Marital Togetherness

I thought Luana, being interested in the togetherness of her parents, might find this memory of mine worth hearing about.



Harold finished the two years of classes offered at the Southern Branch, but I quit after the first year. The only work I could find in those days of depression was an occasional baby sitting job, so I helped Harold with the research for term papers he had to write. We lived at the Lodge Hall then and with the city library just across the street doing the research was easy. One class Harold had was American History, mainly the years of the Revolutionary War. In case you don't remember, that war was from 1776 to 1781 and was fought with England. We wanted an end to taxation without representation and wanted to drink coffee instead of so much tea. The paper the professor wanted had to be either a journal of that time or letters. And he warned the students that they better be sure of what they said. "If you say it rained on such and such a day, you better be sure it really did rain."

Harold thought it would be interesting to make it letters written by a soldier and his wife. Forget about the problems of getting the letters back and forth to each other. Harold took over
the soldier, and I took on the research about the wife. There was tons of information about a woman's life without her husband's help. The crops, hunting for meat, keeping warm during the cold winters, preserving food, caring for the animals, butchering. And all the information about the clothes they wore, the cloth for clothes, soap making, the food they ate, how the food was cooked, care of children, cooking utensils, dishes.

When all the research was done, we began the writing. Harold and I agreed that I should write the wife's letters while he took care of the soldier's. Then, the night before the paper was due, Harold could begin typing it all. We were living in the Lodge Hall then, so he took the typewriter and all essentials down to the meeting room, and I went along to keep him company. It was an all night job. While he clacked away, I read and sometimes played the piano. The Lodge had a very good piano. At one time during the wee small hours I baked bran muffins, and we took a break to eat and drink milk. Just before dawn, the job was done. After breakfast, while Harold took a bath and shaved, I quizzed him on his German vocabulary. When he walked out the door to head for his 8:00 class, I hit the sack!

How's that for marital togetherness? Oh yes, he (we) got an A on the paper, and the professor wrote several nice comments on the sidelines.

This is for Dr. Melissa

I kept putting off smashing up those pills, and I'm very very glad I did. One night not long ago I had a humdinger of a restless legs spell again, and finally. after all else failed, I took one of the pills. LO AND BEHOLD, IT WORKED!!! So now I have taken one each night not long before bedtime. At first, I would wake up and not be able to go back to sleep until after I had been up for awhile. Habit, I guess. But last night I was up only to take care of potty needs a couple of times and then right back to bed and to sleep. But this better keep on working or I'll go beat the crap out of Dr. Benson! And then I'll beat him up again!

Luana's again giving me orders!

So you're asking for details about the Harold and Mary Lou romance...I had my eyeballs on him before we ever exchanged a word, as you know, but back in those days a girl had to wait for the guy to make the first move. So there I was trying to figure out how to make him break the ice. If I saw him unexpectedly in the hall of one of the buildings or coming toward a door as I was departing, my stomach would drop to my toes and my heart would thump like mad. I learned later that he had the same reactions. But the first -- the very first -- thing that caught his eye regarding me was my sizeable chest muscle. I presume you know what I mean. It was just before the start of a regular choir class, and two or three of us females were leaning across the grand piano. Harold told me a long time later that he and Burton clapped their hands over their eyes and staggered a few steps as if overcome! Shameful!

Every Friday night there were stag dances at the gym, so groups of us from the dorm who didn't already have a date would hie ourselves to the dance. Always, there would be someone who would ask to walk us home. During intermission one Friday--after we walked together for the drinks of water during the oratorio--I saw Harold walking toward me. I knew he was going to ask me to dance, but he just said hello and walked on out the door to the entry. Two minutes later he was back and asking for a dance. That was the start of several dances that night and the walk to the dorm afterward. Then came dates for movies. He didn't have a car, so we walked back and forth. No kissing for the dorm entry was always crowded with couples. No privacy.


There wasn't time for very many dates though before Christmas vacation came along, and I was going to go home to Lincoln for the holiday. Harold borrowed a friend's car and took me to the depot. Then came the first kiss. It was wonderful! But the "All aboard" cut it a bit short. We wrote to each other during those two weeks, and he was at the depot when I got back. That night we went out with two other couples--in the car of one guy--and kissing came easier.

If I could turn back the clock, I wouldn't get married the way we did. My mom felt bad because she had wanted to give me a real wedding. Also I had a hangover of worry stemming from childhood that I couldn't get married because I didn't know how to cook or what to do with blankets in the summer and keeping track of hand soap so we wouldn't run out, etc. Dumb stuff . During our short engagment our squabbles mainly were about my wanting a little time to spend with girl friends once in awhile. Harold felt all our free time should be spent with each other only. I don't know how we worked it out, but there weren't any bad feelings. I could write more but I think this is enough.

More Wishes

Second bathroom so Sandy won't have to save coffee cans for her own use when I'm taking too much time

A walk-in shower. I can't use the shower/potty chair we had for the father because I can't swing or lift my legs over the tub. So I take spit baths all the time. At least that's better than in the old days when folks seldom even washed and everyone stunk.

A piano. I might rarely play it, but Sandy would.

A full and finished basement with a ramp instead of stairs.

A dining room. A big one that could seat at least 12 people comfortably at a table with room left over for a card table.

An overhead bonus room (again with a ramp instead of stairs). It would be large enough for shelves for my yarn and crochet books. Also storage space and a sizeable work area for scrapbooking. And windows on all 4 sides so I could look out over the neighborhood.

I would like to visit my old home-town, but I'd like the clock to be turned back so it could look like the old days. But maybe that wouldn't be so good.

A ride on a merry-go-round again. And -a first time one for me- a ride on a roller coaster.

I'd like to visit Australia, London, and Norway.

I want to go to a New York stage show, a good musical. When my Aunt Babe lived with my mom in Portland, she would drag my mom to a lot of the touring stage musicals. But first she'd buy a copy of the play so my mom, who was very hard of hearing, could read it and know what was happening. The music was something she could hear okay. And they always got seats near the front.

And I guess that is enough for now. Wish in one hand, spit in the other, and see which one fills up first. That's something my grandfather-in-law Herrick used to say to the wishers in the family. Only he didn't say spit!

Wishes

Okay. 20 wishes, or however many as I can think of

1- to be needed.

2- new hearing aids that would work and let me join the world again.

3- to be able to live alone. I don't want to live alone, just to be able to.

4- to be able to go grocery shopping or any kind of shopping really. Computers sure are handy, though, huh?

5- to be able to sew and have someone to sew for besides myself. And that brings up the next one--

6- to be able to see clearly.

And now I'm going in a new direction.

I'd like to turn back the clock by many years so I can ask questions. I would want to know all about my Grandpa Burns. His brothers and sisters, who they were and what became of them
and their children. And I'd ask about his childhood, how his foot got crippled, who his parents were. I would want to know all about my Grandma Burns too since she died before I was 2 years old. Another one I would question is my dad. He talked a lot about his work as a pennitentiary guard and about the inmates at the reformatory and about the stage shows he and my mom saw. He sang me the songs from those shows. But--I want to ask him about his mom and dad and his first wife and his son George by that wife. I would want details! But I never asked one single question. How could I be so indifferent? He told me some of the devilment he ans his brothers got into, but that was all he told. My mom went in the other direction, and since I insisted on hearing everything from her over and over, I should have realized Iwould someday want to know about my father. Dumb! Another person I would pin down is my Grandpa Bixby. He did talk quite a bit about early days of his life, but nothing that I considered interesting. I didn't feel like I really knew him until about 35 years after he died when I came across the life story he had written. He was such an interesting and entertaining man, and I botched it! I would ask him all about Grandma Bixby too since I was only 8 when she died. And I would want to know all about Grandpa and Grandma's sisters and brothers and parents. I want to know them, and I'd like so much to know them now--or preferably many years ago!

All this makes me wonder if my grandkids and great-grandkids someday in the far future will wish they had gotten better acquainted with me when I was around to talk to! There's that old saying--now I'm old enough to know all the answers but nobody asks me the questions!

Into the Garbage With Them!

Okay, Smellnell, I did what you -- and others -- suggested! And I found out I should have listened to old Benson. The restless leg crap began the moment I hit the sack a few nights ago, so I took one of those PILLS, and that's when the restless crap really hit the jackpot. Always I have been able to stop the problem by sitting up, but not that night. My legs were doing a jitterbug dance -- had to do so -- whether I was sitting or standing on my head. And I didn't think it was ever again going to stop! I hip-hopped from one end of the house to the other, back and forth, tried to use the computer to get my mind off it, and several hours later it all slowed down and finally ended. Since that night I have found getting up and reading or doing stuff on the computer quite pleasurable. Leaving my "ears" in the bedroom keeps me from hearing all the bumps and thumps from the Undead Room, and those ghostly things I see floating about are quite friendly--so far. And so far I haven't been able to sneak out an ice cream bar from the freezer -- in the dark even -- without alerting the cat. She insists on my leaving a bit of ice cream on the stick so she can lick it off. Then she heads back to Sandy's bed.

You stirred up my memories, Kris

It seemed like our dog Trixie was always having puppies so I never ran out of little dogs chasing at my heels all summer long during the years we lived in the country. Trixie didn't care how much I handled them.

All summer there were cicadas making their noise in the trees by our house. They were very large beetles that I wouldn't touch even with a stick. Sometimes in the late afternoons their chirping(?) made me feel lonesome and sad.

The walk to the country school in the fall was absolutely beautiful! The early morning sunshine was slanted across some of the farm fields I passed. I wanted to just stand and stare.

In the spring the huge lilac bush north of our house was a highly perfumed place to play house and was likely about the only time I would play with my dolls. No wonder lilacs are my favorite flower. We had some cherry trees too whose blossoms were beautiful to look at and so good to smell. One afternoon I picked a few that I could reach from the ground (I was under 8 years old), put them in a glass of water, and decorated our dining room table with them. I was very pleased with what I had done, but my Mom chewed me out but good. The blossoms become cherries!!! She never did scold me for gobbling up peas or tomatoes or carrots from her garden whenever the spirit moved me.

During warm weather at the beginning and ending of the country schools years, all of us took off our shoes and socks as soon as we got to school and didn't put them on again till it was time to go home.

Way back then nothing tasted better than minced ham sandwiches. Especially if they were combined with pork and beans and "cabbage salad," better known to me now as cole slaw.

One of Margaret's friends used to mix up all kinds of stuff to "treat" her brother and me. We had jello with hard candies dissolved together with ice chips and soda pop. Good! My mom didn't know. That girl and her brother and sister were the children of the man who rented the store close to our house---by the state Pen. They lived in town with their mom and spent week-ends with their dad. He