It's common during the holidays to recall memories of the past. Both happy ones and sad. It's true. But we try to keep the happy ones close, the ones that give us pleasure and hopes for Christmases to come. We may dig through photos, watch family videos, or share stories during family gatherings. So, today I'm sharing one of those.
It was 1955 or maybe '56. I have a photo. A young girl of four or five leaning forward, hugging her rocking horse with eyes closed. She'd fallen asleep, refusing to end the magic of Christmas Eve and this special ride, even though her parents had tried to coax her to bed. The horse would be here in the morning, waiting for her, they reasoned. The girl, her eyes wide and wet with tears, cried. So, they left her to rock on that horse until she fell asleep, then carried her off to bed.
This was such a long time ago, and my memory has faded like many have. Yet I wonder what had been in that young girl's mind. Was it just the ride that gave her joy? Or was there more? The magic of Christmas still lived in her heart. Santa on his sleigh, delivering presents to girls and boys; a plate of cookies and milk left to say thank you, which she found empty next morning; the tree smelling of pine with its twinkling lights and sparkling with tinsel sitting near the window; the joyful sound of caroles; warm cookies out of the oven lathered with icing and covered with green and red sprinkles; smiles and laughter of family and friends gathering to celebrate... All those and more. Did she think of those things while she rocked on her horse? Was it part of the magic? I'd like to believe she thought this. I'd like to believe magic lives inside all children. And maybe, just maybe it can live inside everyone, young and old.
Here's to the joy! Until tomorrow...
I normally don't do this, but it's Memorial Day and I'm getting older. Time does that to a person, especially during occasions like holidays, weddings, birthdays, and sadly, funerals. We remember the past. Today I'm thinking of family who served during war -- WWII and the Korean War come to mind.
Uncle Pete (Momchilov) was my mom's brother. I didn't get a chance to know him very well. He died when I was twelve. He flew planes during WWII, was shot down a couple of times, but survived it all. Pete loved flying. After the war he went on to pilot commercial flights, small charters and such. Sadly and ironically, he died from a heart attack during one of those flights. His co-pilot was able to land the plane safely. Pete was only in his forties. He loved his country and flying. That's what I'll remember most about him.
I have three brothers, all many years older than I. My oldest, Art Schake, served in the army during WWII. I don't know anything about the time he served. I wasn't born yet, but I've seen photos. He looked so handsome in his uniform. He came out of the Army and continued to serve his country in another way, by becoming a police officer. That remained his occupation for thirty-some years. Unfortunately, he passed away in his early sixties and didn't get a chance to enjoy more than a few years of retirement. However, he lived a full and joyful life, loved by family and friends, appreciated by citizens and country.
My middle brother, Bob, is a quiet, dignified, and intelligent man. I can't even imagine him being in a war, but he served during the Korean conflict for several years. I was only four when he sent home gifts, including the outfit you see me wearing in the photo. I loved it and wanted to wear it all the time! I imagine it was quite a culture shock living in a foreign country for years. It must have been comforting having fellow soldiers around him, giving support and boosting morale. I'm sure he came back after he served, a wiser man, more worldly. He went on to further his education on the G.I. Bill, one of the benefits of serving the military. He found a job at Firestone Tire in Akron, worked his way to the top and ended up the VP of Purchasing for Dunlop Tire.
My youngest brother, Jim, may have wanted to serve in the military (I don't know for sure), but a health condition prevented him from doing so. He made up for it in other ways, becoming a viable and contributing citizen, raising a family, and working for a local company, Reiter Dairy. He's retired and has lived to enjoy seeing his three daughters marry and have children of their own.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is that we all have different stories to tell, but also we have one thing in common: being proud of our loved ones who've served and knowing the sacrifices they've made helped make this country great.
Have a wonderful Memorial Day and honor your veterans!
*I apologize in advance for any facts I may have gotten wrong. In any case, I'm sure my brothers will let me know, if I did! LOL
You know, I am the supreme master of procrastination. Ask anyone who knows me. It's no secret, and I don't claim that lightly. Add my dorky behavior and undying curiosity to the mix, and you get a typical day like this ....
3:00 pm: I wanted to continue my work in progress this afternoon. That was the plan. It's a mystery and just so happens to involve a secret code. I LOVE secret codes. (Insert matching character detail -- quirky, dorky, or anything synonymous.) So, I was about to write when a thought came to me. I remember I had a book as a kid called Codes & Secret Writing (see photo). I bought it through our class Scholastic book program. Oh, how I loved those fliers! Full of wonderful books, I wanted to buy them all. My parents had other ideas. Anyway, I thought about that book. It was such a fun book. I'd spend hours using those codes to write secret messages. (Yes, I know. Dork.) I decided about then to go look for that book. I saved ALL my books, much to my hubby's disappointment. I even have a rather large collection of Nancy Drew Mysteries, if you ever stop by and want to take a look.
Now, where was I? Yes, finding that code book. I searched my toy chest (kept that, too) and found lots of goodies, including a Chatty Cathy, Tiny Tears, and Barbie along with her friends and family. That took me about an hour, ooing and ahing over all of them. But no book.
4:00 pm: I never was one to give up, however I ran out of hiding places for the moment. So, it was on to the internet, a true cornucopia of information. Several minutes later and ta da! There it was. The cover image had been carved, burned, etched into my brain. How could I ever forget? That beautiful cover, belonging to my my childhood memory, and I found it on a vintage book website. Easy peasy!
Of course, after all that I needed to process my thoughts, and I came up with this perhaps obvious takeaway -- Childhood can be a wonderful thing, and evidently memories over a lifetime may trigger an idea or two, which may become a part of a writer's story. It has for mine. I'd like to think my stories are made of all the details of my life experience. Each and every day, from small ones to big ones, those moments are connected, linked like DNA to form my imagination. Yeah, underneath it all, sometimes in a small way or even big, it's where I believe the story starts, with my building blocks of memories.
5:00 pm: Oh, and one more thing ... after all the reminiscing and searching? I decided to write this post. Ugh. Procrastination. Now, if I can just stay away from Facebook, Twitter, and all things cyber-like, maybe I could finish that chapter ;-)
Happy writing and reading, all!
Tweet, tweet! And twitter tweet some more :-) It's what I am doing today with another *sigh* contest. I truly believe writers are addicted and these fav stars are our crack candy! I collect them, for sure.
Thank Yous: Anyway, I wanted to check in and extend a warm thank you to all those who help the starving, struggling writers, (count me in) with supporting comments, wonderful promos, and just being all around nice. Kudos and cheers to you!
Business: Last Saturday I spent the afternoon at the Learned Owl Book Shop. No, I wasn't shopping or browsing for books, though I love doing that. I was there for a book signing. It was fun, met a few really nice folks, chatted up a storm (I do it well) and sold ... well, who cares about that? lol It's the socializing and stuff that I enjoy most. Next up? The Wadsworth Library on Tuesday evening July 28th.
Reflection: It's been twenty-three years this month since my mom passed away. She was a grand lady, spectacular cook and baker, and always overflowing with love. Never one to ask for something in return, she gave and gave even more of whatever she had. I'd like to think she's my special guardian angel. I can't imagine a more appropriate one. After these many years I am able to remember her without crying, or at least most times I can. When I write characters into my stories and need one to be that person, you know, the one who guides others, offers sound advice, and isn't afraid to tell the truth, like it or not, I think of her. She was funny, too. Loved to gab with strangers. And never showed a dark side, at least not to me. She loved nature, the color yellow and long rides in the country. She grooved to soul music more than anyone her age I know. Play some Brooke Benton or Sam Cooke tunes, and maybe throw in a little rockin' blues by Elvis and she was happy. She'd sacrifice her all to save you. And never complain. She was my rock, but taught me how to stand on my own two feet. It doesn't get better than that, folks.
I think I will leave this post, now. Before those tears start! Besides, I have to get back to all the tweet, tweet twitter feed going on! It's booming.
Cheers! And enjoy your day!
