Those 70ish Girls

Well, it’s now the countdown to the reunion. I always make sure two things happen before I head out for a family, work, school or any other type of get together with people I haven’t seen for a while. Number one, I make sure I gain at least 10 lbs. and two, I get a bad haircut. I got the bad haircut yesterday. Just ask my friend Pat, who always tells me the truth. It looks almost as bad as the basketball players who took a pocket knife and cut their hair so Coach Applebee would let them practice..

Anyway, I haven’t bought any new clothes yet. I’m waiting until I’ve gained all the weight. 

I was going to end the blog this week-end with the promised Grand Finale, about the Sanderson Christmas, but I decided you all wouldn’t mind if I grew up a little more first. Once a Murdo Girl, always a Murdo Girl.

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What is the worst job you ever had? The longest and best job in my employment history lasted 16 years. The worst and shortest lasted 2 hours. It should have only been 15 minutes. I was a hangar clerk.

Do you know what a hangar clerk is or does? Me neither. I’ll get back to that.

Many times, when someone asked Mom how I was doing, she would say, “She’s just as happy as if she had good sense.” More often than not, she was right on the money.

I worked at the Motel until one day the President/owner of the Draper State Bank asked Mom if she thought I’d be interested in a job at the bank. He told her he needed to hire an “outsider,” because everyone in Draper was related to each other in one way or another, and they didn’t want any “insider,” to know their business. So I got my first big break, because I wasn’t related to any of those rich farmers and ranchers who had all the money. I’ve always been lucky that way.

I’ve never been much of a gossip, so it worked out well for the town and me. Mr. Hayes was right. Back then, we hand sorted all the checks every day. As we put them all in alphabetical order, we knew who had been on a shopping spree in Pierre, and how much they spent. We knew  who had been frequenting the bars, and who couldn’t pay the bills because we were going to have to bounce their check. If someone had a car or house payment, we knew how much that was too. A savings account for Christmas? A tax refund or did they have to pay in?

There was no such thing as a credit report. With all the above information, Keith and Leroy knew who had the means and/or the character to repay a loan. The  handshake agreements meant something then.

After I had worked at the bank a few months, Mom asked Mr. Hayes how I was working out. He told her he wished he had two of me. Her response was, “Is she that slow?” This from someone who thought I didn’t deserve the agreed upon amount per room, because it didn’t take me long enough to clean it. I learned from the best Mom.

A couple of years later, I left the bank and moved to Wyoming. I called my friend Karen, who was working at the Okaton State Bank, and told her about the job. She was another “outsider.” Karen worked at the Draper bank for about 50 or 75 years.

After moving to Wyoming, I decided to try something besides banking, and applied for and got the hangar clerk position at a power plant. I showed up that first day and was escorted to a small trailer with two desks in it. The girl who I was replacing handed me a hard hat, and introduced me to the guy who occupied the other desk. It took me about 2 minutes to form the opinion that he was a sleaze, and another 2 minutes for him to prove me right.

I should have left then, but I still wanted to know what a hangar clerk was. My trainer, walked me the short distance to the office of this humongous operation. She told me there were only 4  other females working at the plant, and they could all hunt bear with a stick.

Well, to make a long two hours short, I took the first opportunity I had to escape. I walked out to my car, put my hard hat on the hood of the car next to mine, and after I picked up my son at the babysitter’s, I drove home. When I walked in the door, the phone was ringing. It was the very nice man who had hired me. (Not the sleaze.) “Where did you go?” He asked. It should have been obvious that I had gone home? What I said was, “That job isn’t for me.”

About a week later, when I got home from my new bank job, there was a check in the mail from the power plant for $14.00. I was extremely offended when I noticed, “Not eligible for rehire,” was typed on the pay stub.

A few years later, I had worked my way up to manager of the real estate lending department at a small bank. One day, the man who had hired me and sent me the “Not eligible for rehire” check  walked into my office. He had changed jobs too and now worked for a real estate developer. We ended up doing quite a bit of business together. I could tell he was going to be a gentleman and not say anything about my leaving the power plant without giving more than 2 minutes notice.

One day, I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you about something. What exactly is a hangar clerk?” He said it had something to do with plans and specs. Then he added, “Don’t worry about it, that job wasn’t for you.”

 

A couple of days ago, I had dinner with a friend of 15 plus years. She has been reading the stories written by our miss Murdo Girl. She made the comment that she really didn’t recall that much about her growing up years. She said, “Mom gave us some paper dolls and said go play.” I’m curious about this. How many memories of growing up do most people have?

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When I have to take a test, I love multiple choice, or true or false questions. Even if you don’t know a thing, you can still get lucky.

We actually have a guidance counselor now. He is trying to help us figure out our strengths and weaknesses in terms of choosing a career. When I met with him, we went over all my grades and he had few ideas for me. He suggested I would excel at being an airline stewardess. I really like the idea of travelling and all that, but I’m not sure I’m cut out to fly the friendly skies for a living.

I also have no desire to work on a cruise ship. The vastness of all that water to drown in, doesn’t appeal to me at all. I can’t think of one single way to flourish in a career that involves travel. I guess I could be a bus driver; assuming I’ll get better at turning. (That’s a reference to yesterday’s paper.)

Next time I visit with the guidance counselor, I’ll ask him if he knows anyone who has been hypnotized to overcome their fears of flying and cruising. If that’s not a possibility, we’re going to have to pursue another train of thought. Oh..now that’s an idea! I could travel by train!

Anyway, we’re all going to Pierre next week to take the ACT test. The results are supposed to give a pretty good indication of what professions we have an aptitude for. Also, the higher the score the better chance you have of getting into a good college.

In the meantime, we’re taking the “Betty Crocker Homemaker of Tomorrow” test. The one that scores the highest gets a pin on awards night.

The beauty of these tests, is there is no way to really study for them. We went to a one day seminar, that suggested ways to bone up for the ACT and SAT tests, but that won’t help us increase our scores that much. I’m sure sometime in the future there will be more and better ways to prepare, but right now that’s really all there is.

THE RESULTS

Mom came home from her Saturday morning coffee at Mack’s Cafe with interesting news. I’m Miss Betty Crocker Homemaker of Tomorrow! What a shock! I don’t know how to cook or anything. Well, that isn’t true. I learned how to make a mean bed cleaning all those motel rooms. I doubt that I’ll ever be a good cook. It seems really difficult to me. You have to know how to get everything done at the same time. Let’s say you’re making pork chops, potatoes and gravy, and corn on the cob. It can’t be that easy to get everything cooked and ready to eat at the same time.

They might teach that sort of thing in home economics. MHS doesn’t offer that class.We went to a basketball game in Martin, and at half time, their cheerleaders took us to see the home economics room. It was like a whole house. It had a huge kitchen and everything.

Anyway, the Betty Crocker test had a lot of questions about sewing and first aid. You all remember my attempts to learn how to sew. It’s a good thing there wasn’t any questions about how to make a dress without sewing the sleeves in backwards. As far as first aid goes, I left my poor little Grandma alone with a wound that was bleeding profusely. Instead of watching over her, I jumped in the car with Grandpa to go find Doctor Murphy.

The only reason I am Miss Betty Crocker Homemaker of tomorrow, is that I’m proficient at eeny, meeny, miney, moe.

When Dad heard about me being Miss Betty Crocker Homemaker of Tomorrow, he said, “Well, I’m not surprised, because she’s always going to do everything, including clean her room,  tomorrow.”

Today is Monday, and I guess my luck is still holding out. The Guidance Counselor called me in to go over the results of my ACT test. He has changed his mind about my  career in travel. He asked me if I had ever considered being  pharmacist.

I know you must think I’m lying, but I swear on a stack of Bibles, this is all true, and I’m not taking  bit of credit for it. When you only have a certain amount of time, true or false is much faster than multiple choice. Another stroke of luck!

Well, my guidance Councilor and I never did come up with the career choice of my future. I’m sure he’s still out there somewhere scratching his head over that one.

You know, now that I think about it, the summer before my Junior year, Mom called me to the phone. Apparently, our Superintendent, Mr. Haugland was going over all the classes everyone had signed up to take the next school year.

He said, “Mary, you signed up for bookkeeping. I am just letting you know that I’m changing that to chemistry.”

I got through Chemistry with B’s and some C’s. I hated every minute of it, but Mr. Haugland was probably right. I’m sure I’ve learned everything I need to know about bookkeeping from my Mom. All those years spent renting rooms at the Chalet Motel have surely given me all I need to know about keeping one or two sets of books.

This I learned from Mom, a woman who failed Algebra in High School.

So..If in the future, if you need a cake baked, or a prescription filled… I’m your girl.

 

 

 

 

 

I decided to do something a little different for today’s Murdo Girl, because my thoughts are on a very special person in my life, and he’s turning 85 in a couple of days.

Many of you Murdoites know Gus Gustafson. He and Mom had been married 38 years when she passed away on December 30, 2008. He had never been married before Mom, but he certainly knew how to be a great Husband, Second-Dad, and Grandpa.

Mom would be the first to say she was a challenge, but life with her was never dull. Billy and I will be eternally grateful for the love and caring spirit Gus unfailingly demonstrated in all the years he shared his life with Loretta. If patience is a virtue, then he is the most virtuous person I know.

Mom and Gus did some traveling during the months the motel was closed for the winter. On one of their trips a shaggy dog found them. Some local kids said they knew his name was Trouble, but his owners were no longer around. Trouble didn’t have tags and seemed to be in need of humans, so Mom and Gus invited him to be their permanent companion.

It was a two-day trip back to Murdo, so they stayed in a motel that first night. When they got up the next morning, Mom opened the door of the motel room and let Trouble out. Gus expressed some concern. Maybe their new friend wouldn’t find his way back. Mom said, “Any dog that doesn’t know how to get back to its owners is good for nothing anyway.” Trouble knew a good deal when he saw it, and was back in time, ready to occupy his new place in the front seat of the car with Gus. Mom liked to sit in the back anyway, so she could lay down and rest when she wanted to.

Trouble enjoyed life at the motel. He learned to recognize Aunt Elna’s car, because he loved the leftovers she brought him. In fact, when he saw her car coming, he would run and get his pan to greet her. In his excitement, he would jump up on the driver’s side with the pan in his mouth and bang it on her window. Fearful he would scratch her car door, she started driving by and throwing the food out the window. That was just fine with Trouble. He had it in a flash.

I looked everywhere for the picture of my son Mason, who was about 3, and Trouble. Mom loved the picture, because of the story behind it. Mason is playing with Trouble and holding a toy sheep. The sheep was part of a set of farm animals that belonged to David Edwards, who lived across the street. David’s parents owned the Graham Motor Lodge. Mom occasionally  took Mason over to play with David, and it appeared that Mason had purloined the sheep. Mom said she didn’t realize what had happened until one day David’s Mom Cynthia, mentioned that David knew all the animal sounds…except the sheep.

It was almost as much fun to holler, “Here Trouble,” as it was to call for Berferd, plus we could always say, “Here comes Trouble!” In later years, if Mom wasn’t feeling well, Trouble would instinctively know, and didn’t leave her side until he could see she felt better.

 

By the time I moved to Gillette, Wyoming, Mom and Gus had sold the motel and purchased a travel trailer. They moved to the Crazy Woman campground in Gillette where Gus worked construction, and Mom had a job she loved at the Rockpile Museum across the street. They soon befriended Charlie and Becky, who were from back East and also lived in the Crazy Woman Campground. One day Becky was out hosing down their parking area and a fellow camper sped by in his pickup. The dust and dirt flew. Becky was irritated, so she turned her hose on him. He had his driver’s side window open so he got doused pretty good.

Later that evening, Charlie was sitting in his favorite chair enjoying the daily newspaper, when the door to their motor home opened and some guy threw a bucket of water all over him. Imagine Charlie’s surprise.

Mom and Becky were quite a pair. They loved to shop with coupons. Mom was really excited about one of her coupons until the cashier told her it was expired. “But that’s my best one,”she said. It must have ruined their whole shopping experience.

I hope I have remembered a few of Gus’s favorite stories. He still talks about Trouble and what a good dog he was.

Eventually, Mom, Gus, and Trouble moved to Ontario, California. My brother Bill’s company managed the parking at the Ontario Airport, and they did some work counting the in and out traffic for him . One day Mom left the airport to go get some donuts and accidentally got on the freeway. She said she told God if he got her safely off that freeway, she would never drive again.

Gus still lives in Ontario and manages the RV park where the travel trailer has been parked for many years. He facilitates Bible study classes at the local Salvation Army, and also helps them distribute food to those in need. He enjoys steak night at the American Legion and helps out with their functions.

Every Saturday that Bill is in town, he meets Gus at the Pomona Fairplex, where they have simulcast horse racing. They always say they hope to break even, because they sure could use the money.

Gus comes to Texas once a year for Christmas or Thanksgiving, and we try to go see him at least once during the year. He spends other holidays with Bill and his family who live in Los Angeles. Gus’s nephew Mark and his wife Marlene live in Rapid City, so he visits them and their kids and grandkids.

He’s always interested in hearing news of the Sanderson family and other friends in Murdo. Gus was very saddened to hear of Dwight Hurst’s passing.

Gus is a stand-up guy and we love him very much. We hope you’ll join us in wishing him a happy 85th birthday (5/30), and continued good health. He shares the day with my Sister-in-law Liz, (Happy Birthday Liz.) Bill always takes them to the restaurant of their choice to celebrate.

 

 

 

I had an interesting conversation with our miss Murdo Girl this morning. As I talked, she looked at me so intently, I thought I was really reaching her. She kept nodding in agreement to everything I was saying. She doesn’t normally give me her full attention. When I finished she said, “I wonder if my Alden’s dress is back from the dry cleaners.”

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I guess the lady is worried. She wants to know what I’ll be writing about in my papers now that I’m in high school. I told her I’m not here to cause trouble, but just think about it. To write about what it’s like to grow up in Murdo without leaking a little gossip, is like saying go read your favorite encyclopedia and write a paper that everyone will want to read.

I know Mom gossips some, but she does not like to listen to complainers. She was on the phone yesterday and I heard her say, “Don’t tell me about your troubles, I’ve got problems of my own, and here he comes now.” Then Dad walked in.

I’ve heard people say, “Don’t say anything about someone that you wouldn’t say to their face.” I’m not sure I agree with that. I’ll give you an example. The other day, Danny Koester said to me, “I’ve always thought you were kind of pretty Mary, but my Mom doesn’t think so.”

Now what was I supposed to say to that? He went on to explain.”She says you have a funny looking mouth.”

I’ve never worried about the shape of my mouth, but now it bugs me too. I’ve always hated my legs below my knees, because they look like chicken legs, but I never once thought about how funny looking my mouth is.

I think sometimes it’s okay to hide certain things from people, if you don’t get too convoluted about it..like what happened when Kitty Reynolds still lived here. She made an appointment with a doctor in Rapid City, and Mom agreed to drive her. A problem occurred when Florence, Dr Murphy’s wife, got wind of it and invited herself along. Now they were going to have to figure out a way to get Kitty to the doctor’s appointment without Florence knowing. They would have to ditch Florence, and that would not be easy. You see, Mom and Kitty knew Florence would be mad, and it would hurt Doc Murphy’s feelings if they found out Kitty went all the way to Rapid City to see another doctor.

The three of them headed for Rapid, and it wasn’t long before the first dilemma arose. Every time the ladies go on shopping trips to Rapid City, they stop along the way for pie and coffee. Florence kept asking when they were going to stop. Well, Kitty was going to have one of those tests where you can’t eat anything after midnight. She couldn’t even have coffee, because she doesn’t like it without cream and sugar. Mom knew Florence would suspect something if Kitty didn’t have pie and coffee, so there was no way she was going to stop. She said something about being in a big hurry. I’m sure Florence was puzzled by that.

Mom said Florence fussed all the way to Rapid because she wanted pie so bad. Thankfully when they got there, they had a little time to figure out what to do with Florence while Mom took Kitty to the doctor. Well, Florence really wanted to go to a certain store in the Baken Shopping Strip. Mom said she would drop her off, but she had to go see her friend Jeri Olson, who was in the hospital. Florence doesn’t know Jeri, so that was a smart move on Mom’s part. She told Florence that Kitty had to go with her to see Jeri. Kitty has a bad leg, so it made sense for her to stay with Mom instead of walking all over the shopping strip. Florence didn’t question any of that, but she was getting extremely hungry, so she suggested they all have a bite to eat first.

Kitty said, “No, we can’t do that because Loretta and I are on an all liquid diet.” By this time, they were at the shopping strip. Then Florence tried to pin Mom down as to what time they would pick her up. Mom told her if she was finished with her shopping before they got back, to go to Woolworths in the shopping strip and have a piece of pie.

When Mom got home that night, she said it was the most exhausting day she had ever lived through. Florence remained upset, and Kitty was as nervous as a cat the whole time. They couldn’t even eat on the way back since Kitty said they were on a strict liquid diet. Mom feared Kitty, who can’t think on her feet, would say something to blow their cover.

Upon hearing all of this, I reminded Mom of what she always tells me. “What a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive.” She said, “Yes, and if you ever mention a word about it, I will hit you so hard you will starve to death bouncing.” Which is another thing she always says.

One more thing about gossip. (I was pretty little when this happened.) One night a friend of Mom’s and her husband came over. The husband and Dad talked in the living room, and Mom and the wife talked in the kitchen. Well, a few days before then, I had heard Mom say something unflattering about the wife. I whispered in Mom’s ear that I was going to tell the wife what she said about her. Mom said, “Just a minute.” Then she dragged me to my bedroom. She told me to kneel down by my bed and ask God for forgiveness for even thinking about intentionally hurting someone’s feelings. Now, every time I think about gossiping, I remember what Mom had me do.

So believe me when I say that you can tell me anything, and I will pray about it before I repeat it. If I repeat it anyway, I will pray about it some more.

 

 

 

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I don’t even know what to call this. Our miss Murdo Girl said she couldn’t have attention deficit disorder because she had been vaccinated for it at the Murdo Auditorium. I think it could be time for a booster shot. Maybe when she gets settled into her summer routine, she’ll be more focused…Maybe

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I found some stuff in the Aldens catalog I want to buy. Next year I’ll be in high school so I need to start firming up my style. There’s a girl who’s a sophomore, that I’m going to model myself after. (I think.) She’s a cheerleader. I have been a cheerleader since the 4th grade, but I won’t be one next year, because they don’t let freshmen be cheerleaders. They vote in the spring for the next year, and they won’t let 8th graders run. I guess since we’re still 8th graders, we’re not considered high school cheerleading material.

Anyway, I’m not going to think about that now, I’m too busy dreading the summer. I have to rent Motel rooms at night, then clean them the next morning. I sometimes get a late start cleaning, because the tourists will have had some time to think about how much I charged them, or maybe their ice wasn’t cold enough. I don’t want to start cleaning until after they’re all gone. The last thing I need is to run into a mad tourist. I’ll make good money, but I know I will earn every penny.. I wish I could work at the Frosty like Connie Jackson. In the summer, all the kids hang out there at night and after the show on the week-ends.

Mom thinks I must not clean the rooms very good because I’m fast. I’ve told her I have a method. Even though she can’t find one thing wrong with the rooms I clean, she wants it to take me longer. I’m sure it bothers her because she pays by the room and not by the hour. She even has Gertie (Oldencamp) Smith, who cleans the other rooms, spy on me. I don’t think it’s really fair of Mom to ask that of Gertie, because she gets paid by the room too, and shouldn’t have to waste her time spying on me. Gertie has three kids to take care of, and two of them are a real handful.

We have a phone in the office/unit #1 now, which is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that if I need something to eat or a tourist needs ice, I can call Mom. The curse is, when Mom gets worried about the rent being too low. She calls me and if I’m too busy showing rooms to answer, she comes out of the basement house and signals to me.This is beyond confusing. Sometimes, when I’m walking a tourist to show them a room, she comes outside and motions thumbs up and 2 fingers. The room can be $22.00 when the people see it, and $24.00 by the time we get back to the office. Then I have to figure sales tax to add on. The tourists can get pretty frustrated, but I think they just chock it up to my obvious youthfulness and don’t complain. If their face starts getting really red, I tell them we take checks. I tell them they can give me a check if they try to pay with a credit card too, because Mom’s not messing with credit cards, she likes to deal in cash.

I get paid by the room when I rent them too. When the town is full of tourists in July and August, it’s like an invasion. Cars, cars, and more cars a far as you can see. I can fill -up, close- up, give Mom her money, get paid, and be at the Frosty by 8:30 or 9:00. The Frosty is hooked on to the Super Value, and it’s not very far to walk. My favorite thing to get at the Frosty is a barbecue sandwich, and a chocolate-cherry coke.

On the slow nights when I’m working too late to eat at the Frosty, Mom cooks. I have to say, I get a great meal. She fixes steak or fried chicken, corn on the cob, macaroni salad, and toast. I have to eat it in the bathroom area, so the tourists don’t see me, but I’m sure they can smell it and see the corn in my teeth. Sometimes, I have to tell myself, “Oh well, I’ll never see these people again, because no one ever comes back here.”

It’s hard work, and I don’t make the kind of money the waitresses at Cafe 16 do, but I’m too young to get hired on there anyway.

I don’t think Mom is going to let me have another dog. She says we live too close to the highway, and with all the tourists, it would surely meet it’s demise, just like Berferd. I don’t really like cats, and I got bit by an iguana once. I really didn’t want to hold it, because I don’t favor reptiles, but it was a kid of a friend of Mom’s, so I held it to be nice. I was sitting on the couch when I was holding it, and I leaned over to scoot up, and the stupid thing bit me on the nose. It was awful, because for awhile, my eyes picked up on the huge red teeth-marks and scabs. I couldn’t look at anything without seeing my nose. I feel sorry for people with great big noses or a wart they can’t get rid of. Can you imagine seeing that in your line of vision all the time? When It started to heal up and I didn’t see it so much, other people still noticed it. A man standing behind me in Super Value started staring at me. He finally said, “How does one do that to one’s nose?”

At the end of the summer, I have to fly on Western Airlines to New York. My Uncle Chuck Francis lives there and he’s arranging everything. He wants my cousins, Abby and Paul to get to know me. I don’t want to go. I hear the workers at Western Airlines might go on strike, which would be fine with me. What if I crash and burn in an airplane before I can even experience high school?

I had Mom hold some money out of my pay, and she wrote a check for me to send with my order to Aldens. I can’t wait for it to get here. I think the outfit and shoes I picked out look like something Connie Jackson would wear. I wonder how old she was when she firmed up her style. She is a trendsetter and always looks perfect. I don’t know if her style will work for me, and I’ll have to cut my hair short again, but I’m going to give it a try.

Well, I goofed up, because the lady wants me to write about more people and not always about myself. She also tells me to write what I know about, which is me, so she needs to cut me some slack.

Here are some more people. These are all the cousins that have worked for Mom at some time or another.

Mark Sanderson, Valerie Leckey, Stephanie Miller, and Andrea Miller all worked for Mom.

            This lady worked there for a little while too, but she was a royal pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing up is never easy, and It’s going to be interesting to see how many pitfalls the not so little Murdo Girl will encounter as she travels the narrow path leading to young adulthood. Some children suffer more growing pains than others. Few handle it perfectly. Let’s just hide and watch.

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Halloween is sure a different kind of day. You can’t really call it a holiday, because you don’t get the day off from school or anything. When you’re little, you wear a costume and go trick or treating. You never trick when you’re little though, you just go door to door and get candy. A little boy came to our house once and he held up a pillowcase for his candy. Mom looked in there at all that candy and said, “Are you going to eat all that?” The kid nodded and smiled big. He had lost most of his teeth. Mom said, “Well, if you eat that pillowcase full of candy, you never will have any teeth.” That poor little kid looked kind of stricken.

 

I don’t even know how many times I wore the long red formal that Kitty Reynolds made for me. It was the perfect costume. All I had to do was make a tinfoil crown and I was good to go. One year I added some of those plastic high heels, with the elastic strip to hold them on. That was such a bad idea. I fell out of those things all night and nearly broke my big toe. Anyway, I wore the formal until I was busting out of the seams. Then one day, it just disappeared. Hmm.

Well, now I’m too old and too big to trick or treat. That right of passage has been snuffed out! I resist change. I’d stay a kid forever if I could.

Some of the high school kids do mean things like throw rotten eggs at cars, or tip things over. In general, they wreak havoc. I’m not in high school, but I don’t think I want to do that stuff.

I guess you could say my friends and I are at the in-between age. We decided it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to maybe toilet paper a house. Our first  experience with a paper caper was unfortunate…for us, not our victim.

I don’t even remember now whose idea it was to toilet paper all the trees in Mr. Palmer’s backyard. I don’t think it would be very nice of me to name the other kids involved, but you already know the girls I run around with, and we had two boys with us. I think one likes to polka.

We got the whole yard papered up pretty well. We were quietly snickering, and having a good old-time. I think we were looking forward to acting all innocent the next day, when Mr. Palmer started complaining about his backyard being toilet papered up.

When we finished, we all turned around, intending to leave the same way we got there…up the ally. It was then, we realized what a possibly fatal error we had made.  We were facing the back of Mr. Thune’s house, and there he was, watching us out his kitchen window.

It was dark so we weren’t 100% sure if he could identify us. We just didn’t think the whole thing through, because we picked a teacher’s house that was on a corner with a big street light shining  brightly. On top of that, it backed another teacher’s house. How could we have been such idiots?

We did the only smart thing there was to do…We took off running.

I hate to admit to being such a chicken, but about 30 minutes later, one of the girls and I went back, and after first making sure the Thune house was dark, we took down all the toilet paper we could reach. It sure is a lot easier to throw toilet paper all over, than it is to clean it up.

I still didn’t sleep too well that night. Halloween was on Wednesday, and this is Friday. Neither Mr. Thune nor Mr. Palmer has said anything yet, but today is my saxophone lesson with Mr. Palmer. If he still doesn’t say anything, I’ll be able to put the whole thing behind me.

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Mr. Palmer made me sweat it out until the very end of my lesson, then he just looked at me for a minute with a goofy grin on his face. I must have had a goofy look on my face too, because he started cracking up. He said he had a tall ladder if I wanted to come over and finish cleaning the TP out of his trees.

I kind of felt bad, because there was another time I was a little less than honest with Mr. Palmer. He called me one Friday and asked if I could come over and babysit Debbie and Kenny that night. Lecia Kell was having a bunch of kids over, and I really wanted to go to her house. Well, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell Mr. Palmer no, so I said I would babysit. I immediately regretted it.

I called Marlene all in a panic, and she came over so we could decide what to do. Marlene said I had to call Mr. Palmer and tell him I couldn’t babysit. I hate to admit I’m still a chicken , but I just couldn’t do it.” Well,” Marlene said. “Then I’ll do it!” She just picked up the phone, and called Mr. Palmer. She disguised her voice a little and said, “Mr. Palmer, this is Mary Francis. When I told you I would babysit tonight, I forgot that I had a previous engagement.” I was horrified as I heard her continue. “Can you please find someone else to take care of your kids?” Then she gave him a couple of suggestions as to what girls he should call.

I wish I was as brave as Marlene, but then she doesn’t take band. It’s no skin off her nose, because she has nothing to lose. If Mr. Palmer had an idea that it wasn’t me who called him, he didn’t say anything or give me any other sign…like a goofy grin.

We really had fun at Lecia’s house that night. I sure hope I spelled her name right. If I didn’t, the lady will surely tell me.

 

 

It’s 9:00 o’clock, and the not so little Murdo Girl just turned her paper in. I think it’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo, but it’s too late to do anything about it. Besides, I’m suddenly really craving a Fern’s cheeseburger.

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It’s seven o’clock Friday night, and Karen, Marlene, and I are all at the auditorium for the school dance. (Don’t worry lady, I have plenty of time to write my paper.) There are two teachers, and two parents chaperoning. Let me tell you something. They’re going to be so bored, by the end of the night, they’ll probably hope someone makes a run for it, so they can fight over who “gets” to go after them. Where do they think we’re going to go? Actually, a good old hamburger from Fern’s Cafe sounds pretty good. It’s real close now too since they moved. By the way, I heard Karen Lindquist’s Dad is going to make her go wash dishes at Fern’s. (In about seven years.)

 

If you want to know the truth, our class is a bunch of rule followers. There won’t be any surprises here tonight. (Unless someone makes a fuss about the girl who’s wearing corduroy pants instead of a skirt or dress. It’s cold out there tonight.)

I’m not that crazy about the 7th and 8th grade dances. I think they cause too much worry. All the girls spend days and days trying to decide what boys they like, and which ones they do or don’t want to dance with. The boys probably do the same thing. Surprisingly, kids don’t all look at this the same. Some don’t even want to dance with the one they have a crush on, because it’s too much pressure. Others have been telling everyone they don’t like someone when they really do, but they aren’t quite ready to go public with it.

Here’s how it goes…the dances start at 7:00 and last until 9:00. The only thing there is to do is dance to a record player, which nobody does until about 8:30. Well, actually the girls dance with each other, and the boys just stand in a group and talk. They don’t really watch the girls because they’re afraid to make eye contact. Then at 8:30 the chaperones yell, “You better get out there and dance, you only have 30 more minutes!” That’s when the boys finally get up the nerve to ask a girl to dance.

 

If some of the boys still can’t get up the nerve to ask a girl, the leftover girls just keep dancing with each other. There have been times, when I have wished the 30 dancing minutes would hurry up and be over, and times I didn’t want them to ever end. Other times, I wish I had just kept dancing with the girls. What am I talking about? There are only 2 dances a year.

Personally, I think it’s too much work trying to figure out the best time to make eye contact so the right guy will ask you to dance. Just think about it. The poor guy might have 3 or 4 different girls trying to make eye contact with him. If you see a boy staring at his shoes, that could be the reason.

Even if you do get the one you want, there is no guarantee he knows how to dance. Then what are you going to do? It’s too late to make eye contact with someone else.

There are two things I can tell you for sure. Usually, the only boys that can dance are the ones who have older sisters to teach them.The sisters should tell their brothers to dance two dances with the same girl, then move on. If you chose the wrong person, and have to dance with them the whole thirty minutes, it’s wasted time. Besides, everyone will get the wrong idea and think you really like each other, and if one or both of you don’t feel the same way, it could take weeks to undo that misconception. Secondly, and I guess I should only speak for myself, I usually leave the dance with a crush on a different boy than when I got there.

There is one boy I like to dance with whether I like him or not. He can polka, and that is so much fun. His name is Don and he doesn’t even have an older sister. Anyway, you can burn up a lot of nervousness by going all over that auditorium doing the polka.

 

 

 

You can’t make good decisions without thinking things through. Learning this lesson is all part of growing up. It all turned out pretty well for the little Murdo Girl this time, but she was lucky. It could have been far more embarrassing. If you live in a small town, stories can sometimes take on a life of their own. People can also be very tolerant and forgiving.

______________________________________________________________________I’ve had a few embarrassing things happen in my 12 years, and this paper is about one of them.  It all started about a year ago. I was at a basketball game with Mom and I began to get bored. Sitting a few feet from me, were three kids I didn’t know, so I figured they must be from another town. I decided to scoot over by them and strike up a conversation. They told me their names, and that they were from Ohio. I said, “My name is Judy.” You’re probably wondering why I lied about my name. Well, I’ve been thinking about that too. It just came out of my mouth. Sometimes, I wish I had a cuter name like my cousins. Here are the names of all the girl cousins on the Sanderson side… Andrea, Stephanie, Valerie, Suanne, Patrice, and then there’s me.. Mary. See what I mean? My Francis girl cousins have cute names too. They are…Cathy, Laurellen, Abby, and Nadine. I guess I like my name okay, but for just one night, I wanted a cute name. It was between Judy and Pamela.

Anyway, I had a good time visiting with the kids from Ohio. One thing led to another, and I ended up telling them about the time Mom tricked me by putting a pan of store bought cookies in the oven, so I would think she made them from scratch. They were for a PTA meeting, so I wanted them to be homemade.

One of the kids, (Jerry), told about the time he had to bring a cake to a school function. His Mom isn’t a very good cook, so he was worried the cake would be pretty pitiful, and it was. He said it was a layer cake held together by so many toothpicks, that if it had been a birthday cake, they wouldn’t have been able to light the candles. If the candles had ignited all the wood toothpicks, it would have burned the whole house down.

When it came time to take the pitiful cake to the event, Jerry’s Mom sent him off with it, telling him she would be there soon. Jerry was kind of embarrassed to take the sad looking cake in there, so  he accidentally on purpose fell down, and dropped the pitiful cake. You can imagine the look on his face when he walked through the door and saw his Mom was already there. She looked very serious as he told her he fell right outside the door and messed up the cake. He even ripped a hole in his jeans. Well, his Mom held up another cake that she must have had someone else make for her because it looked good. His own Mom had tricked him. I guess our Moms are two of a kind.

Well, I kind of forgot about those kids. Then a little over a week ago, Mom and I were walking into the Auditorium, and I heard someone yell, “JUDY!” At first I didn’t realize they were yelling at me. I turned around and there they were. The boy hollered, “It’s me, Jerry!” “Oh, geez,” I thought. All three of those kids were standing there. Right behind them was Mrs. Lange, who lives across the highway from us. “Hi Helen,” Mom said. Jerry spoke up and said, “Grandma  Helen, this is that girl Judy we were telling you about.” His two sisters both said, “Hi Judy.”

I just stood there looking like a dumb head. I could see Mrs. Lange was confused, and didn’t really know what was going on. Mom’s a little quicker than I am, she said, “Oh no, her name is Mary CONTENT!” The only thing that came to my mind was, maybe later, I could tell them I had a twin sister named Judy, or Judy was my nickname, but that would probably dig me into a deeper hole.

You want to know what else? Those kids stayed a week, and Mrs.Lange asked if I would help her find things for them to do. Mom said “Of course ! MARY would love to keep them company. “The kids never did say anything about my name not being Judy, but I felt kind of funny about it so, I finally told them the truth. They didn’t like their names either, so we all picked cute names.

One other good thing came of it. The Langes have a whole bunch of strawberry plants in a field behind their house. Mrs. Lange said since I was so nice to their grandkids, I could go pick some anytime I want to. Wait til I tell Suzanne Bork! Free fruit for us, and we can pick it in broad daylight.

I started thinking about what could be worse than having a plain name, and I finally came up with something. Grandma Francis’s birth name was Content. It was sometime later that she changed it to Constance. You could hardly blame her, especially since her maiden name was Bottum. If my name would have been Content Bottum, what do you think Mom would have called me when she got mad? Yup, Happy Butt.

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I want to add one more thing to my story. I was confirmed into the United Methodist Church on Sunday. I was a little nervous, because we all had to answer a question. We studied everything in our classes, but we didn’t know which question we were going to get.They asked me if I could get into Heaven by doing good works alone. I said, “No, I have to believe in God and Jesus.”

I guess my answer was okay, because I was confirmed. Mom couldn’t come, but Grandpa and Grandma were both there. If I hadn’t been in the Church to see it, I wouldn’t  have believed who else was there. My Dad came too. I already knew that he was happy about my confirmation, because the week before, he bought me a pretty red jumper and a beautiful white blouse to go with it. He said he had noticed I didn’t have very many pretty dresses, and he wanted me to look nice. (Dad’s not a church goer.) Anyway, I don’t think I will ever forget that he was there.

Dad, the ladies who cook in the Church basement, and Grandpa and Grandma Sanderson

 

I’m staying at Marlene’s house for a few weeks while Mom and Dad are in California seeing relatives… and Billy. We’ve been going to my house every night to feed Berferd. He stays in the coat closet all night, then I go let him out in the morning. Marlene’s not in band, so I do the morning routine by myself. I usually meet some other band kids by Super Value and walk the rest of the way with them.

Berferd comes to the auditorium and waits until  I come out, then walks with me to the grade school. Once he knows I’m safely inside my classroom, he goes running around town, and I don’t see him again until Marlene and I go feed him and put him in for the night.

This year Marlene and I are in 7th grade, which is in an outside building. Our teacher is Mrs. Palander. For the first time in years, I finally have a teacher that hasn’t taught anyone I’m related to, has a sister that dates Billy, is a friend of Mom’s, and doesn’t live by me.

Remember I told you we had some new kids in our class this year? One of them is Karen Ferdig. She lives close to Marlene, so she started walking to school with her. I can’t because I have to go an hour earlier for band. Anyway, now all three of us are friends.

Karen’s birthday is New Years Day, which is one day after mine. We’ll both be 13 this year. Marlene’s birthday isn’t until June 19th. The lady said she’ll be able to keep her brains a little longer than Karen and me.

Yesterday was Tuesday, November 8th. I won’t ever forget that date as long as I live. Marlene and I went to feed Berferd. I was worried about him, because there was a big snow storm that day. When we got to my house, Berferd wasn’t anywhere around.

After awhile, we got Karen and the three of us looked everywhere. We asked people in the neighborhood and along the highway if they had seen him. We didn’t know what else to do, so we just went back to my house and waited.

One of the guys that works for the State heard that we were looking for Berferd, and he called my house. He told me that my dog had been run over by a snow plow. This time, he didn’t make it.

I was sure glad Karen and Marlene were with me.

I was never able to train Berferd not to chase loud trucks. Like I said before, he even chased them when he had the fractured leg.

I’m slightly comforted by knowing Berferd left this world doing what he loved most, chasing trucks and snowplows. It was election day.

We loved that dog and we’ll miss him every day.

As near as I can figure, he was only 4. He loved running around Murdo, and Murdo loved him.