| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 24, 2020 | Chapters: |
...35 36 -37- 38... 
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Our family life evolves as another year begins.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Holidays and Another Year
by BethShelby
| Background The story started in the 1954, when I met the man I would marry. It is now 1967. We have three young children. The oldest is in first grade and my twins are five. We live in Jackson, Mississippi |
Since there are those who haven’t read any of this book before, who might read a chapter from time to time, I feel that I need to explain that this isn’t written like a novel. You will find it to be a series of different incidents or memories from a particular time period. You may find the flow of the material may change every paragraph or so. Sometimes I use dialogue to move the story along, but not that often because the whole memoir is being written as though it is spoken aloud to my husband who is deceased.
New readers seem to feel that I’m moving around too much, and that the story should be one theme throughout. I have written stories about some of these things in more depth, but for this particular book, it is not my purpose to go deeply into any one thing.
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As was our custom, we visited our parents for most holidays. Your mother had us over for a big meal on Thanksgiving Day. She wanted all of her children there for these occasions, so there was always a large group around the table. This year, all of your siblings and their families were there except for Nan, Richard, and Richard's father, who they lived with them in Gulfport. They planned to wait and come for Christmas.
We had Friday off as well. We went back to my house and spent some time hiking in the woods on Friday. Dad owned the land which he'd inheired when Grandpa died. He went with us, and we chopped down a cedar tree for Mom to decorate. On Sunday, Mom had her Thanksgiving meal. We left around three in the afternoon, going back to Jackson. I was anxious to finish painting the two large plywood panels for Carol's school. The school wanted to have them up the first week in December. I had yet to start the one for the construction company that matched the Christmas card which I'd designed earlier. By spending every spare moment into the wee hours of the next few mornings, I was able to get everything finished on time. The house reeked of fresh paint fumes long after I’d packed away the paint.
Since there was so much to be done before the year ended, I decided we should order as much as possible from a catalog. We all picked things we wanted. and got the order off several weeks before Christmas.
Shopping intimidated you. I’m sure part of your reluctance to shop was due to what happened a couple of years earlier when you waited until the last minute to shop for my Christmas gift. When you finally went out on Christmas Eve, you were only gone a little while, and you came back with a pair of gray suede house-shoes in a paper bag. Because I had agonized over my gift for you, my disappointment was evident. Later, I was ashamed of my reaction. I wore those shoes for years, and they were the best house-shoes I ever had. Nevertheless, that was the last time you shopped willingly.
The gifts the children would get on Christmas morning were hidden until we could load them into the car trunk to take to Mom’s house. We always spent Christmas Eve at Mom and Dad's house and opened family presents on that night. Some of the children’s presents required assembly, so we were up most of the night getting those things together. The next morning was for the children. After a late breakfast, we would go to your parents where your family was gathered for the main dinner.
Nan's husband, Richard, was someone that many in your family found to be a problem. You and I got along fine with him, but with Wayne, Maxine’s husband, it was a different story. He and Richard had clashed from the day they met. Richard was completely without tact and something of a know-it-all.
Joe, Helen’s husband, never honored the family with his presence on Christmas. I’m not sure what his problem was. He brought Helen and Jimmy and dropped them off, since Helen didn’t drive. Then he would do his own thing. He had bought a vintage airplane and he'd rebuilt it. Sometimes on Christmas Day, Joe would fly over and buzz the house where we were enjoying our meal.
On this particular Christmas, we were late getting off to go to your folk's house for the meal. Maxine, Wayne, and their two sons and Nan, Richard, and his father, Mr. Glaczier, were all there for lunch. To make matters worse, both Wayne and Richard were severely diabetic. Neither were in good condition when their blood sugar levels dropped, and they needed food. The meal may have been late that day, because they were waiting to see if we were coming. At any rate, they decided to go ahead and start dinner without us. Since there was such a large group, the food had to be served buffet style. Wayne got in line first to fix the boy's plates. Richard said something negative about his pushing ahead of everyone, and Wayne growled an insult in return, and a shoving match started. Wayne's glasses got broken, and Richard threw a plate against the wall.
When we arrived, it was over, but everyone was in shock. Richard and Wayne had both gotten in their cars and left. No one had eaten a bite. Your sister, Helen was about to have a stroke, and your dad was having an emphysema attack. The children were all crying. Mr. Glaczier sat in stunned silence, embarrassed over his son's display. Chuck, Maxine and Wayne's youngest son, had nightmares when he got back home and had to have counseling afterward. We were glad we had missed it. It was the last time Richard and Wayne were ever in a room together.
After a troubling end to 1967, the new year started off on a better note for us. For the nation, it was a year of social change. Some historians argue, the nation reinvented itself and became a more-tolerant, less-constrained place, more willing to let people express their individuality and challenge authority. It was a year for hippies and flower children, but for our family, we were more interested in keeping our jobs and raising our children than we were in what might be happening in California and rest of the world.
Carol's seat-mate in school was a boy who was a thalidomide child. He was born with no arms, but according to Carol, it didn't bother him at all. He was the class clown and was very poplar with his classmates. This wasn't the case for one of the girls in her class. There is always someone who gets picked on, and it is hard to make sure your child isn't one of the bullies.
Carol turned seven in February, and I gave her a birthday party and invited the all of the first grade girls in her class. She gave me problems over this girl, whom she didn't want to invite because her classmates claimed she had "cooties". I made sure the child received an invitation in spite of the objections, but she chose not to come. The girls who did attend taught me some things. I learned from this experience, to never again, give fifteen six-year-olds bottles of bubble goo at a inside party. I also learned blindfolding kids and giving them a stick to hit a pinata isn't such a smart idea either.
When Easter came, along with candy eggs, each of our three got a pastel colored baby chick. Surprisingly, they survived to grow up and learn to crow. They were all roosters. When they became yard chickens, their life spans shortened considerably. We had a German Shepard named Grendal, that seemed okay with his new yard-mates as long as we were around, but, one by one, the chickens disappeared. We were at a loss to know what happened, until we saw a couple of fresh mounds of earth. Our canine companion was a murderer who buried the evidence. I think the neighbors were relieved that cock-a-doodle-dos were silenced.
In May, we both had some vacation time coming, and you decided it was time to try out your truck on the open road using our camper shell. It wasn’t quite time for school to be out for the summer, so we had to take Carol out for a week. The teacher wasn’t happy, but Carol was fine with the idea. We decided to travel out West as far as Colorado. You surprised me by suggesting we invite my mother to go along. You said, “She never gets to go anywhere, and I think she’d enjoy the trip. She can ride in the back with the children, and you can sit up in the cab with me.”
That sounded like a good idea at the time. I didn’t want to spend all my time in the back with the kids. We asked Mom, and she was thrilled with the idea. She suggested we put a double mattress in the back so everyone could lie down. Since we couldn’t really afford an expensive trip, we’d decided to make this a camping trip. We had tents and other camping equipment.
With all that and the ton of food Mom brought, plus our suitcases, our truck was packed to the max. With everything carefully placed, there was just enough room for Mom and three kids in the back. You placed your pistol in the glove compartment just in case we might need it for something. The plan was to be gone only a week. We left late Saturday evening with the intention of taking turns driving all night. Mom and the kids would sleep that first night in the back as we traveled.
Of course, things seldom go smoothly for us. We’d made it as far as Monroe, Louisiana when we had a flat tire. There were no cell phones, which meant we had to get to a place where a phone would be within walking distance. In the process of driving with a flat tire, we further damaged the wheel. It was Sunday and no one was working, so in the end, we had to get a motel room and spend the rest of the day and night there. It was Monday morning before we were on our way once more.
With the wheel repaired and a new tire, we started again. The children were tired of traveling already. The neat bed Mother had made in the back of the pickup looked like it had gone through a hurricane. I'm sure we must have looked like the Clampetts from the Beverly Hillbillies or maybe the Joad family from Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath.
You were ready for breakfast and coffee, so we stopped at a restaurant. The children weren’t hungry, because they had been into all the snack food Mother had packed. We seldom ate out when we were home, so my children weren't used to restaurants. It’s a wonder we didn’t get thrown out. We couldn’t enjoy breakfast for trying to control them. I was embarrassed because, Don, especially, was on a sugar high and hard to subdue.
You paid for all of our breakfast orders, but Mom wanted to pay her own way. In order to feel she was contributing, she stopped by an Ice cream counter and bought ice cream cones for everyone. This was a mistake, because we’d just eaten breakfast, and no one wanted ice cream. Poor Mom! She got back into the truck trying to figure our what to do with six ice cream cones that she couldn’t give away.
We took the children up front with us, so she could try to straighten the covers in the back. I promised her I’d take the children in the back with me at the next stop, so she could sit up front for a while. This trip was just beginning and already we were wondering if we had lost our minds for thinking this was a good idea.
New readers seem to feel that I’m moving around too much, and that the story should be one theme throughout. I have written stories about some of these things in more depth, but for this particular book, it is not my purpose to go deeply into any one thing.
------------
As was our custom, we visited our parents for most holidays. Your mother had us over for a big meal on Thanksgiving Day. She wanted all of her children there for these occasions, so there was always a large group around the table. This year, all of your siblings and their families were there except for Nan, Richard, and Richard's father, who they lived with them in Gulfport. They planned to wait and come for Christmas.
We had Friday off as well. We went back to my house and spent some time hiking in the woods on Friday. Dad owned the land which he'd inheired when Grandpa died. He went with us, and we chopped down a cedar tree for Mom to decorate. On Sunday, Mom had her Thanksgiving meal. We left around three in the afternoon, going back to Jackson. I was anxious to finish painting the two large plywood panels for Carol's school. The school wanted to have them up the first week in December. I had yet to start the one for the construction company that matched the Christmas card which I'd designed earlier. By spending every spare moment into the wee hours of the next few mornings, I was able to get everything finished on time. The house reeked of fresh paint fumes long after I’d packed away the paint.
Since there was so much to be done before the year ended, I decided we should order as much as possible from a catalog. We all picked things we wanted. and got the order off several weeks before Christmas.
Shopping intimidated you. I’m sure part of your reluctance to shop was due to what happened a couple of years earlier when you waited until the last minute to shop for my Christmas gift. When you finally went out on Christmas Eve, you were only gone a little while, and you came back with a pair of gray suede house-shoes in a paper bag. Because I had agonized over my gift for you, my disappointment was evident. Later, I was ashamed of my reaction. I wore those shoes for years, and they were the best house-shoes I ever had. Nevertheless, that was the last time you shopped willingly.
The gifts the children would get on Christmas morning were hidden until we could load them into the car trunk to take to Mom’s house. We always spent Christmas Eve at Mom and Dad's house and opened family presents on that night. Some of the children’s presents required assembly, so we were up most of the night getting those things together. The next morning was for the children. After a late breakfast, we would go to your parents where your family was gathered for the main dinner.
Nan's husband, Richard, was someone that many in your family found to be a problem. You and I got along fine with him, but with Wayne, Maxine’s husband, it was a different story. He and Richard had clashed from the day they met. Richard was completely without tact and something of a know-it-all.
Joe, Helen’s husband, never honored the family with his presence on Christmas. I’m not sure what his problem was. He brought Helen and Jimmy and dropped them off, since Helen didn’t drive. Then he would do his own thing. He had bought a vintage airplane and he'd rebuilt it. Sometimes on Christmas Day, Joe would fly over and buzz the house where we were enjoying our meal.
On this particular Christmas, we were late getting off to go to your folk's house for the meal. Maxine, Wayne, and their two sons and Nan, Richard, and his father, Mr. Glaczier, were all there for lunch. To make matters worse, both Wayne and Richard were severely diabetic. Neither were in good condition when their blood sugar levels dropped, and they needed food. The meal may have been late that day, because they were waiting to see if we were coming. At any rate, they decided to go ahead and start dinner without us. Since there was such a large group, the food had to be served buffet style. Wayne got in line first to fix the boy's plates. Richard said something negative about his pushing ahead of everyone, and Wayne growled an insult in return, and a shoving match started. Wayne's glasses got broken, and Richard threw a plate against the wall.
When we arrived, it was over, but everyone was in shock. Richard and Wayne had both gotten in their cars and left. No one had eaten a bite. Your sister, Helen was about to have a stroke, and your dad was having an emphysema attack. The children were all crying. Mr. Glaczier sat in stunned silence, embarrassed over his son's display. Chuck, Maxine and Wayne's youngest son, had nightmares when he got back home and had to have counseling afterward. We were glad we had missed it. It was the last time Richard and Wayne were ever in a room together.
After a troubling end to 1967, the new year started off on a better note for us. For the nation, it was a year of social change. Some historians argue, the nation reinvented itself and became a more-tolerant, less-constrained place, more willing to let people express their individuality and challenge authority. It was a year for hippies and flower children, but for our family, we were more interested in keeping our jobs and raising our children than we were in what might be happening in California and rest of the world.
Carol's seat-mate in school was a boy who was a thalidomide child. He was born with no arms, but according to Carol, it didn't bother him at all. He was the class clown and was very poplar with his classmates. This wasn't the case for one of the girls in her class. There is always someone who gets picked on, and it is hard to make sure your child isn't one of the bullies.
Carol turned seven in February, and I gave her a birthday party and invited the all of the first grade girls in her class. She gave me problems over this girl, whom she didn't want to invite because her classmates claimed she had "cooties". I made sure the child received an invitation in spite of the objections, but she chose not to come. The girls who did attend taught me some things. I learned from this experience, to never again, give fifteen six-year-olds bottles of bubble goo at a inside party. I also learned blindfolding kids and giving them a stick to hit a pinata isn't such a smart idea either.
When Easter came, along with candy eggs, each of our three got a pastel colored baby chick. Surprisingly, they survived to grow up and learn to crow. They were all roosters. When they became yard chickens, their life spans shortened considerably. We had a German Shepard named Grendal, that seemed okay with his new yard-mates as long as we were around, but, one by one, the chickens disappeared. We were at a loss to know what happened, until we saw a couple of fresh mounds of earth. Our canine companion was a murderer who buried the evidence. I think the neighbors were relieved that cock-a-doodle-dos were silenced.
In May, we both had some vacation time coming, and you decided it was time to try out your truck on the open road using our camper shell. It wasn’t quite time for school to be out for the summer, so we had to take Carol out for a week. The teacher wasn’t happy, but Carol was fine with the idea. We decided to travel out West as far as Colorado. You surprised me by suggesting we invite my mother to go along. You said, “She never gets to go anywhere, and I think she’d enjoy the trip. She can ride in the back with the children, and you can sit up in the cab with me.”
That sounded like a good idea at the time. I didn’t want to spend all my time in the back with the kids. We asked Mom, and she was thrilled with the idea. She suggested we put a double mattress in the back so everyone could lie down. Since we couldn’t really afford an expensive trip, we’d decided to make this a camping trip. We had tents and other camping equipment.
With all that and the ton of food Mom brought, plus our suitcases, our truck was packed to the max. With everything carefully placed, there was just enough room for Mom and three kids in the back. You placed your pistol in the glove compartment just in case we might need it for something. The plan was to be gone only a week. We left late Saturday evening with the intention of taking turns driving all night. Mom and the kids would sleep that first night in the back as we traveled.
Of course, things seldom go smoothly for us. We’d made it as far as Monroe, Louisiana when we had a flat tire. There were no cell phones, which meant we had to get to a place where a phone would be within walking distance. In the process of driving with a flat tire, we further damaged the wheel. It was Sunday and no one was working, so in the end, we had to get a motel room and spend the rest of the day and night there. It was Monday morning before we were on our way once more.
With the wheel repaired and a new tire, we started again. The children were tired of traveling already. The neat bed Mother had made in the back of the pickup looked like it had gone through a hurricane. I'm sure we must have looked like the Clampetts from the Beverly Hillbillies or maybe the Joad family from Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath.
You were ready for breakfast and coffee, so we stopped at a restaurant. The children weren’t hungry, because they had been into all the snack food Mother had packed. We seldom ate out when we were home, so my children weren't used to restaurants. It’s a wonder we didn’t get thrown out. We couldn’t enjoy breakfast for trying to control them. I was embarrassed because, Don, especially, was on a sugar high and hard to subdue.
You paid for all of our breakfast orders, but Mom wanted to pay her own way. In order to feel she was contributing, she stopped by an Ice cream counter and bought ice cream cones for everyone. This was a mistake, because we’d just eaten breakfast, and no one wanted ice cream. Poor Mom! She got back into the truck trying to figure our what to do with six ice cream cones that she couldn’t give away.
We took the children up front with us, so she could try to straighten the covers in the back. I promised her I’d take the children in the back with me at the next stop, so she could sit up front for a while. This trip was just beginning and already we were wondering if we had lost our minds for thinking this was a good idea.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents;
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