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.
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.
For a short period of time it seemed almost dangerous to walk the paths along the ponds in our neighborhood because of the geese…they were protecting their nests and their young.
A big, adult goose would be near the path, turn, look straight at me and hiss…
I would stop to take pictures…poor geese, they didn’t know I wasn’t going to harm their babies, but I didn’t hang around long.
There were several goose families along this pond trail so it happened more than once.
That’s one big family!
Now it’s fun to see the goose families swimming along and growing up.
How many goslings does one goose have? Looks like 14 in this family.
My husband and I and our oldest son took a trip to visit our youngest son living in Mozambique Africa. This was our first trip to Africa and we were very excited to see where our son, Tim, lived, to wander around in his current surroundings, and meet the people in his life. Also, all four of us went on a safari in South Africa. We had a great experience and created many memories. This is one of the memorable hikes we took in Africa: a hike in Ulongué, Mozambique.
Walking to the market in Ulongué.
Ulongué is the village where my son lived. We were eager to see Tim’s small, four-room house, with an outhouse in the back and a water well, and banana tree in the front. When we arrived, near dark, Tim’s friend had made sure the dirt in his front yard had been swept so Tim’s house would look welcoming for us when we arrived (which I found endearing).
One day we decided to hike to the market on the other side of the village of Ulongué, about an hour walk from his house. We walked on dirt paths through neighborhoods filled with children. We took pictures of the children playing and they excitedly ran up to us to see their pictures on our digital cameras. As we walked through streets people watched us curiously.
The curious children looking at their pictures.
We were hiking to the permanent, outdoor market with multiple stands selling a variety of wares along with many produce stands. I bought several colorful fabric pieces. My husband was intrigued by the bicycle shop.
View of the market in Ulongué.
The bike shop.
When we finished shopping Tim led us on a longer trek outside of town, on a footpath behind the village, to return to his house. The terrain was picturesque: beautiful, open countryside. As we walked back into town we passed several folks drying maize in the hot sun on blankets.
Photo of a photo on the trail back to Tim’s house in Ulongué.
We enjoyed walking two different routes to and from the market, and managed to take a family photo along the footpath behind the village.
Photo of the family photo on trail outside of Ulongué.
Blue Jean Sunday is the nick-name of an outreach event that happened at Emmaus Church, last Sunday, a very different Sunday morning for us all. We came prepared to participate in one of several groups: a prayer walk around the neighborhood, a clean-up crew for a near-by stream, a landscape crew at an elementary school, assistants for the senior center church service, a group to visit to the assisted living home residents across the street, a group to hand out fliers inviting neighbors to the free community meal at our church coming up soon (and monthly during the school year) or a group to stay back to prepare a luncheon so the congregants could return to reconnect and visit about their experiences.
After a brief service of communion and prayer each group went their way. I went to the assisted living home. The residents seemed hesitant to come and meet our group of eleven in the recreation room so we went and knocked on doors inviting them for donuts and coffee. That worked. Both men and women started coming out of their rooms, walking to the rec room and began opening up. When we left we had probably interacted with 15-20 residents.
These images come to mind when reflecting on my time at the home: Jerome playing Dominoes with a resident and then praying together after a couple of games, a high-schooler from our church (unable to connect with a resident from the home) connected with an elderly woman from our congregation who was a part of our group, three residents sitting in a row enjoying the donuts we brought along to share, the resident dog eating all the crumbs that fell from the donuts, a couple from church offering residents to pet their small dog they brought along, all this going on around me as myself and others were carrying on conversations with residents that were hanging around. There was a lot of commotion in that small recreation room, but somewhere along the way it all translated into joy.
The feedback at lunch from other’s experiences seemed positive too. I believe ideas are percolating in our pastor’s mind and we will be having more Blue Jean Sundays.
I took the back roads to my friend’s, new-to-her, town house and it was a beautiful drive. We were getting together to catch up with our lives after a few months apart. Since that time she had moved into a town house in a neighborhood where she wanted to live. She had created fliers and dropped them off on doorsteps in the area letting people know she was interested in buying a town house – if anyone was interested in selling theirs. And it worked!
She enjoyed showing me around the spacious end unit. She had it repainted and the great room, bedroom and sun-room she had re-carpeted. Natural light came in through the large windows on west end and the patio door on the south end, and the empty room looked spacious. The new furniture she ordered had not arrived so we sat down on her new, soft carpet in front of the fireplace. As she laid out the upholstery samples of her sofa, chairs, ottoman, pillows and cushions I “oohed and aahed” over her choices and imagined all the pieces in their place. She has had fun decorating and soon her place will be as she has envisioned it over the past few months.
So I asked her, “when was the town house built?” and she answered, with a sly smile, “at the turn of the century.” I laughed, then realized she was serious. Then realized that now means around the year 2000.
Last night I went for a walk through a neighborhood new to me. My son and his wife just moved into a new house in this pleasant neighborhood. My daughter-in-love was not home so while my husband and son talked mechanical jargon I took their dog Charlie for a walk. It was a nice evening although a bit humid and I was drenched by the time I got back. We walked by manicured yards, and some not so manicured, and many little, sweet flower gardens. There were a lot of people out enjoying the pleasant evening: people eating outdoors in the neighborhood, downtown restaurants, children playing in the neighborhood park pool…and if I hadn’t had Charlie on a leash I would have waded in the pool…it reminded me of the small swimming pool at my elementary school where I grew up. People were playing ball in the park, others were walking their dogs. Charlie and I stopped to look at the cats in the bookstore window. I enjoyed looking at the charming homes.
One house was hosting a party. There was a canopied tent on the front lawn with lots of folks milling around having a good time…a little music in the background and lots of food and drink. In the corner of the yard, farthest from the house and near the sidewalk facing to the house, were two rocking chairs – not the garden variety kind – wicker or plastic – but old-fashioned wooden rocking chairs. There was a woman sitting in one of them and she seemed content by herself rocking and observing the festivities. I thought to myself that’s where I’d like to be if I were at that party. It was a creative idea for someone to set out the rocking chairs for the party.
On the path where I walk in my own neighborhood there is another old wooden rocking chair as a yard decoration. It seems out of place however…just sitting there with a missing seat.
The airport we fly into when we go to Pennsylvania to visit family has rocking chairs in its waiting areas. I loved the idea when first discovered them years ago. I’ve seen them in other airports since. I think its great when occasionally I see store owners put rocking chairs outside their businesses for people needing a rest.
I love rocking chairs. At one time I realized all the chairs in our house were rocking chairs! That has changed. And of course, I have fond memories of rocking with my own children and my granddaughter Zoey. I look forward to the day I can hold and rock my newborn grandson.
I took the back roads to my friend’s, new-to-her, town house and it was a beautiful drive. We were getting together to catch up with our lives after a few months apart. Since that time she had moved into a town house in a neighborhood where she wanted to live. She had created fliers and dropped them off on doorsteps in the area letting people know she was interested in buying a town house – if anyone was interested in selling theirs. And it worked!