Childhood – Valerie's Voice

Square Dancers

My childhood friend, Diane, called me a couple weeks ago, to wish me a happy birthday. We have exchanged the same birthday card since 1979. It has become a treasure. Diane called to say I would be getting the birthday card late this year, because she was “snow birding” in Florida and forgot to bring the card along to send to me from there.

It was fun to chat with her awhile, and catch up on our kids. She told me this story.

In 1953, my father built this house that I grew up in.

When Diane’s mother passed away, several years after her father died, Diane’s son bought his grandparent’s house. So, he now lives in the house where Diane grew up, and across the street from the house where I grew up, in Northeast Minneapolis. It’s wonderful to know the house is still in her family. Her parents built their house in the early 1950’s, as did mine.

A special wall painting discovered under the paneling.

Diane told me her son has done a lot of updating and remodeling of the McKinley Street house, and currently he’s working in the basement. He began tearing the old paneling off the walls. Underneath he found the typical cement blocks, but also a surprise.

Taking care to preserve this special painting.

Back in the late 50’s, Diane’s father painted two life-size square dancers on the cement block wall. I had forgotten about them, but remembered them as soon as Diane mentioned it. A few years later, when her dad finished off their basement, he covered up the square dancers with paneling. Diane recalls that when her dad covered up the painting with paneling…he said, “it will be interesting for someone to discover these dancers someday.”

A moisture control was brushed over the wall painting, to help persevere the painting.

As Diane’s son was tearing down the paneling, lo and behold, he exposed the painting of the square dancers.

Little did Diane’s father know at the time, it would be his own grandson who would discover his special treasure on the wall, under the paneling!

Piano Lessons

There are a few things I remember about music lessons from when I was younger. First, I remember the fluteophone, a white plastic wind instrument. A quick check on the internet tells me they still make them. Next came the wooden recorder, another flute-like, wind instrument. I’m not sure what I learned from them.

I also took piano lessons, but I do not recall when they began. I remember my piano teacher was the wife our pastor at Mt. Carmel Lutheran Church, but her name eludes me. I’m grateful my parents decided to give me lessons. I do remember playing the piano a lot (maybe I was even practicing). Our huge, used, upright piano was in our basement and I spent hours down there either playing the piano or sewing (our sewing machine was down there too.) Later, my parents bought an organ and I learned to play that. It’s all so very interesting to think back on this because I do not remember wanting to learn to play the organ…I guess I did at the time.

I didn’t keep up with organ, or piano, although I wish I had, of course. I still have several of my piano books and sheet music. I look at them now and realize I can’t play the pieces any more.

Our sons took piano lessons and we bought a used, spinet piano for them to play. The only use the piano gets now is if I sit down to play occasionally, for fun. A friend and I use to play duets together, but unfortunately, she moved away, and so the piano sits… (we’re willing to give it away to a good home).

I consider music a universal language. All people, from all nations, read the same notes and measures and rests etc… When our exchange student from Japan lived with us, we used to play the piano together. We both could read the music language.

I am grateful my parents took me to my music lessons. I believe it helped me develop an appreciation for music. Even though I didn’t go further with music in my own life, I’m thankful for the music that is all around me, in so many different aspects of life.

Corn and More Corn

My corn lilies, as I call them, are in full bloom. I made up their name…to me it is a fitting name as they are tall and the flowers are yellow. I could look up the official name, but I don’t want to. 😉

A perspective as to how tall these lilies grow!

I have grown to really like my corn lilies, but I don’t remember planting them. I do believe they were planted by a bird or something (perhaps a squirrel?). I look forward to them blooming each summer, about this time when corn in the fields is growing tall too.

And more corn…when I was a child in the 50’s & 60’s, we all knew the adage, “Knee high by the Fourth of July”. Even us city kids knew the saying. Back at that time, the saying had meaning to the farmers…it was an indication of how well their crops were doing. If not knee high by the the beginning of July they would start to be concerned.

Gary, outstanding (!) in a cornfield on July 5, 2023.

But now-a-days… corn is much higher by July 4. Is it because of the hybrid seeds, new farming methods, more fertilizer? All possibilities. What I know is, the other day as we rode our bicycles past a cornfield we stopped and I took a picture of Gary in the cornfield. The stalks were already taller than him, and he’s 6 feet, 3 inches tall…way beyond “knee high by the Fourth of July”. It was July 5th!

The Tale of Four Cats

The writing assignment: Write about a time you had to put an animal to sleep…

Over the years I’ve lived with four cats.

One, I had as a child. He was a stray cat that our family took in. We called him Chief, until she had babies, then we renamed her Chief-asina, after the popular cat movie at the time (in the early 1960’s) Thomasina. I think she eventually ran away. I thought I saw her sitting in a neighbor’s window down the block once. But for some reason we didn’t pursue her.

The other three cats were a part of our lives when our two boys were young. The first cat was a black and white shorthair male. We named him Mittens. He was a cute black and white kitten with white paws. We bought him at an animal shelter. On the way home we asked the boys what we should name him. Mittens was chosen. After we got Mittens settled in his new home we sat down for dinner. When we were done eating our youngest said, “May I please be excused? I want to go pet Gloves!”

Although, Mittens was a well-groomed cat, he would not use the litter box. We tried all kinds of tricks and suggestions, short of bringing him to a cat psychiatrist (one of the suggestions). The animal shelter did not want him back either, so we had no choice but to put him to sleep. That was a hard decision, and one not made lightly. I do not remember how we told our boys.

Our second cat was a calico cat…a lovely mixture of gray and white and tan. We named him Cocoa. He did use the litter box, but he didn’t like to be inside. We wanted an indoor cat. Every time the door opened Cocoa flew through the air to get outside. This was a constant problem.

One day I was going to run some errands. As I backed the car out of the garage, I ran over something I thought was a toy. Little did I know Cocoa was out there, under the car, and I had run over him. It was traumatic. Gary was out of the country on business, but fortunately our neighbor came over and helped us dig a hole and bury our naughty, but loved, kitty in the back garden.

Our third, and last, cat was an orange, female tabby cat. I had heard orange female cats were usually gentle and calm, so back to the animal shelter we went. We found one there and brought her home. We named her Caramel Corn. She was a beautiful cat…the color of caramel corn. She was a good cat: she used the litter box, she liked being in the house…she didn’t even try to get out of the house when the doors were open.

She loved to sit among people. I would pull up a stool at the kitchen table where Caramel Corn would perch contently and listen in on our conversations around the table, no matter who was visiting. In the mornings she would jump on my lap to snuggle while I had my morning coffee and devotions, and we’d rock in the rocking chair. She was a wonderful kitty-cat that we had for twelve years. I missed her when she died.

I like stuffed animals and years ago I bought a stuffed caramel colored kitty to add to a few pillows on our bed, as a reminder of Caramel Corn.

In the meantime, we found out our son was allergic to cats so we could not invest in another cat. But that’s OK. We had a delightful one for a long time, and it would be hard to find another one like our beloved Caramel Corn.

An Assignment

Recently, in my writing session, I learned about a new (to me) writing pattern… syllables crescendo up and then decrescendo back down. In my poem that follows, I started with two syllables in the first line, and worked up to seven syllables, then repeated seven, and worked back down to two.

The house my dad built in northeast Minneapolis, where I grew up.

The prompt: Describe a day in the life of your childhood.

Get up. 
Eat breakfast. 
Do a few chores.
Go outside and play. 
The neighborhood gang waits. 
Play until it’s time for lunch,  
then go out to play some more. 
Go inside for supper. 
Go out until dusk. 
Then in, once more 
Go to bed. 
Repeat.

Obviously, this is exaggerated, but I do look back with fondness and gratefulness for my childhood. Which was so very different than my husband’s, who grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania. His was a happy childhood, too.

A Childhood Memory

My friend wrote a story about ants, which prompted a memory from my childhood involving ants. I grew up in northeast Minneapolis. Across the street from me lived my two best friends: Donna and Diane. This story, and many childhood memories, involve them. I don’t have many pictures of the three of us…but I found a couple pictures from Christmastime with the three of us and my brother.

This photo was taken in 1958 of my brother, Donna, Diane and me (L to R).

Here’s my story: Ants

I don’t remember whose idea it was to sneak treats up to the cabin, but we thought it would be a fun thing to do. My “partners in crime” were my best friends at the time, two sisters who lived across the street from me, Donna and Diane. Our parents were good friends…they met when there was a surge of families moving into a new neighborhood in Northeast Minneapolis, in the early 1950’s.

We moved into the house my dad built when I was six months old, and I grew up there, with the same neighbors for the most part. There was a huge gang of kids in the neighborhood. And it was a fun place to grow up. I didn’t move out of the house my dad built, until after high school.

My parents had a large group of friends (with young families) that connected on a regular basis. They had coffee together, played bridge together, went camping together and rented cabins at the same resorts together. It was a family of friends. And Donna and Diane’s family, as well as mine, were a part of this group from the beginning.

Donna, Diane and I played together daily. We played outside, we had overnights, we played dress up, we played games, we had fun together, we grew up together. So, going up to a lake resort was a common outing for us. I now understand what a privilege it was to go to the resorts…but I guess since our family didn’t have a cabin – yet my parents wanted the cabin experience – the next best thing was to rent one.

As our parents planned another trip, we three girls planned our own shenanigans. I’m pretty sure we had enough to eat on these weekend get-aways, and probably more than enough snacks, so why we thought we needed to buy more snacks to sneak up to the cabin on this trip is a mystery. I know, at the time, we thought we were so clever and sneaky.

We must have pooled our allowance to get money to buy a few treats…maybe chips and cookies …I don’t remember anything other than the watermelon. And it was a half watermelon. Cut and wrapped in saran wrap. That’s a hard thing to sneak into a car, but we were determined.

When we got home from our grocery shopping excursion, we needed to hide the goods until the next morning when we were to leave for the cabin. So…we hid the snacks, including the half watermelon, in the bushes in Donna and Diane’s backyard. It made sense at the time…

Until the next morning when we took our pillows along to retrieve our treats and hide them in our pillow cases. What we discovered was a half watermelon, full, blackened even, with ANTS!

And we were so surprised!!! Little did we know the ants would show up. We learned a lesson that day…do not leave watermelon outside overnight under a bush – or anywhere!!! It’s a fun childhood memory.

This photo was taken in 1969…me, Diane, Donna and my brother (L to R).

Unfortunately, all of our respective parents have died, so we cannot get their take on this story.

Flowers

My interest in flowers did not start when I was a child. Although my mom had indoor plants and some flowers growing outside, it didn’t seem to influence me much. I do remember beautiful window boxes filled with flowers outside the large picture window in front of our house– pretty to look at from the inside as well as the outside. I must have been influenced by that. I have had flower boxes on my decks for 40+ years.

I plant petunias in my flower boxes…this deck gets full afternoon sun and petunias can take the heat! And they are colorful.

I remember my mother’s purple clematis (probably a wonderful, old-fashion Jackmanli) on the side of our house on McKinley Street, along with some other flowers.

This Jackmanli clematis grows along the side of our house in Northfield.

There may have been a small garden plot in the back corner of my parent’s yard, but I don’t remember the kinds of flowers growing there. I did not have to weed flowers, but I did have to weed around the Poplar trees that lined our back yard.

A different clematis climbing the arbor…the lilac bush is behind the hanging blue, glass ball…

My mother did plant a lilac bush and I took a small section from her bush and planted it at our house in Burnsville. When we moved from Burnsville, I took a section from that bush and planted it in our yard here in Northfield. It’s still growing and blooming after 27+ years.

Looking off our deck into our back yard. The lilac bush is near the wagon wheel by the shed.

Such lush green…so amazing to look at right now while outside snow is falling and the ground is white!

I do remember, as a child, picking some tulips from a neighbor’s garden to bring home to my mom…then I had to turn right around and go apologize to Dorothy for not asking permission to cut some of her flowers. Whoops.

Recently a prompt from a writing session led me to thinking about when my interest in flowers began. I remembered giving a friend an eight-pack of starter begonias as a housewarming gift. I have no idea why I picked begonias or how they would grow …but when I went back to her house later that summer there was pot on her front porch, blooming with beautiful begonias…the ones I had given her earlier that spring. I had no idea they would grow and fill out so much! This was back in high school. I’ve learned a lot since then.

Cone flowers in front of Quick Fire hydrangea.

My Quick Fire Hydrangea, later in the season. When this hydrangea begins blooming it has white flowers (see photo with purple cone flowers above) and changes to mauve by the end of the season.

My interest and knowledge grew when we moved into a new house with a vacant yard, almost twenty-eight years ago. As I mentioned, I have always had flower boxes to fill with colorful annuals, so we included that into our deck plans, but I created a few flower gardens, too, and have been playing in the dirt ever since.

And now I love flowers…tending to them, admiring them in gardens all over the world, and taking pictures of them…

(These photos were taken in my yard at different times and years.)

An Assignment

I’ve posted some short essays from my writing sessions before. I’m amazed where writing prompts lead, and I’m often surprised. For this assignment, the question was: “What object in your home have you been surprised to love more and more over the years?”

It took a little while before something shimmered to the top for me. And then it did. It is a photo of my two boys running through a farm field when they were younger. I had to look up date the photo was taken. It was 1988, and the boys would have been 6 and 4. I framed this photo back then, and have had it hanging in my house since. A few years ago, I went up to St. Olaf’s print center and had another color copy (8”x10”) made of the original because the first picture I had in the frame started to fade over the years.

I have the photo hanging in a hallway and I see it often. To me it represents some of the best years of my life, when my two wonderful young sons were little boys, healthy and happy, and growing and loving. I’m nostalgic for those times, those hugs, those gone-by-too-fast days when we were all together. I’m so thankful for the memories we made together as a family, and for photos I have of those times.

This picture was taken on the family farm in Pennsylvania. The boys are full of energy, runny and healthy, carefree, and so happy together. I think that best describes their childhood.

The photo is precious and makes me smile, time after time, and has become a treasured belonging in my home.

How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity. Psalm 133:1 (NASB)

A Color I Remember

I bought this orange art glass piece for my parents in the sixties.

A writing companion and I meet monthly. We assign exercises and come prepared the next month to share our work. One recent exercise was to write about a color, specifically it was: Blank is the color I remember.

I am posting my essay below…with photos. I went back to look for evidence of what I remembered….so I’ve included some pictures that I found.

The slide viewfinder surrounded by a few slides.

There were a couple of slides in the mix and I wondered how I could post them…then I thought to put them in our slide viewfinder and try taking a photo of the image inside the viewer. Much to my surprise it worked fairly well. So here goes…

Blank is the color I remember…

I have always loved color. And I enjoy collecting colored glass. There is evidence I liked it when I was younger too…In our living room I display an orange glass art piece I remember buying for my parent’s anniversary when I was a teenager…at the JCPenney store in Apache Plaza. It was on a glass shelf in the back corner of the store, by an outside door. It’s interesting to think I remember those few details so vividly.

However, what came to mind when I read the assignment “ Blank is the color I remember” I thought of the house I grew up in on McKinley Street in Northeast Minneapolis. My dad built the house and we moved into it in 1953 when I was six-months old. Of course, I don’t remember moving into it, but from when I can remember our house was painted a rose-pink color. How that color was decided I’ll never know, and unfortunately I can’t ask my parents anymore. I do know my mom always loved reds and pinks so I’m sure she had a lot of influence as to the color choice. I remember telling friends, when giving them directions to my house, “it’s the rose color one.”

Our rose colored house in the background. This is a picture from my confirmation. I am standing between my two grandfathers.

The color of our house never bothered me, and I really didn’t take notice if the color was out of place in the neighborhood but I think it must have been, especially when I remember the houses surrounding us in the new neighborhood. I would not choose to paint my house that color today.

Thinking of my rose colored house prompts a memory of the house directly across the street from that house; next door to our good friends the Soderman’s. It belonged to an old man and, as children, we thought is was kind of a scary place. There were tall bushes that lined both sides of his property and he lived alone in this shack; an old, scary, unpainted, one-room house (as I remember it).

The old one-room house in the background. It doesn’t look so scary in the photo. It must be getting ready to be demolished. The bushes on each side of the property have been taken down in this photo. That is me and my childhood friend…apparently going somewhere with large suitcases! This is a photo from the slide viewfinder.

The one-room house was off to one side of the property and a ways back from the street. I think we always subconsciously picked up speed when we walked by it. At one point in time the bushes were removed and the shack was torn down and a new house was built in its place. I wonder what happened to that man? Did he die? Did he move away? I don’t even know his name.

Which prompts me to remember the old play shack my dad and brother built for a playhouse in our own back yard. It was much smaller than our neighbor’s house across the street. It had a big open window (no glass) in front (and one on the side?) and a front door. The roof was slanted and it had a built-in ladder on the back where we could climb to the roof and sit and watch the neighborhood. I don’t remember the color of the shack but it wasn’t refined. I wonder if it was even painted? I wonder if there is a picture of it somewhere?

I found this slide showing the shack in our backyard. It was painted to match the house. This photo was taken from the slide viewfinder. In the foreground is my childhood friend and I sharing a rain coat!

The house of my childhood eventually got re-painted but I don’t know what year. My parents changed the color to gold. That was a little more conventional. With that gold color they also painted the wooden crank-up camper, my dad made…which matched the new 1965 Ford Galaxy my parents owned. It was a big deal getting a brand new car.

Me in the back of our house, painted gold.

The ’65 Ford Galaxy is the car we took (pulling the heavy wooden camper) on a road trip in to Yellowstone National Park. I remember feeding the bears (legit to do back then I guess) and one stood up on the car door with its paws inside the window nearest me (!) and left a scratch mark on the black, interior fabric…hmmm…

The bear through the window at Yellowstone National Park.

The bear in my window at Yellowstone National Park. I can’t believe I took a picture…well maybe I can. HA!

So the phrase “blank is the color I remember” took me on a fun, crazy path down memory lane and I found a few pictures to go along with the story.

A Childhood Memory

For my writing group we were assigned to write about a childhood memory and here is one of mine.

When I was in 5^th grade I went to my girlfriend’s birthday party. I would have been about 11 years old. My friend’s mother took us to a popular, children’s, live television show in Minneapolis. I don’t remember the name of the TV show…could it have been Clancy the Cop, Axel and the Tree House, or maybe Casey Jones, or Captain Kangaroo or Howdy Doody?

Cheryl was the birthday girl’s name, but I do not remember any of the other girls at the party.

I remember sitting on a bench as part of the live audience in the television studio. It was exciting. I’m sure it was unexpected, but on this particular show the main character asked for volunteers to participate in a hula-hoop contest. I could hula-hoop so I volunteered. I liked to hula-hoop and I must have done it often since I thought I’d have a chance to win if I entered the contest.

We started with one hula-hoop, next we whirled two hula-hoops and eventually it involved three hula-hoops. I managed to keep those three hula-hoops going around and around the longest time and won the contest.

My prize was a Betsy McCall doll. I kept that doll for a very long time and I don’t remember when or how I departed with it. Today there are several smaller Betsy McCall dolls for sale, online, but mine ws a large doll. There are a few 29”, so I believe that was the size of the doll I won. I left the party a very excited and happy little girl.

Several years ago, after I told Gary this story, he went out and bought me a hula-hoop. We still have it. I couldn’t quite make it work for him back then (to prove myself) and I still can’t make it work today. HA

The hula-hoop was invented in 1958 and this party was in the early 60’s.

I did a little research and found out Casey Jones aired for only one season in 1958. Howdy Doody aired 1947-1960. Captain Kangaroo was on for 26 seasons: 1955-1984. Axel and the Treehouse aired 1954-1966. Clancy the Cop: 1963-1977. There were no video clips of any hula-hoop contests!

However, when I told my friend, who is a Twin Cities native, this story, she told me it was likely the show Dave Lee & Pete. It aired live, in the afternoons, and the local program was always bringing kids on stage for different reasons. I do think we went in the afternoon so it makes sense to me, but I have no recollection whatsoever of Dave Lee & Pete (the Penguin).