Of Phone Calls and Memories by Konnie Enos

 

My son called me out of the blue the other day to ask me a question.

The question is completely unimportant to the point of this post, mostly because I forgot what it was before we even hung up. I only remember two things. I could not give him an answer, and I thought his sister could, so I told him to ask her. (I have no idea if he followed through with that.)

What is important was the rest of our conversation.

Normally when he calls me we talk for a while. The subjects vary but I generally get an update on how he is doing and what he’s been up to, not only at work but outside of work. We can also ramble into memories from his growing up, though occasionally we will also talk about things from my growing up years.

Our conversations, like those with Bonnie, tend to be long and a bit rambling but enjoyable. Most importantly, not short.

This one ended, in my opinion, rather abruptly.

If you know me at all, you know I deal with the financial matters in my household. This means I regularly spend time updating checkbooks and balancing statements, not to mention paying bills. And yes, it is multiple accounts.

My husband and I each have our own personal checking and savings accounts, plus we have a household checking and savings account. When my children were minors I also kept on top of all their checking and savings accounts.

There was a time when it literally took me several days to deal with our finances at the beginning of the month partly because of the sheer volume of accounts I was attempting to keep balanced.

The volume has significantly decreased since my children are all adults and I expect them to be able to keep their financial records up to date and balanced. I’m not completely sure if they are all handling that effectively but I refuse to adult for them.

Well, except for my youngest. He refuses to accept that he is old enough to handle setting doctors appointments and demands I still deal with those for him.

We have gone rounds about this. He actually insisted I did not stop doing this for his siblings when they turned 18. His siblings told him point blank, nope, she totally did.

Since he still demands I be in on such conversations with him, I am assuming this has more to do with his autistic traits than his actual ability to adult. I don’t think he even realizes that he has set his own appointments without any help from me.

Anyway, back to the recent phone call from his brother.

At the moment he called it was edging toward dinner time on the very last day of the month. I was also smack dab in the middle of balancing my checkbook. The one account that has the most activity each month because my daughter and I use it to keep our household supplied with necessities. That’s at least 2 different stores most weekends, plus gas and whatever I order online because we can’t find those products locally. Most of those products are because my daughter has such a long list of allergies and she has to eat.

As you can probably imagine, checking off each item that has cleared the statement takes a great deal of time and attention.

I did not have the bandwidth to focus on a conversation with him while I was I making sure there were no discrepancies. For this reason, after he asked his question and before we moved on to additional chitchat, I told him I did not have time to talk for the very reason that I was in the middle of balancing a bank statement.

Folks, my wonderful son immediately apologized. He told me he was sorry, but he hadn’t realized until that very moment that this week, being the first week of the month, meant I would be busy.

Anyway, we quickly said our goodbyes and hung up. Probably the shortest conversation I’ve ever had with him.

Not long after that I had a conversation with Bonnie in which she pointed out that it was my turn to post and that it had to be up on the second. She then got to her point that our baby brother’s birthday is the third.

We then talked about our memories of that day, with her telling me I should write about that. But I already have, starting with my post September 2017 “Of Holidays and Other Memories”. And yes, I have never forgotten that morning and how Dad woke me up.

Remembering that is easy. Realizing just how old my brothers are now is not.

Anyway, happy birthday, Dan.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Nostalgia by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I am on the spectrum, as such I have always had trouble when other people get facts wrong. (I have been berated often for correcting people and can think of once or twice when I had to bite my tongue at church because someone got a Bible fact wrong.)

That said, I refuse to bite my tongue this time.

Lately, I’ve seen a ton of posts about how kids were allowed to roam all over town in the 60s, 70s, and the 80s, and didn’t have to be home until the streetlights came on. Um, the 60s and 70s absolutely, but not the 80s. By the 80s there was too many child abductions, too many child murders.

I know this because I lived it.

Did I wander around the neighborhood and even the town until dark? Heck, considering how soon it gets dark around here during the fall and winter, I stayed out until after dark! I mean what kind of kid wants to call it a night at 4:30 or 5 in the evening if they don’t have to? And we didn’t have to.

Admittedly a lot of our friends did, but most of them had stay-at-home moms fixing meals they were expected to show up for and eat. But back in the early 70s, the number of single moms was clearly the minority in the neighborhood.

By 1975, when the oldest of our half brothers was born, single moms had become common enough that the term latchkey children came into use and school districts all around the country were instituting after school programs to “help” those single moms and eliminate those latchkey children.

Konnie and I, as well as our older sister and the oldest of our brothers (the only full brother) were all latchkey children. Ben never was.

Our youngest brother came along in 79 and our oldest niece came in 80, and neither of them were ever left without supervision because long before they came along the news was full of stories of kids being abducted, abused, and murdered.

Actually, the last time I went trick or treating as a child was 1973. And even then, that year there were warnings against kids entering homes of people they didn’t know. (We were told not to enter any stranger’s homes, but we were not told to only go to the homes of people we knew well.) And still the news after Halloween was of kids finding razor blades or needles in their apples.

When Halloween 1974 came some nutcase has threatened to poison candy all over the country, and most people found alternatives to going door to door as well as insisted on giving out only individually wrapped store bought candy.

Nothing homemade and no fresh or candied apples.

Also, hospitals were allowing kids to bring their loot in to have it X-rayed for metal, while parents were told to inspect all pieces of candy for damage to the wrapper, and throw out anything with damaged wrappers.

The world had become a scary place for kids. That was sure, but the 80s had gotten worse. By 1981, I went with our stepmother (I think Konnie went too) to the local elementary school to get McGruff Identikits for Ben, Dan, and Patty and fill them out. That’s how bad the child abduction problem was. Schools were giving out special kits to store a current picture, description, and even a lock of hair of each child. They also had fingerprinting, which is why the little ones went with us.

So, I promise that kids were not allowed to wander the neighborhood unsupervised in the 80s, at least not like when we were younger.

I mean I remember at 12 riding my bike across town, entering the BAR where our mother worked, and got some cash off her then went to the theater up the street and watched a movie that gave me nightmares for weeks. All by myself.

Actually, that was only about halfway across town, I more often road all the way to the pool, which was clear across town.

From when we were 12 on, I don’t remember once having a babysitter, and well, even before that, we played outside with the babysitter’s boys until well after dark most nights, and only part of the time was their daddy playing with us when we were out there.

Today, a 12 year old wouldn’t be allowed to go trick or treating without adult supervision. In 1973 the oldest kid in our group was 12, and the youngest was like 7, and yet we went without adult supervision.

So, I promise, kids did not get to wander free in the 80s, at least not as free as we wandered in the 70s.

Anyway, happy writing everyone.

Of Memories and Birthdays by Konnie Enos

Recently, I saw an article about the events in our life that we remember clearly even as we age. The point of the article was the more things we remember clearly, the better our memory is overall.

Now I think I have a pretty good memory, and I remember a lot of events from my childhood at least vaguely. Though, I expected to the article to mention specific national news events which most people who lived through them will remember.

Things like the moon landing, walking on the moon. I know it happened, but I have no actual memories of watching it on TV. Though I have to admit I was still pretty young at the time. I was even younger when the Cuban Missile Crisis and JFK’s assassination occurred, so I have no memory of either event.

Though the events in the article were mentioned in broader terms and were personal events rather than national news. Things like the first day of school. Your best friend from grade school. Your first date or kiss.

I have no memory of going to school on my first day of school, it made no impression on me. I do remember our first teacher constantly telling me I was picking up my writing implement with the wrong hand, a lot. I finally learned to only use my right hand for that activity. Of course, I also remember all my teachers complaining about my sloppy handwriting. That is until I started spending my summers filling every leftover notebook I could find practicing my penmanship. (All this was before I figured out that I should have been using my left hand all along.)

As for best friends, we moved so frequently and changed schools so often that I can barely name three friends from grade school. Though one of those I only remember his face and first name. One was actually Bonnie’s friend and again only her first name. The third? I was twelve when we met, so far easier to remember. I also still remember my best friend from 8^th grade, but we’re also still in touch and both grandmas now.

I do remember my first date, even the movies we saw. Song of the South and The Aristocats. I also remember my younger brother watching us and my date disappearing halfway through the first movie. I found him talking to my brother and sister. After I joined them there, he disappeared entirely. Just left. His mom was supposed to give me a lift home, but he was already long gone. I had to go home with my brother and sister, but I don’t remember if Momma picked us up or her husband at the time. That was the last date I had until I was in college so remembering my first kiss was even easier.

The events I remember the clearest are the ones that made the biggest impression on me. I vaguely remember inviting friends to our 8^th birthday party. The party itself is far more memorable since it turned into something of a block party. It was the largest party we ever had.

I also remember our infamous 6^th birthday. From the plants falling on me to Bonnie opening two of everything.

The article also mentioned the Bicentennial and I do remember snippets of those events. Parts of the parade and the party in Ross Park, but I did turn 14 that weekend.

There were other things mentioned in the article that didn’t bring any memory for me, not even the events I knew had to have happened at some point in my life. They just didn’t make a lasting impression on me.

So according to that article, my memory isn’t that good. But I beg to differ. Most of the specific memories they mentioned did not make a lasting impression on me, but I do have lasting memories, some from when I was no more than three years old. True, the older ones are just snippets here and there and the details, names, dates, etc. are vague. The feelings are not through, I remember those. The stronger the feelings from the event, the more likely I am to remember more details.

Things like seeing Grandpa Westover for the last time or waking up Christmas morning with strangers in a strange house. (Both happened before I was five.)

But being the first week of September, and so close after Labor Day, the one memory that I’m thinking about today is the one I so eloquently spoke of in my post of September 2017 “Of Holidays and Other Memories”. And today just happens to be the date Labor Day fell on that year. So 46^th Happy Birthday, Dan.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Of Memory, Memories and Allergies by Konnie Enos

I had all these plans and ideas for my post this week.

There’s the conversation with Jerry that I thought was funny. You know the one I forgot to record in any fashion that has since been changed out of my retrievable memory.

Then there is the funny interaction I had with Royce. Still funny. What it boils down to is his description of what a shawl is. He called it a fancy blanket. I understand why he said that. I crocheted both my shawl and my Afghan, they both are to keep me warm, and I doubt he’s noticed that they are different shapes.

I, however, didn’t write that one down either because I had to take Mable to the vet. Saturday was just a normal recheck of her bloodwork visit but they asked us to bring her back on Sunday. Not because her bloodwork was off, but because they were concerned about some changes we are seeing in her. They did some x-rays and what they could see just tells us that Mable is on her last leg. As far as we know, she’s 12 now, but that’s because she was a mature dog when the shelter got her. Veterinarians can distinguish puppies and dogs up to six years and after that, it’s harder to tell. She was mature, i.e.: at least six, when the shelter found her. She could be much older than that and is showing signs of dementia.

All in all, it means we may not have Mable much longer. But then it was almost 2 years ago when they told us her liver wasn’t functioning well and she didn’t have long left. So it’s just wait and see now.

Then Monday, Royce’s birthday, we had the wonderful event of my daughter bringing her daughters (and husband) for a visit. During this visit, someone prompted my oldest granddaughter to wish her Uncle Royce a happy birthday. She immediately responded by singing the birthday song to him.

It was beautiful. Especially since she is old enough to pronounce all the words. Not to mention young enough to be adorable doing it. Then as we were giving him his presents and cutting the cake I asked her to lead us in singing to her youngest uncle again. She happily complied. Stole the show from Royce, but I don’t care. I don’t think Royce did either.

I doubt she’ll remember it for long. Not only because of how young she is but also because I think she was more impressed that we had watermelon on the table. I don’t think she even batted an eye at the home-made pizza and cake, or the ice cream.

Then again, she’s a bit dog crazy so being in a house with five dogs to lavish some attention was a big draw for her. Unfortunately for her, all are dogs are older and the only one still young enough to give some exuberant attention was still recovering from minor surgery. Before she’d been here an hour, they were all avoiding her. Well except the biggest one, which she only saw through my bedroom window.

And at that point, I was still remembering I had a post to write. Though first I had to deal with getting some bills paid since it is the beginning of the month. So yesterday, while mauling over exactly what I’d write, I spent most of the day dealing with the bills. Then, even when I’d finished that task, I still wasn’t quite sure what to write.

However, I think what messed me up is I completely forgot to set an alarm for earlier than I usually get up so that I’d have time to get something written. So this morning, after my alarm had startled me awake, and after I’d made sure both Mable and Xavier had their morning meds, and while I was still groggy, I suddenly realized I had a post to write and only an hour in which to do so and get it posted.

Funny how deadlines can wake you up. And sometimes even stimulate the muse.

And I think I can blame my still being a bit sleepy because Friday I came in contact with something I’m reacting to. It’s not anaphylaxis so I’m just treating it with Zyrtec and Benadryl. But we all know Benadryl can put you to sleep. I took some last night and within thirty minutes I was barely able to keep my eyes open long enough to prepare for bed.

So while I’ve had a few things happen this last week, I’m going to blame my lack of energy on my allergic reaction and the treatment available to me. It is also the reason my post is up late.

How are things going for you?

Smile. Make the day a brighter day. 

Of Late Nights and Memories by Konnie Enos

 Okay, confession time.

I spent so much time and effort studying for my finals this week that I forgot I still had a post to write, even though it was on my to-do list for Tuesday. Only after I was getting ready for bed did I realize that I hadn’t done that one very important task yet.

Now what? At this point, it was past midnight and I absolutely need my rest so I could do well on the two tests I still needed to get done. But, since I hadn’t forewarned Bonnie, I also had to get a post written.

Conundrum.

I still had no clue what to write about. In fact, I’d been having difficulty putting two words together in coherent thought since I was told the oldest of our brothers had passed away. Keep in mind that while he is the oldest boy, he isn’t the oldest child. He’s younger than all three of us sisters (me, Bonnie, and our older sister).

So, with my thoughts fully on my brother, I suppose he will be the topic today.

One of my clearest memories of him was when I was eight and out in our front yard playing. When to my astonishment Bryon came riding down the street on our mother’s bike.

This was a full-sized women’s bike and Bryon was at most 7-years-old, and he wasn’t big for his age. He couldn’t even reach the pedals if he was sitting on the seat at its lowest position. So instead of trying to ride it while sitting, he was standing on the pedals while he rode around.

It blew me away. He was the youngest of us and the first one to figure out balancing on a bike. Over the next four years, both Bonnie and Jacki learned how to ride, but I was simply not confident enough to balance one. I always lost my balance within a few feet.

When I was twelve, with a bunch of our friends over to ride bikes around the parking lot outside the apartment we lived in, Bryon convinced me to get on our mother’s bike and try just one more time.

I was very reluctant, but he promised me he’d ride beside me and keep ahold of the seat, so I didn’t tip over.

Admonishing him to not let go, I set off, periodically glancing to my side to be sure he was still beside me. Because of our positions, I couldn’t see if he was still holding me up or not but assumed so since I was not tipping at all.

Then he suddenly rode off, swinging around right in front of me. I yelled, even berating him for not holding on.

His response? “What are you yelling at me for? You’re riding, aren’t you?”

I looked down. I had not wobbled in the least and was still pedaling along nicely. Without hesitation, I then did a crazy eight. My brother had tricked me into figuring out I could balance a bike.

I have plenty of other stories, particularly about how spoiled our little brother was, but I also have some about the man he grew to be.

When we were adults and married, Bryon and I ended up living in the same apartment complex. Being the nearest family member, I often called on him and his wife when I needed help with something. Early one morning I needed help.

It could not have been 5 in the morning when Tina fell out of bed and cut open the bottom of her chin. I was certain she’d need to be seen so I called Bryon.

He wanted me to take her to his place, but I pointed out her three sleeping siblings and the fact that Jerry had left for work not long before she fell out of bed.

He also had three sleeping kids, so he moaned and came over. After checking her chin, he ended up taking her to the ER with a note from me saying he could seek medical care for her.

Years later she was attending college in the same area where he lived and found herself in immediate need of a ride. Bryon dropped everything to head over to pick her up though our sister-in-law beat him there.

However, only a few months later I had reason to believe she again needed help and called Bryon in a bit of a panic. He didn’t hesitate. He dropped everything and rushed right over to her and stayed with her while he was still needed.

These are the things Tina remembers about her Uncle Bryon. The one uncle who would drop everything to help her when she needed it. She is already missing him.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day. Our family could use it.