Looking out my window...

Ice Skating For The Last Time

 

The photograph you're viewing is of me at Lunt Park in the Chicago neighborhood of Rogers Park, Illinois. It was, to my recollection, taken by my father's father, who everyone called Pops. There is a story to why he was called Pops, but that is for another time. He took many photos of me as I was the only grandchild for five years. I would like to add that I "shopped" this photo. His photo looks better, which is often true for originals. But I'm keeping it to myself.

You don't see "snow suits" like that anymore. The photo is in black and white. I don't remember for sure, but navy blue pants and light blue jacket feel right. Mittens, of course, would match the pants.

I'm smiling, because I was directed to, but also because I loved ice skating. And I loved attention, no matter what the form. The thing I don't know is was it taken when I could or couldn't skate? I've always thought it was taken when I could skate. The last winter I would enjoy skating.

Let me remind you that I'm writing from memories. Memories are often not the truth of what happened.

Lunt Park was an old park and typical of Chicago wonderfully constructed. In the center was a largish gravel/sand play area often used for ball games and "field" day races. In winter it was filled with water to create a place for ice skating. On one side a line of wooden slat swings for older kids. On another side, for babies, wooden swings that looked like the tops of highchairs. The third side was full of metal monkey bars, parallel bars and other wonderful things for me to climb on and hang from. All the while, even as a girl wearing sun dresses, I had fun being upside down.

And then, the grandest of all, on the fourth side was the Field House. Made of red brick it gave us shelter from rain, sun and cold. During warm seasons the huge wooden doors were removed to display a sandbox under half its roof. I don't remember it being used to build sand castles, but rather "Mother May I." Now that was a game. Usually about ten or more girls played in the sand. Mother may I take a giant scissor step, Mother may I take a baby step. Mother may I take a cartwheel. May I take two... OOPS! The sand is what allowed us to expand the game to such great feats.

In the winter, those doors stayed closed and the other half was opened. I would enter through a normal sized door and either put on my ice skates or just warm up when needed.

The first time I went to the park to skate I put on my skates, carefully walked over to the ice and began skating like future gold medalist Peggy Flemming. I flew across the ice, forward only. It was a wonderful feeling. And, when winter ended, I looked forward to the end of summer and fall so I could learn to skate backwards the next winter.

My skating for the first time pre-dates Dr. Jonas Salk's development of a vaccine for poliomyelitis (polio). And during the summer, after a day of playing with friends under the water sprinkler, I came down with polio.

During the night I developed a fever and couldn't bend my head down. Our doctor was called. He came and drove me to the hospital. (Do Doctors do that any more?)

I was placed in a room by myself (isolation). Anyone who came in the room had to wear a mask. I wasn't allowed to have a pillow... something to do with my spine. My parents worked but visited when they could. My mom brought me my favorite doll, Tiny Tears, but after it fell on the floor they took it away. I was lonely and afraid. But mostly BORED! The rooms were separated by a half wall with glass on the top. There was a young boy in the room next to me. We could see each other but that was about it. For some reason we couldn't sit up so to pass the time we created the game of following each others feet on the glass. One of us hit the glass too hard and it broke. It had to be me because the glass was on his side. We were both too scared of the nurses to call out, so we just stayed still in our beds.

Fortunately my mom came to visit soon after the window breaking. She looked at the window. She looked at me and started screaming. "Nurse, Nurse...she's bleeding." I looked down at my feet. I started screaming. On the way down from the window I had cut my ankle quite deeply... lots of painful stitches later I was moved to another room. This time I was in a crib. How demoralizing, Then came steaming pieces of wool which were pinned around me everywhere. I hated them. Later in life I found out I was allergic to wool. I thought I was being punished, but in reality it was the next stage of treatment.

I thought all the hospital people were there to hurt me because I was bad. I apologize to them now. They must have been trying so hard to help the polio kids without knowing how. Kids were paralyzed. Kids were put into lung machines because they couldn't breathe without them. And some kids died.

I was very lucky. Yes, I had to go back for physical rehab. But, it was rehab for my cut ankle. When I returned to school in the fall, the kids made fun of me because of the way my foot would swing out to the left with each step. And, again lucky, the rehab worked. I was left with nothing that anyone could see to tell them I had been so sick and had a wonky foot.

But, I knew. That winter I went back to the park to ice skate. I couldn't. My ankles wouldn't hold me up anymore.  But, I was okay. And as soon as I could wear my sun dresses again, I went back to the park, hung upside down and played Mother May I.

"Over 35" Category

 
Cartoon By Anderson From My Blog 05/28/11

 

This cartoon is/was on my Blog as part of the design. It spoke to me.

After all, I am an old printer, with hopes of having fresh, new thoughts on at least a daily basis. Ok, maybe a weekly basis.

Perhaps the cartoon "spoke" to me today because, due to medication changes, I appear to be missing a few "dots."

Let's ponder on that.

"The Girl Who Had Everything" - Elizabeth Taylor

 
Elizabeth Taylor: "Lassie Come Home" 1943

Elizabeth died today at 79. Whenever someone mentions her name I think of the Elizabeth Taylor as seen in the above photo. Not Cleopatra.

When I was a little girl I watched a lot of "old" movies. Some known as "B" movies. I fell in love with Cary Grant. Some had child stars of the time including Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, and Taylor. I liked Elizabeth especially because of her voice and that she and I shared the features of dark hair and a plainness of face.

I also liked her later movies before the jewels and glitter of "Cleopatra." Her mother was an actress and so was she. Not just a pretty face. She did marry a lot. Her average marriage lasted five years. I don't know why. I don't think she suffered from the Marilyn low self esteem. She was a strong and passionate woman. Perhaps too strong for the men of her time. I don't know.

I do know she will be missed by many people for many different reasons.

Weather Alert: Blizzard of Snow and Ice Blankets Midwest

Path From Front Door thru Patio.
Photo by Sharon.

Blizzard Snow Covers Patio.
Photo by Sharon.
 

Blizzard Snow Looking Out Window.
Photo by Sharon.

  
Blizzard Snow Looking Out Window at Sculpture.
Photo By Sharon.

 
Blizzard Snow on Cone Flowers.
Photo by Sharon.

I hope you enjoy these photos. My wish was to put enough time between the actual storm and the photos to let the hardship that so many experienced to fade.

For my part, since I am found at home most of the time, I enjoyed the storm. Let me add, however, it did stir not so old memories of my commuting when I worked.

First the drive on icy and drift covered streets to the train station. Then, more likely than not, slip and fall on the outside train platform. Too early to be shoveled. Then wait for a train. Probably delayed because it runs from an electrical wire that will ice up and come down. Once on the train, hoping the heat works. Arriving at destination station, if all goes right, at least an hour late. Then walking through the underground tunnel to get to the other side of the street. For semi-claustrophobics this is not an easy task. And, for the final act, walking from the station to the office building door, holding onto a rope the city so kindly provided to keep from blowing and sliding in the wrong direction.

So, I am aware of storm hazzards. In fact, I did do some preparation for the storm: collected candles and matches, charged cell phone and ipod, bought extra food, made sure more blankets were available and called daughter to make sure she was also "ready."

Then, get under the covers and watch tv until the electricity goes out. Fortunately, for us, the electricity did not go out. And, we woke up to the beauty left behind as the blizzard headed eastward.

My motto: Be prepared and go to sleep!

Time Marches On...@ The Speed of The Internet

This is for everyone who 1) is not a computer nerd or, 2) is one of my grandchildren (the oldest is currently 17):

 I found the above video on Roger Ebert's Twitter. Thank you Roger.

 

"Remember when" has a whole new meaning these days. "Back in the day" use to mean, oh, maybe a generation ago. Okay, the above video is only 17 years old. And, these are not "hill people" but savvy New York journalists.

Guess what? Time is moving even faster now. It's kinda like living in a time machine...only you can't go backward...yet. 

You Took My Dreams From Me...

 

My friend Janice sent this to me. I've never heard of the group or the singers. But, she does not send me uninteresting things. Usually, good things. And so I watched and listened. I hope you will do the same.

What I particularly reacted to were the lyrics toward the end:

I could have been someone.
Well, so, could anyone. You took my dreams from me, when I first found you.
I kept them with me Babe, I put them with my own, can't make it alone, I built my dreams around you.

I do like the sound of Irish music. Even the happy songs are sad. Which, to my way of thinking, is the truth. Any happiness we have, upon close inspection, is often the result of something sad. You can't have one without the other.

Anyway, back to the video. The singer Shane MacGowan seems to be a wee bit wobbly due to a drop or two of gin. And, of course, the woman singer is the stable one. (Am I just personalizing this?)

My first husband. Cue for the Chief to say "You were married before"? Yes I was. Continuing... my first husband was an intelligent, talented man. I had dreams of my own of "making it" in something. I just hadn't figured out what that something was. And so, like many women, I let him take my dreams to add to his own. You know, the woman behind the man kind of thing. That was, after all, the philosophy I grew up in.

Unfortunately, he was also an alcoholic and a wife abuser. We did have happy times, good times. But, the bad and sad were becoming more frequent. These were the times before "wife abuse" was considered wrong and not acceptable. After almost nine years I finally had the courage to leave him. That courage was my baby daughter. If not for her, I probably would have stayed even longer.

Back to the video. I was so curious about the singers I looked them up on Youtube and watched Shane as he swirled down an abyss of gin. Losing his teeth. Unable to speak clearly. Yet, remembering exactly the words to his songs as he sang.

The female singer is Kirsty MacColl who at 41 died a horrible, but courageous death at 41. They were not partners from what I can tell. I'm glad for her.

My dreams went with my ex. I was a single mom with a baby to support. And so, I did what I had to do and that was to work and survive.

I was curious about my ex recently. He had hit hard times in the past, literally lying in the gutters of Chicago. He rehabbed several times. I had not seen nor heard from him in an eternity. I decided to search his name on the internet. I found him. I found his obituary. He died about four years ago. That was a jolt, leaving me as the only one with those memories. Sad. I'm sure this is a feeling experienced by widows.

Now, some thirty-five years after leaving him, I have a loving husband, daughter and three grandchildren. I have survived many things, including cancer.

And, I think I have reclaimed my dreams. You can see them in my blog.

Twas A Time When I...

I started to tweet on twitter when I discovered that my hero Roger Ebert is a tweeter extraordinaire. Well, actually, I "read" twitter. And I still basically "read" twitter as I follow several people that I enjoy. Some people are just so clever, smart, talented, meaningful, snarky, funny, sad, neurotic but lovable...well you get my drift. You can throw me into any of those categories or make up your own category for me. I do tweet, but limited to a comment, mostly, here and there. Unless I'm mad about something!

The video below was tweeted by Roger. He always gives his best. I'd never heard of this group, but I may be culturally deprived. It does that thing I like so much...quietly...very slowly....drawing you...in...until you... say..."Oh!".

I hope you enjoy.

 

I once played the ukulele. Started with the little one and eventually went to the alto (slightly larger and deeper). I also played the guitar. My dad basically taught me how to play folk songs and such. I played and sang almost 200 folk songs by heart. I even took classical guitar lessons for a couple of months. I was branching out from playing classical piano. I really enjoyed my music. I could play and I could sing. Now I try to sing something and my voice goes all wobbly. After eight years of  piano lessons, even a semester in college, I basically just stopped. I couldn't play the guitar now, my hands wouldn't work.

Looking back, there were so many different things I've done in my life. Some intensely done. Some not. But after stopping one thing, something else will take its place. Not on purpose, you understand, but it just happens. I come from a talented family and I probably couldn't live long enough to "let out" all those talents. But, they are there waiting.

Waiting for me to discover them...do them...and move on. 

Bridge Over Troubled Water

 
Drainage Pipe Photo found on internet.

Are you afraid of something? I mean like a phobia of a specific thing? Do you remember how you found out you were afraid? One horrible winter day, when I was in my very early teens, I had an experience I will never forget.

My girlfriend and I decided to take a walk from the older side of town to a new addition that was being built. In between the two locations was a vast wild field. A small creek flowed through the meadow, although we did not know it at the time. "Cuz this was an adventure!"

There was about six inches of snow over the ground, blown away in some parts, with high drifts in others. Even so, do you think we wore boots? Ha! Never on your tintype. As we walked along, our feet would sometimes break through a crust of ice between the snow and the ground, and our shoes would get wet from the melting ice beneath. The walking was hard work and it would take a bit of time to get to our destination.

About three-quarters of the way we finally came upon the creek. Now that I think of it, it was probably a drainage ditch rather than a creek. But, creek sounds better for the story. It was about 20 feet across with an immediate drop to about four feet below. The water was frozen.

We would never have dared to walk across it, knowing that the ice would probably break. But, we were in luck. There was a huge cement pipe coming out of the ground, going across the ditch, and entering the ground on the other side. It was a huge pipe, maybe four to five feet in diameter, making it easy peasy to cross. Aha, a bridge!!!

My friend went first. Not slowly, but carefully, as I watched. Okeedookee, my turn. I took a few steps and got out almost to the middle when I looked down. I don't know what happened to me, but I couldn't move any further. My friend yelled at me to "come on." But, I was frozen in place. "I can't!" I yelled back.

And, I couldn't. Standing there, my two feet secured themselves on the cement pipe, my arms out to my side like a circus tight rope walker. Nope, those feet weren't about to go anywhere. I think I was in a state of mortal fear. "Walk!" she said. "I can't move!" I answered.

And, there we were. But, where was superman when I needed him. "Go baaaack!" she said. "I can't move!" I answered. I couldn't even move my head. I was like one of those wax figures in Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.

Time stood still.

I was frantically thinking I had to do something. But, what? I finally decided to lower myself down on the pipe so I would be straddling it, rather than standing. "Good, crawl over to me!" she said. "No, I can't!"

I ended up butt walking, more or less, backwards to the beginning of the pipe and was able to crawl onto the ground. I could breathe once more.

I had been terrified, helpless and cold. I couldn't feel my feet anymore. My face was covered with frozen tears. I needed my mommy.

My parents weren't home that day. Fortunately, the minister of my church lived close by. We stopped there. I told my sad story through more tears. Telling him that my feet were frozen and I feared frostbite. He and his wife took care of me very tenderly and seriously. Just the right combination for dealing with a young teenager: I felt loved and I was being taken seriously.

So, that's my story about discovering I was afraid of heights. Well, not exactly heights. Just anything above ground level. Even today, if I am going down or up stairs, I suffer from vertigo. And, don't even ask me about driving in the mountains!

My regret is, I never had an opportunity to tell Alfred Hitchcock my story. I think it would have made a good movie.

Oh, and what brought all this to mind is a video that my dear Roger Ebert had on his blog. Hold on and enjoy.

 

Happy, Happy Birthday Baby!

October is my blog's birth month. Started it in October of 2009.

Probably never thought I would still be blogging after a year. If you go back to the first few blogs I wrote, you'll read about someone who had no idea why or what they were doing. I still don't.

But, this I do know. People are reading my posts. People are enjoying them. People have smiled while reading them. And people have written back to me.

My age is a secret. Only my husband, my mother, sister and brother know for sure when I was born. But, I am old enough to have memories. Yup. I have lived long enough to have memories, stories and lessons to remember. One of these days, I will trip up and remember something that is older than I am. And, that's when other people will know.

This may be one of those memories.

Pink and charcoal gray were very popular colors at one time. Felt skirts with loads of crinolines underneath. Collars of blouses turned up in the back. Hair styles called "D A's."  I had little bells on my "gym" shoe laces for basketball games in High School.

I never got bullied. But, I never fit in. I felt I wasn't pretty enough for the boys to like me. I wasn't smart enough to be in the "egghead" group, but I was too smart for the popular group. My collar was turned up and I identified with the "hoodies." But, I really didn't fit in there either.

"It gets better" is the new campaign for kids that are bullied. And it does. Once I got out of High School and into College everything changed for the better.

And then came last October 2009. Little did I know at the time I would find an other, newer format to use what creativity I had. And, that was to write. Write short posts on something called a "blog." And I found it because my health had deteriorated. I had taken an early retirement when all my sick, personal, and vacation days were used up at work. I had always worked at a job. Always. I decided to volunteer. Learned how to edit videos for local television.

And then another health blow: Fibromyalgia. It's a disease that hurts somewhere or everywhere. Movement causes pain. So I choose my activities very carefully. I enjoy being on my computer. I stay inside most of the time. I enjoy looking out my windows. And, I love blogging. I could focus on all the things I'm missing. I prefer to enjoy what I can do.

So the following is in honor of my blog's birthday. Be forewarned that while you are listening, I just might be dancing the "stroll."

Join me.

The Tune Weavers - Happy Happy Birthday Baby (Checker records) on 78 rpm! From 1958.

 

Falling Colors Fall's Delight

 
Gussie's Tree Fall of 2010.
Photo By Sharon. 

 
Fall Geraniums With Prairie Grass 2010.
Photo By Sharon.

 
Fall Geraniums in Patio Pot 2010.
Photo By Sharon

 
Linden Tree Fall 2010.
Photo By Sharon.

 
Linden Tree Fall One Day Later 2010.
Photo By Sharon. 
 
 
Tree Across The Road Fall 2010.
Photo By Sharon.

The memories of Fall are of color, scent and sound. Varying shades of red, orange, yellow and brown. Wisping trails of smoke signals from down the road. Crunching foot steps through the piles.