Monday, May 26, 2008

Memories

It’s been a few days since my last post. I couldn’t think of anything and nothing was going on around here. I’ve been working on some projects; but, nothing worth mentioning at this time. So I decided I’d go back into one of my journals and share some fond memories with you. Keep in mind it’s pretty much random thoughts. . .

April 23, 2004

I thought I’d try again to get writing. – Excuses we all seem to have them. Some have more then others and some less. But, I guess we still all have them. (Apparently I couldn’t think of writing anything new in my journal either). Ha
Maybe I do spend too much time in the past. It’s like a drug. I keep going back for more; remembering good and bad. Bad things I’d rather not write about today. Only good memories I have.

~ Like ~

Listening to Robins singing at dusk and remembering other nighttime sounds like crickets. As I lay in bed and just before falling asleep.
Like waking up early in the morning (5:30) in Buckley, WA. I’d spend time reading the Word. Writing things down in my journal, like prayers and insights to things God had shown me.

~ What I should still be doing! ~

What sweet little faces I’d see in the morning. I sure miss it! But, I’m so proud of the fine young men they’ve become.
Quiet times; like getting away with Jim to the mountains; though few – very precious to me.

Remembering all my Grams stories; or her get yas and tickles in bed. Silly sayings she’d have like; feeling punk and fair to middling. Junkity. I still don’t know what that means and I try to write them all down as I remember. Sometimes she’d try scaring my hiccups away by jumping out from places around the house. It’s funny stuff. (Photo above is of my greatgramp, and just one of the characters in my grams stories).

I remembering Pap (my granddad) making me my very own igloo when it snowed. I got to help and that was fun. Sometimes I’d go to work with him and get to use the levelers on his high lift. For lunch we’d always take cheese sandwiches with onions and drink tea from a quart jar with lots of sugar and milk. I still do the sandwiches but, tea tastes have changed.

Another thing I absolutely loved was lightening bugs, and you can only fine them in the east. (As far as I know – I guess another good thing about Ohio).
Also when I was a kid I’d hang around with my Uncle Russ. We’d go check the chickens out back and then cow. And then, go watch the chickens so more. I remember one time a hen had diarrhea. Uncle Russ looked at me then the chicken and said, “Do you see that chicken? I don’t like the way it’s shit-n!” Sorry. We’d always finish up are time with a big glass of molasses milk and those banana flavored peanut looking candies. I can’t even stomach them now; but, I could go for a tall glass of molasses milk.

I have so many more wonderful memories. I do hold dear to my heart and think of them often. I feel blessed to remembering them from time to time. It’s fun to share them to.

"Recall it as often as you wish, a happy memory never wears out...."Libbie Fudim
I hope everyone has a happy memory. I’m sure you do and if you can’t recall them make some more.
"Cherish all your happy moments; they make a fine cushion for old age."
Booth Tarkington

2 comments:

Becky said...

It's been many years and I think I am remembering right, but please correct me if I'm wrong. Was it your dad who used to pick you up in a volkswagen bus? We used to think that was so cool and I remember him giving me a ride a time or two. How exciting! Was it brown?? Everyone else just had cars - usually the dads had them at work so the rest of us walked - but you were so lucky to ride in that bus!

Refracted Lite said...

That's awesome that you remember that. It was my grandfather and it was a light color I believe. It's funny that after I got married my husband and I got one that was brown. I loved riding in my grandfathers, I didn't get to all the time, but it was fun. Thanks for remembering. Hope you had a wonderful time at the wedding and you have many wonderful memories stored in your heart.