Scooters Seeking Catfish Heads

The summer after I graduated from college, Paul and I housesat for my geology professor while looking for our first professional jobs.  I worked at a vet that summer, my favorite job ever.  The professor taught classes out west, and Paul and I cared for his dogs and hamsters. 

There was an old yellow Vespa (Italian scooter) in the professor's garage that hadn't run in years.  Paul got it going again.  I have many happy memories of riding the Vespa down country roads.  There was one ranch in particular that had catfish skulls decorating the tops of each fence post.

Recently my uncle emailed us to see if we'd like a scooter.  He likes to work on engines and such, and when his neighbor crashed hers and bought a new one, she said he could have it.  Uncle George got it up and running again, and brought it up (whenever I have a mechanical question, I always call George!).

We've been having so much fun riding the scooter on the old logging roads on our land.  It goes just slightly faster than I can run.  Actually, I might be able to beat it on foot going uphill, if I sprinted. 

Paul and I have had so much fun reliving our youth as we putter along the dirt paths.  I would be scared to drive a motorcycle, but these scooters are slow and easy to handle.  The only thing missing is a big old ranch with fenceposts topped in catfish heads...

A Voice from the Past

People always talk about the associations between smells and memory.  But there are also strong associations between sounds and memory.  Just think about it - do certain songs remind you of a moment in your past?

Once in a while I go to this McDonalds to work online while the twins are in preschool.  They have really fast wifi.  Plus, I confess I like their French fries.  There is always an older man there.  Tall and slender, with a poof of billowy white hair.  He wears checkered shirts and pressed slacks, and he drinks the senior discount coffee while chatting with his friends.  The friends vary.  But he never does.

As I sit there and blog, his voice never fails to send me traveling to the past.  He sounds exactly like my grandfather.  While there is no resemblance in appearance, his voice has the same nuances, the same accent, the same tone as my mom's father.  I can't sit there listening without remembering cousins and pugs and fossil-hunting walks through the fields.  Cans full of magic markers for drawing, Gumby on the ceiling fan, chewing tobacco, soft rabbits in cages, and faded plastic cups of iced tea. 

Me, age 2

 

Sometimes, I forget that he's there, and then his voice is a shock to me, the way it grabs at me and yanks me into the past.  It saddens me, but it brings me comfort too.

Readers, do you ever hear voices from the past?

Just the Way You Are

When I was 13 or so, I asked for a keyboard for Christmas.  I invested my allowance in a number of books for my keyboard, and spent hours in my room learning the notes.  I placed cheat stickers on the keys of my Yamaha, so that if I got lost I could look down and find my place.  Oh how I wanted my hands to speed over the keys.  Over and over I practiced the songs and tried to improve. 

My Mom recently brought the keyboard to the house for the boys.  It's the exact model that I had - she said she found it in my grandmother's basement.  I don't think it is my old one (after all, there is no residual sticker residue on the keys) but it is the same. 

The Yamaha can play one song on its own.  Billy Joel's Just the Way You Are.  It plays it with different instruments, demonstrating all the wonders the keyboard can do.  The refrain is familiar in my mind - musical paths untraveled for many years, but still worn to a groove in my mind. 

Yes, readers, this keyboard has been quite the hit with the boys.  It's seen a few fights in the past week.  And some happy banging and singing too.  I confess that I don't mind the memories.

I'm taking tomorrow off, but I wish all of you a very Happy Thanksgiving!  And just because I won't be blogging tomorrow, readers.....
Don't imagine you're too familiar
And I don't see you anymore
I would not leave you in times of trouble
We never could have come this far
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times
I'll take you just the way you are

Aww, come on readers, humor me my cheesy 80s song lyrics on Thanksgiving!  Enjoy your families tomorrow folks!  :-)

Silent Memories

Over the holidays I found a photo album at my grandmother's house that was full of black and white horse and dog pictures from the 1950s. A loose picture fell out and it seemed as if it was speaking to me, although it was silent.

I borrowed the picture to scan it (the above is the unedited, original picture), because I simply had to have a copy, and I will return it next time I visit my grandmother.

When I look at this, I see all the excitement in the faces of the participants. It must have been such a special day - one that had to be preserved for everyone on film. 

I zoomed in a bit to get a closer look at the dogs, the horses, and the joyfulness of the day. 

I don't know the details of the event - whether a fox was hunted or whether they were just out for a ride with their horses and dogs.  I don't know if someone took a tumble over a fence, or if the ladies had a contest to see who made the best pie.  But I do know I seem to have inherited the horse loving gene that goes way back in my family.  A part of me knows that this day is something I'm sorry to have missed - no doubt it was full of wonderful adventure!  And I suspect that whoever took this picture and saved it all those years would be pleased as punch to see it shared with my readers today.  Because it was, indeed, a day to remember.

This post is my entry for the 'One Picture From My Photo Album' contest conducted by My Yatra Diary and CupoNation.  Three bloggers I think should enter because they have a wonderful way with photos and words would be Buttons Thoughts, Chillin With Jill, and Bringing Along OCD. Entries have a chance to win an Amazon gift card, so if you're a blogger with a fun picture of a memory sitting in a drawer, you should jump in and participate!

The Button Jar

When I was around 7 years old, my great grandmother gave me a jar full of old buttons.  I remember dumping them out on the floor and sorting them by sizes, shapes, and colors.  Some of my favorites were a couple of smaller black buttons with rhinestone centers.  I guess I was drawn to the shimmer.  Or perhaps I imagined them to be diamonds.  I know I always wondered about the outfits they came from, and the women who had worn them.

I don't know what happened to that old jar of buttons.  But when I was talking to my grandmother recently about the jar Granny Besse had given me so many years ago, she sent me a jar filled with buttons, via my mom.  She and my grandfather bought them at an auction some years ago. 

I was kind of curious what was originally in this Kraft bear jar.  Thanks to google, I was happy to discover it originally housed jelly.  It's sleeting outside today and the boys and I aren't headed anywhere.  So it seems to me.....it's the perfect time to sit by the woodstove and play with buttons and marbles, and perhaps do a little daydreaming of where these buttons have been.

Readers, did you ever have a collection of buttons as a kid?  Wishing you all a Happy New Year's, with a 2013 full of happy memories. 

8th Grade (A Shameful Memory) - Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up.  Everyone is welcome.  This week's suggested topic is 8th grade, although you can blog about any memory and participate.

In December of my 8th grade year we moved across the state.  It was not a move I approved of.  Not one bit.  I wanted to stay with my friends in the school I knew and loved.  In my new middle school, I was no one.  And with my new school being in the suburbs of Washington D.C., I found the students to have a much higher focus on material things - and me without a single pair of Guess jeans.  Fitting in was hard.  On my very first day of school, I walked around all day with a lint sheet hanging out of the leg of my pants.  I was convinced, once discovered, that everyone must've thought it toilet paper.  I knew that was a bad way to start my new life.

But things got worse.  I walked into my Physical Science class, where students were seated in long lab table rows according to last name.  My teacher made everyone in the rows rearrange until I was seated next to the one girl who shared the same last name as me.  Her name was Mary.  She was beyond unpopular.  She had no friends and she didn't bathe regularly.  I loathed sitting next to her.  I would scoot my chair as far from hers as possible, trying to hold my breathe from the stench.  She never spoke to me, and I never spoke to her.  We grandly pretended the other didn't exist.  All we shared in common was our last names.

It was an ill-fated day that the Big Incident occurred.  The teacher was up front lecturing.  I was distracted by Mary, who had her head down on the desk, moaning on occasion.  I didn't bother to ask what was wrong, but wished I could've scooted further to the right, further away from her.  That's when I heard the splat of liquid on the floor.  Mary had thrown up.  If there was one thing, one fear I had, it was vomit.  VOMIT!  Right next to me!  And no one was doing ANYTHING!  I sat, sweating, heart racing, waiting for intervention that didn't come.  No one noticed.  Mary continued sitting there, head on the desk.  The teacher kept lecturing.  The smell kept drifting.  And there was foamy white and yellow vomit right next to my feet.  Finally, I couldn't bear it one more second.  I stood up, and exclaimed, "CAN'T SOMEONE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS?" and then I ran out.  I don't remember the evacuation or what happened to Mary or the clean up.  What I mostly remember is refusing to return to class that day.  I sat in the hall and said I wasn't going anywhere near the vomit.  Little princess much?

Mary didn't return to school for a few days after that.  When she did, we never spoke, and continued pretending the other didn't exist.  I only made one friend that school year, and was happy to move on to high school and better things the following year.  I don't recall ever thinking of the situation from Mary's perspective, or wondering how awful that must have been for her, until I was an adult.  What can I say?  Thirteen year olds are self-absorbed and selfish.  Or at least I was.  Thankfully we grow up and broaden our minds a bit.  I hope that Mary found more happiness in her adult life than in her teen years.

Want to link up to Memory Lane Friday?  Just add your website to the link up below.  Be sure to take the time to visit the blogs of other participants!


I'm taking some time off from Memory Lane Friday, so there will not be one next week.  Thanks for participating!

Got little ones?  Be sure to check out my giveaway for Toddler Toes HERE!

A Riding Lesson - Memory Lane Friday

The summer I was 15 I had a crush on my riding instructor.  Slender and petite, sporting skin-tight jeans, chaps, and a tucked in shirt, he dominated the riding arena as teenage girls circled him in lessons.  Curly black hair slicked back and a cigarette permanently attached to his left hand, we all adored him.  Once, he had even ridden for the U.S. Olympic team.  It didn't matter that he wasn't even interested in females.  He was gorgeous and aloof - a romantic mystery in the making.

Each Wednesday evening I and five other girls would tack up our horses and head into the arena for an hour of torment.  He was hard on us.  He had great expectations - we were his finest students.  And we never quite measured up.  He'd storm and rage and stomp across the dusty footing, curse words spewing from his mouth as he reamed us out.  Once, he taped tacks to the saddle of a girl who kept sitting back on her horse as he went over fences.  Another time we could only use yarn for reins, learning to control our horses by our seat instead of our hands.  And a few horrible times, he got on the horses himself and beat them.  He had a temper for the legends.  We were all just a little intimidated.

All we wanted was to hear his praise.  We would've done anything to hear the simple words "Good job today".  Those words would've carried us through dozens of less successful lessons. 

I recall in one particular lesson he decided to make us ride the entire lesson using jockey stirrups - stirrups as short as they would go, forcing us into a cramped two-point position for the hour.  For several of us, the stirrups just weren't short enough, so he stormed off to the tack room for a leather punch to shorten them himself.  He was in a mood that day.

None of us had ever ridden in jockey stirrups before, much less for an hour.  The stirrups began rubbing against my chaps within minutes.  Chaffing set in deep, each stride of my horse burning my left leg.  I set my jaw and soldiered on, refusing to give in the pain even as it increased.  We couldn't please the riding instructor that day - he yelled and shook his cigarette at us one by one, pointing out our faults brutally as ashes fell to the ground.  Around and around we went, the clock on the wall above the lounge stuck - minutes seemed like hours.  Still, I said nothing.

When the hour was over I jumped off my horse with trembling legs.  I didn't think they'd hold me as I landed in the soft dirt.  I pulled my chaps gently away from my leg, grimacing against the suction.  And then reluctantly pulled up the zipper.  There, on the back of my calf, was a gaping hole the size of a 50 cent piece.  Pus and blood drained from the site.  My instructor walked by, right about this time, and stopped in his tracks.
"Good Lord, Lisa, why didn't you say something?"
"It's nothing," I said, sheepishly, for I would've endured sores up and down my entire leg, if only it had made him happy.

He never made us do a lesson of jockey stirrups again after that.  But my leg still bears the scar from that day.

If you'd like to participate in Memory Lane Friday, just blog about a memory and add your website to the linky.  Please take the time to visit the websites of other participants and leave them a comment.

Next week's suggested topic is 8th grade, although you can blog about any memory and link up.  After next week, I'll be taking a short break from Memory Lane Friday for a while, but will likely bring it back at another time.  Thanks to all who have been so great about participating!

The Greatest Treasure Find Ever and GIVEAWAY - Vintage Peanut Butter Glasses

This week I'm switching things up a little for Memory Lane Friday.  This week you can blog about the greatest treasure you've ever found - be it at a yard sale, auction, antique store, Craigslist - wherever!  Your find could be something small, like a vintage skirt that you love or a child's toy, or it could be big - like a leather couch.  Whatever you've found that was a great deal!  The link up will be available all week long, and one random person that links up will be chosen to win a set of FOUR vintage peanut butter parfait glass dishes!  These were used back in the 1950s to package peanut butter.

I had a hard time picking just one thing.  I love to frequent yard sales and thrift stores, so I'm always finding little treasures.  So I decided to blog about some of the art around our log home.  

We've had this picture for at least 10 years.  We got it from a rural auction for $17.  

It hangs in our bedroom.

This picture of the drowning cat was found at a flea market.

It hangs in the master bathroom.

Since our cat Disco looks just like the black cat in the picture, I've always liked it.

Lucky for Disco he doesn't get baths.

This little plate was in a thrift store for .99 cents. 

We have a lot of Southwestern items around the house, so it fits in.

It hangs on my kitchen cabinets.

This is a painted wooden platter.  You can see it was hand made, as it is a little crooked.

Paul and I got this when I was pregnant with Pierce.

We were on a Caribbean cruise and got it from a street vendor in Isla Roatan, Honduras.

It hangs above the kitchen window.

And finally, this piece hangs by the dining room table.  

It's the most recent addition - a $5 purchase from the local Friends of the Library book sale.

It's a rural scene of a horse pulling a cart filled with veggies while the family plays in the stream.  I love it!

So I want to hear, readers, what's your greatest treasure find?  To join in, please add the link to the blog post on your greatest treasure find ever to the linky below:


To be eligible for the giveaway, please grab the code from below the button and paste it into your blog, or do a direct link to this post from your blog.

<a  href="http://twobearsfarm.blogspot.com/2011/06/whats-your-best-treasure-find-link-up.html"><img   src="http://i291.photobucket.com/albums/ll311/varunner7/button2nd.jpg"></a>

Don't forget to go visit the blogs of others who participate, and leave them a comment!  A winner for the giveaway will be chosen by Random.org on 7/15/11 at noon.  Winner must respond within 48 hours.

Next week's Memory Lane Friday topic suggestion is 8th grade. 

Barbecues and Cook Outs - Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog hop where you can write about your memories and link up.  This week's suggested theme is 'Cookouts and Barbecues', but you can write about any memory and still join in.

By unspoken East Coaster agreement, the southern part of Virginia is considered to be part of The South.  And here in The South, we think of barbecues differently than other folks.  My West Coast friends often say they are going to barbecue over the weekend, but what they really mean (Southern translation here) is they are going to grill or cook out.  They might invite over a couple of friends and throw burgers on the grill.  But a barbecue in my stomping ground - now that's a big deal.

Where I live, a barbecue is actually the act of roasting a pig, while all your friends and family come in droves with side dishes.  The pig will roast all day slowly over open flames, juices dribbling out and spewing across the fire.  Corn will boil in large silver pots over boilers, and tables will be laden with potato salads, deviled eggs, homemade jars of pickles, brownies and coconut cream pies.  When the pig is done the meat is pulled and placed on platters, to be piled on hamburger buns with barbecue sauce.  You've got your smoky style barbecue sauce or your more tart North Carolina barbecue sauce, which has extra vinegar.  I'm a smoky style barbecue sauce person myself, although I'm happy to eat either one. 

At a barbecue, there may be music going on before, during, and/or after the meal.  Little kids dance barefoot in the grass under starry skies, and oftentimes a lightening bug catching competition will take place.  It's a fun time, but a big production that may happen just once over the course of the summer.  Actually, we haven't been to a real 'barbecue' for the past couple of years.

What's a barbecue like where you live?

Want to join in on Memory Lane Friday?  It's easy!  Just add your website below, and please take the time to visit other participants' blogs and leave them a comment.


Next week is an extra special Memory Lane Friday.  We will be blogging about the best thrift store/auction/coupon deal find ever!  It can be something small you found that you love, or something bigger.  The link up will run all week long, and I will be giving away a set of vintage 1950s peanut butter dishes to one lucky person that enters!  You can read all about this fun event here:

A 7th Grade Vandal - Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog hop where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are welcome.  This week's suggested theme is 7th Grade, but you can blog about any memory and link up.

When I was in 7th grade I walked to and from school each day - a short 3 block jaunt.  Sometimes I'd get slightly side tracked on the way home.  Boys.  The playground.  Swinging on the flagpole.  There were plenty of distractions.

One afternoon as I walked down the long, ambling hill of the junior high school with two of my friends, one of them began telling a story.  A story of a group of some big bad older girls who had broken bottles on the pitcher's mound of the baseball field.  We all looked over at the field as we walked by.  It was swept clean now, the bases just lightly dusted with dirt, the bleachers quiet.

I don't remember who suggested we follow in the footsteps of the older girls.  But suddenly we were digging glass bottles from the trash.  We flung them, one by one, taking turns watching the glass shatter on the hardness of the pitcher's mound.  Great joy was to be found in the freedom of destruction, the knowledge of open rebellion.  Shards of glass crashed and splattered across the crunchy dirt, splayed over the field.

Finally, we ran out of bottles.  Our energy ran down too.  But the high over our actions lived on as we ambled back to the road to continue our walk home.  And that's when it happened.

The door on a tiny brick house across the street from the baseball field opened.  And out walked a lady, toting a trash can and several brooms.

"Well, you girls have had your fun.  Now you'd better clean this up before you head on."

Guilt descended on us all like a shroud, cloaking us in darkness.  Shame.  We each took a broom and a dustpan, and we began cleaning.  We knew what we'd done was wrong, and we made every effort to get up each stray shard of glass.  Then, and only then, did we go home.  And no, I don't think I mentioned this one to my parents!  

Want to participate in Memory Lane Friday?  It's easy!  Just add your link below. Please take the time to visit the blogs of other participants and leave them a comment.

Be sure to come back next week - the topic is Cookouts and Barbecues, just in time for July 4th!

Stuck on the Ferris Wheel, Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are welcome!  This week theme suggestions are no theme - blog whatever - or blog about your father.  I'm going to continue from my grandfather's memoirs this week.  These are his words, not mine.  You can read the previous post from him HERE.

The farm on which we lived was own by the Tobe Taylor family.  Our Dad was a tenant on this farm.  The log cabin, which was our home, was also owned by the Taylors.

Our next job was cutting briers and weeds on one section of the Taylor farm.  It was late summer and harvest time had passed, so after school each day we would concentrate on clearing the large field, which was located over the hill from our house and facing the Barnett section of the Old No. 19 Highway.  Mr. Taylor gave us five dollars, two-fifty each, for completing the job.  This was big money for us in those days.  Using a scythe, for many hours at a time, was a tiring job.  What did we do with all this money?  Well, we knew the county fair was coming to Lebanon in a very short time, so we began making preparations to attend.  We had the money, two-fifty each, but we needed a ride to and from the fair.  Joe Leonard, our first cousin, owned a T-Model Ford.  We found out that he planned to attend the fair, so he consented to take us along.

What a trip!  Three flat tires, and ever so long to get from Barnett to Lebanon.  Our first county fair and was it exciting.  Lots of amusements, and plenty of popcorn and ice cream, which was a real treat to us, or should I say luxury.  Then there were the hobby horses, and the ferris wheel that attracted our attention.  We chose to ride the ferris wheel first.  Once we were seated and had made several rounds, we found ourselves stranded on the very top.  The little gas engine had completely conked out.  Time passes, and still there seems to be no way the troubled engine could be fixed anytime soon.  Jimmy became restless and impatient, he doesn't like the idea of being stranded in mid-air.  So what does he have in mind as he squeezes out form under the cross-bar, which was used as a safety precaution?  He stretches out those long arms and legs, and begins climbing down seat after seat, until he is three or four from ground level, then swings out and jumps the remaining distance.  This was ever so dangerous.  Well, I just sat there scared that he would seriously hurt himself.  Such a dare devil venture!  Later the engine was repaired.  I was glad to plant my feet on solid ground once more.  The ferris wheel operator was terrified.  He really chewed out my brother Jimmy.  I do not recall that we ever told our parents.  I was so thankful that he was not hurt.

 Want to link up to Memory Lane Friday?  Just add your website to the linky.

Please take the time to visit fellow bloggers who have linked up, and leave them a comment.  Next week the topic suggestion is 7th grade (themes are just a suggestion - you can always blog about any memory you'd like and link up).

The Turkey Drive - Memory Lane Friday

Welcome to Memory Lane Friday!  A weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are invited.  This week has no theme.

I'm going to continue with more from my grandfather's memoirs.  As always, these are his words - not mine- only lightly edited for spelling/grammar. If you'd like, you can read where I last left off HERE.

Jimmy, Alex, and I loved the large pond (at least it seemed large, when we were kids) which was only a short distance from the house and barn, down a small incline, and was not visible from the house.  We spent many happy hours during the spring and summer - fishing, swimming and boating.  In fact, we built our own boat, using scrap lumber.  It was very crude, but navigable.  It never sank and we were proud as peacocks; our little boat served us faithfully.  Later, we found another use for our boat.  We carried it up the hill, away from the pond, placed it under a big apple tree, and from that time on it became an abode for our animals which we caught in traps and later sold to fur buyers.  We constructed several compartments in our boat in order to separate the animals, in other words, we did not allow our skunks to associate with the opossums.  These were the only two animals we caught in our traps.  The opossums hides were one dollar each, and the skunks brought two dollars, and sometimes more if they had dark, beautiful fur.

Jimmy and I had our first paying job ever when we were quite young.  We drove turkeys a distance of approximately four miles from Barnett, Virginia, to Blackford, Virginia, which was a railroad town near Honaker, Virginia.  Floyd Snead, who lived just about the Taylor Farm, would purchase turkeys from farmers who lived along the old road which passed through a large section of the Stuart Farm.  Mr. Snead carried his own hand scales, weighing each turkey as he bought them.  When we arrived at the turn off to Blackford, Virginia, we were driving hundreds of turkeys.  Our biggest job was trying to keep those turkeys on the paved road and from flying into the woodlands.

Arriving at the Blackford Depot, we drove our turkeys into bins awaiting the railroad cards, which arrived later.  We received one dollar each, for this unusually day long adventure.  Over the years I have related this turkey drive to different people.  They thought such an experience almost unbelievable.  Yet it happened, and Jimmy and I were proud of our first job, especially the dollar we each received.  I did not mention that there were very few cars in those days.  On this entire trip we saw only one vehicle, an old truck loaded with gypsies, parked at an intersection near Blackford.

If you'd like to link up, add your website here: 

Please take the time to visit and comment on others' blogs.  Next week's topic is either No theme or My Dad.

Memory Lane Friday - 6th Grade

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival, where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are welcome.  Today's theme is 6th grade.  So I went to 6th grade in the 80s.  Here I am sporting my super cool 80s sweatshirt, along with my Safety Patrol gear (nerd alert!).  I never could get my bangs to tease up as well as the other girls.

 Things I remember from 6th grade:

The mom of my friend, Chelsea, who was a psychologist, came to school to talk about her profession.  She brought with her a brain, in formaldehyde.  I was fascinated, and touched it when she took it out.  Another girl had to run to the bathroom to throw up.

Playing a game called four-square with a red ball during gym almost everyday.

Making a globe out of paper mache and painted continents. 

Long summer days at the barn with my friend, Chelsea.  She'd let me ride her horse Bargain. 

The era of the pogo ball.  I could hop mine around the entire neighborhood.  Mine was purple and green (slightly more fluorescent than this picture I found on google) and had a full disk instead of the disk with the edges bevelled in.

 My Dad got Rocky Mountain spotted fever, and had to rush to the hospital.  It was terrifying, because I'd never really seen him sick before, other than a cold here and there.

Helping my friend, Nicole, deliver papers on her paper route.

Dollar matinee movies - Big Top PeeWee comes to mind.

Press on nails.

A chemistry set, in the basement.  And no, I didn't blow anything up!

Would you like to link up to Memory Lane Friday?  It's easy.  Just add your website to the linky.  Be sure to visit the blogs of others who link up, and leave them a comment too. Next week there is no theme.

I was a Senior Hottie (Not Really)

Over at A Belle, A Bean, and a Chicago Dog there is a link up party happening called I Was a Senior Hottie.  I wasn't a senior hottie by any means, but I thought it was a fun link up and I decided to join in with a few pictures from my senior year.

I searched and searched for a copy of my senior picture, but I guess I don't have one.  So here is a scan straight from the yearbook, which is why it looks a little grainy.  Okay, seriously, I would love to have glowing smooth skin like that again (stupid age marks).

The picture below is from senior prom.  

I'm actually friends with all 3 "Spongebobs" in this picture on Facebook, but seeing as how none of them know about my blog and I don't really feel like sharing (and seeing if they minded being on it) I decided instead to protect their anonymity with our handy-dandy sticker collection.

And finally, a picture from graduation, with my brother Taylor and my Dad.

My  youngest brother, John, was not yet 2 years old and must've been with my mom, taking the picture.

 What you can't tell from this picture is that I had on the most dreadful hot pink lipstick.  Whew, it was bad!

If you want to link up your pictures, head over to A Belle, A Bean, and a Chicago Dog - her linky is open through Monday.

Family Myths and Legends - Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival where you can link up with your memories.  This week's topic is Family Myths and Legends. 

On a side note, yesterday I missed the first day of blogging since I started in December 2009.  It was not by choice.  I haven't been able to get into my blog since early Wednesday morning!  I still can't get into my blog from Internet Explorer, but I downloaded Mozilla Firefox and I can get in that way, for now.  Very frustrating.  And this browser isn't working too well for me either, as my mouse keeps skipping around and deleting things I write!  I know I have a lot of catching up to do, and hope I can find time to visit blogs today and that I will be able to comment again now.

I had hoped to scan some pictures and do a dual post (with stories from each side of the family) this week, but since I couldn't get on I'll be keeping it simple.

Legend:  I never met my great, great, great paternal grandmother, but this story is true.  She was sitting by the fireplace during a huge thunderstorm one evening.  A bolt of lightening came down the chimney and struck her foot.  For the rest of her life, her foot never quite healed.  My uncle told me that as a child, he was never allowed near the fireplace during storms.

Myth:  I've only heard this story from my maternal grandfather once, so I will try to recollect it the best I can.  We have a lot of musical talent on this side of the family, even today, of the Appalachian variety.  Many years ago, a relative who was a shining star on the banjo had passed.  After the funeral, family was gathered around the porch, reminiscing his memories.  Someone started saying that they should play a tune on his banjo.  Everyone had mixed feelings.  A few warned not to touch it.  But after much debate, a fellow picked up the banjo and played just one song, the deceased's favorite.  Afterwards, he set the banjo down against the wall and there was much silence from the gathering.  Slowly, quietly, the banjo picked out the last refrain from the song --- all by itself.

Want to link up with Memory Lane Friday?  Just add your website to the linky below.  Be sure to visit fellow link-ups' blogs!



Come back next week, the topic is 6th grade!

More from the Memoirs - Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are welcome.  This week has no theme.

A few weeks ago, when I blogged from my grandfather's memoirs (HERE), many of you asked to hear more.  So today I'm giving you more.  These are his words, not mine, although I have edited out just a couple of typos.

Jimmy, Alex, and I were the oldest boys.  Kent was only two years old.  We did almost everything together; now it seems as I sit here and write that it was only yesterday that we were there as one big happy family.

We worked in the fields, helping Dad plant the crops.  Working side by side we could do it all; plant the corn, cultivate, and harvest it.  We were really a self-supporting family.  We raised or grew almost everything it took to survive on the farm.  Wheat that was ground into flour, corn into meal.  The wheat and flour mills were only a short distance from our home.  We also raised our own hogs, then too we had our own cows for milk and butter, and of course we raised horses for farm use.  Yet there were times when things were just a little tough, there was clothing to buy for such a large family.  In order to counter this, our mother raised turkeys, sold them and bought our winter shoes, and whatever else was needed to survive.

Christmas was a happy time at our house.  Strange, isn't it, that happiness can come from those small gifts such as we received at that time.  We never had a bicycle, never had a little red wagon, or a pair of skates.  Our gifts consisted of an orange, an apple, and a long stick of peppermint candy.  We bought our own cap pistols, and caps from pennies and nickles.  We managed to save for such an occasion, but this was only during the last few years on the farm.  Through all this, we became humble and meek, but certainly not lowly.  Not any of us throughout our life span have ever been proud or haughty.  We were taught to respect other peoples' rights, and in return our neighbors would do anything for Ike Leonard's family.

"Chief" as we called him, and his daughter (my aunt) Pam.

Want to join in on Memory Lane Friday?  It's easy!  Just add you link to your website below:

Please visit others' blogs and leave them a comment.
Next week's theme is Family Myths and Legends.

The Love of Reading - Memory Lane Friday, 5th Grade

Welcome to Memory Lane Friday, a weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are encouraged to hop in.  This week's topic is 5th grade.

I've always loved to read.  I can't remember a time that I haven't turned to books as a form of stress relief, an escape from the real world.  I've read so many books I couldn't even possibly pick a favorite. 

When I was in 5th grade, I got strep throat.  I was in bed feverish, and had run out of library books.  I needed something to read!  And so it was I stumbled upon my grandfather's copy of Gone with the Wind.  Thick blue hard back, with gold leaf designs, and a built in blue ribbon book mark.  It was a pretty book, and over 1000 pages long.  I'd heard about Gone with the Wind, although I'd never seen the movie.  As famous as it was, it simply must be a decent read.

So I settled in, my throat on fire, sweat dripping down my head.

And I was transported to the past.  To plantations and gowns in the South.

And do you know I forgot all about how lousy I felt?

I stayed in that bed reading for two or three days.

I only got up to use the bathroom or get something to drink.

As you know, Gone with the Wind is one hefty read.  For some reason, I totally took to it though.

This picture is from 5th grade, but I'm reading a different book in the picture:

Want to join in on Memory Lane Friday?  Just add your link to the linky below.

Then please go visit the blogs of others and leave them a comment!

Come back next week - it's a no theme week!

My First Horse Show - Memory Lane Friday

Today is Memory Lane Friday - a weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are welcome.  This week you've got a choice of topics - 4th Grade or Mother's Day.  I did a tribute to my mom last year for Mother's Day, which you can read about HERE, so I decided to write about 4th grade.

I've actually already blogged about 4th grade before when I wrote about a time I got in trouble.  But this time I want to write about my first horse show.

When we moved from Glade Springs to Marion, Virginia, I switched from taking western riding lessons to english.  I went to a place that had American Saddlebreds and Tennessee Walking horses.  My favorite horse was a large bay Tennessee Walker named Ballerina.  She was smooth to ride and well-tempered.  And beautiful.

I believe we borrowed the riding clothes I wore for the show.  I'm guessing it was just a walk and trot class, because I don't think I learned how to canter until we'd moved to Roanoke and I started riding hunters.

Here I am on Ballerina - a lot of horse for a little girl:

I won two ribbons with Ballerina - a 2nd place and a 4th place ribbon. 

It was really fun, and some of my relatives came in to watch the show.

Want to participate in Memory Lane Friday?  It's easy!  Just add your website to the link below:

Be sure to visit the other blogs that are linked and leave them some commentary on their site!

Next week's topic is 5th Grade.

The Orphanage, Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival, where you can blog about your memories and link up.  All are welcome.  This week has no theme.

This week, the memories I'll be blogging about are not my own.  They are verbatim from my grandfather's memoirs and from the records I received recently from when he went into a Baptist orphanage, following the deaths of his parents to the Spanish influenza.  The best stories in his memoirs are his stories from the farm, but for today's purposes I'm focusing on his time at the orphanage.  Henry Taylor Leonard was a tender 12 years old at the time, 1923, and he brought with him 1 suit, 1 cup, 1 union suit, 1 under shirt, 4 shirts, 1 pair of hose, and 1 pair of shoes.  This is his admittance picture from the orphanage, a time that must have been so terrifying for him:

I was only 12 years old, when we as a family of seven departed our separate ways, and from our much loved home in Elk Garden, Virginia, and moved out into another part of the world, which seemed so sad and oh, so lonesome.  Five of us, Myrtle, Alex, Kathleen, Kent, and myself were sent to the Baptist Home in Salem, Virginia.  The other two, Drucilla and Jimmy, were destined to live with relatives. 

I did not see either Drucilla or Jimmy until many years later, but I did see my brothers and sisters at the home on special occasions while at Salem.  Alex and I became very close, although we were all in separate cottages or dorms.  He and I would meet down on the athletic field, or we both attended chapel services.  Yet we could not sit together, because children from various cottages had a special section in which they were seated. 

Jimmy and I had raised several ducks during our last year on the farm.  They were still there when I departed for Salem.  Later, Jimmy sold the ducks and sent me half of the money.  I cried and cried, Jimmy was so thoughtful.

I have many regrets that our youngest brother Kent was not older when we were on the farm.  He is indeed a wonderful person.  So full of life, and does not seem to have a care in the world.  It would have been lots of fun having him travel, with us from day to day.  Yet we have been separated through most of our life span.  However, these things are to be expected, not only in our family, but in others as well.

Can you imagine losing your parents, and then being sent to an orphanage - where - you catch a glimpse now and then of your siblings but rarely say a passing word?  So tragic.  My grandfather had many adventures in his life, and prospered in spite of his trials.  Perhaps I will include some of his humorous farm stories at a future date.  He and his brother had a nose for trouble!

Want to participate in Memory Lane Friday?  Simply link your website below.  Please take the time to go visit others' blogs and leave a comment.

Come back next week, the topic is 4th Grade.

Earth Day - Memory Lane Friday

Memory Lane Friday is a weekly blog carnival where you can link up with your memories.  All are welcome.  This week's theme is Earth Day.  While that might seem like a challenging topic, it really isn't.  You could blog about a nature hike you took, a craft you made using recycled items, a pet frog - anything that celebrates the earth!  Earth Day just happens to be one of my favorite holidays.  I love that it embraces the earth and doesn't involve candy or presents.

My sophomore year of high school I was tormented by a little subject called CHEMISTRY.  Oh how I suffered through that class.  In the spring, when Ms. Bohince gave us an optional extra credit project, I was all over it. I needed all the help I could get.  The challenge was to create a costume out of recycled items for Earth Day. 

I raided old milk cartons, newspapers, cardboard boxes, rope, construction paper, string, an old wooden dowel, and a can of silver spray paint.  Here's what I created:

A knight costume!  Not so bad, eh?  I did get my full extra credit, and I think I managed to pull a B in the class when it was all said and done.

To link up, just add your website to the linky:

Be sure to visit other blogs and leave a comment.

Next week is a 'no theme' week.

Have you entered my GIVEAWAY yet?  It ends tomorrow!