Following suit as I have been so far, its time to talk about my brother Bill. William. Billie to me even if he is old enough for Medicare. Since Jim was away in the Navy, Bill stepped into the big brother role very naturally. My brother Dick is just 18 months younger than Bill so they have always been very close. My earliest memories of Billie seem to be of him cleaning the house. I believe I mentioned earlier that mom chose other pursuits and Billie had a need for order. By the way, he is very good at cleaning. I was jealous of Bill and Dick when they were allowed to got to "Teen Time", a dance held at the school for teenagers in the neighborhood. I wanted to go to the party, too! I can remember standing on the porch of our house looking miserably after them as they rode their bikes off to the dance. Billie was 9 when David and I were born. The same age I was when Bill's first child was born. More of that later.
Somewhere around the age of 10, Bill fell out of a tree and broke both of his arms. Family lore has it that someone ran home and told mom that Billie had broken his neck. She hurdled a very high fence (mom was barely 5'1") and got to him in a hurry. There are some great pictures in the family album of Billie with casts on both arms grinning. with all the neighborhood kids around him.
Bill married Linda very young and had a son right away, followed shortly by a daughter and then another son. A fourth son was born in 1969. The marriage ended when the children where teenagers. He later married Diane in 1983.
When I think of my brother Bill I think first of his wry sense of humor. He's just downright funny. Over the years he has proven his ability with home projects and has great pride in his home. He has done beautiful and meticulous work.
In the last few years Billie has faced some very difficult health problems. His dear wife Diane and brother Dick have been with him every step of the way. Sadly, because of the distance, I'm not able to be with him as much as I would like, but he's never far from my thoughts. I spent some time with him shortly after his first surgeries. I knew my brother was on the road back when he started cracking jokes. Really silly jokes. Just the kind a kid sister loves to hear.
He's come so far, and I am fiercely proud of him. It's possible he won't be able to do some of the things he had hoped to do at this time of his life and that's disappointing. But he's here with us, and he is greatly loved.
More later.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I've written a little about Daddy and Mom. I'll just go down the brother list now, one at a time starting with my brother James. Jimmy to me, now and always - Jimmy.The definition of "big brother". On the day I was born, Jimmy graduated from Ventura High School. I'm not exactly sure how he felt about being pushed to the side on that very important day in a young man's life. If he resented us choosing that day to emerge, we never knew.
The fact that Jimmy graduated at all was a minor family miracle. In his elementary school days, he simply decided school was no longer a need in his life so he quit going. Perhaps he was acting out since dad had remarried and added 2 new brothers to the family by that time. Regardless of the reasons, he simply quit. He has told of some of the methods he would use to leave school in those days, all of which were hilarious to me. Perhaps he'll write of those sometime. I wish he would I'm sure I can't do them justice. After a visit to Juvenile Hall - Juvi as we called it - he decided perhaps school wasn't as bad as jail. Mom used to joke that once he went back to school he wouldn't quit. Jimmy is the first college graduate in the family for as far back as I have researched.
Jimmy went into the navy not too long after graduation at the same time as our cousin Ben Walters. Since Jim was away in the navy, I don't have many memories of him in my youngest years but I do remember the family driving to San Francisco to pick him up when he got out of service. My aunt Alma (who scared the bejesus out of me - she was a MEAN woman.) lived there with her husband. Her daughters and their families lived nearby. One of the extended cousins was named Sherry. She was everything a 5-year-old Debby thought of as cool. She was my age, but she lived in the city. At least she was cool until I thought MY big brother Jimmy paid her more attention than me. Ah yes, my first experience with jealousy. I don't recall how it was resolved, but I probably whined or sulked until I got the proper amount of attention.
Jimmy and his dear wife Gloria were a big part of my early teen years. They would allow me to visit their home (first in Ojai, then in Exeter California). For a week or two at a time. I always felt welcome in their home. They always allowed me to bring a friend if I wanted to. It was my time away from the sameness of parents who worked all the time, and also a look at how a traditional family could function. I learned a lot from both of them, way too much to list here. I am forever grateful. I didn't realize at the time what a challenge it must have been to have me there, but I never felt it if there were problems. I only felt loved and protected. I also got to be with my nieces, and later my nephew. I cherish those times to this day.
My brother Jimmy is above all else a good man. He has a sense of humor that is legendary. He also has a bit of a temper that is also legendary. I recall a look on his face when I was a child and he came CHARGING out of the bathroom with a newspaper in his hand ready to KILL! It seems my brother Dick has chosen an..uh...inopportune time to set off a firecracker right outside the bathroom window. I can still see his face....eyes bulging, breathing fire and looking for Dickie to do him bodily harm.
Ah, good times.
As with my other posts, this one just scratches the surface. I hope to fill in a lot of details as I go along. Have a great day.
The fact that Jimmy graduated at all was a minor family miracle. In his elementary school days, he simply decided school was no longer a need in his life so he quit going. Perhaps he was acting out since dad had remarried and added 2 new brothers to the family by that time. Regardless of the reasons, he simply quit. He has told of some of the methods he would use to leave school in those days, all of which were hilarious to me. Perhaps he'll write of those sometime. I wish he would I'm sure I can't do them justice. After a visit to Juvenile Hall - Juvi as we called it - he decided perhaps school wasn't as bad as jail. Mom used to joke that once he went back to school he wouldn't quit. Jimmy is the first college graduate in the family for as far back as I have researched.
Jimmy went into the navy not too long after graduation at the same time as our cousin Ben Walters. Since Jim was away in the navy, I don't have many memories of him in my youngest years but I do remember the family driving to San Francisco to pick him up when he got out of service. My aunt Alma (who scared the bejesus out of me - she was a MEAN woman.) lived there with her husband. Her daughters and their families lived nearby. One of the extended cousins was named Sherry. She was everything a 5-year-old Debby thought of as cool. She was my age, but she lived in the city. At least she was cool until I thought MY big brother Jimmy paid her more attention than me. Ah yes, my first experience with jealousy. I don't recall how it was resolved, but I probably whined or sulked until I got the proper amount of attention.
Jimmy and his dear wife Gloria were a big part of my early teen years. They would allow me to visit their home (first in Ojai, then in Exeter California). For a week or two at a time. I always felt welcome in their home. They always allowed me to bring a friend if I wanted to. It was my time away from the sameness of parents who worked all the time, and also a look at how a traditional family could function. I learned a lot from both of them, way too much to list here. I am forever grateful. I didn't realize at the time what a challenge it must have been to have me there, but I never felt it if there were problems. I only felt loved and protected. I also got to be with my nieces, and later my nephew. I cherish those times to this day.
My brother Jimmy is above all else a good man. He has a sense of humor that is legendary. He also has a bit of a temper that is also legendary. I recall a look on his face when I was a child and he came CHARGING out of the bathroom with a newspaper in his hand ready to KILL! It seems my brother Dick has chosen an..uh...inopportune time to set off a firecracker right outside the bathroom window. I can still see his face....eyes bulging, breathing fire and looking for Dickie to do him bodily harm.
Ah, good times.
As with my other posts, this one just scratches the surface. I hope to fill in a lot of details as I go along. Have a great day.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wow! I have an actual 'follower"....(thanks, Fran!) Now the pressure is mounting to actually write something more often than semi-annually.
I wrote about my dad in my last post, now I want to think about my mom.
Whew! That's really difficult to do without tearing up. My earliest memories of mom are probably of her working in the yard. I can remember David and I sitting in the dirt making houses and roads (piles of dirt with lines drawn in it). We always had little cars around and would play and play. I'm aware that mom was there, but mostly David and I were in our play-world.
When I was about 4, the kids next door (Rosie and Dory Brown) and I decided to play barbershop. I always wanted my hair to look like Kathy Moon's hair. She must have kept it behind her ears..I'm a little iffy on those details...and it seemed the most logical thing for my "barbers" to cut the hair over my ears short. So they did.
Now keep in mind I was the first female Stewart born in50 years...I thought I was a princess, and no one said or did anything to make me believe otherwise. It was somewhat important for me to embrace my femininity. So I joyfully ran home to show mom my hair that looked "just like Kathy's". I can imagine my mom's shock when her little girl runs into the house with long hair in the back (yes, it finally was long) and butch hair on both sides. The original mullet hairdo. I remember her voice...very high pitched..."WHAT have you DONE!" The rest is history. I'll post a picture my big brother Jimmy took of me about that time. The only thing she could do was cut the back short and pretend she meant to give me a 'pixie' haircut. One of the most humiliating memories she would share about that period of time was when one of the Filipino grocers at the store down the street asked "Mrs. Stewart! Why is your little BOY wearing a dress?"
Mom was a dreamer of sorts. She was always trying to find ways to help support the family. She was instrumental in building the restaurant she and dad ran. Stewart's Malt Shop was the original name. Later it became Stewart's Restaurant, then diversified into Stewart's Restaurant and S&W Liquors. Finally the restaurant gave way to S&W Liquors and Delicatessen. It was a big deal in California in those days to win a liquor license. If I recall correctly they were awarded by lottery.
Mom was a hard worker. When she and dad squabbled it was usually in trying to determine who was more tired and worn out on any given day. She was a good businesswoman, but housekeeping was never high on the list of must-do list. I took that from her. Its much more important to have fun or do a new project on any given day than to worry about the housework. That will be there tomorrow.
When other people would describe my mom they would say she was the type of person who would give you the shirt off her back, a euphemism for a big and generous heart. She was certainly that, and I hope I got some of that from her, as well. We often had a relative or two living in our home which I think is certainly an example of her big heart. My aunt lived with us for most of my childhood as well as various others from time-to-time.
She loved nothing more than lavishing presents and other things on her children and grandchildren. We were her joy. During my childhood she went to night school and got her GED. Later she studied and got her real estate license. Later still she got a real estate brokers license. About that time she decided she no longer wanted to work in the high pressure world of real estate and went to work as a stocker for Kmart.
My gosh, I've been writing for a long while now and I haven't even scratched the surface of who my mom and dad were. I'll try to work on that in later posts.
Have a great day.
I wrote about my dad in my last post, now I want to think about my mom.
Whew! That's really difficult to do without tearing up. My earliest memories of mom are probably of her working in the yard. I can remember David and I sitting in the dirt making houses and roads (piles of dirt with lines drawn in it). We always had little cars around and would play and play. I'm aware that mom was there, but mostly David and I were in our play-world.
When I was about 4, the kids next door (Rosie and Dory Brown) and I decided to play barbershop. I always wanted my hair to look like Kathy Moon's hair. She must have kept it behind her ears..I'm a little iffy on those details...and it seemed the most logical thing for my "barbers" to cut the hair over my ears short. So they did.
Now keep in mind I was the first female Stewart born in50 years...I thought I was a princess, and no one said or did anything to make me believe otherwise. It was somewhat important for me to embrace my femininity. So I joyfully ran home to show mom my hair that looked "just like Kathy's". I can imagine my mom's shock when her little girl runs into the house with long hair in the back (yes, it finally was long) and butch hair on both sides. The original mullet hairdo. I remember her voice...very high pitched..."WHAT have you DONE!" The rest is history. I'll post a picture my big brother Jimmy took of me about that time. The only thing she could do was cut the back short and pretend she meant to give me a 'pixie' haircut. One of the most humiliating memories she would share about that period of time was when one of the Filipino grocers at the store down the street asked "Mrs. Stewart! Why is your little BOY wearing a dress?"
Mom was a dreamer of sorts. She was always trying to find ways to help support the family. She was instrumental in building the restaurant she and dad ran. Stewart's Malt Shop was the original name. Later it became Stewart's Restaurant, then diversified into Stewart's Restaurant and S&W Liquors. Finally the restaurant gave way to S&W Liquors and Delicatessen. It was a big deal in California in those days to win a liquor license. If I recall correctly they were awarded by lottery.
Mom was a hard worker. When she and dad squabbled it was usually in trying to determine who was more tired and worn out on any given day. She was a good businesswoman, but housekeeping was never high on the list of must-do list. I took that from her. Its much more important to have fun or do a new project on any given day than to worry about the housework. That will be there tomorrow.
When other people would describe my mom they would say she was the type of person who would give you the shirt off her back, a euphemism for a big and generous heart. She was certainly that, and I hope I got some of that from her, as well. We often had a relative or two living in our home which I think is certainly an example of her big heart. My aunt lived with us for most of my childhood as well as various others from time-to-time.
She loved nothing more than lavishing presents and other things on her children and grandchildren. We were her joy. During my childhood she went to night school and got her GED. Later she studied and got her real estate license. Later still she got a real estate brokers license. About that time she decided she no longer wanted to work in the high pressure world of real estate and went to work as a stocker for Kmart.
My gosh, I've been writing for a long while now and I haven't even scratched the surface of who my mom and dad were. I'll try to work on that in later posts.
Have a great day.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Ahhhh...another lazy Sunday. This blog idea has been good for me. It's kept my mind working all day thinking about what I should write.To say its been a day on memory lane would be a gross understatement. I keep thinking about what I would want my kids to know about me, about what made me the way I am - good, bad or indifferent.
I was born a poor black child....no...wait....that's another story.
How are we shaped as children? Who is to know what makes an impression and what doesn't?
When I think of my dad I get mostly impressions. He didn't talk to me a lot. I don't know if it was because I was a girl or if he was just not a natural talker, I simply don't know. I do know he loved me, even if it was unspoken. I never doubted that for a moment.
My earliest memories of my dad are of some tall guy who came into the house carrying a lunch pail and the first thing he always did was turn down the tv my twin brother and I were glued to. (Yes we had a tv, yes it was black and white). He would go into the kitchen and sit with my mom at the yellow wood table and both would sip coffee, smoke cigarettes and talk. I have no idea what the conversations they had consisted of. My attention was more in tune with Bozo the Clown or Soupy Sails.
Dad was 14 years older than mom. From what I gathered over the years, her family was not pleased at all that the 17 year old was planning to marry the 31 year old man with a 7 year old child. I suspect Dad's parents weren't real pleased with the idea either, but over time they proved it worked. Dad became the patriarch over not only our family, but my mother's sisters and their families as well.
They certainly had their trials but I think the impression that sticks with me most of all is that even though they squabbled, they loved each other passionately. I can recall coming into their room early in the morning while they still slept. Invariably Daddy's arm would be over Mom, or she would have an arm or leg draped over him. They always touched. I don't recall seeing a lot of kissing and hugging when they were in front of us kids, but I know it was there. Public displays of affection were not common in the household.
After my dad passed, I was talking with mom about the future. I made the offhand remark that perhaps she would remarry someday. In my way I was trying to 'help' - to let her know that it would be ok I guess. She exploded. My mother only yelled and me once in my life and that was it. She said "Don't even SUGGEST such a thing!!!!" We never discussed it again.
I do recall one time when I was about five years old. Daddy had made me angry for some reason and the only thing I could think to do was to stick my tongue out at him as he walked towards the garage. You know way a kid will - the tongue and face stuck out, hands on hips and a loud "bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee". He turned on his heel and came back towards me with the strangest look on his face (I realize now he was trying not to laugh). He grabbed my arm and turned me around to take me into the house. As he did so he swatted my butt several times and put me in my room. I was aghast! My daddy had spanked me! I was the princess! How could this be??? To say it made an impression on me is a gross understatement. I still remember it over 50 years later. I made sure never to do anything even remotely like that again. Its the only time I recall getting spanked in my life.
This is getting long, so I'll write more later about my trip down Memory Lane.
Have a good day.
I was born a poor black child....no...wait....that's another story.
How are we shaped as children? Who is to know what makes an impression and what doesn't?
When I think of my dad I get mostly impressions. He didn't talk to me a lot. I don't know if it was because I was a girl or if he was just not a natural talker, I simply don't know. I do know he loved me, even if it was unspoken. I never doubted that for a moment.
My earliest memories of my dad are of some tall guy who came into the house carrying a lunch pail and the first thing he always did was turn down the tv my twin brother and I were glued to. (Yes we had a tv, yes it was black and white). He would go into the kitchen and sit with my mom at the yellow wood table and both would sip coffee, smoke cigarettes and talk. I have no idea what the conversations they had consisted of. My attention was more in tune with Bozo the Clown or Soupy Sails.
Dad was 14 years older than mom. From what I gathered over the years, her family was not pleased at all that the 17 year old was planning to marry the 31 year old man with a 7 year old child. I suspect Dad's parents weren't real pleased with the idea either, but over time they proved it worked. Dad became the patriarch over not only our family, but my mother's sisters and their families as well.
They certainly had their trials but I think the impression that sticks with me most of all is that even though they squabbled, they loved each other passionately. I can recall coming into their room early in the morning while they still slept. Invariably Daddy's arm would be over Mom, or she would have an arm or leg draped over him. They always touched. I don't recall seeing a lot of kissing and hugging when they were in front of us kids, but I know it was there. Public displays of affection were not common in the household.
After my dad passed, I was talking with mom about the future. I made the offhand remark that perhaps she would remarry someday. In my way I was trying to 'help' - to let her know that it would be ok I guess. She exploded. My mother only yelled and me once in my life and that was it. She said "Don't even SUGGEST such a thing!!!!" We never discussed it again.
I do recall one time when I was about five years old. Daddy had made me angry for some reason and the only thing I could think to do was to stick my tongue out at him as he walked towards the garage. You know way a kid will - the tongue and face stuck out, hands on hips and a loud "bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee". He turned on his heel and came back towards me with the strangest look on his face (I realize now he was trying not to laugh). He grabbed my arm and turned me around to take me into the house. As he did so he swatted my butt several times and put me in my room. I was aghast! My daddy had spanked me! I was the princess! How could this be??? To say it made an impression on me is a gross understatement. I still remember it over 50 years later. I made sure never to do anything even remotely like that again. Its the only time I recall getting spanked in my life.
This is getting long, so I'll write more later about my trip down Memory Lane.
Have a good day.
Friday, November 7, 2008
So...its Friday.
The other day I found a series of letters I wrote to my daughter Amy back in the 1990's. It was really interesting reading them because I chronicled all the things that happened to me or to people around me. Most of the things I wrote about I had forgotten, but they were important at the time. I noted how I had helped my now daughter-in-law Beth prepare for her wedding by loaning her my wedding dress and buying her some satin shoes and some pretty little nighties. I remembered the wedding dress, but I completely forgot about the other things. I also talked about a friends family that lost the father of the family to a heart attack. He was 32 years old and had small children. I wonder about those children now. I've lost track of them.
I mentioned how my niece Lori was pregnant and how excited we all were about that. She ended up having Ian in Japan, so we didn't get to meet him for a long while after his birth.
Since that time in the 1990's I've gained 8 grandchildren, several "grand" nieces and nephews and also, sadly lost several family members. My hope with this blog (what in the heck does "blog" mean anyway?) is to chronicle those day-to-day events in a sort of diary format. I've found that the activity of sitting down with pen and journal just isn't going to happen for me, but perhaps this format will.
I hope I don't bore the reader too much.
I mentioned how my niece Lori was pregnant and how excited we all were about that. She ended up having Ian in Japan, so we didn't get to meet him for a long while after his birth.
Since that time in the 1990's I've gained 8 grandchildren, several "grand" nieces and nephews and also, sadly lost several family members. My hope with this blog (what in the heck does "blog" mean anyway?) is to chronicle those day-to-day events in a sort of diary format. I've found that the activity of sitting down with pen and journal just isn't going to happen for me, but perhaps this format will.
I hope I don't bore the reader too much.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A Bot called Debby
My blog got blocked. It seems that something I did in that first posting made some electronic flag go up. Dang! Maybe this isn't meant to be. Ah well...we'll try again.
I did some shopping today for the beach house. I got some fabric to make some drapes. $1 a yard...wooohoooo. I should explain about the beach house. We don't actually own it yet, but should in a few weeks. Its a 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath, 2 story house with a small yard overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Ok...maybe 'overlooking" is a bit of a stretch because that makes it sound like I can step out the door to the beach. The house is actually 3 blocks from the beach, but up a small hill so the view is amazing (and affordable). Maybe a more important note is the bakery just down the hill on the corner...wooohoooo! Now THAT is important. There is a casino about a mile away, so I'm hoping to get more relatives up here to the Pacific Northwest to visit. There's hiking...fishing ( I assume, afterall there IS an ocean out there)..beachcombing...gambling...shopping at the outlet mall....what more could a happy family want? We will have a complete open door policy for all family members. We are keeping our main house, at least for now - but its only a little over an hour away. I'm hoping this will be great fun, a new chapter in our lives.
The house is old...built about 1938...but its has been very well maintained. Its blue and white, just like a beach house should be. It has a large deck in the front, and a small garage in the basement. I'm hoping the ping pong table will fit in the garage.
For right now, I'm looking forward to weekends there, but come summer I doubt I'll be here much. Thank goodness for cell phones, I'll always be reachable by family.
Enough for now...let me see if this will post.
-Debby
I did some shopping today for the beach house. I got some fabric to make some drapes. $1 a yard...wooohoooo. I should explain about the beach house. We don't actually own it yet, but should in a few weeks. Its a 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath, 2 story house with a small yard overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Ok...maybe 'overlooking" is a bit of a stretch because that makes it sound like I can step out the door to the beach. The house is actually 3 blocks from the beach, but up a small hill so the view is amazing (and affordable). Maybe a more important note is the bakery just down the hill on the corner...wooohoooo! Now THAT is important. There is a casino about a mile away, so I'm hoping to get more relatives up here to the Pacific Northwest to visit. There's hiking...fishing ( I assume, afterall there IS an ocean out there)..beachcombing...gambling...shopping at the outlet mall....what more could a happy family want? We will have a complete open door policy for all family members. We are keeping our main house, at least for now - but its only a little over an hour away. I'm hoping this will be great fun, a new chapter in our lives.
The house is old...built about 1938...but its has been very well maintained. Its blue and white, just like a beach house should be. It has a large deck in the front, and a small garage in the basement. I'm hoping the ping pong table will fit in the garage.
For right now, I'm looking forward to weekends there, but come summer I doubt I'll be here much. Thank goodness for cell phones, I'll always be reachable by family.
Enough for now...let me see if this will post.
-Debby
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