Sunday, January 27, 2008

How old is the RED flour scoop?

A nice quiet day. Christen is on a cooking streak (Christen cook? Does it use a softball?), but Debbie (mom) was down first to get her (Christen) some flour for her chocolate gravy. She lifted the lid to the yellow flour container, reached in and pulled out the old RED flour scoop. She declared then and there that she wanted the old RED flour scoop willed to her! Not sure, but it has to be forty to close to fifty years old.
.............. I was using it back when I had my stainless steel set of containers, which I had been using since we got married March 31, 1962, back before I got the yellow Tupperware set I bought in Dayton, when we lived at 5493 Mithell Drive. It is important to recognize that address because we lived at three different places in Dayton, four if you count temporary quarters (Wright-Patterson Air Fore Base), where we stayed while looking for a house. It is also where we hid our little puppy, Mitsy, from the outside sweltering RED hot heat, to the inside sweltering RED hot heat, cooled by a small oscillating fan........... out of the heat because it was so hot, RED hot, right in the midst of a heat wave that we brought with us from Memphis, on up through Nashville, Louisville, Cincinnati, and right on in to Dayton. It was hot! RED hot! ...........

It was a period of time when I went to so many Tupperware and Home Interior Decorating parties in the mid-70s. I even thought about selling Home Interior there at one time...... went to work for East Dayton Baptist Church instead. I'd never taken typing in shool or college. After I was home from the interview, they wanted me to come back down to the church and do a little short typing *test* for them. It was just to make sure I really knew how to type was the reason I was later to learn...... But I didn't know that when I got out Brenda's portable *hard to punch the keys* typewriter, and practiced before going back down to the church. Nervous? Ooooooo. You bet. I could get up before any number of people and play the piano or organ, but this? Could I type? I did a darn good job as teacher, very strict, teahing myself to type on the church's typewriter at the West Helena Baptist Church, using Lynda Kay's typing book on Sunday afternoons.

That is when I would have been a Sophomore with dreams of what? For sure never dreaming then of living in Dayton, Ohio, twenty years later, married, and with three children.... having lived halfway around the world two different times, two different places...... pianist in just about all of the places we lived (Jamie Dale, you'd be pleased with your student ; ), and organist in some. Me? This flighty, silly, giggly teenager? I was also teaching myself to play the organ on the churh's organ on Sunday afternoons, and some Wednesday evenings between GAs and Wednesday night prayer services, after which we usually went to Nick's Cafe with Lynda Kay's mom and dad. They didn't have a car, but he got to bring the company car home on Wednesday nights beause of their needing transportation to church. Wondering..... Trying to remember..... Did he bring it home on Saturday nights, too, for church on Sunday? Sunday nights were busier, fuller, than Wednesday nights, so the time with the Baileys stands out more clearly than remembering if Mr. Bailey had the car then. Sunday nights........... Ahhhhhhh, no way could we go straight home from church.

I can even remember one time we made it outside after church still with no plans of something to do, no place to go, and one mom, probably mine or Mrs. Bailey, asked if it would hurt anything if we didn't go any place and went home. Oh, my! NO!! I do not know the result of that evening, but I feel, I sense a pouty memory of walking away from the church, shoes shuffling the ground, stirring gravel when it was found..... not a very *lady-like* thing to do. Who thought about being *lady-like* then? Sure, we had to dress right, like a lady, but it didn't mean all our thoughts had to be corralled to be *lady-like* and that overflowed to affect our actions ...... just a teeny, tiny bit..... just a tiny, tiny bit..... tiny bit.....

Like the night I was playing the piano for church; Carole and I had been to the lake to go swimming, and we had just barely made it back in time for Training Union, finally catching a really good breath by the time church started. ::sigh:: *Lady-like* Worried about how I looked? Mama was sitting on the last pew on the piano side. I noticed her looking at me during church. Why? I was a good girl.,
especially when I was on the piano bench. where everyone could see! LOL No talking for me. No chance. No body else wanted to sit down there. So what was the problem? Oh, boy, did I ever find out after church was over! LIPSTICK! I had forgotten to put any lipstick on, and no self-respecting girl would be caught outside the front door without a nice shiny coat of RED lipstick Just look at any advertisement in the mid fifties. Do you see anything less than BRIGHT RED? Yes, we started out light with Tangee, but as with all the maturation growin-up rituals, it was not long before we grew from that to a pale pink, and on, and on, and on..... until..........RED......... and 3 and 3/4 inch heels, RED in them, too, if they matched what you were wearing, but they *had* to match..... and don't forget the RED hat with the little short veil, probably with a few flowers on it.

I'm lost. All I did was try to remember how old the RED flour scoop was..... honest, that is all I did. I had no idea that old RED flour scoop held all those memories. Looking again, I think I see some more memories there in the old RED flour scooop.

Striving for a world without Myasthenia Gravis

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