An Elementary Life

Question of the Week:

AN ELEMENTARY LIFE 

by Chrissy Larson

 "I'm home!!!" I hollered from the top of my lungs, slinging my leather book bag on the floor in the mud room. (A mud room is a place designated for sloppy, wet, muddy items such as clothing, mittens or boots. Ours was an area near the back hall doorway.) Each one of us kids had a brown, tooled leather school bag that my dad made years back from scrap cowhide while working at the Armour Leather Company in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still recall the oily scent of the chestnut-tanned leather.
        Kicking off my shoes without untying them, I stomped up the stairs looking for my mom. Her voice came back to me from somewhere under a pile of unfolded, crisp, clean laundry. I saw the sheets from off my bed in the pile which meant I was gonna sleep good tonight. Turning back fresh bed linens that hung on the clothesline in my backyard absorbing sweet air was like opening a gift. Tonight the indulgence would be all mine.
        "How was your school day?" my mom routinely quizzed.
        "Fun, but my face hurts."
        "Your face hurts?" she questioned.
        "Yeah, I couldn't stop smiling all day. It was great to be back at school. I had the best day, Mom. Besides seeing everyone again, we played S.P.U.D. at recess, my favorite. Oh, and thanks for the note in my lunch box... I love you too," I returned as I whispered a kiss on her beautiful soft cheek. Now it was my turn to ask a routine question.
        "What's for dinner?" She must have been so sick of being asked that but there was something about knowing the menu ahead of time that made doing homework all the way to suppertime entirely bearable. 
        My mom was and still is a fabulous cook. It really didn't matter what she made (except for liver and Brussels sprouts) because it was ALL good. Mom knew how to make a hearty, healthy meal for a family of seven (my baby sister wasn't born yet) and manage to stay within her meager budget, including dessert.
       After dinner, I had to either wash or dry the dishes, along with my older sister. We passed the time by either sharing events of the day or singing songs together, whichever SHE was in the mood for. I idolized her and my way of showing her love and respect was doing things to her liking, which sometimes meant letting her pick if I would be the washer or the dryer. Usually I dried because that also included putting the dishes away. Since she literally prayed me into existence, I owed her my life.

Father Knows Best - 1954-1960

        When the chores were done and the last bit of homework was checked, we all voted on a television show to watch on our black and white TV. Dad's vote weighed the most so we learned to love shows like Gunsmoke, Perry Mason, Bonanza, and Andy Griffith. Another one of my favorite shows was Father Knows Best. I loved the show but learned to hate the theme song at the end... only because my mother added words to the closing jingle. She and my dad (who whistled the tune along with her) triumphantly sang, "It's time to go to bed," over and over again with incredible delight until we got so sick of it and ran to our rooms. I guess that was the point.
        The walls of the house soon relaxed as my siblings and I each came out of the bathroom with clean, brushed teeth, kissed and hugged our parents, and in Walton's fashion said goodnight. Falling asleep was difficult, lying there trying to listen to the conversations of my older brothers in the room across the hall. The sound of their deep voices would eventually lull me to sleep and a new day would soon begin.
        "Good morning," came the energetic voice from the bottom of the stairs. "Are all of you awake? There's cinnamon toast getting cold down here so hurry up and get ready for school or you'll be late." In the background was the rhythmic sound of marching band music Mom conveniently found on the radio. I always wondered what she got out of John Phillips Sousa so early in the morning. After I grew up, I realized it wasn't that she liked that type of music as much as she liked the way it motivated us. Smart mom!

Kohler Village Elementary School

        Metal lunch boxes and brown paper bags were lined up on the counter-top along with our leather book bags, just like the school buildings that lined School Street in Kohler Village where I lived all of my grade school life. One brother headed to high school, while the other to junior high. My sister and I went to the elementary school where the crossing guard in her navy blue uniform and hat faithfully escorted us across the street each day to meet the many friends and classmates who slowly gathered in front of their respective schools.
        The cool Wisconsin air was brisk enough to shake off the last bit of sleepiness but not yet cold enough to see your breathe. That day was just around the corner. Autumn was definitely in the air as a hint of Fall color slowly visited the leaves on the trees.
        Not only were the leaves changing, so were we. We wanted to grow up so badly; to be like the high school students at the other end of the block; to meet the day when we could cross the "high school line" at the Youth Center; to wear make-up and go to dances. Couldn't time skip by any faster?
        I'm almost grown up now and all I want to do is go back. I miss those days. It was a simpler life with no cares or much to worry about. I guess it's my turn to watch as my own kids wish for the hands of time to pick up their pace, only to grow up with a longing to return to a more elementary life.
       
I've shared some fond memories from my elementary school days.  What are some of yours?     
       

QUESTION OF THE WEEK

I'VE GOT 
LONE STAR LOVE
by Emily Stutsman
Movies As Literature Student

"There's something about traveling that unlocks the brain. It gets you out of your routine, it shows you a different way of life, the jet lag puts you in a creative fog." -Nathan

The summer I was 13 years old, as well as when I was 14, I traveled out to Texas. I rode in a truck with a trailer escorted by Ms. Bobbi Williams. I was so excited because it was my first time really being away from home for a long period of time. Another reason for my excitement was there, I would meet eight-time NFR team roping champion, Speed Williams (Ms. Bobbi's son).

We drove for 14 hours straight, all the way to Texas. When Ms. Bobbi and I arrived in that Lone Star state, we had to stop at Tony Bracin’s house and let the horses out to stretch their legs. His house was on a 2,000-acre ranch. It was the most beautiful, breath-taking place I had ever seen. It had cows freely grazing in huge green fields and a river running through the acreage. I plan to move near Fairfield, Texas when I have my career set. 

 
We were finally on our way to Speed's house in Llano. The minute we got there, it was all busy, busy, busy. I have always loved staying busy, so there I was, in heaven! We always had ropings to go to or horses to be worked! To this day, those two summers have been the best summers I have ever experienced and I praise God that I was able to do it. Texas is by far my most favorite place to be!

If you have a favorite place where would it be??

QUESTION OF THE WEEK

Re-Opened Doors by Garrett Larson

Have you ever had a favorite restaurant or store that closed? When I was a kid, we went to an Italian fast-food restaurant called Fazoli’s. My family went to there almost every Sunday for lunch after church. A couple of years later, all the Fazoli’s in Jacksonville closed, probably because they did not have enough business, which was devastating to me. If I had known they were going to close, I would have given them more business and told more people about it.

My favorite item on the menu was the Italian Sampler, which included Spaghetti, Lasagna, and Stuffed Shells, along with all-you-can-eat, steaming hot, garlic bread sticks. To complete my meal, I had a refreshing ice cold Coca-Cola. Since they closed their doors, I have not found a replacement. Keep in mind, I come from an Italian family and can eat the best Italian food anytime. But Fazoli’s was fast, fresh Italian for on the go.

One weekend, I traveled to Tifton to spend time learning about Biology from my brother’s Father-in-law. On the way there, we drove past a Fazoli’s sign and my heart skipped a beat. My mom promised to take me there on the way home. During the entire time I was in Tifton, the restaurant was in the back of my mind. All I could think of was the Italian Sampler and the never-ending breadsticks.

It took and hour to get from Tifton to Valdosta, which seemed like forever. The Sampler was exactly the way I remembered it… hot, saucy, and delicious. I ate every bite! Even though there isn’t a Fazoli’s in Jacksonville and I’m still craving their food, all I have to do is drive to Valdosta to eat at a Fazoli’s.

If you could re-open a place that has closed, what would it be and why?

YOU ASK, WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

Well, if you have a minute or two, I'll tell you. I've been packing, unpacking, and doing laundry!

After my last blog entry, I left for Orlando and attended the FPEA Homeschool Convention with my two youngest kids, Garrett and Lily. The seminars were fabulous and every type of book, curriculum, kit, and computer product was at my fingertips; each vendor ready to swipe my credit card.

When the convention ended, we were off to the University of Central Florida, Orlando, where the three of us attended an incredible science camp, hosted by Aurora Lipper of Supercharged Science. There Garrett and Lily worked on making robots, lasers, roller coasters and various chemical mixtures, including the combination of diet cola and Mentos. The rest is messy history. (See the photos in a previous post.)

Three days after we came home, I was on a plane for Kansas City. Not only did I get to hang out with my daughter who lives there as a prayer missionary with the International House of Prayer, I attended a very hands-on Worship Symposium. Our class had about 35 participants with 11 nations of the world represented. God truly unifies His people through worship.

The next week, after I arrived home, my summer taxi service began. Lily started Apron's Cooking School (in the chefs hat on far right) with Publix, where she created full meals from Monday through Friday. It included Italian, Asian, Mexican, and American cuisine. The doggy bags were fantastic. (Read the article and watch the video in the recent post.)

The next week we went back and forth from the Cummer Art Museum, where Lily had a very enriching experience with everything from clay and painting to paper mache. I think I finally satisfied her creative hunger as she showed no signs of boredom.

In the meantime, Garrett started getting involved with Boy Scout Troop 252. This has been the best thing for him, being the outdoorsman that he is. They camp on a regular basis, and are constantly working on merit badges, which is now consuming his time instead of other mindless activities. One of the things his troop did to raise money for camp this year was pick hundreds of gallons of fresh blueberries in Georgia. I've never seen this active child so tired!

It was all worth it though. The following week, the troop headed to North Carolina for one week of Boy Scout Camp fun. The adventure spirit in him was (temporarily) satisfied and he came home dirty and tired.

Just before he left, Lily and my husband took off for Wisconsin where they went on an "Old Home Tour." She had been asking her dad about his upbringing, her deceased as well as living relatives, and the old homestead in Wisconsin. Instead of telling her the details, he decided that showing her would be more meaningful. The trip was intricately put together by the Lord as their steps were perfectly ordered. On the plane ride home, she leaned over to her daddy and said, "This is a trip I'll never forget. Thanks, Dad."

If you haven't figured it out by now, I had exactly one week to myself. I slept in, watched movies, read until I couldn't, cleaned, did laundry and hurt my knee. That reduced my activity to more self-pampering, which included a pedicure before they all came home.

Lily was home for one night and left for 4-H camp the next week. Garrett left for a youth camp in Kansas City four days later. 18 days away from home is a long time, but I know the Lord will encounter him as he attends the Awakening Teen Camp, designed especially for this age group. (Plus the fact that he will get to chill with his sister, who is a counselor there.)

Lily is home for now but starts Sewing Camp on Tuesday. There she will learn the basics as well as make a pair of pajama pants. Garrett comes home in August, just in time for Boy Scouts to resume.

I look forward to having everyone together again but have to say, while taking a huge breath, I am forever grateful to the Lord for the opportunities He has given us. Compared to others, this has truly been the most enriching summer of all. We have enjoyed meeting new friends along with going to different places. Our hearts are full and our memories are forever.

I just wish I could keep up the laundry all of this has created!

How about you? Tell me about your summer . . .

HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT . . .

Spring is such an amazing time of year. I am drawn to the sunshine that is ever-pouring from God's heaven. The weather has been surprisingly dry, allowing the atmosphere to be crisp and clear. This is such a fresh change from our normal haze of humidity. The sky seems bluer and the grass greener.



Too bad this season is so short. Before you know it, we'll be shutting doors and windows and turning on the air-conditioning for months to come. My husband thought I was crazy today when I chose to take a longer route in order to avoid the expressway. My reason for using back roads which would take twice as long? I wanted to roll down the windows and let the wind blow through my hair.


Today, I didn't want to be in a hurry. I'll be that tomorrow. I wanted to enjoy the day and the memories that Springtime always brings. When I was young, I used to ride my bike to an open field and spend hours looking through four leaf clovers, hoping for a trefoil. I can still remember how the March winds danced over the long, silky grass, doing a wave just for me. Clovers were sweet and dandelions in abundance; buttercups under my chin revealed I was a butter lover.

But most of all, I loved to pick wild daisies, plucking petals until the rhyme turned out right. Who wants to hear, "He loves me not!" My young heart hoped there would be someone who would love me one day.

I was right. I found Him in 1977. His love never relented and He romances me to this day. I always wanted someone who would adore me and care for me the way He does. His love goes down deep as sometimes that's where I hide; but He also celebrates with me in my high places. I've never known a love like this.

Daisy or not, one thing is for sure . . .
HE LOVES ME!

THE PERFECT MEAL

It's getting closer. The anticipation is building. Soon, the smell of turkey roasting in the oven, along with dressing and pies, will fill millions of homes all over the United States.

As far back as I can remember, I woke up with these same distinctive aromas wafting past my nose, as well as the sound of Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade coming from the family room TV. No one was necessarily watching it, but it was on all the same. Sleeping late meant no school, and if we were lucky, it would snow hard enough over the weekend to justify the school board calling for a snow day, giving us a few extra days off.

One of my favorite things to do was look through the Sears Christmas Wish Book and circle everything on my list. This would not be complete without holiday music in the background. Dad had a reel-to reel tape deck in which he had recorded Christmas songs from the radio. These same tapes were played year after year and each time, the familiar renditions would add another layer of memories. If we begged Dad long enough, he might even get the decorations out of the garage. When the ornaments were unpacked, I would gaze at my favorites, as if I were looking at them for the very first time.

Mom always planned to eat around 2:00 Pm, but Tom Turkey didn't make his golden debut until he was ready. The table was set by my sisters and I, everything in its place. Often times, I was given the job of making place cards . . . home made, of course. As the family grew larger and larger, this task took longer and longer. On occasion, we had a special guest join us for dinner . . . someone who needed a home for the holiday.

Then came the long-awaited two words, "Dinner's ready!" Just when we thought it was time to eat, my parents would gather us in a circle and while holding hands, we would take a minute to go around, one at a time, telling what we were thankful for. Although my stomach was empty, my heart was full of the many blessings God gave us as a family. I was overflowing with gratitude.

But that wasn't all that overflowed. When the prayer was over, the abundance of blessings on the table overflowed my plate. Here is what my plate looked like: a few slices of Mom's perfect turkey next to her AMAZING giblet stuffing (a double portion at least,) then corn, green bean casserole, home made mashed potato's and gravy, along with two cranberry sauces and possibly a roll. Since my son married, the North finally met the South and we now have the addition of Sweet Potato Casserole, courtesy of my daughter-in-law, Angela.

All's well that ends well and I am proud to say that I am the official pie maker in this family. I always bake at least four pies: Dutch Apple, Chocolate Pecan, Pumpkin and French Silk Chocolate Pie. (Don't forget the whipped Cream.)

After the last dish is washed, the women folk take their traditional walk in the neighborhood to ease the pain of overeating or maybe just get out of the kitchen. Yet, there is one last important ingredient left to mention.

When I was a child, we went as a family to view the Christmas window display at a popular department store in the town where I grew up. To carry on this tradition, we now go to Kuhn Flowers on Thanksgiving night, to see their widows. Although someone in my family always feels the need to express disapproval to this long standing ritual, they graciously appease me by honoring my request.

As the years go by, family dynamics have shifted and changed. This year, a nucleus of us will be trying Thanksgiving around the campfire. I am looking forward to creative variations of the traditions I hold so dear, adding another layer of memories. But I have learned something about this perfect meal . . . it's not where you are or what you put on your plate, its who you are with and what you have in your heart that counts.

What's your idea of the perfect meal?

THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT WAS IN MY DAY!

I heard this growing up and continue to hear it today.

I am very blessed to have my parents still living. My father was born in 1923 and my mother in 1930. When I look at those numbers, my brain freezes. What was it like to live back then? The only thing this generation can wrap it's mind around is the here and the now.

Listening to my parents speak of a simpler life makes me long for more innocent days of old. When my mother craved peaches, she didn't go to the grocery store; she went down to the cellar and grabbed a quart-size Mason jar which her mother canned. Her mothers washing machine was a wringer washer and all the laundry was dried outside on clothes lines. Telephone numbers were shared by neighbors who could interrupt your call at any time.

My dad didn't wear a back pack to school but carried his books in a stack, tied together with string or an old shoelace. When my dad's generation needed money, they got on a bike and delivered the daily paper. Because there was no television or video games, kids actually gathered on safe streets to play tag, capture the stick, marbles or jacks. If Dad could get enough friends together, they would play a neighborhood game of ball that lasted until dusk. Then the family would gather around the radio for evening entertainment.

Don't think that a simpler life was an easier one. The Great Depression took it's toll and many fathers lost their jobs, filing into breadlines to keep their families from starving. If you managed to have a job, you worked hard to keep it. Money was scarce and the economy suffered a very devastating blow. Just as our nation was recovering from the crash, WWII became the focus.

My folks survived the Depression as well as the war and still live to tell about days such as these. They are now enjoying so many modern conveniences that help make their lives easier. On occasion, my dad will even say, "If my mother could see this, she would roll over in her grave!"

But from then to now, everything is different; nothing is the same. We get more done in a minute than they could have gotten done in several hours or even days. One thing that frustrates my parents is the speed at which things change. Just when my mom learned how to navigate her present operating system, Windows came out with a new one. My dad loves his iPod but hasn't figured out how to update his play list. Replacing an old cell phone with a newer version is completely mind-boggling. They feel as though they can't keep up. Technology is in absolute hyperspace! While my brain is accustomed to processing at the speed of light; they are dizzy from breathing my fumes.

Have you ever stopped to consider what our existence will look like in 25 years? Will we be able to keep up with the information age? Life as we know it is going to be completely different. When someone says, "That's not the way it was in my day," they'll actually be referring to yesterday!

Speculate, for a minute, how things might change from this generation to the next.

Let me hear your thoughts.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT HOMEWORK?

Some of my readers have known me for as long as I have been on this earth, maybe even changed my diapers.

But some of you are my newest friends.

The beauty of the blog is that we have found interesting things out about each other in a modern, techno kind of way.

Did you know I am a songwriter? I have several recordings as well, but that's another subject.

My goal this week is to bring the lyricist out in you and ask you to pen a song about your feelings for, of all things, homework. For help with rhyming words, check out www.rhymezone.com. If you need inspiration, sit outside one night this week under the harvest moon. Get out your guitar or harmonica for musical support and opine away. Who knows, the neighborhood hound dogs may even join in!

Here goes . . .

(Folksy, country flavor)

Ode to the Essay
by Chrissy Larson

Verse 1:
It was thirty two years ago I did my time,
In a High School that's so far away;
There was Algebra, Spanish and Chemistry too;
English Comp and the five part ess-ay.

Verse 2:
Now I needed my credits to walk on that stage,
Hear my name, throw my cap to the sky;
But with essays to write and exams yet to pass,
I couldn't just turn a blind eye.

verse 3:
Through many long weekends and more sleepless nights,
Than I really do care to admit;
I finally tackled what I had feared most,
My efforts paid off, every bit.

Verse 4:
I had intros, conclusions, three mains and a thesis,
The only thing left was my clincher;
Oh no . . . not a brain freeze! I'm 'bout out of time -
I'm ready to end this adventure!

Verse 5:
I finally finished those essays and more,
I "walked" and I did not look back;
But who would have guessed that I needed those skills,
To coach you and keep you on track.

Chorus:
I'm so glad it's your essay, not mine;
Watching movies is really just fine.
To Staples again,
I need a red pen;
I'm so glad it's your essay, not mine
(twice through because it's just that good)

Cyber Psalmist
P.s. I will accept nothing less than a poem!

What Do Clairol and State Farm Have in Common?

THEY BOTH HAVE ME COVERED!

Anyone learning to drive can give a new meaning to the word "stress." From rules to road signs, it's not exactly what you bargain for. 

I remember taking on the responsibility of getting behind the wheel. Drivers Ed was by far the favorite class amongst teenagers. In my day, the simulator lab was the closest thing we had to playing video games. The teacher set us up behind a monitor and left us alone until our designated time was up. 

But the most fun included three teenagers plus an instructor safety-belted into the seats of a Student Driver Vehicle. We thought we were so smart driving  around a school parking lot full of cones. When it was our turn to get street-smart, everyone in town shared a clear and present danger. The Drivers Ed vehicles were marked from front to back with flashing lights and signs; black and yellow caution stripes let the world know we were on the road. It wasn't as cool as I thought it would be. I felt like George McFly with a "Kick Me" sign on my back!

I survived and eventually got my drivers license. It was a proud moment. But if you ask my mom about her side of the story, she would tell it a bit differently. I had never seen facial expressions like that before (or since.) Her right foot was constantly riding an artificial break on the passenger side and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. 

After teaching two of my own children how to drive, I can honestly say I know how she felt. Back then, there weren't near as many distractions for the student driver . . . cell phones, text messages, GPS's, and siblings, none of which were allowed in any of my learner's vehicle. 

I, just like my mother, lived through it. Two of my children are now road savvy; my other two children are being peacefully  chauffeured from here to there. This experience has contributed to the number of grey hairs on my head, but it's nothing Clairol won't cover. 

How about you? Do you have an interesting story to tell or comment to make on this subject? Should there be a few rules added to the handbook for the parents? I'll give you a penny for your thoughts.

Walk, America!

I filled my car up with gas today. The little window asked me if I wanted a copy of the receipt. It took me a second to decide as I am an avid scrapbook junkie and was thinking about saving it as a memento. One day in the future, I'll either laugh or cry at what prices USED to be. Can you imagine it getting any worse? It could.

Looking back at some old photos the other day, I saw a picture of an old-fashioned gas pump with a hard-working but happy gentleman next to it. True, he "worked hard for the money" honey, but the photo revealed the price for liquid gold back then and it was only a whopping 27 cents per gallon! I wish I had a copy of that receipt.

My daughter asked me what was wrong when I walked in the door today and I showed her my receipt for $93.14 after I had filled up my fuel efficient mini-van. That might last a week. Only then was she able to justify the mood I was in.

I announced we were going to be taking more walks from now on. If you think about it, I bet you could think of at least two places to walk instead of taking the car. My list includes

Blockbuster, CVS, the bank, and even my doctors office. Granted, I will not always be walking, but when I can, I WILL. It's my way of

getting back at somebody for this madness. (I'm not really sure who's to blame or where to aim my anger.) Besides, who couldn't

use the exercise.

SO, GET OUT OF YOUR CARS AND WALK, AMERICA!

Maybe I'll start a new movement.

What do you think?

A Three Hour Tour

So Long, Sweet Civilization!

Our family had a fabulous time camping this weekend, tubing down a 73 degree, spring-fed river. We all love snorkeling so we were out of our tubes more than we were in them. The park is called Ichetucknee Springs State Park and I highly recommend you visit if ever in the area. There are several options as far as the length of your journey. We had all day so we chose the three hour trip and started in at the headwater. With nothing else to do but daydream and enjoy the surroundings, I had time for a little rear-view reflecting.

Do any of you remember the 60's sitcom "Gilligan's Island?" I hurried home from school just to get in my best TV watching position, making sure all my after school chores were done so that my mother didn't even consider calling my name during that half hour of my life.

The show focused around the adventures of seven stranded castaways and their attempt to survive. They were shipwrecked on an uncharted desert island hoping to escape.

I don't know why the shows fans loved it so much as each episode went the same way... visitors unexpectedly came to the island, the castaways did everything imaginable to earn or bribe their way to a rescue, and then Gilligan would always screw something up in the last five minutes of the show so that they were stuck there until we could revisit them again the next week.

Those who watched were dedicated. We talked about it the following day at school. Life would be so good if only they got off that blasted island! But then why would we watch? I finally figured out that it was a ploy to control my life. (At my age, my mom didn't have the nerve to let me in on the advertiser's little secret.) I must have watched all 98 episodes. When the sponsors finally decided to call the show quits, they made three movie sequels which rescued them and brought them back to civilization.

As in the words to the theme song, " No phone, no lights, no motor cars; not a single luxury. Like Robinson Crusoe; as primitive as can be," I use to wonder what that kind of existence would really be like. Presently, it would mean no cell phone, email, blog, TV and certainly no Nintendo for the kids. Wow!

That pretty much describes our weekend and we didn't miss any of it. Days were spent hugged by the shores of a pristine aquifer that never ceased releasing waters from it's source, the Blue Hole Spring. Nights consisted of smoky fires, S'mores and endless rounds of hide-n-seek with kids from surrounding campsites. None of our cellphones had a signal and I also forgot to charge the DVD player before leaving so we played "Spoons" every night with the kids. The weekend ended by exchanging addresses with new found friends.

Although we weren't stranded like the castaways, we truly enjoyed our primitive weekend. The stale ice cream sandwich from the corner store freezer tasted better, washing dishes on my picnic table was much more pleasant than filling the dishwasher, the coffee was tastier in a blue speckled enamelware cup, and the foam mattress felt even more comfortable than my Sealy Posturepedic!

That's Campin'