Pause

 Gonna take a few days off.

I'll be back soon.

Room Divider

 

Room Divider

The house where we lived in Bangor (Michigan) had two large rooms in the front of the house -- one to the left and one to the right of the front door entryway. The room on the left was I suppose what would have been called a "parlor" back in the day. There was a very small bedroom behind it. The room on the right was very large, from the picture window at the front of the house all the way back to the kitchen.  My dad built a "room divider" (well, that's what we always called it) to separate the living room from the dining room. The back side of the room divider was a cabinet with several doors about 3 feet tall, and shelves inside. From the top of the cabinet to the ceiling were open shelves. My dad loved working with wood. It was one of his life-long hobbies. Here is a picture of the back of the room divider. Those are Christmas cards hanging from the shelves facing the living room. Looks like we were getting ready to have a party when this picture was taken.

The painting in this photo I believe was a paint-by-number kit that my mother did. (Or maybe my uncle Ron did it, I'm not sure -- because Mom could have painted the horse head without the aid of a kit, but I don't think she had started painting yet when this picture was taken.)

In this photo, on the left, you can see through the dining room into the kitchen -- you can see the refrigerator and the window of the back door. That door led into the laundry room, and there was another door in the laundry room, to the left, which led outside to the back yard.

I do have one specific memory about this room divider --

One evening when my parents had gone out, we were in the house with our babysitter, Janice Haynes, who lived across the street. Suddenly there was someone pounding on the front door and yelling. It was Janice's boyfriend (or maybe ex-boyfriend). She took me and Ricky into the dining room and we hid behind the room divider. Our phone was on one of the shelves of the room divider, so Janice got the phone down and called her father. He was a truck driver, a big burly guy, not afraid of anything. Ben (Janice's father) walked over to our house and got rid of the guy. I don't know if he threatened him or threatened to call the police, or just what he did. But the boyfriend left, anyway. 

Remember the milk man?

Remember the milk man?

See those milk bottles behind me?

This picture was taken at Grandma and Grandpa Thomas' house in Bangor, Michigan. It was March, but there was still snow on the ground. This was 1959, I was 4 years old. Grandma and Grandpa had a milk man who delivered milk in glass bottles with paper lids and left them in the entryway (sometimes called a "mud room") to the house. Just behind the milk bottles was the front door which led into the living room. 

Grandpa built that house from the ground up, not too many years before I was born. It was about 3 miles south of Bangor on County Road 681, on 16 acres of land. 

This picture was taken quite a few years later, after Grandma and Grandpa died and the farm had been sold to someone else. It still has the original garage and barn. And the huge old weeping willow tree behind the house. The road frontage was 2 acres, and the property stretched back 8 acres from the road. 

Grandpa raised pigs -- the pigsty was to the left of the barn and there was a corn crib next to that. At the back of the property was the corn field where he raised feed corn for the pigs. Every year they had a pig slaughtered and sold it to get money to pay for a trip to Ohio to visit Grandma's relatives.

We lived in Bangor until I was in 2nd grade, then moved to Hartford for the rest of my school years. (Well, we moved back to Bangor for the first half of 4th grade so that my Dad could repair all the damage that renters had done to our house there. It took several years to sell that house in Bangor, but we didn't try renting it out again.)

Badminton?

Badminton?

Here's a couple pictures of me and my brother Ricky playing badminton. This was in the back of my Burford grandparents' house in Watervliet, Michigan. There was a dirt alley behind their house, that went between the backs of the houses on their street and the backs of the houses on the next street over. This picture was taken from the back steps of my grandparents' house.

Not sure just what's going on here. Ricky has dropped his racquet -- or maybe he never had one to begin with. It looks like this friendly game has devolved into a volleyball/baseball/badminton hybrid. Or maybe something worse. I don't like the look in my eyes there. I'm pretty sure Ricky survived. I'm also pretty sure I won the game...

This picture was taken from the alley behind the house. In the background you can see the house next door. As I recall, a little old lady lived there. She was called "Ms. Clipp". Between my grandparents' house and Ms. Clipp's house was a vacant lot that I guess my grandparents owned. Looks like they were growing a garden in that lot when this picture was taken. 

Taffeta

 

Taffeta

I don't know what occasion this was. Looks like somebody sent flowers -- to me? Anyway, I do remember this dress, because it was made of taffeta. I loved taffeta dresses. Not sure why. Maybe it was the rustling sound they made.

I don't remember having a whole lot of taffeta dresses. This is the only other one I have a picture of. This photo was taken at Grandma and Grandpa Thomas' house. I remember there was one taffeta dress that was kept at their house all the time, and I hardly ever got to wear it. Funny, though -- in my memory the dress was yellow. So I don't know if this is the dress, and I'm just remembering it wrong, or if there was another taffeta dress that was yellow. I remember it was made like this one -- the taffeta part was a jumper that went over a blouse. Well, anyway... that was a very long time ago. This picture would have been taken some time around 1961 or 1962, when my hair was cut in a short pixie. I really should have kept it that way all the time, because my hair was so baby-fine that it tangled if it got very long at all. (Still does.)

Oh wait, I do have one more taffeta dress picture --

This was my junior prom dress. It was embossed with a floral design. (I still had this dress when I got married, and seriously considered using it for a wedding dress, but ended up getting a new white satin dress made in a similar style as this one.) That's my dad in the picture with me. The necklace I was wearing had a blue heart with a pink rose in the middle -- I had had it since I was a little girl. (I thought I had a picture of it from early childhood, but if so I can't find it right now.)

Another necklace I remember from when I was very young was a mustard seed in a lucite cube. I'm wearing that necklace in my 2nd birthday portrait.

It's funny how some specific items of clothing stick in your mind through the years, when all the others are completely forgotten.

Birthday Boy

 Happy birthday to my better half.

Grow old along with me.

The best is yet to be.

This one Easter...

 This one Easter...

Looks like the Easter Bunny came and brought...

Wait, what's that behind me?

Oh man, I had forgotten all about that until just now!!

That is a taxidermied (is that a word?) alligator.

 I don't remember where we got it -- probably from either Uncle Ron or Uncle Morris. And I don't know if it was a real alligator or not, but I'm guessing it was.

Pianos

 Pianos

This picture was taken around 1957 -- it looks like Ricky is about 1 year old.  This was our piano. We pretty much always had a piano in the house, wherever we lived. My mother played and started teaching me to play when I was pretty young. At some point I did start taking piano lessons, after we moved to Hartford. I can't remember my piano teacher's name, although I do remember approximately where she lived. I wasn't a very good student. I could play all right, but I didn't practice much. And I would forget (and so would my mother) when it was time to go to my lesson. One time we had forgotten so many times in a row that when I got there I found another student had taken my place! I think we had forgotten to go to my lesson for something like six weeks in a row. I was very embarrassed, to say the least. I had to sit through that other kid's lesson before my mother came to pick me up. (I don't really understand why there didn't seem to be any communication between my mom and my piano teacher. We did have a phone... and I assume the teacher had one, too, but maybe not.) Well, anyway, I think I stopped taking lessons from her. Mom had lots of music at home, so I continued to play and she would answer whatever questions I had, so I did still make quite a bit of progress with my piano playing. 

I took lessons from a different teacher for about a year, sometime during my junior high or high school years. We lived in town then, and I could walk to her house for my lessons. By the time I got to college I could play fairly well, and I continued taking piano lessons for those years as part of my music degree. I never was a really good piano player, though. I could read music and play it, but I couldn't improvise or play by ear. I never did learn to "chord" with my left hand, to accompany the melody. (Should have found me a Baptist or Pentecostal teacher.) I didn't have a natural gift for it like my mother did. 

PHOTO: I bought this piano when we lived in Arkansas, about the time my first child was born.

I had a vague notion of giving piano lessons while I was raising my children, but it never did pan out. After we moved to Alabama (my sons were age 5 and 2) I didn't have a piano in the house any more. I did teach elementary music at a local private school for one year, and played piano for the folk-dancing class there. That was fun. But after that I never really played any more, and, sadly, I've lost whatever skills I ever had.

Here are a couple pictures of my mother playing piano. These were taken about 1980 at her house in Downey, California.

My Second Birthday

My Second Birthday

Cake! 

Note the big black phone with the rotary dial -- they all looked like that. (And there was ONE per household.) The cord was cloth-covered -- this was even before the advent of coiled phone cords. 

(Man, I am OLD!!)

Also note that contraption behind me. That was called a "bathinette". The top was a changing table for changing diapers, etc. If you lift up the top, underneath is an oilcloth basin which could be filled with water to give baby a bath. Underneath that was a shelf for holding diapers, washcloths, and other supplies. This one was in use for my brother Ricky, who was just a month old at the time of my 2nd birthday.

Now let's talk about my hair-do:

My hair was thin and fine and straight as straw. So, of course, I wanted to have curly hair. Real curly hair. Shirley Temple hair! It was a constant topic of conversation between me and my mother. The first attempt to remedy the problem was this -- one curling iron ringlet just behind each ear. Believe it or not, just a year or two later my mother actually gave me a home perm!

Even with a perm, I'm no Shirley Temple!

This was cropped from a larger photo --

That's me on the right, with my cousins Donna Kay and Cindy.

Here are some more pictures from my 2nd birthday.

That's Mom standing behind me as I investigate the cake decorations.

The doll bed and quilt were birthday presents. Don't know if that was a new doll I was trying to feed a bottle to. Probably was. I always got a new doll for my birthday and Christmas.

I still love baby dolls.

This is my favorite picture of me and my dad. He was just home from National Guard camp.

Me and the Darryls*

I'm going to skip ahead a bit and post about my two brothers -- because today is one of their birthdays.

Richard Melvin Thomas, Jr. (Ricky) was born 01 October 1956, when I was almost 2 years old.

John David Thomas was born 17 August 1964

There's a story behind this picture. Mom said when she was pregnant with John it felt like he was constantly kicking her with cowboy boots on. So she (or somebody) bought a little cowboy outfit for him -- complete with boots.

*"I'm Larry. This is my brother Darryl. This is my other brother Darryl."

Captain Kangaroo

 

"We ride at sunset..."

I don't know why I was sweeping with my coat and hat on. Looks to me like I might have been planning an outing with my coven...

Here's what my mother wrote on the back of this photo:

Belly Button Baby

 These pictures were taken at my Burford grandparents' house in Watervliet, Michigan.

Why did I have a piece of adhesive tape on my belly, you ask? 

When I was about 6 weeks old, Grandma Burford noticed that it looked like I had an umbilical hernia. When we went to the doctor, he confirmed it. He recommended we keep tape over it -- I think sometimes there was a silver dollar under the tape -- to reduce the hernia. He said it might heal itself over time, and if it didn't then it would have to be surgically repaired. It never did heal itself. When I was about 7 years old, my brother Rick (age 5) had to have his tonsils taken out. So our doctor thought it would be a good time for me to have that hernia repaired, too. So Rick and I were in the same hospital room and had our surgeries the same day. The doctor who did our surgeries was the same doctor who had delivered both of us. This was back in the day when there were real bona-fide family doctors. They did it all, and made housecalls, too, when necessary. 

The main thing I remember about that surgery was when a nurse came in to give me some kind of shot. I was all tensed up, and she very gently told me to relax my muscles, and it wouldn't hurt as much. And she was right, much to my surprise. I've never forgotten that life-lesson. (It applies to lots of other things besides shots.)

I think we only spent one night in the hospital. Maybe two (the night before and the night after surgery). The other memory I have of this event is that when we drove into the parking lot of the hospital the song playing on the car radio was Deep Purple. It was a new sort of jazzed-up version of the original song, and I remember my mother mentioning that she didn't like the new version. Isn't that a crazy thing to remember? Funny how little tidbits like that get stuck in your mind forever. 

I remember some time shortly after the surgery I was walking through the house kind of bent forward. I think I was afraid the stitches would come out if I stood up straight. My mother assured me that wouldn't happen and I could stand up straight and it would be all right. When we went to the follow-up appointment at the doctor's office he explained that he had created a new belly button for me instead of just leaving a straight horizontal scar, like usual. I don't know how he did that. I have a very faint scar just above my belly button which is practically invisible now. 

My mother has always believed that I got that hernia from crying so much. She swears that I cried the entire first year of my life. Later on, she theorized that the reason I cried so much was because of the cigarette smoke -- everybody smoked in the 1950s (although she always quit smoking while she was pregnant). Of course, the more I cried, the more she smoked. I don't know if I subscribe to that theory or not. And I'm pretty sure I didn't actually cry my whole first year of life. But that's how she remembers it. She said one time she was walking in town with Grandma Thomas, with me in the baby carriage, and one of Grandma's friends stopped to chat. She asked Mom if I was a good baby. Mom said no, she cries all the time. And Grandma really raked her over the coals for saying such a thing as that! 

Tricycle and Overalls

Veni...

Vidi...

Vici

This would have been some time around my 2nd birthday, I think. New tricycle and new overalls. The overalls were from Papa (Lester) Burford. If I recall correctly, he always gave each grandchild a pair of overalls when they were old enough to wear them. Looks like I was barely big enough -- the legs were way too long. I'm sure I got a lot of wear out of them!

I guess this is the same tricycle. This was taken inside the house actually on my 2nd birthday. My birthday is in November, so the other pictures were taken either earlier or later, when the weather (in Michigan) was warm.

Union and Division

 Summer 1956

These pictures were taken at the house in Bangor -- the first house I have memories of. I was 1 1/2 years old when we moved into that house, and we lived there for six years. 

I guess they still make these inflatable kiddie pools. I think I was just as excited about those three inches of water as I would have been with an olympic size swimming pool. 

This is the back door of our house, and the back door of the garage. We had a nice big yard in the back and on the side of the house between us and the house next door. We used to set up a badminton net and play badminton in the side yard. There were a couple of little old ladies who lived in the house next door and they were scandalized whenever we would be outside playing badminton on a Sunday. (For you young ones who don't remember the olden days, Sunday was supposed to be set aside as "the Lord's day" -- not a day for recreation.)

The house was at the corner of Union and Division streets. That is Division Street in the background. The garage faced Division, and the front door of the house faced Union Street. I don't have a good picture of the front of the house.

That house was eventually demolished (I also heard that it had burned down) and the lot is still vacant. I was able to find (on Facebook) the family that bought the house from my parents and lived there for several years. They confirmed that it was still haunted when they lived there. The family who lived at the other end of the block now owns the entire length of property (3 lots) on that block of Union Street. That explains why there was never another house built there.