Valuable Lessons

I learned to swim at this pool in Nevada, Iowa.  It was right across the parking lot from the Nevada High School and right across the alley from Gates Hall.  My mom signed us up for swimming lessons.  You know it is funny because I don't remember if my brothers came also.  I don't remember how I got to the pool for my lessons either.  I did not learn to swim.  I did learn to float and hold my breath.  I also learned to dive (not part of the lessons)!.  Isn't that funny?  I could dive but did not swim.  I never got to go in the deep end because I couldn't really swim.  Today, I can do the backstroke and the sidestroke, but I don't like to do the crawl.  Just don't like it.  I am grateful to my parents for sending me for lessons.  Mom and Dad never learned to swim. In later years Mom took water aerobics but she never would get out of the shallow end. She was afraid and so was dad. I am pretty sure he never ran more than an inch of water in the bathtub.  I have never seen him in shorts, let alone a bathing suit.   My early exposure to the pool was a blessing.  

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My Mom also signed me up to learn ceramics.  My teacher was an old woman (maybe, she seemed old to me!) who lived on a farm outside of Nevada. She was patient and kind and I cannot remember her name.  I learned to work with the greenware, cleaning the seams and smoothing the imperfections while being aware that any wrong move could destroy the piece.  I learned to paint on 3 coats of color and to finish my pieces with clear glaze.  The process took 3 firings  She showed me how to paint the eyes.  I loved to do horses and cats. I think all my horses were black with white manes.  They have all been broken and tossed. For many years I had a cat that I made all those years ago, but it too got broken in some forgotten accident and discarded.  The only things I have left from those ceramics lessons are this pink candy dish that I made for Grandma Scott, a statue of Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus and a plaque with praying hands.

My daughter, Tiffany has the statue and the plaque.  Here's how it happened.  Grandma Scott always put people's names on the bottom of her stuff.  She was trying to make sure people got things they had given her or that she thought they would especially like.  Well, she put my name on that statue.  I had no interest in it, but my mother loved it.  So when I ended up with the statue, I just handed them right over to mom!.  Tiffany also loved them.  I guess that loving feeling skipped a generation.  So eventually, the statue ended up with Tiffany.    She has quite a few items, like the picture of Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane and the HUGE ceramic Nativity Set that I made in the early 90s during my second stint of doing ceramics.  The problem with art and ceramics and all the crafts that people like to do is when you are done, you need space to display or store them or someone to give them to or to sell them to.  All the crafty, arty stuff I have done has always led me to a place where I couldn't make anything else with out getting rid of something!  So, I used to crochet.  I made afghans, I made bedspreads, I made doilies, I made granny squares and zigzag throws.  Where are they now?  I took them all to Good Will when we moved from 39th Street in Milwaukee to Garay Lane in Port Washington.  For a while in the early 2000's I made jewelry.  I made necklaces, earrings, bracelets in every color and all different styles.  Where are they now?  On their way to Good Will.  No one needs that much jewelry.  Since 2005 I have been making quilts.  Luckily for me, many of them were for gifts or for some specific person so I am not overrun with quilts.  Also, I stitch them all by hand which means it takes forever for me to make a quilt!

It is funny to me when I look back at all the things Mom did to encourage me musically, artistically and physically even though she was not musically gifted, not was she artistic or athletic.  Did I look at it that way back then?  Heck no.  Was I grateful?  Not so you'd notice. Kids just expect parents to provide opportunities to learn and to grow.  I know now that many parents cannot or will not give their kids these kinds of opportunity. Mine did and I am grateful.  

More 4th Street Memories

                        

I cannot figure out why mom is showing us these shorts.  Did she make them?  Are they shorts?  That is not her happy face so why?  Who took this picture?I think she looks like she is about Junior High age.

Is there anything better than summer when you are a kid?  Having a long free time to do whatever you want, no structure, no supervision.  When it was hot, Mom closed all the windows and pulled all the drapes to keep out the heat and it worked better than you might think.  My brothers and I would take out the monopoly game and play until we were tired of it or something better came along.  We left the game set up in the corner of the living room.  We played ball in the front yard, rode our bikes, walked the dog, went to our friends house. 

I think I was about 9 or 10 when I discovered the piano.  My mom and I were visiting a lady whose name I cannot remember.  She had a piano.  I sat down and started messing around, picking out tunes by ear.  The one I remember was "Onward Christian Soldiers".  My mom must have been impressed because next thing I know she bought me a piano.  It was an old upright and it was painted army green.  I started my piano lessons with the preacher's wife.  I was not a great student but I kept at it long enough to learn to read the music and my teacher let me play contemporary songs so I started practicing more.  I am sure my brothers will tell you that I played the same songs over and over and I did.  That is how you learn!  I also took organ lessons and soon I was playing at church.  I never was any good at the organ.  My Aunt Carol and my cousin Jean were much better musicians than I was.  I played for myself.  When I left home at 18 I did not have a piano for almost 10 years.  Finally I had enough money to buy a used piano for myself and I started playing again.  Still not that good, but good enough for my own enjoyment.  I placed the piano on the wall that adjoined the kids bedroom when we lived on 25th Street in Milwaukee, WI.  I played long after they were asleep and to this day I am sure that BK know the words to "Don't let the Sun go down on me" and others.  In 5th grade, music classes and band instruments and choirs started.  I did not play a band instrument but I sang in the Early Bird choir at Milford.  Why can't I remember the director's name?  I know Mrs. Hale was our music teacher in kindergarten and first grade.  Oh, wait!  It was Mrs. Bush.  We sang "This land is your land" for sure, but I can't remember the rest right now.  I did 5th and 6th grade at Milford, a school that was out in the country.  Nevada had a habit of busing city kids to the country and country kids to the city.  On the bus we would sing "From the Halls of Milford Prison to the shores of bubble gum bay.  We will fight our teachers in battle with spit balls, gum and clay.  First to fight for wrong and freedom and to keep our desks a mess.  We are proud to claim the title of the teachers number one pests!" 

My 5th grade teacher was Mrs. Gallagher.  She had red hair in a French roll.  She loved to tell us horrible stories of traffic accidents where people had their head cut off.  I loved her

My 6th grad teacher was Mr. Wolf, my first male teacher.  He had bad breath, dandruff and a habit of invading my personal space.  I hated him.  We did get to go to Mrs. Osmundson's class for math.  She was a great teacher and a welcome respite from Mr. Wolf. 

Milford was where I figured out that I was not going to be an athlete, at least not one that had to run. I am quite sure I was the slowest runner there.  Boys after girls, girls after boys was not a game I could compete at!  I went to the bars and twirled around and hung upside down!

I want to go back to 3rd grade at Central for a minute.  They used to bus the kids from North into Central for lunch.  The Central kids had a game that we had to get off the ground before the North kids got off the bus or we would get cooties.  Imagine my horror when I had to go to North the very next year!

I lived on 4th Street from the time I was in 4th grade until I graduated High School and left home for good.  I have lots of stories.  When we moved there I was a little girl who still believed that grown ups knew what they were talking about and that they always did the right stuff.  During that time I learned that my parents did not know everything, that they could be weak and foolish and make mistakes.  I went from my mom and dad are the smartest to my mom and dad don't know anything.  Both positions are equally foolish, but it was a long time after I left home before I learned that parents just do the best they can and hope for the best.