Tag Archives: back in the day

You Can Go Home Again

 

“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.”  ~Christian Morgenstern

 

I definitely feel like I have been “home”. 

No, I didn’t visit with any blood relatives, but instead with perhaps, my oldest friend in the world.  We met when we were 9 years old.  That was 30 years ago.  We laughed at how long we’ve known each other and how it really doesn’t seem like it can really be 30 years.  But it is.  We couldn’t believe it has been nearly 11 years since we last saw each other.  But it has been.  Fortunately for me, she and her family have come from their home in Pennsylvania to vacation at Litchfield Beach, SC, only about 2 hours from my home.  I couldn’t NOT go see her.   

With someone you’ve known that long, there is a certain comfort level.  She knows me.  She knew me “before”.  Before everything.  And even though we haven’t seen each other for years, we picked right up.  As if it were yesterday.

Yesterday when we were having a sleep over and playing UNO by flashlight under the covers after her mom had told us (several times) to go to sleep.  Yesterday when we were in our church musical production (Moses and the Freedom Fanatics) where she was Moses and I was Miriam (Moses’ sister) and we put baby powder in our hair to make ourselves look old.  We performed a little mini-revival of the production right there on the spot.  And we rocked it, thank you.  I thought I’d never get that baby powder out of my hair.

We visited together with her parents and in-laws.  We sat on the beach and watched our children play in the sand and surf together and marveled at how this could possibly be.  We watched our husbands play bocce ball.  We took lots of pictures and promised that it wouldn’t be 11 more years before we saw each other again.

We talked about how we really are the same as we’ve always been.  And we are.

I don’t care what they say, you really can go home again.

My friend, Moye, and me.  Two hot, almost 39 year olds.  That’s right.

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Throwback

 

 

Word of the Day, according to my perpetual calendar:

schlemiel: n. an unlucky bungler: chump.

Jerry’s cousin was the kind of schlemiel who, upon finding happiness in a relationship, would always find a way to mess it up.

Now, you’ve gotta KNOW,  that immediately, my LCD mind starts singing…

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.  Schlemiel, schlamazel, hassenfeffer incorporated…We’re gonna do it.  Give us any chance, we’ll take it.  Read us any rule, we’ll break it.  We’re gonna make our dreams come true.  Doin’ it our way…”

I’m guessing that a schlamazel is something along the same lines as a schlemiel?  Just a couple of unlucky, buffoonish type people?  Such as, oh, let me see…Laverne and Shirley?  Just a wild crazy guess.  It’s all Yiddish to me anyway, but it begs the question…who was the schlemiel and who was the schlamazel? 

Discuss. 

That just leaves hassenfeffer, and I’ll let you talk amongst yourselves about that one.

SIGH.  I used to love me some Laverne & Shirley. 

You remember them…those two crazy kids that aired right after Happy Days.  Laverne De Fazio, with her Milk and Pepsi fetish.  Shirley Feeny, with her “Boo Boo Kitty”.  Not to mention the kooky pair, Lenny and Squiggy, from upstairs.  Squiggy and his Cosmo Kramer-esque…”Hellooooooooo” whenever he threw open the girls’ apartment door. 

Good clean fun, it was.  Back in the days of The Love Boat and “It’s de plane, boss” Fantasy Island.  Sonny and Cher and Donny and Marie.  Yes, those were the days…Before the insanity that is, Reality TV.

That’s all I have to say about that.

Enjoy:

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How to annoy your brother–1978-style

 

 

First, in recognition of Autism Awareness Month, here are the autism facts of the day:

  • Statements including the words “always” and “never” cannot be applied to persons with autism.  No two are alike.  Autism is a spectrum disorder, which means that people with autism can be a little autistic or very autistic. So, it is possible to be bright, verbal, and autistic as well as mentally retarded, non-verbal and autistic. A disorder that includes such a broad range of symptoms is often called a spectrum disorder; hence the term “autism spectrum disorder.” The most significant shared symptom is difficulty with social communication (eye contact, conversation, taking another’s perspective, etc.).  They are not all like “Rainman”.
  • The word “normal” should only be used when referring to a setting on a large household appliance.  Not when referring to people.

 

Okay, moving on….

Seems like so many of my important conversations with my children take place in the car.  Maybe because they are my most captive audience while they are strapped in those seats.  I don’t know.  But we have talked about Jesus, friend issues, puberty…some serious “opportunities to grow”, as I like to call them.

But this wasn’t one of those times.

This particular not-so-serious moment was born out of a conversation where my kids were asking me what I liked to do as a kid.  I told them how much I LOVED me some Barbies.  I played with Barbies right on up to probably 6th grade…and I say that without shame–keeping in mind that back in the “olden” days (as my kids like to say!) there were no gameboys, ipods, or home computers of any kind.  We DID have an Atari but I’m pretty sure my older brother monopolized that…I don’t recall getting much playing time on that at ALL.  I’m sure he’ll correct me if I’m wrong.  But I’m not bitter about it.  Love you, bro.

While I loved my Barbies, I also loved to sing.  Still do.  Ask my kids.  They get SICK of my incessant singing.  Anyway, as I rode along with my very modern kids, I was trying to explain what a “record” was.  You know, those things we had before CDs, cassettes, um, 8-Tracks.  I had to explain the whole concept, round things made of vinyl, with holes in the middle. Played on a special machine.  The nuances of the 78, 33 and 45 speed. They responded with a hesitant, “Ohhh yeahhhhh, I’ve heard of those before.”  Anyway, I recalled for them one of my favorite pastimes when I was a 3rd grader…and I recall if for you now.

When I was in 3rd grade, we lived in Roxboro, North Carolina where my dad pastored a Methodist church in town.  We lived in the parsonage (a home that is owned by the church specifically for their pastor to live in) and it was a great big ‘ole brick two-story house.  I have many memories of this house–which may be blog fodder for another day.  My brothers and I should compare notes, probably.  I had a dresser in my room that had a big mirror.  Among other things, I also had a record player, a 45 that I adored, a hairbrush, and a silky robe.  I know what you’re thinking:  Where is she going with this?

The 45?  My only one at the time.  Debby Boone’s “You Light Up My Life”, circa 1978.  Probably my older brother’s most hated song of all time, thanks to me.  Because, when I was 9, it was my most favorite song of all time

The hairbrush?  My microphone, silly. 

The silky robe? Well, that was my long flowy Cher hair, of course.  Oh, how I dreamed of having long flowy Cher hair.  Surely I’m not the only one who used my robe to create the hair??  It was a fine art of tying the long sleeves around the underside of my (very not cute short pixie) hair,”do rag” style, with the rest of the robe positioned over the the back of my head, just so, that it flowed down my back.  It was gawrgeoussss, y’all!  With my long silky robe hair, I would stand in front of my dresser mirror, brush in hand, Debby Boone blaring, flipping my long flowy Cher hair, singing my lungs out.  Over.  And over.  And over.  And over.  I’m so sorry I tormented you, bro. 

Man, I loved that song. 

Good times.  Good times.

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Filed under Back in the Day, Humor, Random Silliness