LIFE AS I KNEW IT

One thing is very true: I learned for more from my students during all those years of teaching than I taught them. Not that they knew any more about the English language or about literature than I, but that I walked into the classroom so naive, so innocent, so protected, so unenlightened about the realities of the world, that every day brought something new into my experiences that I had never dreamed existed.


As I was 'growing up,' I had no idea that not everyone lived like my family and those of my friends. I must have lived the perfect, idyllic life as a child, surrounded by very loving parents and a host of extended family members, the friends of my parents, and the members of our church. I knew nothing of the ugliness that existed in the world outside out little town. Now, I wasn't uninformed. I read the newspaper as soon as I could read. I heard the news on the radio and knew all about World War II (not that I had any idea what that was all about.)


In my family, my daddy got up and went to work every day and came home every night at 5:30, ready to eat supper. And supper was on the table at our house, ready to be eaten. Mother was a terrific cook, preparing all those things that families in the south ate in those days. You will have to take my word for the fact that most of the things on the grocery shelves that we take for granted every day today didn't exist when I was a child. There were canned goods and Wheaties, Cheerios, and Post Toasties, oatmeal and Cream of Wheat. But the shelves and shelves of ready-to-eat snacks of every kind had not yet been thought of and all of the processed foods from Hamburger Helper to cake mix wasn't yet in the stores. Jello was there; but ice cream was not yet.


Supper at our house meant a protein, a starch, a green vegetable, and a salad. Women's magazines blossomed after that war and all kinds of exotic recipes were printed. Mother made tacos. I know that isn't very exciting for you all, but we had never seen tacos at that time except at the El Fenix in Dallas where we ate when my aunts from California came to town. Oh yes, part of that extended family lived in very exciting places and when they came to town, there were big dinners with aunts and uncles and cousins everywhere. I loved it when Aunt Jessie came from Reno. She had a big, full length fur coat. I would put it on and parade all over the bedroom, looking at myself in every mirror and imaging the day when I would have my own fur coat and drive across the Golden Gate Bridge in my yellow convertible.


Life in my family was quiet and contented. We didn't have stacks of things, no electronic toys to keep us isolated from the rest. We had one radio in the house... AM of course... that played "The Early Birds" in the morning,  "Stella Dallas" and "Ma Perkins" in the afternoon, "Gunsmoke" on Saturday night, "Jack Benny" on Sunday night, and all kinds of programs all through the week. Yes, there was children's programming. On Saturday morning, we had "Let's Pretend" and on weekday afternoons, "The Lone Ranger" and "Sky King." We would sit around the radio or let it play while we worked in the same room with it and we were contented.


My daddy would bring brain games to the table at night, quizzes and other 'stump the kid' stuff. And I had the states and their capitals right along with my mother's home made hamburgers. I learned them too! And people from the Bible, the rivers in the United States, the countries in South America, and everything he could find in between.  And before I was ten, I could spell those rivers in the north, the Mononghela, the Susquehanna, and the Allegheny. All without a computer, just two very intelligent parents who made certain that we learned everything we possibly could.


Soft drinks were a true luxury. Once in great while, my mother would give me a quarter  and I would walk down to the little store and bring back a carton of Dr Pepper. One swallow of that strong, icey drink would tickle my nose while at the same time I loved that sweet  taste. Whenever my California aunts came to town, they wanted Dr Pepper and that meant I had some also. And when they came to town, we went out to eat. There was one cafe in the small town where I lived, one little cafe that served exactly what you think it did, chicken fried steak, fried chicken, pot roast, fried fish,  baked ham, and hamburgers with potatoes, peas, green beans, and tomatoes. There was absolutely nothing exotic in my life.


Life was very easy. We had no problems that I knew anything about at all. Our little town didn't even have a policeman. We didn't need one. While my daddy read the newspaper each night, I lay on the floor beside him and read the sections when he dropped them to me as he finished. My greatest ambition (aside from the yellow convertible and the long flowing hair blowing in the wind) was to live in one of the apartments that were always listed for rent in the Want Ads and have one of the puppies I read about being for sale. It was a wonderfully quiet life, filled with family and good things and I was a much loved and very happy little girl who loved strawberries and paper dolls and had never heard an expletive in her entire life. That was not what I found when I began teaching.

THE COMING OF SPRING

From long years past, I have loved spring more than any other time of the year. Everyone else longs for fall and sings of the glories of that time of the year. But for me, spring is the glorious time that makes the heart swell. I have loved spring ever since those central Texas college years when the coming of spring brought with it hills covered in bluebonnets, bright blue skies that stretched from horizon to horizon, and long darkening evenings warm enough to stay out and enjoy the sounds coming from open dormitory windows all across the campus. It is still a profound memory.  I loved those sounds in the night: bits of conversation drifting through the dark, the distant sound of a practice room piano mingling with a nearby radio, a dog's bark, an insect's whir, laughter, and the peaceful quiet that settled over all as night settled over us. That is how my love of spring began.


And now, on that first day when I see the silver green that lines the branches of the winter bare trees, I claim spring and begin to look for all the vestments that spring wears. All this I saw this week as I drove down my very favorite Fort Worth street, Ridglea Blvd. Ridglea is the artery that leads me from the area in which I live to Camp Bowie; and it is lined with lovely, older homes, built ins a time when the bathrooms were small but the lawns were large. I have driven that street now for nine years, weekly when not daily; and I seem to know every home, every tree, all the flowers that line the street. And Monday, the trees showed that silver green and by today, trees were filled with flowers and others were showing their leaves as green. I was excited by this coming of spring.


When spring comes, I  celebrate it in my way. What do I do? I buy daffodils at Tom Thumb. You  all get out and dig in the dirt, plant herbs and flowers, and consider your gardens. Not having a garden, I buy daffodils, lots of daffodils. When they sell for $2 a bunch of 10, I may buy as many as 50 to put in vases throughout my apartment and enjoy. For me, the daffodils are the sign that spring is here and the bleakness of winter is gone. It may yet blow wet and cold for one last time, but I do not care. Daffodils are in my house, spring is definitely here, and I am completely happy.

SO MANY APOLOGIES

This is for all of you who have followed and left comments and wondered just where my responses were....... When I stopped writing, Blogspot stopped telling me that anyone had commented and that meant that every day I should have checked every message. I simply didn't do it. All that I can do is tell you how very sorry I am about that. I absolutely did not know you had written, commented, questioned, or responded in any way. As one who also follows and comments, I know that I wonder whether the writer ever sees what I have to say. Well, this one didn't. That will not happen again, for Blogspot has begun sending out emails regarding every comment and even those land in my junk folder, I can find them online in my blog; and that will help me see them and respond. And so, I hope you do respond if you read something you like. I know there will be those who respond when I express an opinion with which they disagree and so I ask those of you who like what you read to also comment when you want to. I never know what new acquaintance I may meet online that will become a life long friend. It has happened to me once and I know it could happen again.

THE PANTS I LOVED

Sometimes, just for the pure enjoyment of the thing, I "window shop" online. Most of the time, that means gong to Zappos to look for shoes. These days I am fairly well limited in my choice of footwear since I gave up high heels about 2005. I just quit wearing them and haven't put on any since. I have some, but I keep thinking I might fall over! Anyway, I was wearing Berkii's until a bone in my foot moved and they hurt in that one place. I gave them all away.. These days, I wear Clark's. Now, I have been wearing Clark's since sometime in the early 80's and I do love them on my feet. .. and they are wonderfully comfortable and so good for the feet., but I want more choice than can even be found in Fort Worth. You all know me: I want color!


Of course, I "window shop" at QVC and regularly fill my "Wish List" with all kinds of things I like and want and might one day buy.  If you were to look, you would find not only shoes, but clothes and jewelry and kitchen goodies. There is an enormous choice there on QVC and I love that. For example, I was looking for a particular pair of pants and discovered that on QVC.com, I had a choice of over 1900 different pants.....  And I didn't find what I was looking for! But they will have it before long and I may finally find what I am looking for. Believe me, they know what I want, as I have told them several times, mentioned it in response to blog postings from them, told them on FB... but all that is not the theme of this.


You see, I went to Neiman Marcus's  website to shop. Yes, I know I couldn't afford what I found, but I needed to see that what I wanted was out there, and in good taste, and fashionable. (Well, I didn't want to look trampy or hicky or old!) Besides, for years, Neiman's was on Camp Bowie and was what I thought of as my neighborhood department store. Camp Bowie had Monnig's and Cox's and Neiman's and for a while, Meacham's;  and I loved it all. But that was a very long time ago. When Neiman's moved to Ridgmar Mall, it was built at the very end of the street on which I now live. It is still my neighborhood store and I do shop there as much as I shop anywhere. I always have. It was never that big of a deal with us to go there to find something. In fact, David used to laugh that his clothes came from Neiman's and Sear's and that was just about true.


Anyway, back to my online shopping trip. At N-M, I put in a search for pants and a page of 36 photos of gorgeous models in terrific pants came up, with 28 more pages just like that behind it.... That is a lot of pants from which to choose, almost as many as QVC carries. I was quite surprised. but just looking at the page as a whole knocked my socks off. The variety of styles and the colors drew me in and I had to see some of them... And I began to look. From time to time, I would choose one and really get a good look at it. Those of you who have never shopped at Neiman's need to understand that there are things there you can afford and those things do not cost anymore than they would at Dillard's or any other department store. They are simply in a nicer setting in the store and put into a dress bag from N-M when you take them home. I love it in there.


Somewhere on page 22, I found something I wanted. I even clicked on it and went to look at it. It was a gorgeous pair of slacks with a tunic to match. I knew there was no way I could ever have it. But were money not a question, I would have ordered that beauty right then and there. I just cannot see me paying almost a thousand dollars for the tunic and a little less for the pants even if it was silk which I dearly love and purple which you know I prefer to wear. No, fifteen  hundred dollars was a little much for something absolutely beautiful  to wear.... where?  Central Market? That would be a little crazy. Walking through produce in $1500 of purple silk would terrify me. Out to dinner? Can you see me dropping Mexican food down the front of that? To church? No one would notice it was anything more than a lovely outfit and so I could wear it to church. I would know that it was silk and that I loved it. I would also know that it was pure foolishness to have done such a thing. I would feel so guilty. And so instead of thinking about buying the purple silk loveliness, I decided to write about it and share it with you. And so, the pants I loved....

By the way, these were not the pants I was looking for at QVC, but I did see something like them and I know that what I want is in good taste and being shown by the best.

CAMP BOWIE

I know that most of you live somewhere where you have some area which you think of (but probably do not call "downtown" or "in town" unless you live in a small town; but having grown up in a small town and lived from time to time in small towns, I think of Camp Bowie as my "downtown." Now, if I lived in England, I would simply call Camp Bowie, "High Street," because that is what it really is. And always has been. In fact, were it in England, it would probably have a market cross.


For those of you who don't live here, you should know that Camp Bowie is that long street on the map that cuts a slash across the nicely ordered matrix of the neatly laid out streets and leaves oddly shaped blocks all along the way. In 1917, the War Department established 2000 acre Camp Bowie, west of Fort Worth, as the home for the 36th Army division and the urban planner directing the development of the area between downtown and the camp, drew the grand nine mile long boulevard across the area. After World War I was over, the army moved away and the area was developed with the city planting 700 trees along the street; and in the 1930's the thousands of red bricks with which we are all so familiar were laid to make Camp Bowie the paved connection between downtown and the West side.


Today, when you drive along Camp Bowie, something of all the history is still there. Camp Bowie begins in the cultural district and is lined with everything that makes Fort Worth my favorite city. Kimball Art Museum is a jewel box for our city, containing masterpieces of world art, where everyone can find something he enjoys, even if only the wonderful homemade soups, breads, sandwiches, salads, and desserts of the Buffet Restaurant.


Along my street, you can find everything you  need... and most everything you might want, from extremely expensive antiques to long established tattoo shops, from the ubiquitous Walgreen's to the very exclusive Haltom's Jewelers. Although every time I drive down the street I see some new shop I want to explore, my usual reason for going over to Camp Bowie is Tom Thumb, my every day grocery store! 


When I was young, Tom Thumb was the grocery store in our little town where my mother bought groceries and so I simply continue that. Of course, ownership of the store has changed from being a local independent, to ownership by Randall's, and now  it is owned by Safeway. But it is a very special division of Safeway and aside from the gourmet Central Market, has the very best produce and meat counters in town. Besides, since I have been buying in there for almost 20 years, everyone there knows me by name and they make me feel very special. As Alton Brown says, you need to know your grocer and he needs to know you. You need a butcher who will take the time to answer your questions about the meat in his case and who can do the specialty cuts and the preparations you sometimes need for an entree presentation. I have two of those at Tom Thumb who at Christmas found me a beautiful beef loin roast and then put it on sale just for me. The guy in produce knows that I want a particular seedless watermelon this summer and he says he will be watching for it (It tastes like the old Black Diamond). When I asked the baker about a specific cookie they make there in the store, he went to the back and brought out a piece of cardboard torn from a packing box with the recipe written there with a Sharpie and a punched hole where they had hung it over a nail on the wall. I now have that recipe in my computer and I know how to bake those cookies And my pharmacist is almost another member of my family. And that, my dears, is why I drive Camp Bowie to go to Tom Thumb for my groceries while all of my neighbors go down the street to Albertson's, where nobody knows them...


And thus begins my tales of why I love Camp Bowie, my High Street. Wait until I tell you about the neat boutiques and shops on my street and the goodies inside.

HOME AGAIN

Here I am again, back to the writing. This time, I won't restrict myself to writing about my sewing or cooking, but I am going to write just to satisfy myself. I will write about cooking and food and sewing and clothes, but also about my David, maybe about my dog, about my favorite places to be, about Fort Worth. I will try to avoid politics and other controversial topics as much as I can (You all know that an opinion will sneak in from time to time about all kinds of things, particularly TV!) So, I am back. I will begin tonight  and you are invited to come back and read.... I simply have to write all the things I keep wanting to talk about! And since LC is possibly tired of hearing me talk, you all will get to read.... please, read.