner lot, swimming pool

Four bedrooms. Four bathrooms. SWIMMING POOL. Large corner lot . . . again! (We have a thing in this family for corner lots!). Large basement with lots of potential for creative uses . . . and indeed, in our first few months there, my father worked hard to build a bedroom for my oldest brother down there. It was a functional and cozy room . . . . but had no window. I'm not sure why he didn't build the room on a wall with a window. Anyway, the rest of us found it to be a novelty, and often used it in later years for such things as watching movies (since it could get totally dark). I don't remember feeling that the air was stifling or stale or anything like that.

Blue Carpet!

OK, I'm getting off topic. The house was full of wall-to-wall blue carpet, which we liked! Unfortunately, it was beginning to age, so over the next ten years or so, one by one, that carpet was ripped up and either replaced or the floors left bare. Still, it made for a nice feeling house to move into when we first arrived.

A Room For Everyone

With the new bedroom in the basement for my brother, there were now essentially five bedrooms, so we each had our own. (In those first few months, my 2-year-old sister shared my room, using the trundle bed, which I thought was cute . . . but I also thought it was cute when she moved into her own room, which had a pink patterned wallpaper.)

Ground Floor

On the ground floor, there was a large kitchen with a dining area; a dining room with big windows on two walls; two bathrooms, neither of which had a bath or shower, but each of which had a designated function; a living room which was OK but had nothing special about it, a family room with a fireplace and a sliding glass door opening to the swimming pool area (and a door to the garage), and a front entrance hall with a nice light. My mother put a spring rod floor to ceiling thing by the door for us to hang our coats on, which was a good idea.

Bathrooms With Purposes

Anyway, back to the downstairs bathrooms without baths . . . we were told that one was to be the "guest powder room," and the other the "pool bathroom" since it was right by a back door which led out to the pool.

In the guest powder room, care was taken to display interesting hand towels, novelty hand soaps and the like. We were discouraged from using it on a daily basis if we could help it. (That made it enticing to use, I might add.) The pool bathroom was tiny, but had a linoleum floor and a window which looked out to the swimming pool. My mother hoped to contain any drippage of swimming pool water solely to that room, so that chlorine wouldn't drip around the rest of the house.

Swimming Pool Was Fun For Us, Headache For Father

The swimming pool provided great fun for us . . . and many headaches for my poor father. He worked hard to keep the water Ph and chlorine just right . . . . and to keep the pool in a state of good repair, without a large budget to pay some swimming pool upkeep company to do that.

This meant that when the pool liner got a rip in it, he repaired it himself. This happened more than once and turned out to be a risky endeavor, since he rented a SCUBA outfit to go underwater and do the repair. I don't think he had ever done SCUBA diving before . . . and just thinking of how dangerous this could have been still gives me the creeps even though he survived it. We won't talk about how he broke a rib, though . . . !!!

Plenty of Room, But Still Missing Oklahoma City

Anyway . . . . the house was big and spacious. The main problem about living there at first was that we teenagers were very much out of our element. We belonged back in our Oklahoma City world . . . and it took us a long time to adjust . . . if, indeed, we ever did.

Baby of the Family Grew Up There

Our younger sister, however, got to spend all her school years there, from preschool through high school graduation. She ended up moving to one of my brother's rooms after he left home. I hadn't realized that this means she actually lived in three out of the four upstairs bedrooms at one time or another!

More Bathrooms With Specific Purposes

Oh, I forgot to mention that the upstairs had two bathrooms, too. The one with a bath and shower had two sinks with a long counter between the two, and a long mirror. The master bedroom had its own bathroom, but that one had just a shower in it.

Flying From the Nest

It was a lovely house with lots to offer . . . . . but one by one, we kids moved away as soon as we could. I think my parents enjoyed themselves there most when we had all left, in fact! Because they no longer had to deal with our teenage stuff.

Some Fun Times

Anyway, when I think of that house, just from the point of view of the house itself, I remember the large corner lot with lots of flowering bushes (which I think my father planted and nurtured); the stairs with their wrought-iron railing going halfway up; the swimming pool where we frolicked with friends and visiting relatives; the basement bedroom where I held 8-mm movie showings for my siblings and friends; and the cul-de-sac street that it was on, which offered opportunities for adventures for us kids in a number of ways.

Wallpaper Was Pretty But Not "With It"

I'll add a paragraph here about my own bedroom, since it holds some memories in my mind! When we arrived, it had lovely, fancy, floral wallpaper. I don't know WHY I wanted that wallpaper removed before too long . . within a year or two. I guess because I wanted to be able to put posters on the wall .. . and with wallpaper, that was not a great idea.

A Room of My Own

Anyway, I started out sharing the room with my almost-3-year-old sister, until the basement bedroom was completed, allowing my older brother to move downstairs so my sister could move into his room. Our time sharing a room (she and I) was short enough that I thought it was a cute novelty, not a nuisance. I was 12. We had already been sharing a room back in Oklahoma City for about a year so I did not see it as a big deal. But a few months later, she moved out and the trundle bed was put back underneath.

Teenage Stuff

Shortly thereafter I started wanting to do teenagey things with my room like hanging a dramatic orange flower lamp above my bed (loved that lamp!), and put colorful posters and big flower decorations around.

Parakeet

My brother David bought me a parakeet for $1 at K-Mart, and I had a lot of fun taming and playing with that bird, whom I named "Mr. Guy" until we determined that it was a female, at which time we changed the name to "Mrs. Guy."

Cork Wall

I told my mother I wanted to cover one whole wall with cork . . . and she immediately liked that idea and helped me do it. It was a tough and messy job to remove the wallpaper and then glue cork panels all over the wall, but we did an OK job! I realized later that she was keen on the idea because it was the wall between my room and my parents' room . . . and I think my mother was often worried about me hearing voices, etc., coming from their room . . .which I never did . . . (and maybe music of mine going to their room?) -- but the cork-covered wall did insulate our rooms from each other.

Homemade Thingy Hanging From Ceiling

During my first year in that room, I got an idea from a magazine or something to make a "bitetrahedrin" (need to check the spelling) which was a 20-triangle-sided ball so to speak made out of colorful circles cut from magazines and glued together. I was very proud of that and loved having it hanging in my room for many years.

Long, Long Shelf For Dolls (Thank You, Daddy!)

I also wanted to display my dolls high near the ceiling . . .and for that purpose, my father put up a shelf that consisted of brackets and a VERY LONG piece of lumber, as long as the room itself, which was quite spacious! Maybe 15 feet long or so??? I have no idea how he got such a long piece of lumber home but I do know it was all in one piece.

My Room Was a Sewing Room

Another memory of that room was of my mother's sewing machine, which she allowed me to keep in there. At the age of 17, I made plans to go to Mexico for the summer to a mission where girls were required to wear long dresses or skirts -- below the knee or longer. Skirts near or slightly below knee length were not fashionable at all in those days (the 70s) so I made all floor length dresses and skirts! I made about 4 or 5 of them on the sewing machine. Some were favorites of mine for several years. Those were the glory days of my sewing life! Once I went to college, I never thought I had time, and never did much again.

Family Memories at Home

So all in all, I have to say that the room holds memories for me of connections with my parents, my sister and my older brother who gave me the parakeet! I always felt fond gratitude to each one who had given me something to make the room special (father -- shelves; mother -- cork wall and sewing machine; brother -- parakeet; sister -- some fun when we first moved there.) I have no memories of my other brother in connection with that bedroom. I think he rarely if ever came in. I would sometimes go to his room down the hall to admire his purple walls, weird posters and other unique stuff there. I do have memories of being in that bedroom once each with 3 or 4 different beloved males in my life later on . . . just for brief moments with each one, but I do remember those moments clearly! A whole 'nother story with each one -- but part of the history of that room in my life.

Visitors From Out of Town

Oh, just thought of two more things to tell! Or three! (1) My first years there, I had friends from Oklahoma come to visit during summers. They would come by Amtrak, which in those days was the Santa Fe. They would spend the night in there with me for several days, sleeping on the trundle bed. Later this included visits from cousins and from my Minnesota friend, too. (2) A couple of times, I got locked out of the house after school . . . and remembered that my bedroom window was unlocked. So I took my father's very tall ladder and climbed up to get in! My mother was horrified, of course! But I thought it was resourceful and fun! And no one got hurt! I don't remember any thoughts of my father's reaction. I guess he was OK with it since all went well! (3) We had a backyard swimming pool, as I mentioned above. From that bedroom, I could see the pool clearly . . . and often thought it was fun to watch people swimming if I had the opportunity!

So you see, I have quite a lot of memories of that room!

When I find a picture of this house, I'll post it here!

Home #2: 19th St. in OKC

2009-05-03T16:37:00.000-07:00

New House: Surprise!

I was quite surprised when, at the age of 7, I learned that my parents had been talking about a move from the home where they had lived since getting married, and lived when my two older brothers and I were born, on til when I began elementary school.

The New House Was Glorious!

Before I had time to get too sad at the idea of leaving the only home I had known so far, I was introduced to the proposed new house: glorious! So many things to love about it!

Four bedrooms upstairs, plus a "library" downstairs which could double as a guest bedroom, especially since it was right next to the downstairs bathroom, which even included a shower.
A crystal chandelier in the dining room which sparkled like diamonds.
White carpet throughout the downstairs . . yikes, probably a nightmare for my mother with three kids, a dog and a cat . . . but somehow it worked out.
Regal-looking drapes in the living room.
An attic fan which cooled the house quite well with natural outside air most of the time. Many people had central AC by then . . . but my father didn't think it was necessary, especially with that attic fan. For the hottest days, there was ONE window AC in the library, and we could take refuge in there.
A corner lot . . . . naturally! This family seems to favor corner lots . .
A fascinating (especially for kids) backyard complete with a sidewalk going around one half of it for flower garden viewing . . . I think the people who were selling the house had lots of monkey grass planted all around, plus lilies and whatnot . . . my father, of course, would soon embellish with his iris. The other half of the yard was a utilitarian place, with our playground equipment, a sandbox, a shed and a big "wall" of tall shrubs blocking us off for privacy's sake from the street that was right on the other side of the fence.
A huge (in my mind then, and I think I would still think so . . . ) screen porch with a cement floor, which meant that it was OK to ride a tricycle round and round in there . . . and at age 7, that was still significant, at least for a short time. I did not yet ride a bicycle, since I had been injured on my maiden voyage on a bicycle at about age 5 or 6, in our previous neighborhood.

Old and New Neighbors

The "new" house was just a few blocks away (north, I think) from our original house, but friends and neighbors seemed to think we were making a huge social leap. I cared nothing then and still care very little about "prestige," "status" or "appearances" when it comes to where I live or what car I drive or what clothes I wear, etc. The character of the people around me and the purity of the natural environment always matter most. But apparently some of the neighbors near the first house thought we were moving away from them in more ways than just physically. We did not feel that way at all. Practically speaking, however, it's true that once we moved, we saw a lot of our new neighbors and rarely saw our previous neighbors anymore. But a visit back there was just a short walk, drive or bicycle ride away.

Memorable Milestones

While living in our second house, we/I experienced milestones including these:

My brothers and I each quickly had a new "best friend" in the new neighborhood since a family up the street had a kid that matched us in age and gender: a girl my age and two boys the ages of my brothers. Therefore, there was lots of going back and forth between our house and theirs, pretty much from the beginning. I was in second grade and my brothers were in 5th grade and 7th grade respectively when we arrived in the new neighborhood. A few years later, however, from my point of view, a shift started to take place as I and that girl grew apart in lots of ways, not sure why. No big blowup or anything during those years, but . . . we were just less close as time went by. Still, I have lots of positive and interesting memories involving her and me, and her family. At the beginning of my fifth grade year, a new girl moved in further down the block and we became pretty good friends practically from the first day she was in class at school with me. I think I reached out to befriend her, as I recall. Pretty soon, it was she and I who were often a twosome running around the neighborhood. I remember lots of "spending the night" events with both of these girls . . . at their houses. The first girl got way too homesick to spend the night at our house. She tried a couple of times and both times, ended up going home before falling asleep. I think I was the one to spend the night at the second girl's house and not the other way around mostly because by that time, I had a baby sister sharing my bedroom! Her house offered more privacy for two 5th and 6th grade girls. Anyway, those friendships meant a great deal to me and pretty much defined the time that we spent in that neighborhood, to me.
The house itself was great . . . . often kind of a cluttered, what with 3 kids and a baby in a very big house . . . but it offered the fundamental comforts that we needed, plus more.
The birth of my baby sister at the beginning of my 4th grade year was of course a huge change, and she immediately became the focal point of the family. When she was 2, almost 3, we had to move to Kansas . . a huge undertaking.

I have more to say about this house. Those years (age 7-12) were a hugely formative time in my life, needless to say. But I'm running out of steam and will either add more to this entry later or will write a new entry with more info on this great house!

Note: The picture at the top of this blog was taken in 2009! The house looks the same, but there are some minor differences that only people who knew the house back then will recognize -- sidewalk, tree, garden stuff. Thanks to my childhood friend Nancy S.D. for taking this photo for me recently!

All My Homes

2009-03-06T03:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I started making a list of all the "homes" I have had in my life. I loved different thing about each one, and each played a key role in my life's journey. I decided to start writing blog entries about each one. Let's see how long it takes me to write about them all. I will focus on the attractive features of each one.

Even in addition to these homes, there were other homes that were like "second homes" to me, namely my grandparents' homes, but I'll be writing mostly about houses that I actually lived in . . places where I actually unpacked my suitcase and received mail even if for a short time.

Home #1

Let's begin with the house of my birth. My father had waited til age 30 to get married, and had lived frugally until then, so that when he got married to my mother 6 years before I was born, he was able to pay cash for this brick split-level home at the end of a deadend street in Oklahoma City.

A Dead End Street . . .

There used to be a railroad track at the end of the deadend, but by the time I was born, that was pretty much gone, I think. It was just a big meadow. My father used some of the land outside our fence for a big vegetable garden. I don't know if it was technically part of "our yard," or if it was in fact part of the old railroad easement.

. . . and a Meadow

Anyway, the meadow was a delightful mini-nature preserve, full of flora and fauna such as dandelions, meadow larks, butterflies and bumble bees, plus a tiny creek. A perfect place for kids to frolic, which we did. My father also once made a big bonfire out there . . . not sure what he was burning. Maybe he had been pruning branches or something. That was quite fun . . . and would probably not be allowed in a city nowadays.

Layout of the House

The house itself had a large living and dining room area, a large kitchen with a backdoor opening to the backyard, two bedrooms downstairs (including one that had two doors --- one opening to the hallway by the bathroom and the other door opening to the kitchen); a full bathroom with black and white ceramic tiles, a large bedroom upstairs over the garage, and a huge attic.

Father Put Flooring in the Attic

My father put flooring in that attic so it could be used for storage. My oldest brother also used the floored attic area as a painting studio and a place to set up his chemistry set.

Brothers Upstairs

My brothers lived in the upstairs room, and divided it into their respective territories by painting it half green and half yellow, and by setting up their dressers as a dividing line, one facing one direction and the other facing the other direction. They still had their arguments, as they were very dissimilar boys, but it worked out somehow.

I Was the Only Girl, So Had My Own Room

I occupied the downstairs bedroom that had the two doors. I complained that "people" messed up my path through all my toys when they walked through the room. That would mean, of course, my #2 brother.

Parents' Bedroom and Bedroom Set

My parents, of course, had the other bedroom downstairs. They had a beautiful set of finely crafted and finished wooden bedroom furniture including headboard, dresser and mirror, and large chest of drawers.

Baby Grand Piano, Safe Neighborhood

The inside of the house was not that remarkable other than the baby grand piano in the living room, but it was more than adequate for five people (except for the often quarrelsome brothers having to share a room). The neighborhood, however, was fun and safe, with good neighbors, a nearby wading pool for summer (just a block away), the meadow and also proximity to our elementary school (about 3-4 blocks away).

Attic and Garage

The attic was a place to explore a bit. The garage was once a home to a possom and her babies!

Gardens and Trees

Plantings in the yard, other than my father's veggie and iris gardens, included a huge tree that he built a secure swing for; at least one mimosa tree; a sycamore tree; and lots of "shrubs," including honeysuckles and some other flowering bushes that produced tiny white flowers.

Fun Things for Kids in the Yard

The yard was big enough to contain a really big slide and a big cage that once had chickens in it, once rabbits, and I'm not sure what all else. My father was always thinking of something to build or plant or fix that would benefit us all, such as a picnic table that he made by hand.

Stay tuned for home #2, coming in the next blog! I thought I would do them all in one blog, but I've changed my mind! Sometime I'll find pictures to add, but that will most likely take a while!
Photo credit: My childhood friend Nancy.S.D. took these pictures for me recently! The house looks pretty much as I remember it in the 1960s. There are major differences that are not visible in these pictures: namely, the meadow to the right is now a major highway.

Treasure Hunt

2009-02-15T08:33:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure how it got started, but sometime during my older elementary school years (sometime around age 9-11; I can't pinpoint it exactly!), I for some reason got the idea of creating treasure hunts for my #2 brother to pursue. First, I had to get a bunch of little treasures together. I don't remember at ALL what they were. Let's imagine maybe one of them was a Tootsie Roll, one a pencil, one a shiny stone, and so on. They had to be small things, easy to find around the house and seemingly desirable to a pre-teen boy (or young teen; don't recall for sure exactly how old he and I both were when we were doing this).

To go with each item, I would write a note telling where to go next. We had an interesting backyard with a sidewalk around part of it, low-lying trees and bushes, a swingset, a sandbox, a tool shed, and so on. So, for example, I might hide a Tootsie Roll along with a note saying, "NOW LOOK UNDER THE SLIDE." Under the slide, he might find one of the little prizes, together with a note saying where to go next, and so on. There were usually at least 20 links in the treasure hunt, and of course, the best treasure had to come last.

In thinking about the treasure hunt idea now, I guess it has some similarities to Easter Egg hunts, except that they are not done with the "follow the instructions" notes to go with the eggs. So, a big part of the fun was in thinking up the instructions and writing those little notes to attach to each prize.

This brother was often a source of consternation to me throughout childhood because he loved to tease me and try to get my goat. This phenomenon was fading as we got older and he had other challenges to focus on. He did like to read, and he had an active curiosity and imagination as I did. So he made a perfect audience for this type of treasure hunt, as he would go along with the idea enthusiastically and gratefully every time. I did my best to make sure that there was at least something really worth hunting for in each treasure hunt.

I have no idea how many treasure hunts I put together. Maybe 3, maybe 12, maybe some other number. I just remember that it was an ongoing idea in my head . . . probably during some summer vacation or something when long days begged for some intrigue to fill them. I'm glad he went along with the game, as it was a game of endless fun with infinite variations available.

Back to Kingfisher, back to Irving.

2009-01-17T05:15:00.000-08:00

"Going back" is a value that I learned from my parents, who often took us back to where they each came from. These pilgimages taught us kids a great deal about our roots, and about the American story of rural to urban transformation.

KINGFISHER, Oklahoma: Back to the farm.

My father was from a farm near Kingfisher, Oklahoma, the eldest of 6. My grandparents both died not long before he finished high school: his mother first, then his father the next year. The 6 kids owned and operated the farm together til they had all moved away. Then they rented it out for years. That is still true, but now my father's portion has been sold to one of the other siblings.

Day Trips from OKC to Check On the Renters

Anyway, we took frequent trips to the Kingfisher farm throughout my young childhood, because in those days, my father was acting as property manager. I think our trips to Kingfisher usually meant that the renters hadn't paid their rent, and had to be talked to. But he made a lovely day out of it for us kids, and we always thought it was great fun.

We (my two older brothers and I plus my parents) would spend practically an entire Sunday going to the farm and back from Oklahoma City. Since my parents weren't in favor of "skipping church," we probably went to an early church service and then headed straight to the farm with a McDonald's "meal" to tide us over. I don't know for sure, but I just imagine that would be the case.

'57 Chevy

We no doubt made our trips in the '57 Chevy, which had a huge backseat area! Big enough for lots of jumping up and down, and I do remember my #2 brother and I playing "London Bridge is falling down" with one arched over front to back and the other crawling back and forth underneath. At some point in the rhyme, the one arched over would crash down on the other and there would be lots of laughing and perhaps wailing, too.

I would guess that these trips took place from about the time of my birth until I was 10 or so. Not sure about that. Less frequent as the years went by. Maybe the renters got more reliable or something.

Horses in the Country

Driving out to the country from Oklahoma City was like going back in time. I loved seeing the horses most of all, and especially loved palomino ones! I promised myself that sometime in my future I would have a palomino horse -- a dream which I, alas, had to let go with the passage of time.

Daddy Used to Open the Car Window and Sing!

My father was totally in his element -- smiling, singing and very relaxed -- as we got near Kingfisher. He would crank down the car window, lean with his entire left arm hanging out the window, and sing loudly songs like, "O, why oh why'd I ever leave Wyoming?" He would have been in his late 30s. It must have been a huge nostalgic thing for him to return to the farm, and he was always relaxed and happy as I recall.

Recalling Hardships of the Past

Once we got to the farm, we would first schmooze a bit with the nice family living in the old farmhouse where my father was born. It felt like sacred ground to me. I was aware that my grandparents whom I had never met had worked hard to raise kids and eke out a living during the Dust Bowl. I know it was not easy, and they no doubt did their best.

Anyway, after chatting with the family (and they probably fed us something, though I don't recall what), we would look around the farm and interact with as many animals as we could.

Checking Out a Kitty Stud

I was interested in the fact that they had a yellow male cat that looked like my female yellow cat. So . . .when my cat (who was only allowed to be an indoor cat) went into heat, we actually borrowed that male cat from Kingfisher, brought it home to our house on 15th Street, and put the two cats in the garage for an entire week!

Grandkittens

Ha! Imagine! One was always a house cat, and now had to be in the garage. The other was a farm cat, and now had to be shut up! After a week, we took the male back to the farm, and 10 weeks later or however long it takes, Kitty had kittens! Fathered by a Kingfisher cat! In retrospect, it all sounds really funny, but at the time, it made sense to my parents to do it that way!

IRVING, Kansas: back to the ghost town.

My mother, on the other hand, was from a small town in Kansas which was torn down in the late 1950s when Tuttle Creek Dam was built by the Army Corps of Engineers. This little town, Irving, was not only her birthplace but also her father's birthplace. I'm pretty sure that her father's father had been born in Brooklyn, New York, and the family came west during his childhood.

A Has-Been Town That Was Still a Special Place

As I understand it, Irving had a population of just 400 in its hey-day. But it was so isolated that, to those 400 people, it was their whole world. Each generation "went out" (went to the army, went to college) and then either came back or not. By the time of my mother's generation, it seems that most young people had very itchy feet and felt they needed to get out into the world where the action was and make something of themselves, unless they were farm people.

How My Mother Met My Father in Kansas City

Anyway, my mother did just that, and landed her journalism job after college in Kansas City. There, she met my father who was working there for a couple of years, married him in the Irving church, and immediately moved with him to Oklahoma, his home state. (He was 30 by then, and had diligently saved enough money to buy their first house with cash!)

Red Dirt, Black Dirt

For the first 18 years of their marriage, Oklahoma City was home. But my mother was very close to her parents, so multiple trips "back" were built into our annual routines: back to Kansas for Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving, etc. We often sang, "We're from Kansas, good old Kansas, where the great big sunflowers grow!" as we crossed the state line heading north each time. We always noticed the change in scenery, from the red dirt of Oklahoma to the black dirt of Kansas.

Ghost Town

The most exciting thing about going "back" to Kansas for me was whenever we would go "back to Irving." Irving, of course, did not exist anymore by that time. But it existed socially in the minds of all who were from there. And it existed physically as a weedpatch full of trees that had once adorned people's yards.

Alumni Banquets After There Was No More School

Socially, there was a time once a year to re-experience Irving at an "alumni banquet" on Memorial Day in Blue Rapids. As most people who ever lived in Irving have died off or are dying off, I wonder if those gatherings still take place??? Last time I knew, the answer was yes! These potluck meals serve as a sort of historical society, since people always bring old artifacts, photos and stories of Irving. Once a year, the town comes alive again.

Irving Stone Marker Still There Today

There is a stone in front of the old Irving townsite that looks like a huge tombstone or sorts, and says simply IRVING. There is a guest book in a little mailbox there, that people sign when they visit. Besides that, it's just weeds and trees and flowers. During hunting season, people are allowed to hunt there. The rest of the year, it's just a nature preserve.

Leaving Irving Was Hard on the Old Folks

Of course, there was a lot of human loss and tragedy associated with losing the town for people who were from there. In Irving, they had been "somebody." With the demise of the town, they were thrown out into other communities where they had to get used to being "nobody."

I understand that a lot of old people died not long after being forced to leave Irving, not surprisingly. They probably lost a lot of the support network that kept them going, besides their own peace of mind and comforts of home.

Memories . . . . . or Figments of the Imagination?

But by the 60s when we kids visited there with my mother who was from there, it was great fun to run through the "town" -- you could still see where streets had been, and some foundations remained. A true ghost town, with no buildings left at all . . . just memories, or figments of the imagination. I had memories of being there at the age of 2 when the town still existed. After that, Irving was gone.

Strangely, I have no memories of the actual moveaway of my grandparents to Dwight. Perhaps it happened during the school year and my parents weren't able to get away to help. Or maybe I did witness it but was just too young to remember anything.

Going Back Is Still Moving After All These Years

In any event, to this day, although I rarely get to do so, I love "going back" to the Irving townsite even though I myself never lived there, no one lives there, there is nothing to see but trees and weeds, and "nothing is going on" other than butterflies flitting about.

My Grandmother's Flowers Still Bloom There

But the most exciting thing to see in the late springtime are the yellow irises and the bluish-purple "sweet rockets" that have spread throughout the old townsite.

Those flowers are exciting to me because my maternal grandmother was an avid flower gardener, and I understand that she had planted and nurtured the predecessors of the flowers that still bloom there today.

Of course, probably other families in the town had flowers. But it is my understanding that my grandmother gardened more than most people did, and that she did, in fact, bring the yellow iris. At least, that's the legend we are familiar with.

I really want to post pictures of Kingfisher and Irving here, but don't know if I have any such pictures of my own. I will have to wait til someday when I can get access to all my father's old slides, get a scanner that can get take slides and digitalize all those images. I'll need a laptop computer, scanner and about a week at least at my mother's place.

Enough for now about "going back." More tales to come when I am so moved.

More childhood memories: my father often traveled to other countries throughout my childhood.

2009-01-03T19:32:00.000-08:00

My father traveled abroad fairly often on business. He was a petroleum engineer and later a chemical engineer working with sulfur and other chemicals, not just oil. He designed processing plants for petroleum and other chemicals.

His work sometimes required him to go abroad to be present for the start-up of a plant, or to trouble-shoot with processing plants that he had had a part in designing . . . or maybe that others in his companies had designed? Not sure about that. I should call my uncle and ask if he knows exactly what my father was doing on those trips, although I think I have a vague idea.

Anyway, his trips varied in length from a few days to a few months at a time. His departure was always a big deal when I was very small. We would all go to the airport to see him off in person.

In those days, "going to the airport" meant getting personal with the airplanes! We stood behind chainlink fences not far from the planes. He would walk out with others who were flying away and climb stairs that were wheeled to the side of the plane, just as we can still see on TV when presidents board and deplane "Airforce One."

I guess my mother must have felt a sense of loss whenever he left, but the rest of us thought it was exciting. I don't remember missing him in our daily lives, terrible as that sounds. Maybe it happened regularly enough that I took it for granted that he would be gone for awhile and then return.

As I got a little older, I remember even feeling that we kids had a bit more freedom and less stringent rules when he was gone. Mother would tell us, "I'll tell Daddy about that when he gets back!" if we were misbehaving.

He was the disciplinarian who sometimes spanked us if we needed it. I don't know if that type of spanking goes on in most families today. It was not physically painful but it was humiliating and dreaded -- and no doubt, dissuaded us from misbehaving similarly again. I did not experience it often, but one of my brothers did. My father had also been spanked often by his own father.

Anyway, that was not the main focus of his absences. Mostly, I just thought it was kind of neat and prestigious to say, "My father is in X country." I supposed he got some kind of pay bonus for being abroad.

Several times, the company sent my mother with him to various places. In that case, we would stay with our aunt, or our grandparents would come and stay with us. I only remember once that a woman stayed with us as a live-in childcare giver. We did not get attached to her at all; she served a purpose and that was it. Anyway, usually my father went alone to these different countries.

His homecoming was always exciting: he could bring me a doll from whatever country he had visited, and other gifts for the rest of us. Every time. He would also sometimes bring something to eat, such as yummy waffle cookies from Holland. And he would bring several rolls of film waiting to get developed.

Within a few days, he would have slides to show us. We would ceremoniously sit and watch all his slides as he narrated his travels with "show and tell" pictures to match the narrative. I remember few specifics at all . . . just the "drill," so to speak. Some of the photos and narrative would always seem boring to me, but some would be more interesting.

All those slides still exist in metal boxes in closets at my mother's place. I look forward to some time in the future when I can look at a lot of them again. I'm not sure when there will be an opportunity to do so, but surely sometime, somehow. I know my mother would not want to let them leave her house, and I don't anticipate having enough time to go there, so I'm not sure when this will happen or how or when. But sometime it will.

I've seen advertisements for devices that will help transfer slides to digital photo records. That's obviously what I should try to do sometime . . . put tother photo CDs for all of us who would be interested. Of course, there will be mysteries . . but he usually labeled his slides pretty well.

Anyway, back to the fact that he traveled abroad so often. Although the effect on me personally was minimal since we kids did not go along on those trips, our minds were opened nonetheless. As my doll collection grew, so did my conceptualization and curiosity about the big world out there. I have no doubt that this was why I determined from a young age that I would go abroad myself as soon as possible -- and why I later became an ESL teacher.

"Going abroad as soon as I could" first meant going to Mexico beginning the summer I was 17. I went several times over a 4-year period, (1) to a Christian mission in the mountains, (2) for academic purposes and (3) for personal visits to people I became close to on those original visits (Enrique and Ofelia).

I began my career as an ESL teacher at the age of 22 1/2, in January of 1980. Through this career, the "world" has come to me steadily over a nearly 29-year period. When my father was still alive, it made for good conversation with him to talk about my students, their homelands, their English abilities and so on.

When I went to teach English at a Japanese university (1990-93) with my young daughter in tow, my mother came to visit each of the three years I was there. The third year, my father came along.

Since I was teaching a high-level elective course in Tokyo every Saturday, and many of the students were engineers-to-be, I took my father along to class one Saturday while I was there.

Before his visit, he had been sending me articles of interest for my students over several months -- usually articles about Japan-U.S. professional exchanges, related political or economic topics, and other intercultural topics. My students had been reading these articles all fall and giving oral summaries of them. So, when he came to class, we had a round-table discussion of some of those articles with my father taking part.

All of this made for a very rich experience for all of us, both linguistically and interpersonally. As I think back on all that now, I am amazed all over again at how perceptive and participatory my father could be in my life despite his seemingly introverted tendencies.

This was an amazing and special experience overall! I mention it in this blog because after years of his traveling abroad for his work, this time, I was the one who was living abroad and working . . .and he came all the way to visit, and greatly enriched the whole experience for my daughter, myself and my students, not to mention my neighbors and my mother.

New horizons were opened up for us all through this meaningful visit. Since my mother had come alone the previous two years, she was well prepared to "take care of him" as needed while I was at work. She knew how to use all the appliances in my apartment, knew how to go shopping for food and knew people in the apartments.

OK, that was a deviation of the theme of my father's travels abroad. However, we had a couple of very interesting experiences that brought these two phenomena together. In his own travels to Japan for work purposes many years earlier, he had made friends with two different Japanese engineers that he had kept in contact with over the years. Or is it possible that one of them was the one who had traveled to his company in the U.S.?? Not sure about that.

Anyway, during my parents' visit with us in Japan, he reconnected with two of his own professional collagues. One lived north of Tokyo; the other lived south, in Yokohama. The one who lived north came to Tokyo and rendezvoused with us near the emperor's palace in the heart of Tokyo, a prime tourist attraction.

This was in pre-email days and pre-cell phone days, so meeting up with someone like that took careful planning! Anyway, he and I met with that man the same day that I took him with me to class. We took pictures of each other . . . and my father complimented the man on his camera.

The next week, back in my apartment in Chiba, my father received a package . . . a gift from the man of an identical camera for himself! He was quite amazed by the generosity!

Later on that same visit, when my parents, my daughter and I took a long day trip to Kamakura, we visited the other Japanese colleague in Yokohoma.

He and his wife had a young daughter, perhaps 6 or 7 years old. Their family was in a state of mourning because their 8-year-old daughter ahd recently been killed in a pedestrian-car accident. Despite the sad time they were experiencing, they were very gracious and hospitable to us all, serving us a nice meal in their home. I can't for the life of me think what the meal consisted of!

Anyway, all of these experiences whereby my father's earlier world travels and my own teaching abroad dovetailed brought home the fact that my life was greatly impacted by his foreign travels.

(Photo credit: This picture of the Great Buddha at Kamakura is one that I found on the Internet in this person's blog: http://www.mikesblender.com/indexblog75.htm)

2009-01-01T12:10:00.001-08:00

Heartbeat of a city.

2008-12-30T17:36:00.000-08:00

Heartbeat of a city: New York, New York: photos show Times Square and Central Park: classic American wonders

Deviating from my ongoing retelling of childhood memories, I'd like to insert a miscellaneous entry here: "heartbeat of a city."

A special Native American person in my life spoke to me often about "the heartbeat of the earth." He saw the vibrancy in, say, a leaf dancing on a twig when there was no wind. He and I witnessed that phenomenon quite a few times! I haven't stopped to notice whether this happens when he is not with me. One lone little leaf will just start dancing back and forth . . no others near it doing the same thing . . . and we cannot detect any breeze at all. As the Psalmist said, "The trees of the field will clap their hands" in praise of the living God.

As someone who was born in, and grew up in, a city, I also detect a "heartbeat of a city" sometimes. It can be hard to put my finger on just what that is and where it comes from. After all, isn't a city just a random collection of individuals who happened to go there or be born there? Maybe. Maybe not.

I recently spent a week in New York City and very definitely experienced its heartbeat, at least a little bit. It seems to me to be a city of lovers. Dreamers. Dancers. Fortune chasers. Humble hearts and proud ones.

All the tall buildings around lend an air of "looking upward" to the whole place that is different than what happens when one just looks up at clouds. I guess each building and area of the city contains the cumulative effects of many dreamers and fortune chasers of eras gone by . . . and their legacy worms its way into people's way of thinking and being.

More on this topic later. I've just scratched the surface of what I'm trying to say.

(Please note: The photos used for this blog entry were taken by a friend of a friend on Facebook. She graciously agreed to let me use them, with no name attribution necessary. Thank you, if you ever see this!)

I was a cat person from the moments I laid eyes on one.

2008-12-22T05:37:00.000-08:00

I wrote in my previous blog that I became excited the first time I saw a cat. I badly wanted to pet it, and did so. It was a stray around our 15th Street neighborhood in Oklahoma City. Not long afterward, both I and our neighbors across the street were infected with ringworm from that cat. I don't remember that very well, except for crying and hearing the neighbor kids cry.

My mother wasn't really fond of cats but she came to understand over the next few years how much I longed for one. So I received a yellow tabby kitten for my 6th birthday. I named her "Pussy" because of a children's nursery rhyme that had a cat with that name. My mother gently guided me to change the name to "Kitty." It was many, many years later before I understood why.

Anyway, Kitty was my constant companion throughout my growing up years. The most exciting thing for me was when she had kittens. Once a year when she went into heat, my mother would allow me to let her outside to seek a mate. Then, by magic, about two months later, she would have kittens!

All in all, she had four or five litters. The vet gave her a shot in between times that kept her from going into heat for a whole year. I think it must have been something like Depo Prevera that is used as birth control for women. Later, the cat version was made unavailable for some legal reasons. I thought, and still think, that was a shame. It worked really well.

I'll write more about "cats and me" in another blog. This is a basic introduction. I'll try to explain to myself and anyone who reads this what the attraction is in my case, and also explore the history of interaction between cats and humans.

Lesson learned about posting blog entries.

2008-12-18T06:58:00.000-08:00

I just wrote a long blog entry about iris (the flowers) and as I was trying to "publish" it, got an error message . . . and it's all gone now. That's a lesson. Next time, I'll highlight and "copy" a blog before posting it so that if this happens, I'll be able to just "paste" the copy in and try again.

Flowers and my early childhood.

2008-12-18T06:50:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in my previous blog, my father's gardening activites are a large component of my earliest memories.

We had a large back yard with extra land available right outside the fence. He grew some vegetables, though I don't know what kind, but most of all, iris. He had a hobby of experimenting with cross-breeding of different colors of iris. He showed me at a young age how to do that with pollen from one flower introduced into a powdery place in another flower.

Sometimes he took me to iris "shows," where we saw other people's examples of their best blossoms. He must have taken his own to show sometimes. I remember that some people were trying hard to make a black iris . . . but so far, they were just dark purple. I have no memory of the other people at the flower shows . . .probably a bunch of "old people."

Recently, I got curious and looked up this information about the iris society: http://www.okiris.org/. Apparently, those iris shows that we went to may have been at the Oklahoma State Fairgrounds, which were not far from our house.

I've owned a home since 1996, and always thought I should have iris. I finally planted some bulbs in 2005. They have grown green leaves since the spring of 2006, but never bloomed until last year in the spring and summer of 2007. Lots of lucsious light purple blooms. See the photo above.

I think it's time in my life to get serious about iris. This coming fall (2009), I think I'll buy and plant LOTS of iris bulbs and see what I can get out of them. It takes a long time to get good results.

Earliest memories.

2008-12-17T18:21:00.000-08:00

I've always been fascinated by attempts to figure out when one's earliest memories are.

I suspect that we all remember the sensation of our warm residence inside our mothers, and the early days of seeing daylight for the first time, and much more, but for some reason, have suppressed those memories, just as we lose sight of our dreams within moments after waking up from them.

Similarly, my mother claims that a new mother forgets the agony of labor and childbirth as soon as she holds her baby -- suppression of memories of pain as an adult due to the magic of the great excitement of welcoming a new baby.

Anyway, I'd like to start blogging about some early memories, significant or not, sentimental or analytical. Along the way, I will probably get distracted and ramble on about related topics that come to mind as a result.

Among my very first conscious memories are the following (I think I must have been younger than 2 when all of these occurred):

+holding onto my father's legs as if they were tree trunks that would provide safety and stability

+sitting in a chair (captain's chair type, probably with a pillow for a cusion) in a corner of my grandmother's kitchen in Irving, which I perceived as huge. I remember her as a beautiful goddess-like lady dancing around an island of sorts in the middle of the kitchen, making rolls or cookies or something . . . .and some of my young cousins, older than myself, running around laughing.

Since I was born in summer, and this is a very early memory, I have to wonder if this may have been perhaps the second Christmas of my life? Lots of baking was going on. Mostly I perceived my grandmother's bright and energetic spirit.

+seeing a cat for the first time --I know I was less than one year old when this happened -- and badly wanting to have it. I believe it was a stray in our yard that I petted. There are, in fact, family movies of me doing that, somewhere. I remember lots of crying later, as some of us got ringworm from that cat. I remember the kids across the street crying about that.

+being "teased" by my brothers quite a bit, especially my #2 brother. They liked to trick me and see me be confounded and cry as a result.

I'm very ashamed to confess that as a result of how MUCH such teasing went on, I believed it was a normal part of being an older sibling, and years later when my sister was born, I engaged in several phases of deliberate teasing of her with the same goal that my brothers had when they teased me. My teasing of her left her with some bitter memories though I meant it in fun.

Anyway, I, too, felt beseiged by teasing at a young age, by my brothers.

Of course, we also had a lot of fun times in each other's company! Such as when my #2 brother and I jumped for a very long time on trampolines set up in a retail store's parking lot in Canada, where we spent the summers of 1961 and 1965.

He and I actually had quite a lot of fun and funny times during those summers. Our usual friends from back home were gone, so we were forced to be each other's companions. I don't remember as much any interactions with my #1 brother on those trips . . . . perhaps because he had to leave early for Boy Scout camps and such.

+lots of flower garden scenes with my father and my maternal grandmother, both of whom did quite a bit of gardening. In my memories, I would be playing nearby while they did their gardening in their respective yards.

She grew lots of roses and peonies. He grew lots of iris, and once I got old enough, he helped me plant my own pansy garden each year while we still lived on 15th Street in Oklahoma City.

Since I left that home at age 7, that makes me think that the pansy gardening probably took place between about age 3 and 6.

+seeing dust float in sunbeams in the dining room in the house on 15th Street while my mother ironed and watched soap operas. I was truly fascinated by that floating dust and would try to catch the dust particles in my hands. I couldn't figure out why, after apparently grabbing some, I didn't see any dust on my hands.

That's enough early memories for the first blog entry beyond my list of proposed random topics.

Topics to write about in this blog: brainstorming.

2007-12-27T20:16:00.000-08:00

A young friend helped me set this blog up. I have no idea who will ever read it, or why. I intend to use it as a learning tool, and in the process, write out some stuff that might prove useful someday.

Some possible topics of interest:

Childhood memories.
Tales that I heard from parents, grandparents and other elders.
Germans from Russia in North America.
English, Scottish and Irish Americans.
Pioneer stories.
The 60s.
The 70s.
Favorite places.
Perpetual ponderings.
All the schools where I spent significant amounts of time, as a student or teacher: Linwood. Indian Creek. SMS. KU. Coffeyville. University of Iowa. Tokyo Denki University. University of Minnesota. St. Mary's University of Minnesota.
My thoughts on language.
My thoughts on language learning, and language teaching.
My thoughts on ethnicity.
Letters that I wrote to friends between the ages of 12 and 21, more or less. (I have them somewhere, and would like to post select portions of those. . . kind of like Ann Frank's diary.
Mexico.
Japan.
The Arab world as I have experienced it from afar.
Memories of Special Someones. What I appreciated and learned from each one.
My children (with due respect for their privacy and dignity.)
Oklahoma.
Kansas.
Iowa.
Minnesota.
Chiba.
Hawaii.
Codependency and related issues.
The challenges of the WASP in America today.
Misunderstandings between friends.
Understandings and camaraderie.
Animals: their beauty, their souls, their place in my life and in the world at large.
What I learned about Native American life and thinking from a Special One.
Kumon.
Learning.
Nature.
Coincidences, patterns, amazing encounters and mysterious things.

Well, that's a start: brainstorming. I'll leave it at that for today.