Snippets of My Childhood

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Laddie

Today is No D Day when those of us who normally blog about the D-word take time to open windows into other parts of our lives. Sue from New York, Sue from Pennsylvania, and I have each written posts with memories and photos of our childhoods. Thanks to George of Ninjabetic for organizing this day, and click here to read other No D Day Posts.

I was born in Greenville, South Carolina. I was the youngest of three children and my mother always said that I raised myself. Some of that was the result of benign neglect, but mostly it was personality-driven. I always wanted to do things myself and didn’t want anyone helping me or watching over me. For better or worse, I don’t think that I’ve changed very much.

I grew up in the South where women and little girls wore hats and gloves to church. My father wore a hat to and from work every day along with his suit and tie. Little girls wore dresses to school and on cold days added a pair of slacks to keep legs warm. I went to an Episcopal day school and remember bobby-pinning a lacy chapel cap to my head every day for worship services. Boys seem to escape most of the hat requirements, but the plaid and striped jackets that my brother wore in many photos seem a worse punishment than hats.

With one set of grandparents in Washington State and another in a suburb of New York City, we were not strangers to airports and train stations. I don’t remember the small plaid suitcases, but I do remember the brown tie shoes. The brown tie shoes that turned into black and white saddle shoes as I got older. The saddle shoes that I was mortified to wear because the popular girls at school were wearing Bass Weejuns penny loafers and later on loafers with tassels. I think that I got a few years of loafers before going to girl’s boarding school in 9th grade and returning to uniforms and brown tie shoes.

*We spent a couple of weeks every summer at Pawley’s Island, SC. I have wonderful memories of hot days in the sun and homemade biscuits, fried shrimp, and hush puppies. I can still smell the Coppertone oil that my sister and I used to enhance her tan and unfortunately my sunburn. My brother got daily entertainment by pretending he was a shark and attacking me in the ocean. As much as I love the ocean, I still wonder what creatures are lurking in the shadows.

Lots of memories from long ago.

Special Memories of My Mother

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Sue from Pennsylvania

Today is No D Day when those of us who normally blog about the D-word take time to open windows into other parts of our lives. Laddie, Sue from New York, and I have each written posts with memories and photos of our childhoods. Thanks to George of Ninjabetic for organizing this day, and click here to read other No D Day Posts.

I had a wonderful and loving childhood despite the fact that my parents divorced when my brother was 6 and I was 6 months old. My father joined the Merchant Marines after the divorce and although he was out at sea for long stretches of time, my Mother made sure that we had a good relationship with him.

During summer vacations while my brother was at overnight camp, my Mother and I would spend a few weeks in the Catskill Mountains where our family from all around Pennsylvania and New Jersey would congregate for memorable weeks of togetherness. I loved those vacations. This was when I got to spend special time with my Mother and our extended family. Throughout my life, family was very important to my Mother and she instilled those same values in my brother and me.

In the Catskills, all the youngsters would go to camp during the day, and at night everyone would get dressed up in their finest clothing for dinner and great shows after dinner. I loved the mountains and especially loved dressing up but more then anything, I loved being with my Mother. During the rest of the year, my Mother was a working mom who owned her own business and although she was devoted to my brother and me, she was at work during the day. So to have this time with her was very special.

As a footnote to my little story, when I was 14 my parents remarried each other and were together for the next 18 years until my father passed away. My mother passed away at the age of 93 having spent 73 years in her own business as a Jeweler on Philadelphia Jeweler’s Row.

A Childhood Spent Outdoors

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Sue from New York

Today is No D Day when those of us who normally blog about the D-word take time to open windows into other parts of our lives. Laddie, Sue from Pennsylvania, and I have each written posts with memories and photos of our childhoods. Thanks to George of Ninjabetic for organizing this day, and click here to read other No D Day Posts.

I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s in Scarborough, a seaside town in Maine. My dad loved the mountains, and we spent our summers camping and mountain climbing and our winters downhill skiing. My mother loved the water, so my parents would often compromise and we would camp at the lake. When we weren’t camping, we spent lazy days at the beach.

My brother Bill has a funny story of the time Dad took him and my other two brothers, Dave and Rick, skiing on Mt Washington:

“When I was in my early teens, my father decided that it would be interesting to climb Mt. Washington in the winter. We couldn’t afford to buy crampons, so he made four pair, for me, him, and my two younger brothers, Dave and Rick. We went up the carriage road from Pinkham Notch to Lion’s Head. Going up Lion’s Head was very steep, and the snow was deep. We were exhausted when we got to the top. Above Lions Head, the snow had blown away, which was good, but the cone up to the summit was pure ice. At one point close to the top, I looked down and realized that if one of us slipped, we would careen down the ice until we hit the rocks at the bottom. It was bitterly cold, and there was no one else on the mountain that we could see. I wondered if this was a good idea. Of course, now that I have passed my father’s age at that time, I realize he was mad!

We got to the top, but it was late in the day. My father said: “Now for the easy part, we just ski down the auto road”. However, the auto road was also pure ice, and we only had wooden skis! At one point, my father’s skis gave way and he slid down the slope out of sight. I said “Dad?” Luckily, he responded. I asked him if I should come down to get him. He said “No, one idiot down here is enough”. He took off his skis, put on his crampons, and climbed back up.

We got below the tree line at dusk. Now we had nice snow, and no ice. The auto road was wide enough that we could kind of see the boundaries in the dark. However, the car was not at the bottom of the auto road, it was at Pinkham Notch. Dad decided that he and Dave would ski down a hiking trail to Pinkham Notch. Dad told me to go with Rick down the auto road, and they would pick us up in the car. I asked him if that was a good idea, and he said he and Dave would be fine. Rick and I got to the bottom of the auto road, and waited, and waited, and waited. It was very cold. Finally, the car pulled up. I asked what took them so long. They said they couldn’t see the trail in the dark, and kept skiing into trees!”