Those 70ish Girls

Valerie Halla2 Comments

CAN I PLEASE JUST COMPLAIN? By Valerie Halla

MY CHRISTMAS CARD LISTS FROM TWO YEARS.

Call me old fashioned and sentimental. Call me late for dinner. Call me overly celebratory, but I recently bought fancy boxed cards, lots of them.

Getting in the spirit of the holidays. I’m starting to write Christmas Cards. I like to write a small message in each of the 50 plus cards I send out. This year I bought some lovely expensive cards. I wrote, addressed and stamped them and licked the flap on the back of the crisp new white envelope. The envelope would not, no matter how I tried, stick closed. I got mad. I complained loudly even though no one heard me. I’m pretty practiced at complaining. You could probably compliment me on my complaining skills. I wouldn’t complain.

Then I discovered that these classy high priced cards had thin white strips of sticky tape on the flaps of envelopes that you peeled off, then the envelope could be sealed. I felt a bit embarrassed but glad I figured it out after licking a few envelopes unsuccessfully. I licked and slurped a few of the tapes before seeing them. They were actually white tapes on white background so the camouflage concept worked.

BOUGHT SOME SPECIAL CARDS WITH A FOX AND TREES WITH FANCY ENVELOPES…

CAN YOU SEE THE REMOVABLE TAPES THAT SEAL THE ENVELOPE? I kept licking those repeatedly.

Speaking of this whole Christmas card preparation thing, I used my list of people from two years ago and also last year to make sure I got everyone. I studied the names on the old lists as I settled down to working.

Then a few shocks struck me hard. I felt like I’d been hit in the heart and guts simultaneously as I studied the old lists. Could this be true?

From my old Christmas lists of 2022 and 2023 I read our nephew and his wife’s names. Sadly, tragically, he had taken his own life last year. Then I read my good friends’ and family members’ names who I had known for over 30 years. The kind husband, who I’d taught with for many years, had lost his wife last year after her 12 year battle with cancer ended. We group of teacher friends knew her for decades.

Another good friend on my list died this last August. She had been brought from Nazi Germany by her grandmother after going through pure hell during the war including losing her baby brother. She became a teachers aide at my school and helped scores of teachers and students for decades. She also volunteered at the school after retiring, to help kids learn and progress. She was a bright light in our lives and in her family.

It’s an odd feeling looking over lists of people whom you have known for years and been sending cards to for decades. You take them for granted. You want to send them a Christmas note like you always have except they no longer will receive your card, will no longer enjoy the quick note you wrote bringing them up to date on your life, because they no longer live. They just live in your memory and in your heart.

I’m glad to be writing cards. No use in complaining because when I’m gone, I won’t be on anyone’s list even Santa’s. Have a lovely holiday! I know I will be thankful beyond words. I’d better get back to work writing words and spreading good cheer, because complaining doesn’t help. Does it?

I HAVE A PRETTY PATHETIC OLD USED TREE BUT WHO’S COMPLAINING?

Those 70ish Girls

Valerie Halla1 Comment

PHANTOM AT THE WINDOW BY Valerie Halla

THE GREENHOUSE WINDOW.

Standing at my kitchen sink, facing the green house window, rinsing off dishes, and I see a flash of yellow and a blurry figure barely peeking up from the bottom edge of the window below eye level. My eyes blink, my arms stop working and my shoulders jerked slightly. Was it a human sneaking up spying on me?

I stopped rinsing off the dishes and strained my neck looking out over the tiled shelf of the greenhouse window stretching up and onto my toes, but I couldn’t see anything. Maybe it’s just my imagination, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten those beans, or maybe I am overly tired. I laughed a bit under my breath thinking how silly I was to think a human was outside my window looking up at me from beneath the window.

I kept rinsing dishes there, while cautiously looking down at the base of the window. Now when I go to the kitchen sink to do anything, I look out. A few days later the flashing phantom popped up again. I ran to another window to look outside and down the side of the house. I couldn’t see anything.

Now I am scared to even water my plants which sit on a shelf in the greenhouse window.

NO PHANTOM THERE. THERE IS A CACTUS AND CYCLAMEN. PROBABLY JUST A SHADOW.

I thought help was on the way.

Hey, I got some help, some confirmation, a tiny bit of support when our oldest son came for a few days to visit. He was washing his hands at the kitchen sink as I watched and chatted with him. All at once he took a half step back and said, “Whoa, there’s uh… something moving out there!”

“So you saw it? I’ve been there at the sink working and was seeing a flash once or twice that scared me also. Weirdly scary,” I said.

“I’m thinking it’s that bush under the window, and it’s windy so the leaves which are turning yellow flash up a bit into sight for a few seconds when the sun hits them. But it makes my heart stop and fight or flight takes over, Mom. We both saw it and had the same reaction. What a trip!”

Phew. Puzzle solved. It’s strange but even though the question of the phantom has been solved, it’s still spooky and interesting.

Part two- No, it’s not solved.

As I was outside pruning and putzing around the yard, I looked under the kitchen greenhouse window. The bush my son and I had mistakenly thought was the phantom plant brushing briefly up against the window and scaring us, was no where near the window edge. Here is proof that the phantom was not a light colored bush…

THIS IS THE LIMP BRANCH THAT WE THOUGHT WAS BLOWING UP INTO OUR SIGHT AS WE STOOD AT THE KITCHEN SINK. NOT TALL ENOUGH NOR YELLOW.

THIS BRANCH IS NOWHERE NEAR THE BOTTOM OF THE GREENHOUSE WINDOW

The mystery isn’t solved, I concluded, as I gathered more evidence outside my house. Now I’m not sure what to do. I think I need more expert knowledge and experience. I’m going to take a chance. I’m going all in. I’m going to call in Baba Wawa, an expert phantom detective. We will see what she can do to solve this mystery. She can’t make things worse, can she?

Those 70ish Girls

Valerie Halla6 Comments

FUN TIMES…DARN IT – BY VALERIE HALLA

MY DATE FOR THE DAY.

This week has been a challenge with a capital D, darn it. Seems like as we age, life tries to test our patience and mine has been on pretty thin ice with a capital C, crazy. No matter how you spell it, why is life tough? It’s tough especially in my 70’s it seems.

WHAT ? THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING TO ME. SHEESH! WHAT ELSE CAN HAPPEN!

Here are a few things that have happened to me this week and I’m not admitting to any of these being my fault:

  1. After making homemade beef barley soup for my husband, I put the leftovers in a sealed container and put it in the fridge. The next day I grabbed the lid of the container quickly and it opened unexpectedly. All the soup poured out onto the fridge shelf and down the front of the refrigerator and onto the floor. Naturally I didn’t cuss nor yell.
  2. After cleaning up the mess, I did chores. (Since my husband has brain cancer, I’ve accepted more responsibility around the house.) Later in the day I took the overflowing compost bucket out to the bin but didn’t think clearly and dumped the stinky vegetable skins, egg shells and organic leftovers into the wrong bin. I threw it all into the recycling one. Darn it. After vocalizing a few more nice words, I turned the compost bin over and cleaned out the rotting compost, rotting juices, smelly waste and used a shovel to throw it into the correct bin. Darn. I was still irritated. Was this challenge the last one?
  3. My husband has trouble walking, weak legs being an issue from the radiation he received on his brain tumors, so he uses a wheelchair sometimes. I have trouble lifting it, then throwing it into the car trunk when we go out. One time I must’ve used too much of my overpowering brute strength lifting the wheelchair, after folding it up, I threw it angrily into the trunk. The next time I took it out from the trunk, the wheels were jammed together. Now my husband had to hobble around using a walker because we couldn’t open the wheelchair. Guilt set in. Another challenge. I was fortunate that my brother -in-law met us at the cancer care hospital when my husband had his next treatment. He was able to pull the wheels apart on the wheelchair, but it took a weightlifter’s strength. He fixed the wheelchair. I thanked him profusely. He’s barely 70 which I reassured myself was why he got it open. He was young. Sorta.
  4. Also this week, I volunteered with a new program at the SPCA in Monterey. I take one dog out in my car after having gotten training and I signed all the right forms and had an interview. I basically get a date with a dog who needs to get out and about. The dogs can get kennel anxiety. The powers that be at the SPCA asked me to take pictures of my doggy date and what we were doing. I picked up my cute date, a terrier, Corgi mix and went to Star bees and got my date, Lola, a pup cup. I introduced her to some nice customers sitting outside in the sunshine. They loved my date even though she was a bit overweight and short. She was friendly and liked to be petted. I asked one older man to please take my picture with the sweet little dog. I was loving my new volunteer job. This was easy and fun. The man did a nice job snapping several pictures, BUT the man corralled me into talking about my Doggy Day Out then switched to politics. Being a polite person, I listened to him for a bit. I didn’t need to hear about which websites I should check out and what is happening in the netherworld of political games. It was a trap, a trick I hadn’t seen coming. Lola didn’t mind as she lapped up the pup cup, even though she was overweight. Who cares? Woofs and slobbers. She even tore the paper cup to shreds. As the minutes went by, I struggled to be polite to the man with his many conspiracy theories like fleas consuming a dog. Lola seemed to like all the attention. Politics be damned, this was freedom from the kennel! It was time to leave with a capital A, adios! Somehow I got away. Lola seemed just as happy as I was as she wagged her tail and looked up at me. We had a nice long walk together to end our sweet time together.

I know you’re thinking what a complainer and sissy that 70’s gal is. I am. You’re right with a capital W.

However, I had another experience at the end of the week that was a quick reminder of how important it is to count your blessings.

I was leaving the grocery store after shopping. I had dropped my husband off earlier for Physical Therapy. I was offering a senior man a shopping cart as I left the parking lot but he waved it off saying, “Thanks anyway, but I’m heading to the bank,” as he pointed to Wells Fargo. He crossed my path.

“Well, if you don’t need my shopping cart, that’s fine but I sure can’t help you with anything at the bank!”

“Hahaha! I’m fine. At least I have money to live!”

“Yes. And I’m thankful for a roof over my head,” I replied laughing. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“And I have enough food,” he added.

“We’re blessed,” I finished chatting, turning to walk to my car. The man waved goodbye.

THE WHOLE WHEELCHAIR READY TO HELP.

No matter how angry I get over the small issues in my life: spilling soup, jamming a wheelchair, crazy aggressive people- that short exchange with a stranger made me feel calmer, happier and more confident and connected with a good life. Sure it had been a tough week, but sharing another person’s thoughts helped me feel that I’m not alone. Things aren’t so bad.

Lola was tired and happy to get back to her temporary home at the SPCA. The attendant who helped me return her noticed how Lola looked at me. She said, “Looks like Lola really had fun and grew attached to you!”

“Yeah, we had a great date and it made me happy to help an innocent and incredible creature who appreciated me. She gave me more than I gave her today though. Thanks.”

Sometimes it just takes a dog, a pup cup and short chats with strangers to make us realize what’s important in life. Wonder what next week will be like.

Those 70ish Girls

Valerie Halla4 Comments

BY VALERIE HALLA

WWII HOLLYWOOD FROM MOM’S VIEW

MY MOM TREASURED THESE OLD PHOTOS IN PALLADIUM FOLDERS SAVING THE PICTURES SAFELY AND ALL THE GOOD TIMES SHE HAD FROM THE 1940’s. THE WAR LOOMED OVER THEIR YOUNG LIVES YET THEY TRIED TO FORGET THE UGLY SIDE OF WAR AND DYING – AT LEAST FOR A SHORT WHILE DANCING AT THE PALLADIUM IN HOLLYWOOD.

MY MOM IN SUNNY CALIFORNIA MAY 7,1944.

When I was growing up in South Dakota, Pennsylvania and California, I heard my mother recalling with a melancholy lilt in her voice about her time in Hollywood during the early 1940’s working in the aircraft industry. She was a young woman from a small, rural area, raised on a farm, quite innocent, bright-eyed and unschooled in the ways of large cities. She headed out west when her country needed wartime workers in the aircraft industry building fighter planes for waging a vicious war. She was also conflicted because she wanted to have a good time trying to forget the dangers our country was facing yet at the same time support the US Allies in a terrible world war. She had a big binder where she had kept War bonds she had purchased to help the cause. She spent all the bonds over the years, but I still have it after she’s been gone for about 17 years. I also still have old photos of her good times blocking out her daily routine and getting to dance to the Big Bands of that era.

I’m writing to show my Mom’s fun outings when my Mom had a turn at a lighter more fun side of her personality, going out for magical evenings in her new temporary home in Hollywood in the turbulent 1940’s. Even when all of the US was under tremendous pressure with young people going to war, my Mom had fun times to relieve the stress. She wasn’t on the farm out in the Plains, nor in the family’s general store anymore. This was an historic time. People were moving with the needs of the country. Movie stars were all over LA, soldiers were everywhere in uniform, seen out and about. The place she went quite often after a long work week was the Palladium on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. It was the center for big bands, big crowds, big names and big times with many young male soldiers and women looking for love. Maybe finding one last happy time before being shipped out to find one’s final fate overseas. You couldn’t plan for life except for maybe one more dance.

Mom got a ride with Murdo, South Dakota friends out to California. Also her sister, Loretta, from Murdo, South Dakota eventually went out there since her husband, Bill, had joined the Army. Their childhood friend, Sugar, joined them in California. Then later my Aunt Loretta gave birth to a baby boy there, our cousin Billy. I’m not sure if Loretta and Bill were in California first or my Mom Ella was. Regardless, Los Angeles and where they lived in north Hollywood particularly, exuded exciting energy from the old 1940’s pictures that I’ve seen. It sounded epic the way my Mom told it.

MY MOM IS ON THE RIGHT, THIRD ONE FROM THE BACK WEARING HER SISTER, LORETTA’S DRESS! SHE WROTE INSIDE THE FOLDER: “BETTY GRABLE AND HARRY JAMES AT TABLE NEAR US.” THAT WAS A BIG DEAL.

MANY GI’S WERE JUST YOUNG KIDS. MOM WAS IN HER LATE TWENTIES HERE.

ANOTHER ADMIRER.

MY MOM SAID SOME OF THESE YOUNG MEN NEVER CAME BACK AFTER SHIPPING OUT TO FIGHT OVERSEAS. IT WAS A SAD PART OF THOSE DAYS ESPECIALLY AFTER THE ATTACK ON PEARL HARBOR IN 1941.

This was where my parents met and fell in love promising to meet again if my young Marine Dad made it back from fighting in the Pacific. I don’t have pictures of them at the Palladium. I do have decades of pictures and memories of them in my heart.