Special Stocking, Precious Gift

This was written with difficulty two years ago. I still cry when I read it, both from remembered pain and joy. Happy Birthday/Merry Christmas!

When I was 20 and a day I received the special gift of a baby boy. He arrived three weeks early, weighing only 6 lbs 8 oz. He thrived and grew rapidly and all was right with the world.

I found myself pregnant again, before my body had fully healed. My due date was BJ's birthday, December 17th. It turns out that all was not as right with my world as I had thought; my husband was seeing someone else. I struggled both physically and emotionally for most of this pregnancy. Around November 10th I was taken out of work and told the I'd have my baby "any day now." Things at home continued to be stressful. I was still in a fantasy world that we could work things out. BJ had more than made up for his low birth weight and was in no hurry to walk. Somehow I managed to strain the ligaments to my uterus. My back hurt constantly. I fought just to get through each day.

December 17th came and went. The doctor continued to say any day now. Sonograms were not performed back then but the baby's heart beat was strong. I finally went into labor in the early evening on the 24th. On Christmas day we went to my mother's. His family met us there because we weren't sure when we'd have to head to the hospital. Gifts were exchanged, everyone had a nice dinner (I had weak tea) and my contractions continued. We watched the Bells of St Mary's and my mother got progressively more nervous. Finally about 5:00 we left for the hospital. That Christmas day was the coldest on record; I can still remember the pain of the cold walking from the parking garage.

When we got to the hospital I got the same nurse that I'd had the year before and she was absolutely wonderful. I had a birthing room and my husband promptly fell asleep in the recliner. I told the nurse to leave him. My doctor was not on call on Christmas so I got the other doctor from the office whom I had only met once before. He was nasty to me and worse to the nurses. When the baby was finally ready I was told not to push because the doctor was having cookies and eggnog. I requested the intern but the doctor did arrive in time for the birth (but not in time to perform an episiotomy.) Just after 9:30 I had a perfect but tiny baby girl. Bean weighed only 6 lbs. 1/2 oz.

Phone calls were made. I was moved to my room and my husband went home. Bean was moved to the nursery where the nurses slid her into this stocking. There were only three babies in the nursery and they all looked so cute in these stockings that had been handmade by a hospital volunteer. We stayed in the hospital three wonderful days. I missed BJ but I had been so worn out that it was wonderful to have all of the nurses and other staff dote on us. I had learned the year before that before Christmas the maternity ward is packed so that everyone could be home for Christmas.

The first sign of the trouble that lay ahead came on our third day when it was evident that I would not be able to nurse. For the next six months I wasn't sure that she would survive. She lost weight. She was allergic to the formulas we tried. A soy formula was the best available alternative at the time and she only kept down a small part of each feeding. She slept around the clock and had to be awakened for feedings. I kept her right next to my bed and checked on her several times a night. At her six week checkup she had gained very little, the newborn clothes still too big on her. She was anemic and I had to take her for regular blood work. They'd stick her tiny foot while I held her and cried. When she was four months old my husband finally moved in with his girlfriend. One burden had been removed and things got a bit easier for me. She started to stay awake more and keep a little more down, including the iron supplements. In June she finally turned the corner and started to grow and play and thrive.

She continued to amaze me as she grew into womanhood. She always fought for what she believed in. She never gave up on anything. Today she is married, has her own business and two children of her own.

Someday I may pass this stocking on to her but for now it is mine. It once held the most precious Christmas gift I ever received.

10 Memories Until Christmas

When the kids were young I started down my volunteerism path as a Camp Fire Leader. All the kids in the neighborhood joined and this is one of the ornaments they made one year. I’m just crazy enough that I took 1st and 2nd graders overnight camping at Camp Talooli - twice. Biffies (out-houses), hikes, sing-a-longs, campfires and crafts - Good times!

Wo-He-Lo

Vesper Service c 1986

This series originally appeared in 2006 at The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. Some posts have been updated, others replaced.

13 Memories Until Christmas

I used to always have a cross stitch project that I was working on. Other than these ornaments the only piece I made for myself was the Irish blessing sampler that hangs by my front door. Most of the items I stitched were Christmas gifts and I think about those other projects as I hang these on my tree.

One of those gifts was made for my father and step-mother many years ago. After he died it was returned to me and even though it was made as a Christmas decoration, it now is displayed year-round in my bookcase.



This series originally appeared in 2006 at The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. Some posts have been updated, others replaced.

18 Memories Until Christmas

I love to snorkel. Several places in Hawaii come to mind, swimming with colorful fish and huge sea turtles. Kealakekua Bay is my favorite spot. A trip to the Bahamas with good friends. A family cruise. A catamaran trip in the Dominican Republic.





This series originally appeared in 2006 at The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. Some posts have been updated, others replaced.

20 Memories Until Christmas

In 2001 I decorated the tree in Red, White and Blue lights and a huge Red, White and Blue bow for a tree topper. I’ve added more patriotic ornaments in the years since. I still remember clearly the small group of us gathered around the TV in the office and our shock and disbelief.


This series originally appeared in 2006 at The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. Some posts have been updated, others replaced.

22 Memories Until Christmas

A plumeria blossom. John and I have been to Hawaii twice, the first time with Mom, Country Girl, Bean and BJ and the second time by ourselves. Luaus, walking up to the edge of a lava flow, a rented home on the beach, a private cottage on a coffee farm. My one and only trip in a helicopter. Being able to take Mom to the USS Arizona Memorial. This ornament evokes so many memories.



This series originally appeared in 2006 at The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. Some posts have been updated, others replaced.

23 Memories Until Christmas

This was the first ornament that I made in school. Kindergarten, 1st grade? Mom saved it for me and gave it to me when I had my first tree. It evokes memories of my school days. Meeting Salty Sam in person at preschool. Being on TV in kindergarten (for what I have no idea). How I hated 2nd grade because we were all terrified of the teacher. Getting the most improved writer award in 4th grade because that was the year I broke my arm. The hour bus ride that took me right by two other middle schools before arriving at mine. Being too smart and too poor to be popular. Having the chicken pox, measles and mumps and getting to stay home and have Mom dote on me.

(Salty Sam was the name of a character on a local kids TV show.)


This series originally appeared in 2006 at The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree. Some posts have been updated, others replaced.

Musical Memories

There isn't much of a history of musicians in my family. Grandma Carlisle took singing lessons and I'm told she had a beautiful voice that was rarely heard outside of church. My mother took a few piano lessons as a child. She was given a cardboard picture of a keyboard and that is what she had to practice on. There was a large group of children in the class and each was allowed only a few minutes to play on an actual piano each week. It's not surprising that she soon lost interest.


Ta Ta Ti Ti Ta

I have always loved music. One of my earliest memories is of sitting on the kindergarten carpet and chanting ta ta ti ti ta, ti ti, ti ti, ta ta while I banged two red dowels together. Rhythm sticks were my introduction to musical instruments and I wanted more.


50th 51st Use for a Flutophone

My mother's best friend's daughter was several years older than I and when she got a new open hole flute, her older, closed hole flute was lent to me. In this picture I had just turned five. I don't remember her ever giving me lessons nor when or how I learned to read music but I learned how to play. I was never really very good but playing was pure joy for me. Also pictured is my brother with a flutophone that I have no memory of at all.

I don't know how long I had possession of the flute but eventually it was returned. Mom didn't have the money to buy me my own but she was able to buy me a very nice alto recorder. I played it often and was fairly proficient but I never enjoyed playing it nearly as much as the flute. I still have it today though I haven't played it in years.


Next Big Thing

Not being really thrilled with the recorder I talked Mom into buying me a guitar. It was a very basic thing with painful steel strings. Mom signed me up for group lessons at the downtown YWCA and I practiced constantly. When Mom realized that it wasn't a passing fancy for me she bought me a much nicer guitar and somehow found the money to pay for private lessons. The lessons were about fifteen miles away and not on the bus line so she had to drive me to them too. I practiced, I learned, I found joy in my music but I was never really good. I could pick a bit but never managed the difficult classical pieces I so wanted to play.

When I was in middle school some friends and I formed a garage band and had aspirations of being the next big thing. I played mostly rhythm guitar and sang my heart out - even when the rest of the group begged me to stop. Of course our dreams never amounted to anything but I have very fond memories of this chapter of my life. In my head I can still hear my friend playing Stairway to Heaven. What ever happened to him?


Let's March

My troubled teen years found me spending my freshman year of high school living with my father and step-mother in North Carolina. The first day of school I was sent out to the road to catch the bus and go to school. I guess most parents take their child the first day and get them registered or maybe even pre-register them but not my dad. Since the school had no idea I was coming, they hadn't received my records from New York and had to take my word for what classes I should take. So I lied and told them that I'd been in the band and would like to continue.

When I got to my first band class I explained to the band director that I had no instrument but I could play flute or sax, whatever they had. What they had was an alto clarinet.
Now the alto clarinet is not the sexiest of instruments but if the school was willing to provide it I was willing to learn how to play it!

I lugged it home and proudly showed it off to my father and step-mother. My first attempts at playing it were full of squeaks and my step-mother informed me that if I intended to make all that noise I could do so out in the barn. Getting out of the house and being alone was not a punishment to me so I happily spent my practice time there. The pieces I was given were never very challenging so I did ok.

The best thing about the band was that we got to march. There weren't any field shows, just parade march. The band traveled to Wilmington to a parade competition and that was one of the highlights of my high school years.


Last Chair

I only spent the one school year with Dad. When I returned to New York I had to leave the alto clarinet behind. Again, I don't know how Mom managed it, but she bought me a used alto saxophone so that I could continue in band. This school had one of the top rated marching bands in the state and a very demanding practice schedule that I could not meet. So I settled for concert band. The band director was not happy with anyone that didn't march and was very unimpressed with my ability. I sat last chair and knew I always would. There was one other sax player who was very good and he helped me all he could. I knew he was in deep do-do when the director threatened to give him my chair - in front of everybody. That was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. My band experience there was so miserable that I didn't bother to join in my junior and final year of high school. With a full time job I wouldn't have been able to schedule it anyway but it is still one of life's regrets for me; I wish I had stuck with it.


Band Mom

I did pass my love of music on to my children. Both of my sons played trombone and my daughter the trumpet. The two younger ones were in jazz band for a couple of years along with marching band. I became a band mom and I loved going to all of their concerts and parades. The two younger kids had more interest and really excelled. Then disaster struck. John was transferred and we moved. The kids went from attending a small school with a great band director to a huge school where they were just numbers in a chair. The boys never played much after that but even though my daughter was no longer in the band she stuck with the trumpet and still plays occasionally.


And the Band Plays On

The next generation is just starting out on their musical exploration. The flutophone is now taught in school in second or third grade so Mike and Nikki have had that introduction. Mike is in his middle school band, in the percussion section. Guitar will be taught as part of his music classes this year and he'd like to use mine. I lugged it in from the garage to take the picture I used above. It has a missing string and gear. I'll work at repairing it and maybe recover the joy of playing myself. Nikki won't be able to start with a band instrument until next year but she's already excited about it and trying to decide on an instrument. In a few more years I hope all six will play something and we can have our own family band!


This was written for the 83rd edition of the Carnival of Genealogy to be hosted by Janet Iles at Janet the Researcher.

The subtitle, 50th 51st use for a Flutophone, is my homage to Bill West and fun times in geneablogging land. For the other 49 50 Genealogical Uses for a Flutaphone visit West in New England.

Carnival poster courtesy of of fM at footnote Maven.


Photo of alto clarinet from Wikpedia courtesy of MToolen.

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. In short: you are free to share and make derivative works of the file under the conditions that you appropriately attribute it, and that you distribute it only under a license identical to this one.

Photo of alto saxophone from Wikipedia courtesy of Tdvance.

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. In short: you are free to share and make derivative works of the file under the conditions that you appropriately attribute it, and that you distribute it only under a license identical to this one.

All other images are from the personal collection of the author.

Dad's Campfire Songs

Randy asked us to pick just one favorite song for this weeks Saturday night genealogy fun. Sorry Randy, I just can't do it! Music has always been a very important part of my life and I could never pick just one favorite.

My love of music is surprising because I grew up in a home without a radio. I used to love to ride in the car with Dad because he'd turn on the car radio to catch the news and sometimes forget to turn it off when the news was done. Mom would sing to us when we were little and my grandmother sang once in a while. I know all of the Gay '90's hits!

The only time Dad sang or showed any interest in music at all was around the campfire on our summer vacations. So for my Sunday morning fun I'll share my two favorite songs that he used to entertain us with. Picture us in a state campground singing these. I wonder what the other campers thought?

The first I have not been able to find the music for. The only place I've been able to find the lyrics in an old Boy Scout song book. Was Dad a Boy Scout? (Dad's lyrics varied slightly)

Once I went in swimmin'
Where there were no women
Down beside the sea
Seeing no one there
I hung my underwear
Upon a willow tree
Dove into the water
Just like Pharaoh's daughter
Dove into the Nile
Someone saw me there
and stole my underwear
and left me with a smile!
I don't care, I'll go bare
Bye - bye B V D's

This next one I sang to my kids and now my grandkids. They all think I'm nuts. I'd did find music to go with this one so feel free to sing along.



Washington & Lee Swing

Once again Dad's lyrics were slightly different from what I found.

We'll take the legs from some old table
We'll take the arms from some old chair
We'll take the neck from some old bottle
And from the sofa get some hair
we'll get some hair
We'll put them all together
With the aid of wire and glue
And we'll get more love
From the gosh old dummy
Than we ever get from you!

What songs did your family sing?

Trip of a Lifetime

In the summer of 1998 my sons were out of school and my daughter had just one more year of high school left. I thought (incorrectly) that it would be our last chance for a family vacation. My elder son, PJ, was unable to come and my younger son, B, would only be able to join us for one week. My mother and sister also wanted to go but Mom thought two weeks would be too much for her so she would wait and come with B. Also in our entourage was my daughter's high school boyfriend. Our destination? Hawaii!

This vacation was my favorite for several reasons. Hawaii was always someplace I wanted to see and never thought I would. Traveling with my children as young adults was both trying and yet fun. Being able to have my mother and sister, who had never traveled much was special.

The first week there were five of us and we stayed in two bedroom condos on the Big Island and Kauai. When Mom and B joined us the second week we rented a five bedroom house on the north side of Oahu.

I have a 400 page photo album of that trip with little notes written on each page. Eleven years later I still enjoy passing an afternoon flipping through the pages. I know you don't have time to sit and look over the entire album with me so I'll share just a few of the highlights of the trip.

We did a lot of hiking. Here we saw petroglyphs.

South Point. The rental car company had warned us not to travel here. We went anyway and stopped before the road dropped into the ocean. We saw windmills for the first time.

Every beach was different and offered new discoveries.

We raced with dolphins and learned to snorkel/snuba at Cook's Monument.

Volcanoes National Park. We hiked, were amazed and hiked some more. The park is just amazing.

We swam with giant turtles. The boyfriend decided to follow this one out from the beach and I swam after them to make sure he was safe. He was back to the beach long before me. I float like a cork but I'm not a strong swimmer.

Kauai was so different from the Big Island! Green and lush. Lots more hiking here.

The kids went kayaking for the first time. I would have spent the time they were off on their own worrying about them except .......

I was busy being terrified on my first, last and only helicopter ride.

Our rental home. The week there was fun and relaxing.

This was Mom's first time ever seeing the Pacific Ocean. A swim seemed in order. Mom's health was starting to decline at this point so this will forever be one of my all time favorite pictures.

Mom is a WWII Navy Veteran and being able to take her to Pearl Harbor was an honor. There is a picture that was taken there of her, my sister and I that I love but for the life of me I can't find my copy of it.

Mom was mostly content to sit on the deck while we were off doing other things. The deck was a favorite place for us all to gather and much laughter was shared here.

There was one other lifelong dream that Mom was able to fulfill. She and the kids all had their own helicopter rides. John and I were quite content to sit and await their return.

There many, many other things that we packed into those two weeks. Memories that I will forever cherish. When I told John that I'd be writing about our best vacation ever he immediately said, "Hawaii!" It turns out that this was not the trip he was thinking of. We returned a few years later but that's another story.

Carefree Summers

My childhood summers were spent playing with the kids in the neighborhood. We'd be sent out to play and told to be home when the street lights came on. If Mom wanted us for something before then she might stand on the front steps and holler for us and if we were close enough to hear her we'd head home. Most of the time anyway. At the end of the next street over there were a couple of empty lots and we used them for baseball games. There was also an undeveloped hill and a large field that bordered on a creek where we'd go when we were up to no good. In the evening we'd play a game we called "Slope" which was a combination of kick the can and hide and go seek.

I had a blue Schwinn bike and I'd ride all over on it. When I was nine I ended my summer early by showing off and riding with no hands. You can still feel where two of the three breaks were on my right arm. When I was 10 or 11 I was old enough to ride the mile to the plaza or a few miles to the mall.

Several years there was Girl Scout Camp. I can vividly recall the daddy long legs spiders that cover the inside of the tent. I thought it would be a good idea to cover myself with my plastic ground cloth to keep them from biting me. Wiser girls in my tent pointed out that I might suffocate so I tried to avoid falling asleep. I can remember the drawstring mesh bags that we places our dinnerware in to dry hanging from a line. I can't remember much else that we did. There was one year that we camped in a tent on a farm. It rained a lot. I was wet a lot. Cows smell bad.

When Dad had his vacation we'd head out on a camping trip. We had a small pop-up camper. Mostly we went to the Adirondacks or Vermont. When in Vermont we stayed at Half Moon Pond and took day trips to marble quarries. I hauled home lots of souvenir scrap marble and kept it in a box in my closet. I wonder when Mom got rid of it? In New York we'd usually stay in a State Campground. I have fond memories of Cranberry Lake.

My parents weren't beach people and yet I loved the water so my favorite camping trip was the one and only time we went to Southwick Beach. We had an "add a room" package that zipped onto the camper and friends went with us that time. We camped just off the beach and my parents complained about being in the sun but I thought it was great. The family with us had a daughter who was eight years older than I and by following her around I was able to do and see things I never would have with my parents. She and some of the other older kids got everyone together hunting up driftwood and anything else that would burn and we had a huge bonfire on the beach.

There were also summers spent at Fair Haven Beach State Park. My parents marriage was failing and Dad drove us up to Lake Ontario and helped us get set up and then he headed for home and work. I can't remember how long we stayed but being by the beach was heaven for me (and probably hell for my mother.)

After my parent's divorce summers were a lot less carefree and we spent most of the summer on my father and step-mother's farm in North Carolina. I am better for the experiences I had on the farm and there were some fun times, fishing with a bamboo pole and learning about all the animals but there was lots of work too.


This was written for the 76th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, How I spent my summer vacation... a favorite summer memory from your youth. To be hosted by Jasia at Creative Gene.

Time on the Farm

I've mentioned before that most of my childhood memories are a bit blurry. Snapshots of time rather than video if you will. Some of my clearest memories are of the farm my father and step-mother had in North Carolina. They weren't there all that long and my time there only consisted of a couple of summers and one school year.

We never had a pet when I was young. We did have a cat when I was older. On the farm we had all kinds of animals. There were dogs, a terrier that loved to play ball and torment the bull, a collie with a mean streak and a couple of others that didn't stay long. We had some cows, mostly Charolais and a bull named Gordy. There was a hog lot and a smoke house. Chickens, turkeys and guinea hens. Best of all there were also a stubborn pony and quarter horse named Stormy.

I have very few pictures of the farm and none have been scanned yet. You came through the gate at the road and were greeted by two green tar papered tobacco barns. Straight ahead was a gate to the main pasture and just the other side of the gate was a pecan tree. (I can still see that tree and myself sitting under it, cracking nuts that I was supposed to be gathering.) The driveway took a turn to the left and continued down to the yard where there was a single wide trailer and two block buildings, one a smoke house and the other a pump house.

There was also a barn. My father got it in his head that being from the north he had to build a barn with a hip roof. Because it was in the south it was built up on blocks, well off of the ground. I was always under the impression that this was to keep out critters like snakes and rats but I fail to see how this would have stopped them so maybe there was another reason. Dad built it himself with the occasional help of a friend and of course us. The day he decided to but up the big aluminum sheets for the roof I seemed to be the only one around to help so he tied a rope around his middle, tossed it over the center beam and gave me the other end so I could haul him back over if he fell. Thankfully he didn't fall and I didn't get sling-shotted over to the hog lot!

Beyond the barn was the home garden. Up until my time on the farm I was familiar with peas and corn, both of which came in tin cans. We also had iceberg lettuce now and then. On the farm we grew all sorts of things I'd never heard of. There were collards, black-eyed peas, okra and tomatoes. Rows of potatoes and yams. Based on my memories I'd say that the garden had to have been at least half an acre, possibly more. I learned to hoe weeds and kill snakes. I learned how to can.

Our main crop was tobacco, which I've written about as My First Job. During the school year that I spent there I learned to mix the seed with sand and broadcast it in a small bed. Then we worried over it until it was big enough to transplant to the field. The small plants were pulled and laid very neatly in a basket. Then my step-sister and I sat on the back of a contraption that was pulled by the tractor and fed the plants into a wheel as it came around and set the plants in the field. There were several plants missed in the first row but I soon got the hang of it. Everything about tobacco was monotonous and there were days I thought I'd die of boredom.

It wasn't all work. We had a small pond and I can remember fishing with bamboo poles. I don't remember ever catching a fish but I do remember being terrified of both the snakes and snapping turtles that lived there. There was also the horse and pony to ride. What city kid wouldn't be thrilled to ride a horse? After I'd been led around on the horse for some time I was finally allowed to ride by myself in the pasture in front of the house. We started to fly around and it was pure joy. I headed back toward the house and everyone was yelling and waving their arms at me. Just in time I got the message that I was directing the horse straight for the hot-wire fence. It was a long time before I was allowed to ride alone again. Being short I always had a hard time getting on the horse and being younger I usually got stuck with the pony. Funny that I can't remember it's gender or it's name. The pony earned it's keep by pulling a cart and my step-mother also used it to plow one small field that we couldn't get the tractor into. It was a smart pony that didn't like to be ridden. The first time I saddled it myself it swelled out it's chest so that the saddle wasn't as tight as it could be. I put my foot in the stirrup and the saddle slid right around and dumped me in the dust and I swear I heard that pony laugh. There was another time that I decided to ride on my own but the pony had other ideas. We got as far as the road and it took of off for the neighbors yard and right under their pine trees. There was plenty of clearance for the pony but not for me. We ran around the yard twice and then headed straight home.

I also learned the realities of where the meat on the table came from. I couldn't eat chicken for several years. We had a feed lot for the cows that we planned to butcher and learned not to get attached to them. The time came when it was decided to butcher the bull, Gordy. Now Gordy was a very tame bull and more like a pet. He was loaded onto the trailer and Dad took him to the butcher. He came back and filled the freezer. We made it clear that we wouldn't be eating Gordy. So Dad loaded the meat back into the truck and went back to town and traded Gordy for someone else's meat. I suspect that Dad merely drove around or maybe stopped into the feed store to have a good laugh with the guys but we were appeased. There was another time that for what ever reason Dad brought the hogs that had been killed back from the butcher uncut. I remember there being lots of people there to help and we cut them ourselves and I got the job of helping to mix up the sausage and then pack it into casings. No part went to waste but I refused to even try the chitlins, feet or brains that others thought a treat.

Another chore I had was to milk the one Jersey cow we had. Not a fun job by any means. I swear that cow hated me and she could kick! I did love the fresh warm milk. I learned to make butter in a crock with an electric churn.

I learned so much in such a short period of time. I went back to being a city girl. I've lived in ten different homes as an adult and while some of them had nice landscaping I never had any real desire to garden until I moved here. My children are all on there own so I have plenty of time. We ended up here at a very stressful point in our marraige. Gardening has become therapeutic for me and knowing that I'll have the garden to play in helps me get through the very long winters. Up until now I've grown only flowers but today we'll plant a vegetable bed. My grandchildren will always think of me as a gardener and I hope I can pass on some of the things that I learned on the farm to them.



This was written for the 73rd edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, The Good Earth. I'm looking forward to hosting this edition right here at Apple's Tree.

Thank you to footnote Maven for the wonderful poster!

Memories on Monday - Junior Year

Randy has a meme for this week's Saturday night fun at Genea-Musings.

Hey there, genea-funsters! Are you ready for some Saturday Night family history fun? I realize that many of you are reading this Sunday morning or even later, but that's OK. You can still participate.

There is a great meme going around the genealogy community on Facebook right now - it's called High School Survey. It's 25 questions about your high school senior year, so it's a bit long for our purposes here. I've modified it a bit and picked ten questions for you to ponder about your high school years. Here they are, with my responses:

I was "fast tracked" for college so I graduated in my Junior year, on the honor roll and with a Regents Diploma, thank you very much! However, as one of a class of 650, those guidance counselors who thought it would be a good idea to get me out early never found time to help me figure out how I could pay for college so I never went. Instead I worked full time, got married and helped put my husband through school. Anyway, enough whining, here are my answers for my Junior year.

1. What was your school's full name, where was it, and what year did you graduate?
West Genesee High School, Camillus, NY - 1977

2. What was the school team nickname, and what are/were your school's colors?
Wildcats, blue & gold

3. What was the name of your school song, and can you still sing it?
There was a school song?

4. Did you have a car? How did you get to and from school?
I started the year with a new, red, AMC Gremlin. I finished the year with a very cool, bright orange, Chevy step-side pick-up. Both could be found in the teachers lot in the back of the school. I don't know how I never got caught and towed.

5. Did you date someone from your high school? Or marry someone from your high school? Were you considered a flirt?
My ex had graduated the year before before me. We became engaged during the year and I think I was the only girl in the Junior class sporting and engagement ring.

6. What social group were you in?
After I moved back from North Carolina I never really fit in with any group. I only went half days and I had a full time job after school so the people I socialized with were my coworkers and they tended to be a bit older than I was.

7. Who was/were your favorite teachers?
This will drive me nuts all day. My Social Studies teacher was the only one I really liked and I can't remember her name.

8. What did you do on Friday nights?
I worked 1 - 9 at Cooks Department Store and then we might go over to the bar across the plaza and play pong for awhile or we'd go bowling, if my ex was home from school for the weekend.

9. Did you go to and have fun at the Senior Prom?
Nope.

10. Have you been to reunions, and are you planning on going to the next reunion?
I've never been. I'd be invited to the reunions for the class of '77 but the people I might remember were all in the class of '78. I have been to one of John's reunions and had a great time!

Winter in Pictures

It was technically fall when I was born
but winter comes early in CNY.

We have taken many pictures of snow over the years.
This is the house we had when I was born.

Our next house was built into the side of a hill.
Perfect for sledding!

Our house was the place to be in winter.
Do you see the neighborhood kids lined up to take their turn?

As children sledding was pure joy!
This picture of a childhood friend is a favorite of mine.

As kids we thought the blizzard of '66 was great! School was closed and we had huge piles of snow to play in. My parents weren't nearly as happy with the storm. It was at least two days after it stopped snowing until the plow made it to our street. Mom was eight months pregnant and they had a phone list of men in the area that owned snowmobiles. She was very relieved that they weren't needed. You can find more pictures of the blizzard here.


I now find myself living in a place I've dubbed Snowville. The first year we lived here I thought it would never stop snowing but eventually June came ;-) I live south of the east end of Lake Ontario. As the wind blows across the lake it picks up moisture and then dumps it on us, to the tune of 150" or more a year, some years much more. I'm glad we are not on the
Tug Hill Plateau!

I still find the first snow of the year beautiful.

Somewhere along the line I must have lost my mind. My chosen profession is driving a school bus over snow covered roads. I'm the one that gets the bus ready and warmed up no matter how cold it is or how much snow has to be pulled off the hood. Winter is now synonymous with hard work.

As hard as I work, John works harder.
So much for being retired!

While others spend fall raking leaves,
it is usually November when John has to start raking the roof.

The shoveling never seems to end.

Eventually spring does return and
we start to spend time outside again.

The only months that I have not seen snow are June, July and August. We pack a lot into those months to get us through the long winters that we often have.





This was written for the 64th edition
of the Carnival of Genealogy,
A Winter Photo Essay,
to be hosted by Jasia at Creative Gene.