Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.
DEVO 1980 College.
Devo was all the rage. I was in love with Devo. Still am. Back then I bought every DEVO album there was to buy..cd's did not exist then. I still have then. I even had one of those red flower pots for my head that they wore --really called the energy done--and WHIP IT! was my theme song. To this day it is one of my most favorite songs to listen to. The price of the energy dome was $10.00 back then. Now I see it is $30 on the website. (Inflation) I was thinking of buying another. Yep that is right ..in my forty's and wanting to wear a DEVO energy dome. About a year or so ago I did go out and buy the entire Devo collection on CD so that I would have them to listen to now.
Also big with me were the Plasmatics- WHO can forget the black eletrical tape on the nipples? The B-52's, Michael Jackson, Donna Summer and Ring My Bell by Anita Ward were also huge.
Being in college of course, I went thru my phase as a punk rocker for about 6 months. Black leather, dog collars with spikes, ripped fishnet hose, purple streaks in the hair. It was just for fun..just to dress up to go dancing to disco and Devo. I was not immersed in it as I have always been straightlaced and I was raised that way. Still am.
I remember going to one of my first fraternity parties. Themed of course. It was a bathtub gin party. I have never had it before. The frat brothers literally made it in the upstairs bathtubs. It was red and had all sort of fruit in it--apple and orange slices. Well I tried a sip and it was very strong. I could not drink that. Not much of a drinker and never have been. i decided to have the fruit.
Well. NOONE told me that the fruit soaked up the alcohol. After about 6 apple slices I was feeling quite ill. One of my friends who had wondered off--they had brought me to the party--told me about the apples all tooooo late. I was hugging the toilet bowl soon after that in one of the down stairs bathrooms. I did feel better after that...stayed for just a little longer and then went home.
I never had that bathtub gin again in any form even though it was served many , many times in the course of the 4 years I was in college. No.. I was too busy doing the pony and whipping it to whip it!
ARE WE NOT MEN? NO, WE ARE DEVO!
April 30, 2004
April 28, 2004
Praying Mantis Attack
Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.
College-freshman year. 1979
I was minding my own business on the way to class. I had my book sack on my back and was walking under a tree at the door of one of the campus buildings. All of a sudden I felt a slight tap on my left shoulder. I thought it may have been a leaf falling from the tree, but then I felt motion. I looked over and saw a very large, triangular, green, alien head spinning on top of a long slender body. I was under attack. It was a Praying Mantis attack.
I have never liked the mantis but after that day absolute terror of them set in 10 fold. I tried to shake it off my shoulder and nothing happened. In fact, it seemed to grip my sweater tighter to hold its position. Somehow I got the book bag off and began to jump around to try to shake it off. It still would not detach. It began to crawl closer to my neck all the while with that triangular head spinning crazily. I began to scream for someone to help me. There were other students also entering and leaving the building. Noone really stopped. They were all trying to get to the next class.
Still the mantis kept coming. There was no way to get it off. I kept screaming and decided I was going to have to get out of that shirt right there to get that mantis off my body. I had on a button down sweater and jeans. I began to unbutton my sweater or rather rip the bottons off to get out of that shirt. I had my right arm out of the sweater and was about to get out of it all together, to be left standing in the middle of campus in jeans and a bra when a male student stopped and told me to keep still. I could not. I was still jumping around screaming for someone to get it off. He grabbed my left arm and told me not to undress anymore as he would get it off. He did.
He grabbed that mantis and pulled. It would not release. He pulled and pulled and finally he got it off. He threw it on the ground. Well, needless to say I missed class that day. I was too out of it with the mantis fear and horror of it all.
Since that time I have had limited contact with the praying mantis. I see them at times and keep a great distance. I came across this article where a praying mantis caught a humming bird and killed ate it! They are the evil of the insect world.
Last summer I found a manthis in my back garden perched on a trellis. Huge mantis-huge. Well, in the house I go. It is WAR! I get the spray pesticide and spray him down. He would not die. I spray him again and still he would not die. Finally he drops of the trellis and I spray him again. I enter the house to put the spray away and go back outside to check to make sure it is dead or dying. When I got back it was gone.
Spring is here. We must all be on our constant guard to prevent the evils of the praying mantis.
College-freshman year. 1979
I was minding my own business on the way to class. I had my book sack on my back and was walking under a tree at the door of one of the campus buildings. All of a sudden I felt a slight tap on my left shoulder. I thought it may have been a leaf falling from the tree, but then I felt motion. I looked over and saw a very large, triangular, green, alien head spinning on top of a long slender body. I was under attack. It was a Praying Mantis attack.
I have never liked the mantis but after that day absolute terror of them set in 10 fold. I tried to shake it off my shoulder and nothing happened. In fact, it seemed to grip my sweater tighter to hold its position. Somehow I got the book bag off and began to jump around to try to shake it off. It still would not detach. It began to crawl closer to my neck all the while with that triangular head spinning crazily. I began to scream for someone to help me. There were other students also entering and leaving the building. Noone really stopped. They were all trying to get to the next class.
Still the mantis kept coming. There was no way to get it off. I kept screaming and decided I was going to have to get out of that shirt right there to get that mantis off my body. I had on a button down sweater and jeans. I began to unbutton my sweater or rather rip the bottons off to get out of that shirt. I had my right arm out of the sweater and was about to get out of it all together, to be left standing in the middle of campus in jeans and a bra when a male student stopped and told me to keep still. I could not. I was still jumping around screaming for someone to get it off. He grabbed my left arm and told me not to undress anymore as he would get it off. He did.
He grabbed that mantis and pulled. It would not release. He pulled and pulled and finally he got it off. He threw it on the ground. Well, needless to say I missed class that day. I was too out of it with the mantis fear and horror of it all.
Since that time I have had limited contact with the praying mantis. I see them at times and keep a great distance. I came across this article where a praying mantis caught a humming bird and killed ate it! They are the evil of the insect world.
Last summer I found a manthis in my back garden perched on a trellis. Huge mantis-huge. Well, in the house I go. It is WAR! I get the spray pesticide and spray him down. He would not die. I spray him again and still he would not die. Finally he drops of the trellis and I spray him again. I enter the house to put the spray away and go back outside to check to make sure it is dead or dying. When I got back it was gone.
Spring is here. We must all be on our constant guard to prevent the evils of the praying mantis.
April 27, 2004
Betty Ann
Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.
2nd grade-1968
Betty Ann was a wonderful girl. She was my friend. My best friend. My first real friend. We were together everyday. We were in the same class in first grade and in second grade. We ate lunch together and played together at recess everyday. Our favorite games were Miss Mary Mack, string games like Jacobs' ladder and Red Rover. We also loved to jump rope. We passed notes and whispered in class and dared anyone to try to come between us.
Betty Ann lived about one block away from the school so she walked to and fro everyday. I lived about 20 minutes away. Although we never really visited at each other's homes, we had a bond at school that could never be broken. I loved her like a sister.
One Monday I went to school and she was not there. I thought she was out sick that day. I did not think anything of it. The next day she was out as well. I asked my teacher where she was and how sick was she. My mother was a teacher at the school on the same grade level as I was. My teacher said that she would go get my mother. My mother took me out of the class and told me that Betty Ann would not be coming back to school because she had been hit by a car. I asked if she were in the hospital. My mother said no. She was not. She had been run over by a car and she had died over the weekend. Betty Ann had been struck down right in front of her home.
I was upset that my mother did not tell me right away but I guess she was trying to spare me. I really was not understanding it all. I would never see her again. I became very upset and cried for a very long time. I cried for Betty Ann and I cried for me. I cried for the hole I felt I my heart. That hole has never left me. I still feel it, even today.
For my mother and I to get home each day we had to drive right past Betty Ann's house. It was on the right as we went to school and on the left as we went home. I got very upset each and everytime we had to pass her house. I wanted to go to her house and wanted to go to her funeral. My mother would not let me go. She said I was too upset and distraught already.
God, I miss her. She was truly a nice girl. Finally, it got a little easier to drive past her house as it neared the end of my 2nd grade in school. I still thought of her everyday and what a loss it was for her to be gone. I ended up changing schools for the 3rd grade so I did not have that drive past her house anymore. Now when I think of Betty Ann, I can see the two of us in my mind's eye outside in the school yard facing each other playing and saying Miss Mary Mack.
2nd grade-1968
Betty Ann was a wonderful girl. She was my friend. My best friend. My first real friend. We were together everyday. We were in the same class in first grade and in second grade. We ate lunch together and played together at recess everyday. Our favorite games were Miss Mary Mack, string games like Jacobs' ladder and Red Rover. We also loved to jump rope. We passed notes and whispered in class and dared anyone to try to come between us.
Betty Ann lived about one block away from the school so she walked to and fro everyday. I lived about 20 minutes away. Although we never really visited at each other's homes, we had a bond at school that could never be broken. I loved her like a sister.
One Monday I went to school and she was not there. I thought she was out sick that day. I did not think anything of it. The next day she was out as well. I asked my teacher where she was and how sick was she. My mother was a teacher at the school on the same grade level as I was. My teacher said that she would go get my mother. My mother took me out of the class and told me that Betty Ann would not be coming back to school because she had been hit by a car. I asked if she were in the hospital. My mother said no. She was not. She had been run over by a car and she had died over the weekend. Betty Ann had been struck down right in front of her home.
I was upset that my mother did not tell me right away but I guess she was trying to spare me. I really was not understanding it all. I would never see her again. I became very upset and cried for a very long time. I cried for Betty Ann and I cried for me. I cried for the hole I felt I my heart. That hole has never left me. I still feel it, even today.
For my mother and I to get home each day we had to drive right past Betty Ann's house. It was on the right as we went to school and on the left as we went home. I got very upset each and everytime we had to pass her house. I wanted to go to her house and wanted to go to her funeral. My mother would not let me go. She said I was too upset and distraught already.
God, I miss her. She was truly a nice girl. Finally, it got a little easier to drive past her house as it neared the end of my 2nd grade in school. I still thought of her everyday and what a loss it was for her to be gone. I ended up changing schools for the 3rd grade so I did not have that drive past her house anymore. Now when I think of Betty Ann, I can see the two of us in my mind's eye outside in the school yard facing each other playing and saying Miss Mary Mack.
April 25, 2004
Girl in the Trunk
Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.
1st Grade. Summer of 1967
Back then times seemed safer or so it seemed. Children were left in cars when their parents went into stores and noone bothered them. They were safe until their parents returned. People were also able to leave doors and windows unlocked and nooone broke in or stole anything. Times were simpler then.
It was a saturday afternoon and my parents were in a local department store. If my brother and I had to stay in the car my parents parked near the front entrance just in case we had to get out in the event of an emergency and find them. We also had "stay in the car rules" we had to follow. The doors had to be locked at all times, the windows could only be 1/4 of the way down and if something bad happened to lay on the horn and keep blowing until help arrived.
That day it was just me in the car. Our car was in the 2nd space in front the store. There was an aisle there to cross to get into the store. I had been in the car sitting in the back seat for about 30 minutes or so. The owners of the car in the very first space right next to me came, got in and left. A short while later a light blue car pulled into that first space right next to me. I was in the first grade so I do not think I could really be seen as I sat in the back seat. I was not that tall. I was sitting still... just sitting. The man who got out of the light blue car was white and tall and had light colored hair. He looked around very strangely and stood at his door just looking for just a few minutes. The way he was looking around looked scary to me. He was not smiling and his face looked like a mask. I ducked down in the seat. I do not know why but I just knew it was the right thing to do. I did lift up just enough so I could see what he was doing.
That man then walked to the trunk of his car, opened it and lifted a little blond headed girl out of the trunk. She was wearing a dress and white sandals. She did not speak at all. She did not try to get away. He put her down on the pavement and they both walked into the store. I knew immediately that he had stolen that girl from someone and that she had been kidnapped. I was absolutely terrified because there was a monster parked right next to me. I was afraid to go into the store by myself for fear of bumping into him before I found my parents. I was also afraid to blow the horn and cause a commotion by his car. Supposed he came out before someone attended to me. I too might end up in the trunk of his car.
I decided to get off the seat and get onto the floor of the back seat and lay as flat and as still as possible. Before I did, I rolled my window all the way up and looked at every lock. I was locked in. I prayed for my parents to come out soon. I got on the floor and waited. And listened. Fear set in that he might look in the windows and see me crouched in a ball on the floor face down. I waited and listened. I do not know how long I waited but it seemed like forever.
I finally heard some footsteps but I did not know if it was my parents or the man in the car next to me. The footsteps I heard stopped near the back of the car where I was. It was the man and the girl. I held my breath so as not to make a sound. There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. He must have been looking around again. I heard the key in his trunk and the trunk opened. I heard the trunk close. He had to walk to the driver side of his car and his back would be to me for just a few seconds. I decided to look to see if the girl was with him and if he was putting her into the back seat. He was alone so I knew that little girl had been placed back in the trunk. I got back on the floor as when he got to the driver door, he would be facing our car and me to open the door and I had no intention of being seen.
I heard his door close and his car started up. He pulled out and was gone. I got up and watched his car leave. Once his car was out of site I got back on the floor. Who knew if he would be coming back or forgot something. I stayed there until my parents came back. I immediately told my mother what I saw and that we had to do something to maybe save that little girl.
My mother did not believe me. She thought my tale was just too much of a story to believe. I told her over and over that that little blond girl was removed from the trunk and placed back in and that I felt she had been in danger and was in fact a kidnapped child. What can a little child do when adults do not believe you? Nothing. I then knew that my mother may not be one I could rely on and sure enough through the years that has been proven true over and over again.
To this day I am haunted by the memories of that little blond girl being lifted out of the trunk and that man with the very stange look on his face. All my life I have said prayers for that little girl in the hopes she would be able to get to safety. She has not been forgotten...I will never forget the little girl in the trunk.
1st Grade. Summer of 1967
Back then times seemed safer or so it seemed. Children were left in cars when their parents went into stores and noone bothered them. They were safe until their parents returned. People were also able to leave doors and windows unlocked and nooone broke in or stole anything. Times were simpler then.
It was a saturday afternoon and my parents were in a local department store. If my brother and I had to stay in the car my parents parked near the front entrance just in case we had to get out in the event of an emergency and find them. We also had "stay in the car rules" we had to follow. The doors had to be locked at all times, the windows could only be 1/4 of the way down and if something bad happened to lay on the horn and keep blowing until help arrived.
That day it was just me in the car. Our car was in the 2nd space in front the store. There was an aisle there to cross to get into the store. I had been in the car sitting in the back seat for about 30 minutes or so. The owners of the car in the very first space right next to me came, got in and left. A short while later a light blue car pulled into that first space right next to me. I was in the first grade so I do not think I could really be seen as I sat in the back seat. I was not that tall. I was sitting still... just sitting. The man who got out of the light blue car was white and tall and had light colored hair. He looked around very strangely and stood at his door just looking for just a few minutes. The way he was looking around looked scary to me. He was not smiling and his face looked like a mask. I ducked down in the seat. I do not know why but I just knew it was the right thing to do. I did lift up just enough so I could see what he was doing.
That man then walked to the trunk of his car, opened it and lifted a little blond headed girl out of the trunk. She was wearing a dress and white sandals. She did not speak at all. She did not try to get away. He put her down on the pavement and they both walked into the store. I knew immediately that he had stolen that girl from someone and that she had been kidnapped. I was absolutely terrified because there was a monster parked right next to me. I was afraid to go into the store by myself for fear of bumping into him before I found my parents. I was also afraid to blow the horn and cause a commotion by his car. Supposed he came out before someone attended to me. I too might end up in the trunk of his car.
I decided to get off the seat and get onto the floor of the back seat and lay as flat and as still as possible. Before I did, I rolled my window all the way up and looked at every lock. I was locked in. I prayed for my parents to come out soon. I got on the floor and waited. And listened. Fear set in that he might look in the windows and see me crouched in a ball on the floor face down. I waited and listened. I do not know how long I waited but it seemed like forever.
I finally heard some footsteps but I did not know if it was my parents or the man in the car next to me. The footsteps I heard stopped near the back of the car where I was. It was the man and the girl. I held my breath so as not to make a sound. There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. He must have been looking around again. I heard the key in his trunk and the trunk opened. I heard the trunk close. He had to walk to the driver side of his car and his back would be to me for just a few seconds. I decided to look to see if the girl was with him and if he was putting her into the back seat. He was alone so I knew that little girl had been placed back in the trunk. I got back on the floor as when he got to the driver door, he would be facing our car and me to open the door and I had no intention of being seen.
I heard his door close and his car started up. He pulled out and was gone. I got up and watched his car leave. Once his car was out of site I got back on the floor. Who knew if he would be coming back or forgot something. I stayed there until my parents came back. I immediately told my mother what I saw and that we had to do something to maybe save that little girl.
My mother did not believe me. She thought my tale was just too much of a story to believe. I told her over and over that that little blond girl was removed from the trunk and placed back in and that I felt she had been in danger and was in fact a kidnapped child. What can a little child do when adults do not believe you? Nothing. I then knew that my mother may not be one I could rely on and sure enough through the years that has been proven true over and over again.
To this day I am haunted by the memories of that little blond girl being lifted out of the trunk and that man with the very stange look on his face. All my life I have said prayers for that little girl in the hopes she would be able to get to safety. She has not been forgotten...I will never forget the little girl in the trunk.
Where's My Thermos?
Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.
Kindergarden. Somewhere between 1963-1965.
I have a metal lunch box with a thermos that I carry everyday. (It has been too long and I do not recall what character.) I love my lunchbox and my thermos. Compared to most of the lunchboxes the other children carry, mine is the newest, most expensive, "in" lunch box and thermos to have. I have been carrying this lunch box since August and I have had it for several months. Last Friday afternoon my mom picked me up from kindergarden--yup.. me and my lunchbox. We were just fine. I usually carry milk in my thermos and in the winter I sometimes have warm tomato soup.
Yesterday-Sunday afternoon, my father was getting ready to pack my lunch for today. He stood at the kitchen sink washing out my thermos as I watched. I had to stand guard over my thermos. I always did. Sometimes adults break things. My father unscrewed the lid and then unscrewed the lip that was used for drinking. He then lifted out the silver glass container and placed it in the soapy water in the sink to soak. That silver container has a pointed tip at the end that stablizes it once all put together again. I felt good. It would soon be dried and filled with milk and placed in the refrigerator with my sandwich in my metal lunch box.
My father washed it with a baby bottle scrubber. He pushed the scrubber inside and moved it all around to scrub out any food remains from last week. All of a sudden I heard a "bonk" in the bottom of the sink. It was the silver glass container. The point on the silver glass container had broken off. I was young and did not realize the reality of it all until later--this morning in fact. My father said that the point had broken off. I knew he could fix it. He was my father. He could do anything. Mom called me and I was off to bath and to bed.
Earlier this morning as my father drove me to kindergarden, I remember being belted in with my metal lunch box beside me. Kindergarden was about 8 city blocks away from our house. When we were about 3 blocks away I remember the "bonk" in the kitchen sink and open my cool metal lunch box just to check my thermos. My thermos was not there. Instead I saw a blue and white checked thermos that I have never seen before. The world had come to an end and immediately my father knew it.
I screamed and cried at the top of my lungs. All I could repeat was, "where's my thermos?" Over and over again I screamed this. I screamed this all the way to front door of the kindergarden. I was so distraught with grief I refused to get out of the car. I did not have all I needed to go to school that day. There was no way I was using that thermos. My tantrum continued on for 15 mintes. I was beyond consoling. My father tried telling me that it was just a thermos and that any thermos would do to hold your milk. Had he lost his mind?
My thermos did not match my metal lunch box. It was not the same and the world would never be the same. I refused to carry that thermos. I refused to go to school as I did not have my thermos. There was such a commotion going on at the front door that the head of the kindergarden finally came out to help my father. She had lost her mind as well. Finally my father told me he would get me a new lunch box and thermos just like the one I had when he got off from work today. I carried my lunch box with no thermos of milk to drink. My father had secretly passed it to the kindergarden head without me seeing. I thought it was in the car with him. I was still crying and hitching as I walked inside.
I was upset the whole day. Lunch time came and I opened my metal lunchbox and took out my sandwich. The kindergarden teacher asked me if i wanted something to drink. I told her yes but I did not have anything that day because my thermos was broken. She then disappeared and reappeared with what looked like the blue and white checked thermos my father had placed in my lunch box this morning. I became hysterical again. Finally she took it away and got me some water.
My mother picked me up and I told her what mean thing dad had done to me. I waited on him to get home. He promised to take me to the store to buy a new lunchbox just like the one I already had. He did. We went to GEX and looked. There was not a single lunchbox or school related item to be found. My father did ask the clerk about the lunch boxes and she said that school supplies/lunchboxes are only in store at the beginning of the school year-when everyone is buyng them. Once they sell out they do not get anymore in and the models for next year will most likely be different.
So here I sit in the back seat of the car totally crushed and all too aware that I will have to carry that blue and white checked thermos from now on. I realize that even when you stand guard sometimes adults break things and those things can never be replaced. Silently my mind is still racing and yelling, "Where's my thermos?"
My lunchbox will no longer the the newest, most expensive, "in " lunchbox to have.
Kindergarden. Somewhere between 1963-1965.
I have a metal lunch box with a thermos that I carry everyday. (It has been too long and I do not recall what character.) I love my lunchbox and my thermos. Compared to most of the lunchboxes the other children carry, mine is the newest, most expensive, "in" lunch box and thermos to have. I have been carrying this lunch box since August and I have had it for several months. Last Friday afternoon my mom picked me up from kindergarden--yup.. me and my lunchbox. We were just fine. I usually carry milk in my thermos and in the winter I sometimes have warm tomato soup.
Yesterday-Sunday afternoon, my father was getting ready to pack my lunch for today. He stood at the kitchen sink washing out my thermos as I watched. I had to stand guard over my thermos. I always did. Sometimes adults break things. My father unscrewed the lid and then unscrewed the lip that was used for drinking. He then lifted out the silver glass container and placed it in the soapy water in the sink to soak. That silver container has a pointed tip at the end that stablizes it once all put together again. I felt good. It would soon be dried and filled with milk and placed in the refrigerator with my sandwich in my metal lunch box.
My father washed it with a baby bottle scrubber. He pushed the scrubber inside and moved it all around to scrub out any food remains from last week. All of a sudden I heard a "bonk" in the bottom of the sink. It was the silver glass container. The point on the silver glass container had broken off. I was young and did not realize the reality of it all until later--this morning in fact. My father said that the point had broken off. I knew he could fix it. He was my father. He could do anything. Mom called me and I was off to bath and to bed.
Earlier this morning as my father drove me to kindergarden, I remember being belted in with my metal lunch box beside me. Kindergarden was about 8 city blocks away from our house. When we were about 3 blocks away I remember the "bonk" in the kitchen sink and open my cool metal lunch box just to check my thermos. My thermos was not there. Instead I saw a blue and white checked thermos that I have never seen before. The world had come to an end and immediately my father knew it.
I screamed and cried at the top of my lungs. All I could repeat was, "where's my thermos?" Over and over again I screamed this. I screamed this all the way to front door of the kindergarden. I was so distraught with grief I refused to get out of the car. I did not have all I needed to go to school that day. There was no way I was using that thermos. My tantrum continued on for 15 mintes. I was beyond consoling. My father tried telling me that it was just a thermos and that any thermos would do to hold your milk. Had he lost his mind?
My thermos did not match my metal lunch box. It was not the same and the world would never be the same. I refused to carry that thermos. I refused to go to school as I did not have my thermos. There was such a commotion going on at the front door that the head of the kindergarden finally came out to help my father. She had lost her mind as well. Finally my father told me he would get me a new lunch box and thermos just like the one I had when he got off from work today. I carried my lunch box with no thermos of milk to drink. My father had secretly passed it to the kindergarden head without me seeing. I thought it was in the car with him. I was still crying and hitching as I walked inside.
I was upset the whole day. Lunch time came and I opened my metal lunchbox and took out my sandwich. The kindergarden teacher asked me if i wanted something to drink. I told her yes but I did not have anything that day because my thermos was broken. She then disappeared and reappeared with what looked like the blue and white checked thermos my father had placed in my lunch box this morning. I became hysterical again. Finally she took it away and got me some water.
My mother picked me up and I told her what mean thing dad had done to me. I waited on him to get home. He promised to take me to the store to buy a new lunchbox just like the one I already had. He did. We went to GEX and looked. There was not a single lunchbox or school related item to be found. My father did ask the clerk about the lunch boxes and she said that school supplies/lunchboxes are only in store at the beginning of the school year-when everyone is buyng them. Once they sell out they do not get anymore in and the models for next year will most likely be different.
So here I sit in the back seat of the car totally crushed and all too aware that I will have to carry that blue and white checked thermos from now on. I realize that even when you stand guard sometimes adults break things and those things can never be replaced. Silently my mind is still racing and yelling, "Where's my thermos?"
My lunchbox will no longer the the newest, most expensive, "in " lunchbox to have.
April 23, 2004
According to a news report, a private school in Washington recently was faced with a unique problem........ A number of 12-year-old girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the bathroom. After they put on their lipstick they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints. Every night, the maintenance man would remove them and the next day, the girls would put them back. Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. She called all the girls to the bathroom and met them there with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night. To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the mirrors, she asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required. He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it. Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.
THE
MORAL OF THIS STORY.. There are teachers, and then there are Educators.
THE
MORAL OF THIS STORY.. There are teachers, and then there are Educators.
Egg Salad
Snapshots In My Time, Of My Time.....Hauntings.
Middle school. Most likely 6th grade. 1972.
Making egg salad for lunch the next day. The time was about 7pm. I was very tired. I had put 2 eggs on to boil. My father was finishing up the dinner dishes at the sink wearing a white t-shirt and his khaki pants. That was his uniform for work. Mom was in her bedroom getting ready for work the next day. Who knew where my brother was?
All I know is that I am tired. So...so tired that I tell my self I will just go lie down on my bed and rest my eyes for just a minute. My father leaves the kitchen. I leave the kitchen table and collapse on my canopy bed just to rest my eyes. I will get up in just a few minutes and make my egg salad.
My eyes open to pitch blackness with a hand covering my mouth tighly so that I could not scream. It is my mother.
She is whispering. What I do not know. I just woke up and do not know what is going on. She whispers some more and will not remove her hand until I understand the whispers.
The whispers are orders... over and over again orders--to get up, to not speak, to tiptoe and come with her. I get up and follow her out my room into the hallway. There is my father with the shotgun aimed ahead of him. There is my brother as well. My mother places us in the correct order. She gets behind my father, I am behind her and my younger brother is behind me. We all tiptoe down the hall toward the kitchen.
I hear sounds now and we are all terrified. Sounds like someone is moving in the kitchen and looking for something. It was a burgler. Why else would my father have the shot gun and why else would the four of us be tip toeing in the pitch blackness toward the kitchen. Why did'nt my parents simply call the police? That was the only thing I could think. We were going to die or get shot with that gun or would have to fight for our lives.
We continued to tip. The sounds got louder. Popping sounds like a gun going off in the kitchen. We got to the entrance of the kitchen and my father fired that shotgun blindly into the night..into the kitchen. I grabbed my brother and tried not to scream. I think my father fired all the bullets. I heard a click and no more firing from his gun.
We only heard silence from the kitchen. We all stood frozen in the hallway for what seemed like an eternity. We still only heard silence. My mother whispered for my father to turn on the light. He did. I was expecting to see dead bodies. I saw gunshot holes in the walls, gun shotholes in the cabinets and more on the floor. There were no dead people in the kitchen.
The only thing of any great notice in the kitchen was just my pot sitting on the stove, black from heat. It was devoid of all water and had been for quite some time as noted by its black color. It was devoid of water and devoid of eggs. The burglar sounds we thought we heard was the sound of eggs exploding right out of their shells. They had burst wide open and yoke and egg white was strewn all over the cabinets and the floor.
My parents turned to look at me. My legs turned to jelly. My father had shot up the kitchen for the love of egg salad! Back then parents gave their kids spankings and believe me I got a good one. Whelps and all. I never made egg salad again until I was an adult and had graduated from college. To this day egg salad still haunts me, just like a shiny piece of broken glass.
Home
Middle school. Most likely 6th grade. 1972.
Making egg salad for lunch the next day. The time was about 7pm. I was very tired. I had put 2 eggs on to boil. My father was finishing up the dinner dishes at the sink wearing a white t-shirt and his khaki pants. That was his uniform for work. Mom was in her bedroom getting ready for work the next day. Who knew where my brother was?
All I know is that I am tired. So...so tired that I tell my self I will just go lie down on my bed and rest my eyes for just a minute. My father leaves the kitchen. I leave the kitchen table and collapse on my canopy bed just to rest my eyes. I will get up in just a few minutes and make my egg salad.
My eyes open to pitch blackness with a hand covering my mouth tighly so that I could not scream. It is my mother.
She is whispering. What I do not know. I just woke up and do not know what is going on. She whispers some more and will not remove her hand until I understand the whispers.
The whispers are orders... over and over again orders--to get up, to not speak, to tiptoe and come with her. I get up and follow her out my room into the hallway. There is my father with the shotgun aimed ahead of him. There is my brother as well. My mother places us in the correct order. She gets behind my father, I am behind her and my younger brother is behind me. We all tiptoe down the hall toward the kitchen.
I hear sounds now and we are all terrified. Sounds like someone is moving in the kitchen and looking for something. It was a burgler. Why else would my father have the shot gun and why else would the four of us be tip toeing in the pitch blackness toward the kitchen. Why did'nt my parents simply call the police? That was the only thing I could think. We were going to die or get shot with that gun or would have to fight for our lives.
We continued to tip. The sounds got louder. Popping sounds like a gun going off in the kitchen. We got to the entrance of the kitchen and my father fired that shotgun blindly into the night..into the kitchen. I grabbed my brother and tried not to scream. I think my father fired all the bullets. I heard a click and no more firing from his gun.
We only heard silence from the kitchen. We all stood frozen in the hallway for what seemed like an eternity. We still only heard silence. My mother whispered for my father to turn on the light. He did. I was expecting to see dead bodies. I saw gunshot holes in the walls, gun shotholes in the cabinets and more on the floor. There were no dead people in the kitchen.
The only thing of any great notice in the kitchen was just my pot sitting on the stove, black from heat. It was devoid of all water and had been for quite some time as noted by its black color. It was devoid of water and devoid of eggs. The burglar sounds we thought we heard was the sound of eggs exploding right out of their shells. They had burst wide open and yoke and egg white was strewn all over the cabinets and the floor.
My parents turned to look at me. My legs turned to jelly. My father had shot up the kitchen for the love of egg salad! Back then parents gave their kids spankings and believe me I got a good one. Whelps and all. I never made egg salad again until I was an adult and had graduated from college. To this day egg salad still haunts me, just like a shiny piece of broken glass.
Home
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)