New Years is a fond memory for me. I like Big Band music so the biggest treat for me was Guy Lombardo. WOW! I loved to hear his band playing fun tunes as the New Year approached. To watch thousands of people with funny party hats dancing to the mellow music. The countdown to midnight, the ball on Times Square, the poppers shooting confetti all around the ballroom. I miss that. I’m sure the kids today love the music that is played now. New Year’s will always be Guy Lombardo for me. Gotta get some recordings.
The other great part was another opportunity to shoot fireworks. My dad and some family friends would get together and have grand time with bottle rockets, smoke bombs, roman candles and the like. I didn’t realize the danger back then. Especially when one wouldn’t go off and they would try to light it again. Oooh! I’m sure I’d be more vocal today.
Well, apparently fireworks are legal again where we live. However, I think we’ll just stick to watching the professionals. I am trying to make special memories for my kids though. New Years Day is No Cooking Day. Totally a meat tray and veggie tray day. Chips, Christmas cookies and treats and at least two televisions so we can get every angle of the parade and see every possible football game. We play with Christmas toys or learn how to use a new Christmas gift.
You’re thinking, OK, you’re from the south. How about Hoppin’ John. Never touched the stuff. Now I don’t mind the peas and rice but collards are definitely out. It was always said that for every blackeyed pea you eat you gain happiness and for every collard green you eat you gain money. I guess I’ll be poor but very happy.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Christmas at Home
Christmas is unique where I grew up. A lot of times it isn’t all that cold, much less having snow. I remember one Christmas right before I got married when we were out in light sweaters on Christmas day. Definitely not inspiration for a Currier and Ives plate. White Christmases were only in our dreams. Christmas still held a lot of excitement. I guess I was pretty typical as far as wish lists would go. But the traditions and festivities were gigantic in my mind.
When I was very small we had a real tree bought from the local Optimists Club. My best friend’s dad was an Optimist and we always went to get our tree when he was working on the lot. Mom and Dad would scrutinize every fir there. My brother and I would be bored to tears and begging for hot chocolate. Finally, the perfect one was chosen. Even after all that the trunk and several lower branches would need to be sawn off and the thin side would be turned to the back. So much for perfect. Later, we succumbed to progress and purchased an artificial tree. At least we weren’t vacuuming up needles until next Christmas Eve.
Dad would put the lights on. I think it’s a dad thing except in my family. I, being the mother, get to do it. Maybe it’s really hereditary. Maybe my husband is just chicken. After the lights my brother and I would put every possible ornament on the tree and then tinsel. The first tries at tinsel were great bunches placed here and there. Then Mom told us it would turn out better if we would try for one piece at the time. We tried that for awhile and then….Yep! We went back to the bunches. Maybe not quite as big this time. My brother and I were a little impatient overall. Dad always had to put the angel on top. Very likely because he was the tallest at slightly over six feet. My mom is only 5’2” and we were shorter than that.
Another tradition in the city I grew up in was the lighting of the tree on Colonial Lake. This was a rather shallow man made lake downtown in which a raft with a very large tree was floated. The Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, elementary school kids and possibly some groups I don’t even know about would cover flashlights with green or red tissue paper and line the lake and sing carols. Doesn’t sound like much maybe but we looked forward to it every year. It seemed like the whole city was there. Everyone is friendlier at Christmas.
When I was very small we had a real tree bought from the local Optimists Club. My best friend’s dad was an Optimist and we always went to get our tree when he was working on the lot. Mom and Dad would scrutinize every fir there. My brother and I would be bored to tears and begging for hot chocolate. Finally, the perfect one was chosen. Even after all that the trunk and several lower branches would need to be sawn off and the thin side would be turned to the back. So much for perfect. Later, we succumbed to progress and purchased an artificial tree. At least we weren’t vacuuming up needles until next Christmas Eve.
Dad would put the lights on. I think it’s a dad thing except in my family. I, being the mother, get to do it. Maybe it’s really hereditary. Maybe my husband is just chicken. After the lights my brother and I would put every possible ornament on the tree and then tinsel. The first tries at tinsel were great bunches placed here and there. Then Mom told us it would turn out better if we would try for one piece at the time. We tried that for awhile and then….Yep! We went back to the bunches. Maybe not quite as big this time. My brother and I were a little impatient overall. Dad always had to put the angel on top. Very likely because he was the tallest at slightly over six feet. My mom is only 5’2” and we were shorter than that.
Another tradition in the city I grew up in was the lighting of the tree on Colonial Lake. This was a rather shallow man made lake downtown in which a raft with a very large tree was floated. The Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, elementary school kids and possibly some groups I don’t even know about would cover flashlights with green or red tissue paper and line the lake and sing carols. Doesn’t sound like much maybe but we looked forward to it every year. It seemed like the whole city was there. Everyone is friendlier at Christmas.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Memories of growing up in the South
When you’re 10 years old, you think you will be 10 forever. I remember winters as a kid in South Carolina. It didn’t often get down to freezing and rarely snowed. If a large puddle froze solid we would do our version of “ice skating”. Twisting and turning with our sneakers. Kids down there don't have ice skates. Our imaginations ran wild. It worked, OK? If it snowed that decade we would build our 2 or 3 foot snowman from our 3-5” of precip. School was cancelled and we thought we were experiencing blizzard. I recall that if the temperature got down into the 50s we thought we were freezing. At 40s we were bundled up like Eskimos. At 30 we would put sandwich bags over feet to keep them dry and hopefully warm. And that was over at least two pairs of socks!
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