Month: June 2009

From time to time, I’ll be recording thoughts and events from my childhood. These memories are prompted from the Reflections from a Mother’s Heart – Your Life Story in Your Own Words. I plan on filling this book out one of these days to pass onto my children. I’m sure I’m not the only one who finds the lives of our parents fascinating. It’s weird to think of my parents as children and it’s really fun to hear stories about their past, how they met, etc. If my children read about my past, perhaps they will understand me just a little better.

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Where did your father go to work every day and what did he do?

I don’t remember the name of the place my dad used to work, but I remember the building vividly. He was a TV repairman, he worked in electronics and he was quite good at it. He had books with circuit explanations and all kinds of complicated looking equations and mathematical questions and I was quite proud of how smart he was.

The building he worked in was a small, brick building on a corner lot in the middle of town. The shop was not located in a very “good” part of town and I think that’s my really first experience being around African Americans. It never really bothered me, it was just different being around so many people who didn’t look like me. (we didn’t have very many African American students in my schools).

Dad worked for someone, but the name escapes me. It seemed like it was just him and his boss that worked at the shop, but I could be wrong there. I remember walking into the shop and being overwhelmed with the metallic burning smell as they smoldered wires together. The shop was littered with TV, radios and VCRs. I remember there being TVs everywhere. Most of them had been gutted or were in the process of being worked on so tubes and wires were hanging out of many.

It seemed like dad worked ALL the time. But he had to. Mom was a stay-at-home mom, for which I’m most grateful for now, so we didn’t have a lot of money. My parents are money wizards and it didn’t seem as though we really went without too often. I do remember going to garage sales A LOT, but other than that, I didn’t really feel like a “poor” child until I got to middle and high school.

Dad had a shop in the basement of our house, too. He spent quite a bit of time down there working on TVs and various other electronic gadgets. My dad is quite an expert at circuits and electronics. In fact, he has written nearly 20 courses (could be more) for a school in New York. He’s highly intelligent and very logical.

Solder is still a comforting smell to me and every time I smell it, I think of dad.

How did your mother spend her day?

Mom was a stay-at-home mother. She was like the perfect 50’s type mother. She cooked for us, she made us clothes, she cleaned, she ran us places, mom was ALWAYS there. She bailed me out of so many things I can’t even begin to tell you.

I’ll never forget this one time though. It was when I was in the sixth grade. Ms. Roberts, my sixth grade teacher, had assigned a map of the United States. It was the size of two poster boards side-by-side and we had to cut out all of the states, color them different colors, locate their capitals and then glue all of the pieces, like a giant jigsaw puzzle, onto the poster boards. My best friend, Debbie, and I procrastinated and the night before it was due, we panicked. I think that was the time period that Debbie lived with us for a while (she was having domestic problems) and we begged mom to help us with our projects. We literally stayed up all night and worked on them. In fact, I was so tired, that I made a huge mistake and glued some pieces in the wrong places. I was about ready to give up and accept the “F” that I deserved anyway, when mom, being the creative and crafty person she is, came up with a solution. She fixed it. I still, to this day don’t know how she did it, but she cut that sucker in two and pasted it back together again. It wasn’t pretty, but it did the job. I think I ended up getting an “A” on the project, but I knew, even then, I didn’t deserve it. Mom should have let me get an “F.” I think one of the reasons I got the good grade is because Ms. Roberts liked me.

Did she have a job or do volunteer work outside of the home?

The only job I remember mom having was being a telephone operator. She worked evenings and I hated not having her there. In fact, it caused so much stress on the family not having her around that she finally quit – the money simply wasn’t worth the heartache it was causing and I knew mom was terribly unhappy being away from her family.

Mom was HEAVY into PTA. This used to embarrass me to death at the time, but now I really appreciate the fact that she was around the school. There was something cool in hearing other kids call mom, “Karen’s mom” and seeing her face in the hallways. She helped out in the cafeteria, too. When mom was involved we always had the best homeroom parties. Mom always went all out, making all sorts of delicious goodies and making cool stuff for the kids to take home. I was very proud of her for making so many kids happy. I was very fortunate to have a mother who was always there, who had ENDLESS patience with me and who still loves me unconditionally.

From time to time, I’ll be recording thoughts and events from my childhood. These memories are prompted from the Reflections from a Mother’s Heart – Your Life Story in Your Own Words. I plan on filling this book out one of these days to pass onto my children. I’m sure I’m not the only one who finds the lives of our parents fascinating. It’s weird to think of my parents as children and it’s really fun to hear stories about their past, how they met, etc. If my children read about my past, perhaps they will understand me just a little better.

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Describe what the family room looked like when you were a child

I wish I could remember what our furniture looked like. I know we had a couch in our family room because I remember lying back on it and staring at our ceiling wanting to die. I was deathly sick, but I can’t recall if it was the flu or something else. All I remember was that I was flat on my back and moaning for what seemed like hours. I remember this particular moment in my life because I remember thinking if I live through this, I’ll never use God’s name in vain again. (Alas, I didn’t keep that promise, but I tried!) It’s a moment etched in my mind forever. Chances are I ate too much sugar. I had a bad habit of eating too much junk food whenever I could get at it.

We didn’t have much money growing up so anytime mom made cookies (which seemed like all the time, mom cooked a lot), I would inevitably eat more than my fair share. Since we couldn’t afford to make large batches, mom divided the cookies evenly between the five of us. It infuriated her how I always ate more than was allotted me. She told me later that often times, it would be her share that she would give up so my dad, sister, and brother could have their share. Yes, I admit it, I was rather selfish back then.

Dad reminded me the other day how he had to put an actual padlock on our “sweet dish.” Our sweet dish was a container that mom put all of our cookies and other sweets into so I wouldn’t get into them and eat all of them. I don’t remember the padlock but I do remember sneaking into the cabinets and stealing blocks of cooking chocolate from the package mom always had handy. It was expensive and mom would get so mad at me when she found out. Sometimes, I had such a bad craving for sweets that I would nibble on an edge of one of the chocolate blocks and turn it so mom wouldn’t see it right away. She wouldn’t know I had been in the chocolate until she needed it for one of her recipes. Poop hit the fan then.

When mom started putting the chocolate blocks in the sweet dish, I remember finding her chocolate diet aids. They were actually called “Ayds” because they were supposed to “aid” you in your diet. They were delicious and I remember eating almost a whole boxful of them. Now my mom is not stupid and she kept her diet aids in a drawer in her dresser. I knew this because I snooped, that’s something else I did on a regular basis, snoop. When mom found out I had eaten nearly all of her diet aids, she was furious and at her wits end. Luckily, by that time, I was old enough to get a job, make money and buy my own sweets.

Speaking of snooping, one year, I think I was in middle school, 7th or 8th grade maybe? (it might have been earlier than that) I was determined to find my Christmas presents. I looked everywhere – under beds, down in the basement in mom’s sewing room, dad’s workshop, the TV room, in closets until I finally found them. They were hidden above my brother’s closet. There were storage units above his closet behind sliding doors and that’s where I found them. I remember finding my basketball (I knew it was mine because I had “hinted” like crazy that year) and I think some clothes, but I’m not sure about that. All I remember was the basketball. That Christmas was the most disappointing to me. It was hard to act surprised when I knew everything I was getting. Mom knew something was up and she told me years later that she cried because I had spoiled her Christmas (that was the best part of Christmas for mom, watching us kids open presents. In fact, since we didn’t have a lot of money growing up, mom bought Christmas presents for all three of us all year long keeping an eye out for sales and using coupons, etc.). When she told me that, I felt like a heel. I was such a creep growing up.

But back to our living room. The front door opened into our living room. It wasn’t a big room, but comfortable for all five of us. There was a couch, a rocking chair and I think a LazyBoy type chair, but I’m not sure. Mom had her stereo and record player in there (she loved listening to country music while she cooked and cleaned) and a “stove” though it was really a fireplace. We burned wood in it once in a while, but it seemed like the smoke would leak back into the room and we didn’t use it very often. The stove sat on a raised brick floor with faux bricks lining the back wall to keep it from getting too hot. Mom told me the other day that when she put that faux brick up and sealed it with mortar, my sister had snuck in and poked her finger into the wet cement leaving indentations. It dried that way and mom said she was furious with her. But she kept it that way in order to remind my sister of what she had done.

I loved that record player. I wasn’t interested in country music back then AT ALL (it’s not too bad nowadays as long as it’s not the twangy kind of music), but rather, I loved listening to Harry Belafonte (I know, go figure!) and Elvis. Mom had a lot of Elvis and I put on the LP records and lay on the couch just daydreaming about meeting someone like Elvis one day. I did that a lot around Christmas time – I loved his “Blue Christmas” album. In fact, every time I hear an Elvis Christmas song I always think of lounging on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, my hands laced behind my head and staring at the ceiling. I silently lip-synced because I was afraid my sister or brother would hear me and tease me mercilessly.

We had a big grandfather clock that ticked loudly and it was comforting to hear the steady tick-tock as I rocked back and forth in the rocking chair.

The living room was adjacent to the dining room. We had a long oval table in the middle and against the left wall was the door leading to my parent’s bedroom. Next to the door, was our black piano. I never learned to play but my sister and brother practiced regularly. I think there was a china cabinet against the far wall, though I’m not sure about that.

I remember piecing my North American map together on that table. I also remember having Thanksgiving dinner at that table and I felt awkward because there wasn’t enough room and we all had to squeeze around each other to get to our seats.

I smile when I think of the living room. It was a room that gave me great comfort – I felt safe and loved in that room.