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This Day in My History


2000:
  The Funnies Aren't Funny Anymore
2001:
  Creepy Crawlies
2002:
 Lost in the Labyrinth
2003:  Frosting on the Cake
2004:  Lost Imaginary Friends 


 

SHEILA's BLOG

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Sydney found a lot of my old toys.  Hey--this was fun to play with.  I'd forgotten!


FUNNY THE BLOG

"Seeing My Babies Again"


THE CHILDHOOD MEME

29 August 2005

Got this one from Suzanne at Suburban Lesbian...

First, the rules to this meme game: Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs for the desired cross pollination effect.

1. Heather http://outloudvoice.blogspot.com
2. Suzanne http://mimilou.blogspot.com
3. Gina http://objustanotherday.blogspot.com
4. Suzanne http://lifethesuburbs.blogspot.com

5. Bev http://funnytheworld.com

Next: select new friends to add to the pollen count. No one is obligated to participate.

1. Mary http://marywa.diaryland.com/
2. Mary http://bozoette.diary-x.com/
3. Becky http://becky-says.diaryland.com/
4. Kathy http://kitchenlogic.diaryland.com/
5. Michelle http://www.livejournal.com/users/sagewillowcre8/

Let the game begin!

What 5 things do you miss about your childhood?

I miss:

1.  Having my mother take care of me when I was sick.  She really made being sick a pleasant experience, with food brought in to me on a bed tray, books she'd go out to the library to get for me, either fresh sheets of freshly smoothed out sheets every day, a bag pinned to the side of the bed for used tissues, and, if I had a bad cough, warm butter milk (milk with butter floating in it) brought to me in the dark of night.   The first time I got sick when I was living alone was the first time I realized I was really an adult.

2.  The parties my parents used to throw.  They would roll up the rugs and my mother would make great hors d'oeuvres and my father would play the piano for people to dance.  It was the only consistent time that I remember my father being happy, even if sometimes he was pretending (he would tell us later).  But thinking back on those parties makes me smile.  Father Joe, who baptised my mother, and whose group of converts made up most of the parties, would lead folks in a community sing and I loved that too.  I still think of him when I hear "There's a long, long road a-winding..."  Father Joe is still around, still a good friend of my mother's, but he's very frail these days.

3.  I miss high school.  I miss the friends from St. Vincent.  I miss that beautiful old building (now torn down with a big ugly cathedral standing on it instead).  I miss being the darling of the nuns (most of them), and feeling like I had the run of the school.  I miss the ceremonials that went along with being in a catholic school, getting to act as altar girl (tho never inside the altar rail--that was reserved for males!), saying the rosary at noontime, the Sodality, the Legion of Mary.  I really was into all that stuff in high school.   Then I lost my innocence and began to see the flaws in the church and no longer have that crutch to fall back on.

4. I miss going off to the library every week and bringing home 6 books (the maximum you could check out at any one time), and having the luxury time (and lack of distractions) to read them all and return them the following week.  I miss the fun of investigating new libraries as they opened up.  It occurs to me that Davis opened a remodeled library just a few blocks from our house years ago and I've never taken one book out of it.  It takes me so long to read a book now (mostly because of doing other things) that I just never think of getting a book from the library because I'd probably lose it before I'd finish reading it!

5.  I miss the innocence of the 50s.  I was a white middle-class kid and thought that everybody lived like Donna Reed or Ozzie & Harriet.   We didn't have news broadcasts 24/7 and my parents didn't discuss current events at the dinner table (that I recall), so I didn't really know what was going on in that war over in Korea.  We were patriotic, even if we didn't "Like Ike."  I lived in San Francisco and I didn't know what was happening to gay people on the other side of town.  It never occurred to me that black people were being discriminated against because I attended an all-white school and didn't know any black people (it wasn't deliberately all white, but there were apparently no black families who wanted to or could afford to send their kids to a private Catholic school).  I was a child living in a fool's paradise.  I wouldn't go back to those years for anything.   But I miss the safety and peace I felt, the carefree existence I led because I was blissfully unaware of what was really happening in my world.

I think that most of us, unless we've had severely tragic upbringings, have rather fond memories of our childhoods.  Even with my father's temper, my grandmother's constant harping, and all the things that were negatives in my life, I still feel that I had a happy childhood and it's nice to think about a time when the world was a good place, when I believed people in authority told me the truth, when life stretched out before me, when anything was possible, and when I still believed in magic.

PHOTO OF THE DAY

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Guess who was at Petco today...
Harry and Hagrid, one month later!

 

 
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