Those 70ish Girls

I was standing in the check-out line at the Woolco Store, right down the street from where we lived in Casper, Wyoming, when I felt a tug on my jacket. I looked down at this really cute little boy who obviously was troubled by something.

“What is it, honey? Is something wrong?”

He looked down at his feet. I thought he had become shy and was reconsidering telling me what was bothering him, when he looked up and said, “How old do you have to be before you know what’s going on?”

“Why would you ask?” I stammered. “What do you think is going on?”

“Never mind,” he said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I know I didn’t give him a very good answer, but that was back before people deeply analyzed the thoughts of children. I’ve thought about it many times since, and to be honest, if a child asked me that same question today, I would still be stuck for an answer.

The little boy was mine. I had to give up my place in line to take him to the bathroom. I was a caring mother, but I never looked too deep into my kid’s psyche. In all fairness, I was only twenty years old when I had him, and I realized early on that I could easily be outsmarted by children of almost any age.

The other problem was I had a guilty conscience and really hoped he hadn’t caught on to what I was doing. I was at Woolco to buy a birthday card. I already had the gift. It was a nice, pinkish colored, bottle of Ambush. I can’t remember if it was cologne or perfume or even who gave it to me. I just hoped it wasn’t the girl from work whose birthday gift I had forgotten to buy. Back then we didn’t have an acceptable name for what I was doing… like re-gifting. My little boy tugging at my coat would have called it, lying.

I was really late, and I was taking the smart little thing, who was wondering how old you have to be before you know what’s going on, to the party with me. Time for a foxhole prayer. Please don’t let him rat me out. How embarrassing would that be.

Fortunately, he had gone on to other things his little mind questioned like, “Mommy, why is the goldfish so much smaller today than it was yesterday?”

“Remember? He was sick. He must have lost weight.” I tried to think… Did I bury the (now dead) “other” fish deep enough in the garbage?

“You have to take us swimming because you promised! You said you should never break a promise.” I reminded my son, who now has two kids of his own, that he had to keep his promises to his boys, because he made me take him swimming that day.

“I remember,” he said. “The pool was closed by the time we got there and I threw a fit all the way home. “Besides,” he added, “I break promises to my kids all the time. They understand that sometimes the stars just don’t line up and I can’t make it happen. It takes them about two seconds to get over it.”

The above picture was taken when he was a little older. He got to travel by himself to visit Grandma Retta and Grandpa Gus in California.

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I have several, better pictures of those times, but they’re all cataloged by date, person, event, and place. I didn’t have time to alphabetize them, so it would have taken me too long to find them.

“Don’t lie, Mom. They’re thrown into large plastic crates, with people whose names you don’t even know!”

This was taken right before I told him what really happened to the goldfish.

Advice from Lav by Lav

I have excellent advice for you. Maybe you are skeptical. Maybe you have gotten advice all your life, both good and bad. It might’ve been bad advice, and not worked out for you, but this is coming from me- Lav. I also have a strong cohort who has backed up this bit of information. We came up with it and it’s too good to ignore. I cannot divulge this person’s name. I am sworn to semi-secrecy. Give it a try.

It has to do with arguments or argumentative people. Know any of those? Maybe you have never been in an argument. You have never argued with your spouse or significant other. Yeah, right, when pigs oink, I mean fly.

I have at least one disagreement per hour, uh… per day with my husband. Neither of us wins. So HERE IT IS: when I say, “By George, you might be right!” he stops and looks shocked. Maybe it’s because his name isn’t George or maybe something just happened. He could be right and there’s nothing to disagree with! Why continue to argue? My husband can’t believe it. He always thinks he’s right. (When all along, I am most likely right.) It stops and I can go on with my exciting life. I get on with my web smurfing and binge watching hobby.

If you’re disagreeing with your friend about that boyfriend in high school who liked me not you, just stop, pause, lower your voice and say, “Hey, I think you’re right. He didn’t really ever take me to the Frosty for a burger or rhubarb shake.” Your friend will feel better and might try to carry on your fighting and feel the need to continue, so just repeat it. “Maybe you’re right.” Well, it has been a long time since you were in high school. Probably about a century. Memories might be a bit shaky. Then smile and do not get sucked back into the game. A hug might even help. Just do not ever tell your friend you not only had a cheeseburger and rhubarb shake with her boyfriend but you had fries. That’s big. Shhh.

I sure wish I had tried this trick sooner. Being right most of the time has been an affliction. I’m a smart, intelligent, brainy, highbrow, witty person. However, there comes a point when others don’t want to acknowledge what a genuine gall darn genius I am. Therefore, I have learned after decades maybe years, to use this trick making people think they’re right. Or thinking they might be right.

So many important questions could’ve been fixed. Would this have worked when the ancient scientific question came up: is the Earth flat or round? Does Kim Carcrashing touch up her TikTok photos? Is there a weird message at the end of the Beatles album when played back? Does Polly Darton wear gloves? Who voiced Mickey Mouse in cartoons and should Donald Duck wear pants? These are all huge things. Whatever your opinion, if you feel strongly enough, and find yourself in an argument; just stop and try that ingenious approach, tricky though it might seem, maybe you’re right but tell your argumentative opponent- “Okay, you might be right”

You’re welcome.

BTW: please don’t contact Lav regarding any results from her advice. She might be a smarty pants but she holds no counseling credentials, medical license nor training in anything…really.

This just in… Donald Duck, “I have never worn pants, and I’m not going to start now.”
You’re absolutely right, DD.

Mickey Mouse, “ No one dubs my voice ever. It’s all me including my voice.” Okay, you might be right.

by Valerie Halla

HAIR

Down to here -Down to there -Down to there?
Down to where?
It stops by itself -Don’t never have to cut it ‘Cause it stops by itself.

I was talking today with my cousin and we mentioned relatives and their hair. Her mother had her course thick hair dyed and permed for many years, but one time she told her hair stylist to color some strands differently. She said that the hair on your scalp isn’t all the same tone. Some hairs are lighter and vary in shades, so she told the gal to change the color up. Don’t color it all black. Whatever the outcome to that hair color session, I am glad I wasn’t there. My mother’s hair got gray while she was still young but one strip of hair in front stayed dark brown for a long time and she looked kind of like a skunk with stripes. Later she had it a lovely silver gray and done in a stylish bouffant that complemented her slim pretty face and hazel eyes.

After my father passed away and we attended my father’s memorial service at Cypress Lawn, we had friends, neighbors and family members over to my parent’s house. My mother and I had bought lots of food and put it out buffet style. Mom hadn’t had time to go to her beauty parlor to get her hair done. As my mom greeted people and kept the food coming, her sister, Loretta, came quietly up next to her with a small thin brush and gently brushed my mom’s hair, patting it in certain places, and tenderly trying to smooth it. She didn’t say a word, but the love was apparent.My mom kept right on talking. I’m sure that gesture helped settle my mom’s nerves since she was still in shock and sadness after losing her husband of 57 years.

Getting your hair done, is quite relaxing and I often get sleepy just sitting in the salon chair, having someone fix my hair. I go away feeling 100% better. I can’t ever replicate the way the stylist fixes my hair, but I love the feeling of someone else pampering me. I think women are obsessed with having nice hair. In the 1960’s, I wore my hair long and straight, even ironing it. My friends and I tried to copy Cher or surfer girl styles. Big hair was popular and hair was big. My friend got me to attend the Aquarius Theater LA performance of the musical “Hair” with my boyfriend, later husband, in the late 1960’s. My friend had seen about 20 performances and knew every line and lyric of the loose plot. The show reflected the times: the draft, the Vietnam War, protests, free love, free speech, hippies, rebellion, flower power, and of course lots of hair. Then there was the nude scene at the end, which in the ‘60’s was quite risqué. I wasn’t sure that I had even seen anyone nude at the end with the lighting turned down low, and a jumble of cast members all posed like statues. Still we felt like this was groundbreaking theater and the songs were good: Aquarius, Good Morning Starshine, I Believe in Love.

My cousin once said she used to color her hair gray, but now she has it a pretty dark brown, cut short. I went with longer hair and blonde streaks. I didn’t want to see how I’d look with the gray. Getting older, we also deal with thinning hair.A thick head of hair is associated with the young. Some politicians and celebrities get expensive scalp surgery to add to their thinning hair, making them maybe feel younger, however, the rest of their body knows. It all goes to show how important we hold our hair. My friends won’t even meet up for coffee or lunch on their “sacred” hair salon appointment days. I wonder when my next appointment is. Can’t wait.

Gimme a head with hair, Long beautiful hair, Shining, gleaming, Streaming, flaxen, waxen,

Hair ( hair hair hair hair hair)- Grow it, Show it, Long as I can grow it, My hair.

I heard a lady talking on the news about a condition called “phone phobia.” She is charging $480.00 per hour to train millenials to talk on the phone instead of relying solely on texting to communicate with friends, family, and business associates.

I had to stop and think about that for a minute…

I have a phone phobia! I hate to talk on the phone. If I call you instead of texting, it’s a real emergency. I will type paragraphs before I will pick up the phone and call someone. If I miss a call, I text and ask if you really meant to call me. I text my kids, my husband, who is sitting across the room, and my friends. I know you can’t text a landline, but every now and then, I try.

So why am I phone phobic?

In my work life, the phone was the bane of my existence. I spent a huge amount of my day returning calls. It was hard to work in the time to take care of the things that I promised to do during those phone conversations. A call from a customer meant there was a problem. We had cell phones, but there was no texting back then. If you’re talking to someone who has a problem, they sometimes restate the issue several times. In a text, they only type it once.

A big part of aging is there is less memory to go around. If I have information in a text, I can refer back to it. If I’m told something in a phone conversation, I won’t remember it long enough to repeat it. I might even think I heard you wrong or missed important details. Worse than that, I might call you up and tell you what you just told me because I forgot it was you who called. I might argue with you when you try to challenge me on the details. This is not going to be easy, is it? I’m starting to hyperventilate just thinking about it.

Nevertheless, I’m going to try to do better. I really do miss the sound of my children’s voices. I think it’s difficult sometimes to read the intended tone into a text conversation. Are they angry, kidding, happy, or sad? Did spell-check change that word? Oh no, spell-check changed my word and I didn’t notice. I once told Cuz Val that Gus had to quarterback for 2 weeks. Spell-check changed quarantine to quarterback. (He had been exposed to covid.) She said, “What team? I’ll be sure and watch!”

I will make it a point to call more rather than texting, but I can’t promise not to be relieved if I get your voicemail.

I guess this will be a New Year’s resolution. I’ve got this! I’ll focus on overcoming my phone phobia rather than eating healthy and exercising. I can only handle one issue at a time.

Anyway, call me sometime…but you might want to follow-up with an email.

We hear it all the time currently, “Happy New Year!” Really?

What if I am not ready? Can I just ignore January 1st? Can I let it go by? Would it hurt to still write 2022 on forms, checks, letters, in journals or diaries? Would it feel any different to not recognize the new year? People might correct me or say I am wacko, crazy and out of touch. That’d be all right. If I ignore this new year, dare I say it: 2023… will it still come, sneak up on me? I do not want it. No thank you. Will it still happen?

The answer is YES. But you knew that. Poets and writers and scholars and scientists and historians have known it. Everyone knows. “Time waits for no man.” Heck, I am still eating Christmas leftovers. There are stains on the table cloth from prime rib. The poinsettia is still vibrant. Tree is up! Some people leave their CHRISTMAS TREES up for months after it’s over. Maybe they think that will ward off the New Year. HA! Nope, no, uh uh.

Then there’s New Year’s Eve. Gosh almighty and darn it. I’m not going to any parties nor celebrations. I’m not drinking any alcohol. Nor am I eating special appetizers. Just leave me alone in my easy chair and I will get through it. I’m going to bed around 10:00 pm like usual, even though the loud fireworks and neighbors will probably wake me around midnight. It’s just another night. Go away.

What’s so new about New Years? They always show some baby in drawings symbolizing a new year next to an old man as the old year. I can identify because I feel pretty old as well. But did that guy get that old in just one year? Is it all a joke?

So have a good time and enjoy the page turning in our book to a New Fresh Baby Year. I’m going to be here in my easy chair…complaining. It’ll just be another day, another year, another baby popping up, happy or not.

CHRISTMAS PREP AND PLANS

Here at our house we have been working on special traditions in cooking and planning, not to mention cleaning and decorating.

My husband preps his fillings for Pierogi for days, cooking potatoes, sautéed onions and grating cheese. He makes a mashed potato filling and stores it in containers. He also fries bacon and chops the crisp bacon finely to add later. Another day he makes a sauerkraut with chopped sautéed mushrooms and onions filling. Then on another day he makes a sticky dough, kneads it and rolls it out. He cuts out circular pieces and puts a small amount of filling on each piece and folds it over, sealing the edges with a fork pressed around the edges. They will be boiled and served hot on Christmas Eve night with sour cream at our big dinner along with prime rib, potato cream cheese casserole, veggies, salad and homemade apple pie for dessert.

I love sending and receiving cards over the holidays. I mailed 60 photo cards this year of our family pose taken on Thanksgiving. Many people sent cards back. We received an interesting one yesterday from Cousin JEFF H. The letter was a holiday quiz with descriptions about each person in his and his wife’s family with a letter given next to each. Then blanks were typed where you could match descriptions with names. A tiny paper was enclosed separately with the answers! Clever and unique idea. Most people sent cards with short messages about how they were doing. I save the cards for sharing with my kids or just rereading later to make me feel the happiness again.

We did not decorate much at all. Getting lazy in old age. Just put out a few poinsettias and little tree. Our two sons arrive today so I make beef stew and cornbread which has been a tradition since they were kids. A few gifts will be passed out this weekend. One fun tradition is seeing the two dogs rip open their gifts! They each get a toy and a special treat. Funny seeing them go at it. So we will enjoy chatting, a movie maybe and some walks downtown, but the joy of the holidays will surround us and being with family is the best part. Happy holidays from our house to yours.