Tag Archives: Family

The Easter Peep

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Dedicated to my sister, Pam

When I was  seven, I decided that I wanted a real live peep for Easter. Oh, now, I didn’t know anything about raising a little peep or, if it would be a fun pet to have. I just knew that I wanted one.

So, I got my peep. It was a little blue one. And, I liked it for about a day. I didn’t know it wouldn’t stay in the box I made for it. I didn’t know it would poop icky sticky stuff all over the floors. I didn’t know it wouldn’t eat cool stuff like carrots and lettuce. I didn’t know it wouldn’t sleep in the bed with me or follow me around like a little puppy dog. So, I quickly became bored with it and it became my sister Pam’s charge. She was 10.

As the peep got older, it lost its blue feathers and got a little comb on top of its head. Poor Pam! She wasn’t stuck with a little hen that would someday lay eggs and reward her with gentleness. No, the little peep became a mean rooster that would peck her when she tried to feed it or care for it.

The rooster was moved to a rabbit pen that was located along  the back border of the yard. (I think this pen was left by the previous owners of our our house.)  This rooster would bang at the the cage if I got near him and he would flare out his neck feathers. I was scared of him and didn’t want to get near him! Pam, on the other hand, had to go feed him everyday.  He hated her, too.

On Pam’s 11th birthday, the little bugger pecked her really hard. She remembers bopping him on the head, so he would learn not to peck the hand that feeds him. (She said that he was fine after the bopping because it really wasn’t a hard bop after all.)  It being her birthday, she quickly forgot about the sweet little peep turned monster. After dark, she remembered to go feed the bird (cause that was her duty to feed all the critters). When she got to the cage, she found it dead and torn apart. A weasel must have squirmed into the cage and killed it.  And, of, course, she felt so very bad that she had bopped it earlier that day.

That’s my sister’s peep story. She related it to me recently and asked if I remembered it. Honestly, I did not until she brought it up. And, my memories about him are still a bit fuzzy.  

I do have one question for her now that I’m hoping she can answer. Did that little devil rooster have a name?

P.S. For those wondering, Pam wasn’t permanently adversely affected by what I’m now calling “The little bastard rooster incident.” Forty and some odd years later, she’s quite okay (I think)!

And, by the way, Have a Happy Easter, everyone!

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Sister Vacation

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My three sisters and I have begun planning our yearly vacation together. We have been doing this now for the past several years and it is always soooo much fun! 

You see, for years, after we had all moved away from each other, while busy raising our own families and planning our own immediate family vacations, with limited time off, we just were not able to get together at the same time at the same place very often (with the possible exception of funerals).

So, now, that the four of us are all pretty much empty nesters, and too, that we are learned in our old age about the importance of making quality time together, we make the extra effort to do so.  

We’ve used my house  in South Carolina twice for our meet-ups and we met last summer at my sister Pam’s in Colorado. And so, this year, we are planning our get together for later in the summer at Linda’s in Pennsylvania.  It will be our first time using her home and her town as our vacation paradise for a week.  And, our first chance to embarrass her at all her grocery stores, mall, movie theater, etc! Woo hoo!

I love my sister peeps. Who, but they, love you all the time, no matter what?

The pictures below are of our last get together in South Carolina.  I am saving the Colorado pictures for a separate post as I have a whole story about bucket lists, whitewater rafting, jumping off a bridge into the Poudre River and TATTOES!

And they thought I wouldn’t really embarass them. Tee hee!

This is us at Cypress Gardens. I'm at the helm, Bonnie at the stern!

This is us at Cypress Gardens. I'm at the helm, Bonnie at the stern! Linda is the platinum blonde in the middle. Pam beside her.

Pam is the butterfly. Bonnie is the caterpiller

Pam is the butterfly. Bonnie is the caterpillar.

 

This is them from the rear!

This is them from the rear!

Pineapple lush cake for Pam's birthday! You'd think four grown women could do better than this!

Pineapple lush cake for Pam's birthday! You'd think four grown women could do better than this!

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The 60s, Part 2

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Since my last post – Make Love, Not War – I’ve been thinking about the 60s quite a bit.  And so, yesterday, while driving home from work, I remembered two events from that time period that I found to be both very revealing about the times and also about me.

Both involve my mother. And, in order to share it with you, I need to provide a little background information about my mother and me.

Mom was a Registered Nurse and during my early years she worked in the maternity ward at the hospital in town.  There were three shifts at the hospital: 7 a.m. – 3 p.m., 3 p.m. – 11 p.m. and 11 p.m. – 7 a.m. As I remember it, Mom usually worked one week on the first shift, followed by 2 days off, and then would work a week on the second shift followed by 2 days off, and then would work a week on the third shift and the two days off. Additionally, her days off were rotated with the other nurses. So, say, for instance,  she had Tuesday and Wednesday off this week, she might work seven straight days on the next shift  before her next days off of  Thursday and Friday the following week. 

Now, this is important to know because when I was a very little girl back in the 1960s, I loved when my mother was home and not at the hospital working. I spent every waking hour following her around the house, watching her do all of the house chores. I watched her wash clothes in the wringer washer. I followed her outside and watched her hang them on the line to dry. I watched her cook dinner and do the ironing, etc. And, while she did all of these things, I talked. Oh, yeah, I talked. I talked and talked and talked.

This is no lie, I used to  follow her into the bathroom and sit on the toilet seat to talk to her while she took a bath, then follow her to her bedroom to talk some more while she put on her white stockings and nurses uniform and fixed her hair at her dresser to get ready for work.  I didn’t shut up until she was in the car and on her way. I suddenly see that I never gave her any peace!  Honestly, she was probably relieved to go to work just to get away from me (although, she would have never let on that that was so).

So, back to the present, I’m in my automobile driving home, and I’m remembering all this because of the specific incident I’m going to tell you about next.

By 1963 I was in kindergarten. For part of the year, I attended school in the mornings and the other part of the year I attended in the afternoon. Well on this one specific day, I do not remember whether I was in morning kindergarten or afternoon kindergarten. But, what I do remember is sitting on my mother’s bed watching her reflection in her dresser mirror while she was getting ready to work the 3 p.m. – 11 p.m. shift at the hospital.

The date was November 22. And, John F. Kennedy had been shot. This was the first time I ever saw her cry. She wasn’t out and out sobbing. That would have never been her style.  But I saw her glistening eyes in her mirrored reflection and I was sad for her. And, she answered my never-ending questions about it, before going to work to deliver new babies into the world.

The second time I saw my mother cry during the 1960s was when I was in third grade. This was 1967, or maybe, 1968.  I went to the big city airport (Pittsburgh) with my parents to see my big brother Dennis get on an airplane that would ultimately take him to two tours in Vietnam.

On the outside, Dennis wasn’t acting a bit nervous or anxious about his future.  But, I think mom saw right through him and knew his cool demeanor was only an act.  Her eyes filled with tears as he boarded and again a little later when we watched the plane take to the sky.

So, back to present day. Yesterday. Driving home from work and thinking about these two incidents. Both say a lot about the times – the assassination of a president and a son going off to war.

And, my mother always listened to me.

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