(I wrote this about 1984 - I just found a little booklet it had been published in. It sure speaks to the time when I had a bunch of little kids about.)
My Tree
By Debby Johnson
I looked out my window
At noon to see
Seven little children
In my favorite tree!
Sawing and nailing
With unbridled zeal,
Forging a spot
Where they can feel
Unique, special
In their own little space
Where secrets, games
And fantasy take place.
But what of my Oak
In its glorious obscurity,
To grow and live
In relative security?
My head is saying
"kids, can't you see
The harm you're doing
That lovely old tree?"
Then my heart pipes in
"Oh, it'll survive,
In fact I'll bet
It will even thrive!"
Then as I look
Out my window I'll see
The children growing
As well as the tree.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Disclaimer
My brother Jim wrote to correct me on some details of Dad's garage door device.
" Just a note about Dad's garage door contraption. It was not an opener but only a closer. As you pulled out of the garage you would pull on the handle that was attached to the rope and the doors would close without getting out of the car. The doors would close one door at a time and it was fun to watch. Dad was very proud of his apparatus. But after about the third time some darn fool broke it trying to open the garage doors, Dad did not repair it anymore. It was great at the time. "
I should put a disclaimer on all my memories that they are subject to my kid-brain interpretation. In fact...consider this my disclaimer.
:)
" Just a note about Dad's garage door contraption. It was not an opener but only a closer. As you pulled out of the garage you would pull on the handle that was attached to the rope and the doors would close without getting out of the car. The doors would close one door at a time and it was fun to watch. Dad was very proud of his apparatus. But after about the third time some darn fool broke it trying to open the garage doors, Dad did not repair it anymore. It was great at the time. "
I should put a disclaimer on all my memories that they are subject to my kid-brain interpretation. In fact...consider this my disclaimer.
:)
Baby Baluga
This is my granddaughter Juliet singing "Baby Baluga"...I THOUGHT I was getting the video on the sly until she popped up and asked to see it. Aren't cell phones cool nowadays? Oh yeah...that's my finger in the way of the video.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The Shiney Red Van
This has been a crummy day. It's cold. It's raining. The walls are closing in on me. I decided to go to the store and get some soda since I was out of it. Every nut-case driver in Salem - and there are many - was on the road. My mind was wandering all over the place when I had a flash of memory from well over 20 years ago.
I was driving home from work on the freeway in Beaverton. At the time we had two cars, a Mercury Zephyr and a big Chevy van. This particular time I was driving the van. Traffic was horrible. I saw ahead a car stopped along the road. There were 6 small children all about the same age and a frazzled looking mother standing outside the car. I decided to stop. It turned out that the son of the woman was having his fifth birthday and these were his friends. They were on their way to a popular birthday place when her car died. I must have looked honest, or else she was beyond frazzled because she bundled all the children into my van. She had a relative who lived nearby and I took them there and then went on my way home.
The next day I was driving the Mercury home and I noticed what appeared to be the same car, in the same spot. This time there was a man in it and the car was clearly idling. I remember thinking "what are the odds..." but I continued on home. I drove the Mercury for several more days. Towards the end of the week I decided to take the van again. As I climbed up into the driver's seat, something on the floor in the back caught my attention. I was thinking "what in the world?" when I remembered my rescue mission a few days before. The woman, in her frazzled state had left her purse in my van! I quickly picked it up and began to search for some I.D. so I could call her and tell her I found it. When I opened the purse I saw an open eve lope filled with some cash and a large pile of checks. All the checks were made out to the same place of business so I realized this was the days receipts for them and she must have been planning to make a (large) deposit. Yikes!
I found a phone number and called her. When I identified myself she told me "Oh, I just KNEW you'd call! Anyone who would pick up six kids HAD to be a good person! I was never worried a bit..." It turned out the car I saw idling along the road the day after the rescue was her husband, hoping to spot the red and silver van. She said he was sure the money was gone forever. I returned her purse to the relatives house where I had left the children a few days before. I also left my name and address on a card in it. I wanted to assure her husband I was on the up-and-up, also if anything turned up 'missing' they would have a name to go along with my face and van.
A few days later I received a huge floral arrangement as a thank you. It was unnecessary, but a very nice gesture anyway.
As I thought about this old memory, I felt good about the way it all turned out. I never saw the people again, but I knew I had done all I could in that situation. As I drove along the present-day road in Salem, I smiled. Then some jerk zipped around me and cut me off. I offered a gesture for his inspection. That was all I could do today, too.
I was driving home from work on the freeway in Beaverton. At the time we had two cars, a Mercury Zephyr and a big Chevy van. This particular time I was driving the van. Traffic was horrible. I saw ahead a car stopped along the road. There were 6 small children all about the same age and a frazzled looking mother standing outside the car. I decided to stop. It turned out that the son of the woman was having his fifth birthday and these were his friends. They were on their way to a popular birthday place when her car died. I must have looked honest, or else she was beyond frazzled because she bundled all the children into my van. She had a relative who lived nearby and I took them there and then went on my way home.
The next day I was driving the Mercury home and I noticed what appeared to be the same car, in the same spot. This time there was a man in it and the car was clearly idling. I remember thinking "what are the odds..." but I continued on home. I drove the Mercury for several more days. Towards the end of the week I decided to take the van again. As I climbed up into the driver's seat, something on the floor in the back caught my attention. I was thinking "what in the world?" when I remembered my rescue mission a few days before. The woman, in her frazzled state had left her purse in my van! I quickly picked it up and began to search for some I.D. so I could call her and tell her I found it. When I opened the purse I saw an open eve lope filled with some cash and a large pile of checks. All the checks were made out to the same place of business so I realized this was the days receipts for them and she must have been planning to make a (large) deposit. Yikes!
I found a phone number and called her. When I identified myself she told me "Oh, I just KNEW you'd call! Anyone who would pick up six kids HAD to be a good person! I was never worried a bit..." It turned out the car I saw idling along the road the day after the rescue was her husband, hoping to spot the red and silver van. She said he was sure the money was gone forever. I returned her purse to the relatives house where I had left the children a few days before. I also left my name and address on a card in it. I wanted to assure her husband I was on the up-and-up, also if anything turned up 'missing' they would have a name to go along with my face and van.
A few days later I received a huge floral arrangement as a thank you. It was unnecessary, but a very nice gesture anyway.
As I thought about this old memory, I felt good about the way it all turned out. I never saw the people again, but I knew I had done all I could in that situation. As I drove along the present-day road in Salem, I smiled. Then some jerk zipped around me and cut me off. I offered a gesture for his inspection. That was all I could do today, too.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Be the first in your neighborhood...
I always thought of my dad as an inventor of sorts. We were the only family in the neighborhood with an automatic garage door opener. Now keep in mind this was the 1950's...long before they became as commonplace at home as a stove or any other appliance. What an amazing device it was.
A long pipe jutted out horizontally from the garage with a rope hanging from it. The distance from the garage door gained by the pipe allowed the driver of the car to simply reach out of the car window and pull the rope while remaining in the vehicle. The rope snaked through a carefully placed hole in the garage wall to a system of pulleys. From there the rope attached to counter weights hung to balance the weight of the doors. With more hardware, a rope was attached to each side of the garage door. A simple pull of the single rope outside the door by the driver would allow it magically (or so it appeared to a small child) open from the center. You could then pull the car right in.
Dad often puttered and would come up with some way to to get around a problem or make a job easier. He built an amazing set of wheel lifts to help level his RV later in his life. They were built of wood and almost crescent-shaped.(if you cut a crescent off at the thickest point). He could put one under a low wheel and drive forward on it. As the motor home moved forward several inches, it would be lifted up.
I was on my own this weekend at the beach house and spent a lot of time puttering around and fixing little things. I came up with a few inventive ways and was proud of what I did. It reminded me of my dad and the way he liked to putter. Like father like daughter I guess.
A long pipe jutted out horizontally from the garage with a rope hanging from it. The distance from the garage door gained by the pipe allowed the driver of the car to simply reach out of the car window and pull the rope while remaining in the vehicle. The rope snaked through a carefully placed hole in the garage wall to a system of pulleys. From there the rope attached to counter weights hung to balance the weight of the doors. With more hardware, a rope was attached to each side of the garage door. A simple pull of the single rope outside the door by the driver would allow it magically (or so it appeared to a small child) open from the center. You could then pull the car right in.
Dad often puttered and would come up with some way to to get around a problem or make a job easier. He built an amazing set of wheel lifts to help level his RV later in his life. They were built of wood and almost crescent-shaped.(if you cut a crescent off at the thickest point). He could put one under a low wheel and drive forward on it. As the motor home moved forward several inches, it would be lifted up.
I was on my own this weekend at the beach house and spent a lot of time puttering around and fixing little things. I came up with a few inventive ways and was proud of what I did. It reminded me of my dad and the way he liked to putter. Like father like daughter I guess.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Comfort
My brother Jim and my niece Tammy have both been encouraging me to write again. I guess it has been awhile. It's amazing how time flies. I was going to write something profound there, but I couldn't think of anything better. Time does fly when you have a project going or work deadlines, or in my case - anticipating the next challenge Dora the Explorer will face THIS week and whether or not Boots her sidekick (and a monkey) will be able to help or be a hindrance. Yes - Dora the Explorer is a cartoon character I acknowledge this, but I've grown accustomed to the formula used to teach small children basic concepts on this TV show and I find comfort in it.
Shifting gears...
I began a watercolor painting class two weeks ago. I've taken one other class about 6 years ago and enjoyed it, but other things took precedence and I allowed my paints to collect dust. It's been surprisingly fun to get them out again. I don't paint well at all, but I enjoy the process. There are rules and steps to follow. The subject changes with each new sheet of paper but the basic process remains the same. There's a relaxing quality about the sameness of it while you work. Then suddenly the steps stop and you are required to use your own creativity. It's rather like a long drive. If things go along as they should. You follow the rules and move along the road at a good clip until the dumb guy in the other car cuts you off and you have to fight for control, or a deer runs across the road and you run into a ditch and ruin your car. (Yes, I'm also known as Little Mary Sunshine...) I do seem to be getting far away from my train of thought here.
Anyway...
I believe my point here (somewhere) is about the comfort you find in sameness. In routine. In following the rules (traffic rules don't count-let's not get crazy here).
I'll try harder next time to come up with a better subject.
:)
Shifting gears...
I began a watercolor painting class two weeks ago. I've taken one other class about 6 years ago and enjoyed it, but other things took precedence and I allowed my paints to collect dust. It's been surprisingly fun to get them out again. I don't paint well at all, but I enjoy the process. There are rules and steps to follow. The subject changes with each new sheet of paper but the basic process remains the same. There's a relaxing quality about the sameness of it while you work. Then suddenly the steps stop and you are required to use your own creativity. It's rather like a long drive. If things go along as they should. You follow the rules and move along the road at a good clip until the dumb guy in the other car cuts you off and you have to fight for control, or a deer runs across the road and you run into a ditch and ruin your car. (Yes, I'm also known as Little Mary Sunshine...) I do seem to be getting far away from my train of thought here.
Anyway...
I believe my point here (somewhere) is about the comfort you find in sameness. In routine. In following the rules (traffic rules don't count-let's not get crazy here).
I'll try harder next time to come up with a better subject.
:)
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