During the career of bringing up my children, while Donald and I were young, working, and climbing the ladder of fame and fortune, we had many house moves. I can only hope it didn't mar Derrick and Dori for life - I know Dori is looking for any small excuse for her self-inflicted, self-named shortcomings. (She has none if you ask me.)
I have 2 favorites and the first is before I was even married. We (my dad, mom, me and 4 brothers) lived in a small frame house in the country. It was probably about 1,000 square feet, had 2 bedrooms, 1 bath and 2 tiny closets. We had a washer for clothes but had to hang them outside to dry. You can imagine the expanse of that clothesline. My mom kept an immaculately clean house; however, I'm almost positive I cultivated a hate for baths at that time (we didn't have a shower in the tub.) Sharing a tub with 4 grimy brothers and my parents just isn't even appetizing thinking about it today. I still to this day take only showers and on the rare occasion I draw bath water I can only spend about 5 minutes there before I start getting an icky feeling (not worth the trouble of gathering all the paraphernalia to have a soothing bath.)
The great move came when my parents decided to build a new 2,500 sq. ft. brick home on the property but a couple of acres away and up on a hill. We moved in right before I was a senior in high school and I thought that was going to up my level of prestige in the Kilgore schools. Apparently, a nice house didn't do it: you had to be a star football player or rich oil kid. I still got a room of my own and a huge closet and I felt like a queen. All of this I enjoyed for about 3 years until I moved away to the big city of Dallas.
Donald and I now live in that little frame house which we have renovated into a beautiful little cottage. The circle of life is pretty amazing. Roar!
My second great move was when we moved back to this little 1,000 square foot house 40 years later. Isn't that a hoot! It is a very peaceful home and we've decorated it in a cottage style. We often have people say if we ever wanted to sell it they would also buy the furniture and decorations. We also have people that knock on the door and ask if it's a bed and breakfast. So we are living a dream and loving it.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Swedish Invasion of Occupied Japan
My Dad was 100% Swede, blond, blue-eyed, looked like Alan Ladd, and 3rd generation American. When we were at war with Germany and Japan, he was actively involved as a "spy" pilot in the Army. The first time he saw me was when I was a year old and that was in San Antonio where he was being treated for war fatigue. After we declared war on Japan and won, he reenlisted (after 2 more kids) and was sent to Occupied Japan. His duty time was for several years and so to be a family my Mom and we 3 kids took an ocean liner trip to Japan. We lived there for a little over 3 years and had many adventures. Some of these are memories of a 5-8 year old kid and some are from my younger brother, Chris, who says he remembers but . . .
We moved quite a bit while we were there - you would wonder, since it is such a small country, why we had so many houses. What I do remember is that they were all mansions because we have the photos to prove it. Some of my memories might actually be influenced by these photos. Many of the Japanese who had lived in these houses gave them up to the soldiers who were now protecting them and we lived better than if we were living in the U.S. We had what they called mamasans (housekeepers) and houseboys (they helped the mamasans.) My Mom must have felt in hog heaven.
The first house was 3 stories slanting down a hillside (looking more like a Japanese Frank Lloyd Wright version.) It had 2 levels of yards, the upper being what you would consider a Japanese garden-type rock garden with shaped bushes and different stone statues. The lower portion of the yard was a large grassy area that you took steps down to get there and seemed like several acres. Outside the gate and fence which protected the perimeter of our house was a wide canal that you could only get to the other side by going over a bridge. On the other side were other houses very similar to ours.
The inside of the house was typically Japanese with paper walls and sliding doors (the Swedish invasion poked many holes in those paper walls.) I believe my brother, Victor, was the one most responsible for the holes. After all, he was only almost 2 years old. While we lived there we went through an earthquake where we had to take cover and a typhoon/tidal wave that destroyed anything close to the ocean. Thank goodness, we were far enough inland that it didn't affect us, but we took many pictures of the destruction. I remember at the age of 6 being really scared. My Dad was flying spy missions over North Korea at the time so he wasn't there to protect us. In fact, he spent most of his time in North Korea, so we lived in Japan mostly alone. My Mom was from a small town in East Texas and she must have been very brave and very in love to travel all that distance to be with my Dad.
One of my brothers was born on the Army base while we lived there. I also attended kindergarten and first grade at the Army base. I traveled there by Japanese train (the transportation mode at that time.) I don't remember that we had a car.
My Mom tells a story about being on that train when an enraged Japanese man, still angry at Americans for Hiroshima, went wild. My Mom, blond and beautiful, and we 4 kids, all blond ourselves (we must have looked like something out of the movies), were immediately surrounded by the other Japanese passengers and protected from the man until the police could subdue him.
Our second house was more spectacular than the first. It had such a large yard that there were several pagodas in the yard, surrounded by a moat of water, and you had to cross over a bridge to get into the pagoda. It was quite a fairyland for a young girl of 6 or 7. There were also stone statues placed throughout the grounds. There were many rooms inside of the house that were off-base for us and now I regret not sneaking into some of them. This house was also surrounded by a concrete wall. There was a little door at the back of the house that we kept locked, but when my Mom wanted to take a short cut we would go through that gate and it was like the opposite of "The Secret Garden." We would suddenly be in the midst of Japanese enterprise that you couldn't hear from inside our concrete world. It was in this house that my brother, Chris, swears my Mom and I would sneak out to the movies after she thought the 3 younger kids were asleep. Chris couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 and I have to give him credit for a really good memory and a grudge held for a long time - he didn't get to go. But I say that's the privilege granted for being the oldest.
My Mom took me to the Japanese ballet a couple of times which is very different from what most people in the U.S. are familiar with because they didn't dance on their toes. The stage scenes were very colorful, flamboyant, and surreal. The dancers' costumes were so colorful and glittery and they fought on stage so there was a lot of activity. It was all spoken in Japanese but that didn't matter because it was very exciting.
We had several picnics on a lake at the base of Mt. Fuji and I remember paddling some kind of boat on the lake, probably a canoe of some sort. It is a memory of a lifetime and whether it's through real thoughts or manufactured ones from photos, it was magical. It might explain my current passion for travel and adventure.
We moved quite a bit while we were there - you would wonder, since it is such a small country, why we had so many houses. What I do remember is that they were all mansions because we have the photos to prove it. Some of my memories might actually be influenced by these photos. Many of the Japanese who had lived in these houses gave them up to the soldiers who were now protecting them and we lived better than if we were living in the U.S. We had what they called mamasans (housekeepers) and houseboys (they helped the mamasans.) My Mom must have felt in hog heaven.
The first house was 3 stories slanting down a hillside (looking more like a Japanese Frank Lloyd Wright version.) It had 2 levels of yards, the upper being what you would consider a Japanese garden-type rock garden with shaped bushes and different stone statues. The lower portion of the yard was a large grassy area that you took steps down to get there and seemed like several acres. Outside the gate and fence which protected the perimeter of our house was a wide canal that you could only get to the other side by going over a bridge. On the other side were other houses very similar to ours.
The inside of the house was typically Japanese with paper walls and sliding doors (the Swedish invasion poked many holes in those paper walls.) I believe my brother, Victor, was the one most responsible for the holes. After all, he was only almost 2 years old. While we lived there we went through an earthquake where we had to take cover and a typhoon/tidal wave that destroyed anything close to the ocean. Thank goodness, we were far enough inland that it didn't affect us, but we took many pictures of the destruction. I remember at the age of 6 being really scared. My Dad was flying spy missions over North Korea at the time so he wasn't there to protect us. In fact, he spent most of his time in North Korea, so we lived in Japan mostly alone. My Mom was from a small town in East Texas and she must have been very brave and very in love to travel all that distance to be with my Dad.
One of my brothers was born on the Army base while we lived there. I also attended kindergarten and first grade at the Army base. I traveled there by Japanese train (the transportation mode at that time.) I don't remember that we had a car.
My Mom tells a story about being on that train when an enraged Japanese man, still angry at Americans for Hiroshima, went wild. My Mom, blond and beautiful, and we 4 kids, all blond ourselves (we must have looked like something out of the movies), were immediately surrounded by the other Japanese passengers and protected from the man until the police could subdue him.
Our second house was more spectacular than the first. It had such a large yard that there were several pagodas in the yard, surrounded by a moat of water, and you had to cross over a bridge to get into the pagoda. It was quite a fairyland for a young girl of 6 or 7. There were also stone statues placed throughout the grounds. There were many rooms inside of the house that were off-base for us and now I regret not sneaking into some of them. This house was also surrounded by a concrete wall. There was a little door at the back of the house that we kept locked, but when my Mom wanted to take a short cut we would go through that gate and it was like the opposite of "The Secret Garden." We would suddenly be in the midst of Japanese enterprise that you couldn't hear from inside our concrete world. It was in this house that my brother, Chris, swears my Mom and I would sneak out to the movies after she thought the 3 younger kids were asleep. Chris couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 and I have to give him credit for a really good memory and a grudge held for a long time - he didn't get to go. But I say that's the privilege granted for being the oldest.
My Mom took me to the Japanese ballet a couple of times which is very different from what most people in the U.S. are familiar with because they didn't dance on their toes. The stage scenes were very colorful, flamboyant, and surreal. The dancers' costumes were so colorful and glittery and they fought on stage so there was a lot of activity. It was all spoken in Japanese but that didn't matter because it was very exciting.
We had several picnics on a lake at the base of Mt. Fuji and I remember paddling some kind of boat on the lake, probably a canoe of some sort. It is a memory of a lifetime and whether it's through real thoughts or manufactured ones from photos, it was magical. It might explain my current passion for travel and adventure.
The Best Garage Sale I've Never Been To
I have a new birdhouse. I've collected them over the years and as they sat outside they've aged, faded or just fallen apart. So I don't have as many as I used to. But I have one now that will be cherished inside never to see the light of day. It's hung in the doorway between my dining room and kitchen and it's special because my oldest grandson, Pearce, gave it to me for Christmas.
It's not a store-bought birdhouse nor is it homemade. Pearce's Dad took him to a garage sale and Pearce, using his own money, shopped very carefully for his Mom and me and then presented each of our presents in gift bags. When I look at that birdhouse, it makes me feel warm, comfortable, loved and gives me good thoughts.
His Mom had a truly emotional reaction when she opened her carefully chosen gift from the garage sale - it was a unicorn. She hasn't collected unicorns in some time, but I'll bet this unicorn will never be tucked away in a drawer. That is, until Pearce gets old enough to beg her to "let it go, Mom". You see, she had the exact same unicorn when she was a child and couldn't believe what the chances were of getting that very one from Pearce (so carefully chosen). He is only 10 but he listens and observes well and I believe he must have been so satisfied with his discoveries and then giving them.
It's not a store-bought birdhouse nor is it homemade. Pearce's Dad took him to a garage sale and Pearce, using his own money, shopped very carefully for his Mom and me and then presented each of our presents in gift bags. When I look at that birdhouse, it makes me feel warm, comfortable, loved and gives me good thoughts.
His Mom had a truly emotional reaction when she opened her carefully chosen gift from the garage sale - it was a unicorn. She hasn't collected unicorns in some time, but I'll bet this unicorn will never be tucked away in a drawer. That is, until Pearce gets old enough to beg her to "let it go, Mom". You see, she had the exact same unicorn when she was a child and couldn't believe what the chances were of getting that very one from Pearce (so carefully chosen). He is only 10 but he listens and observes well and I believe he must have been so satisfied with his discoveries and then giving them.
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