Fall is my favorite time of year. Yesterday was 75 and sunny and perfect. Today is drizzly and 75; tomorrow will be rainy and a bit colder, I suspect. I love love love when the trees start to turn and the weather turns chilly and it's jeans-and-sweatshirt weather. I love when it's too cold to sleep with the windows open but not cold enough to turn on the heat. I love the mums and the high school football games and the pumpkins. I love pulling out fall and Halloween decorations. I love baking oatmeal cookies and buying candy "for Halloween" a month in advance.
This is the time of year I feel most alive.
Last week when I drove past our local high school the lights were on over the football field and a pack of girls crossed the street in front of me, on their way to the game. Back when I was that age, the Friday Night Football Game was the place to be. My friends and I would pour wine coolers into 32-ounce "Hawk Mugs" the local Hardee's sold and sneak them into the game. We'd walk around the track while the game happened so we could See and Be Seen. The cool kids hung out behind the home goal posts. The stoners held court underneath the bleachers. Some kids lined the fence around the field and actually watched the game. The liquor made the lights brighter than they were and now makes some of my memories surreal. We'd wear green and white and sing the fight song and drink our drinks fast so we wouldn't actually get caught with the goods. Afterwards we'd drive around the back country roads and try to find the after-game party, or we'd hang out on the square and be obnoxious, or we'd drive to Jerseyville to get pizza. Anything to sober up before curfew.
This is the time of year I feel most nostalgic. It's weird, too, because I didn't really like high school all that much. I don't keep in contact with hardly anyone I went to high school with. All I wanted was to graduate, leave, and never go back. I have no intention of ever living there, but when I think about my hometown, this time of year especially, I get the warm fuzzies.
Showing posts with label nostalgia week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgia week. Show all posts
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Frolicking in the snow
My niece just started her freshman year of college. On Saturday I visited her, took her to Wal-mart and out to dinner, and basically just hung out with her. It was a good time, and since she's attending college about 40 minutes away from my house, it's an experience that I'll repeat a few times a month.
Seeing her dorm room was an eye-opening experience. So tiny! It's hard to believe that my dorm room wasn't much bigger than hers. Back then it had seemed huge because it was something of mine that didn't belong to my parents. It represented freedom and Independence and potential. I laughed and cried and learned how to make new friends in that room. I stayed up late and stressed about classes and worried about failing and watched the walls spin from drinking too much free beer. Watching my niece go through that experience now is exciting.
L. is on the 8th floor, and so she's got a pretty kick-ass view. As soon as I saw the expanse of treetops I was back in St. Louis, watching the first snowfall of my freshman year. I could smell the freshness of the snow, see the ice form on the inside of the window, and hear a few floormates knock on the door, saying we should play outside. Myself and three others--people whom I haven't talked to in fifteen years--played in the falling snow at 2 a.m. We ran around the quad and made snow angels and had a snowball fight and built a snowman. We played so long that once I got inside, my body stayed cold for hours afterward. I smile when I remember hanging my wet clothes all around my half of the room, hoping my coat and glove would dry before class on Monday.
Seeing her dorm room was an eye-opening experience. So tiny! It's hard to believe that my dorm room wasn't much bigger than hers. Back then it had seemed huge because it was something of mine that didn't belong to my parents. It represented freedom and Independence and potential. I laughed and cried and learned how to make new friends in that room. I stayed up late and stressed about classes and worried about failing and watched the walls spin from drinking too much free beer. Watching my niece go through that experience now is exciting.
L. is on the 8th floor, and so she's got a pretty kick-ass view. As soon as I saw the expanse of treetops I was back in St. Louis, watching the first snowfall of my freshman year. I could smell the freshness of the snow, see the ice form on the inside of the window, and hear a few floormates knock on the door, saying we should play outside. Myself and three others--people whom I haven't talked to in fifteen years--played in the falling snow at 2 a.m. We ran around the quad and made snow angels and had a snowball fight and built a snowman. We played so long that once I got inside, my body stayed cold for hours afterward. I smile when I remember hanging my wet clothes all around my half of the room, hoping my coat and glove would dry before class on Monday.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
New Music Tuesday
So I just bought the new Alanis Morrisette album today. Actually, I pre-ordered it from iTunes like any self-respecting fan would. So far it's angsty and fun, which is pretty much par for the course.
My purchase got me thinking about the role music has played in my life. My parents were always into music--my mom more than my dad, maybe--and several of my childhood memories revolve around music or have music playing in the background. For instance:
Saturday was cleaning day at our house. Mom would either put on American Bandstand or turn off the TV and listen to the radio. I particularly remember listening to Laura Branigan's "Gloria" while helping mom dust. We'd sing and dance and clean and giggle. It should be noted I still do that. It's easier to clean out a closet when you can toss crap into the trash in time to the Chicago Soundtrack.
Mom listened to all sorts of music, but she especially liked country. Kenny Rogers, Anne Murray, Crystal Gayle. Dad liked music from the '50's and early '60's. Think "Leader of the Pack." My cousin (who was around mom's age) liked rock like Led Zepplin. I think she'd listen to music as she cleaned, too, and she'd wear a red kerchief over her wild blond hair.
I got a record player in third grade. I listened to mom's 45's--Jackie Robinison's "Tears of a Clown" had a heavy rotation--and Jack Wagner's "All I Need." My first full-length vinyl album was Michael Jackson's Thriller. I played and played and played that thing. It should be noted I've tried to buy the album from iTunes several times, but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't want to help pay his legal fees, ya know? Maybe I'll go to a used record store and try to snag a copy. I get a copy and support the local economy without giving any to Wacko Jacko that way.
Mom is currently on a Big Band kick.
Last time I was at Dad's I saw Abba's Greatest Hits sitting next to his CD player.
I have everything from Kenny Rogers to Kanye West on my iPod.
We all evolve; music's presence is the constant.
My purchase got me thinking about the role music has played in my life. My parents were always into music--my mom more than my dad, maybe--and several of my childhood memories revolve around music or have music playing in the background. For instance:
Saturday was cleaning day at our house. Mom would either put on American Bandstand or turn off the TV and listen to the radio. I particularly remember listening to Laura Branigan's "Gloria" while helping mom dust. We'd sing and dance and clean and giggle. It should be noted I still do that. It's easier to clean out a closet when you can toss crap into the trash in time to the Chicago Soundtrack.
Mom listened to all sorts of music, but she especially liked country. Kenny Rogers, Anne Murray, Crystal Gayle. Dad liked music from the '50's and early '60's. Think "Leader of the Pack." My cousin (who was around mom's age) liked rock like Led Zepplin. I think she'd listen to music as she cleaned, too, and she'd wear a red kerchief over her wild blond hair.
I got a record player in third grade. I listened to mom's 45's--Jackie Robinison's "Tears of a Clown" had a heavy rotation--and Jack Wagner's "All I Need." My first full-length vinyl album was Michael Jackson's Thriller. I played and played and played that thing. It should be noted I've tried to buy the album from iTunes several times, but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't want to help pay his legal fees, ya know? Maybe I'll go to a used record store and try to snag a copy. I get a copy and support the local economy without giving any to Wacko Jacko that way.
Mom is currently on a Big Band kick.
Last time I was at Dad's I saw Abba's Greatest Hits sitting next to his CD player.
I have everything from Kenny Rogers to Kanye West on my iPod.
We all evolve; music's presence is the constant.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Psyche development via material possessions
I am one of those women who are more comfortable at a table full of guys than a table full of girls. (I currently work in a profession that's 80% women ... go figure.) On the playground I played dodgeball and soccer just as much as I played hopscotch and jump rope. In high school my best friends were guys. I wonder how much of that had its roots in the toys my parents surrounded me with.
My mom bought me the typical girly toys: dolls and kitchen gear. I had Barbies, stuffed dolls, dolls that peed when you fed them, dolls that closed their eyes when you laid them down, dolls that had different outfits. I fed them, gave them naps, changed them, and put them in the mousetraps. I had an orange-and-brown metal kitchen set complete with fridge, stove, and sink. I had an easy-bake oven that saw some serious action.
My dad bought me boy toys: balls and trucks. I had colorful balls, balls attached to paddles, whiffle balls, ping pong balls. I had dump trucks, army trucks, matchbox cars and trucks, Tonka trucks. I especially remember a whole Tonka Trailer-Truck set that included little plastic hay bales, horses, and fences to keep everything corralled properly.
A nice marriage of the duality occured when I played in my dirt pile (really just a bare patch of lawn next to the house). There, I used the trucks to make mud pies that I would then "feed" to the dolls.
My mother taught me to crochet, gossip with friends, polish my nails, bake a cake, and how to laugh with others.
My father taught me to gut a fish, know when to keep my mouth shut, hammer a nail, creative cursing, and how to laugh at myself.
Oddly, my dad taught me how to bake and decorate sugar cookies. He actually did most of the baking in our house; with the possible exception of Chocolate-oatmeal-no-bakes and Rice Krispie treats, he owned the sugar in our house.
My mom bought me the typical girly toys: dolls and kitchen gear. I had Barbies, stuffed dolls, dolls that peed when you fed them, dolls that closed their eyes when you laid them down, dolls that had different outfits. I fed them, gave them naps, changed them, and put them in the mousetraps. I had an orange-and-brown metal kitchen set complete with fridge, stove, and sink. I had an easy-bake oven that saw some serious action.
My dad bought me boy toys: balls and trucks. I had colorful balls, balls attached to paddles, whiffle balls, ping pong balls. I had dump trucks, army trucks, matchbox cars and trucks, Tonka trucks. I especially remember a whole Tonka Trailer-Truck set that included little plastic hay bales, horses, and fences to keep everything corralled properly.
A nice marriage of the duality occured when I played in my dirt pile (really just a bare patch of lawn next to the house). There, I used the trucks to make mud pies that I would then "feed" to the dolls.
My mother taught me to crochet, gossip with friends, polish my nails, bake a cake, and how to laugh with others.
My father taught me to gut a fish, know when to keep my mouth shut, hammer a nail, creative cursing, and how to laugh at myself.
Oddly, my dad taught me how to bake and decorate sugar cookies. He actually did most of the baking in our house; with the possible exception of Chocolate-oatmeal-no-bakes and Rice Krispie treats, he owned the sugar in our house.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Television and the Young Mind
In my youth, I watched a fair amount of television. Back in those days there were three big networks: ABC, CBS, NBC. In the St. Louis environs we also had PBS, channel 11 (local station) and channel 30 (a precursor to Fox, if memory serves.) My viewing habits were governed by two facts: I was a night owl by nature and my mother was a stay-at-home mom.
Back in those days I lived and died by Sesame Street and Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I remember counting with the pinball-machine cartoon (1-2-3-4-5 ... 6-7-8-9-10 ... 11-12!) and going away to the Land of Make Believe. Once, during a public television tele-a-thon, I called the 1-800 number to see if the people on the phones in TV were real. (Yeah, I got in big trouble for that one. I wonder how many kids those PBS fundraisers talk to?) The Electric Company aired later in the morning, and as I got a little older I watched that, too. One science lesson illustrated the concept of optical illusions using a level floor tiled to appear sloped. It seems like I watched Kids, Incorporated around this time, too. As I watched the kids sing and dance I wanted to be just like them, all graceful and beautiful and talented.
During the afternoons, my mother commandeered the television to watch soaps. I can still remember the order they aired: Ryan's Hope at 11, All My Children at 12, One Life to Live at 1, General Hospital at 2, and The Young and the Restless at 3. I learned all I needed to learn about boys and cooties before I started school.
Once Dad got home from work and did whatever yard work needed done, he or mom would cook dinner as we watched the news (usually KSDK, the NBC affiliate). During the evening we watched TV as a family: Little House on the Prairie, The Waltons, The Muppet Show, The Wonderful World of Disney. Later, my mom would go to bed early, and then it was just dad and me. We'd watch Joker's Wild, a game show that came on at 9, and then we'd watch the news again before catching The Twilight Zone, Dr. Who, and The Benny Hill Show. For a while we watched a women-in-prison show called Cell Block H; I don't remember it very clearly, though, so I bet it was only on for one season. I usually fell asleep during these shows; I'd wake up in time to watch The Lone Ranger with dad at 6:30 before mom woke up.
On the weekends, dad would go fishing or hunting. Sometimes he'd take me with him, but when he didn't, mom would take a break from cleaning the house to watch American Bandstand and dance with me. She taught me the Mashed Potato and the Twist. This was, of course, after the Saturday morning cartoons: Bugs Bunny, Roadrunner/Wile Coyote, Smurfs, Scooby Doo.
During my tween years I watched Doogie Howser, The Wonder Years, Quantum Leap, and the occasional Mystery Science Theater 3000 with dad. And of course I discovered MTV. And all during my childhood mom and I watched all the awards shows; Emmys, Grammys, Oscars, Daytime Emmys. If there was a statue to be had, you can bet me and mom were on the couch with a pan of Rice Krispie treats watching who won it.
What's this all say about me? I get my sci-fi/fantasy geekiness from my dad; I get my pop culture awareness from my mom. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Back in those days I lived and died by Sesame Street and Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I remember counting with the pinball-machine cartoon (1-2-3-4-5 ... 6-7-8-9-10 ... 11-12!) and going away to the Land of Make Believe. Once, during a public television tele-a-thon, I called the 1-800 number to see if the people on the phones in TV were real. (Yeah, I got in big trouble for that one. I wonder how many kids those PBS fundraisers talk to?) The Electric Company aired later in the morning, and as I got a little older I watched that, too. One science lesson illustrated the concept of optical illusions using a level floor tiled to appear sloped. It seems like I watched Kids, Incorporated around this time, too. As I watched the kids sing and dance I wanted to be just like them, all graceful and beautiful and talented.
During the afternoons, my mother commandeered the television to watch soaps. I can still remember the order they aired: Ryan's Hope at 11, All My Children at 12, One Life to Live at 1, General Hospital at 2, and The Young and the Restless at 3. I learned all I needed to learn about boys and cooties before I started school.
Once Dad got home from work and did whatever yard work needed done, he or mom would cook dinner as we watched the news (usually KSDK, the NBC affiliate). During the evening we watched TV as a family: Little House on the Prairie, The Waltons, The Muppet Show, The Wonderful World of Disney. Later, my mom would go to bed early, and then it was just dad and me. We'd watch Joker's Wild, a game show that came on at 9, and then we'd watch the news again before catching The Twilight Zone, Dr. Who, and The Benny Hill Show. For a while we watched a women-in-prison show called Cell Block H; I don't remember it very clearly, though, so I bet it was only on for one season. I usually fell asleep during these shows; I'd wake up in time to watch The Lone Ranger with dad at 6:30 before mom woke up.
On the weekends, dad would go fishing or hunting. Sometimes he'd take me with him, but when he didn't, mom would take a break from cleaning the house to watch American Bandstand and dance with me. She taught me the Mashed Potato and the Twist. This was, of course, after the Saturday morning cartoons: Bugs Bunny, Roadrunner/Wile Coyote, Smurfs, Scooby Doo.
During my tween years I watched Doogie Howser, The Wonder Years, Quantum Leap, and the occasional Mystery Science Theater 3000 with dad. And of course I discovered MTV. And all during my childhood mom and I watched all the awards shows; Emmys, Grammys, Oscars, Daytime Emmys. If there was a statue to be had, you can bet me and mom were on the couch with a pan of Rice Krispie treats watching who won it.
What's this all say about me? I get my sci-fi/fantasy geekiness from my dad; I get my pop culture awareness from my mom. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Watch this space!
I've been feeling a little nostalgic lately, probably because I've been thinking of the future. There's no better way to figure out what I want to do with my life than look at what I've already done, am I right? So I'm declaring this week "Nostalgia Week," complete with pictures, witty anecdotes, and, if I play my cards right, raw emotion. This will get into full swing Monday evening. Until then, brace yourselves: the ride's about to get a little bumpy ...
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