| Author | Message | ||
| Billthompson |
Maryann, I saw your suggestion that I take a trip down memory lane above. I am working on a post in this regard. I actually had one going this afternoon when I remembered this forum is accessable worldwide via the net, so my story went through a little editing to protect the innocent and anyone else wishing to remain anonymous and now the story is a mess. I also see from looking back at some of my previous posts, that a little extra time proof reading and checking spelling would be a good thing. I'll continue to work on it. Bill Thompson | ||
| Maryann |
Hi Bill, It is really fun naming people something different than what their parents have given them! You know, like someone you don't like to well being named after a dog that bit you or a pet porcupine or skunk etc:-)) I mix doing that and maybe a middle name. You are wise to use caution with a story that would/could hurt or embarress someone else:) And yes, it can mess the story up a bit:-(( Fortunately, most of my stories don't have to have pseudo names. I wasn't planning on one last night, Allenette made me do it:=)) ALLENETTE........I now challenge YOU to come up with a memory (NICE ONE:=) from boarding school. I bet you have at least one dandy;-) Maryann Looking forward to your post.......Maryann | ||
| Allenette |
........24 hours later........still thinking..... George? ;-) ;-) ;-) do we burn YOUR academy or mine first? Actually, the girl's dorm at my old alma mater is now, literally a pigsty, and the boy's, a chicken coop. (Not that far removed from the condition it was in when I lived there!) MaryAnn.....here's a MORE positive one: I "Published" a (short-lived) girl's dorm newsletter, 10 cents/issue whatabargain! In order for the principal to let me copy it off on the office copy machine, I put (to me) useless fluff like, what the different swirls on chocolate candy meant. Rebel that I was, ggg, I also listed the current Top 20 from KFYR, Bismarck ND, 50,000 watts of ROCK AND ROLL RADIO which was received by nearly every room in the dorms albeit, by breaking a "THOU SHALT NOT" have a radio! gggg I also published the dorm "mouse count", which tabulated the most mice caught by which room in that rundown excuse for a school. (High count: 32 in a week in one room near the front door.) I really dont know exactly what "expose" caused the principal to refuse me copy priveleges, but, when that happened, determined to not be shut down, I bought one of those old funky gelatin copy thingies that older pastor's wives will remember using in the early 60's, to make the church bulletins. I have told people occasionally about that newsletter, and finally a best buddy from SRA emailed me that she, being a packrat type, still has copies of the damn thing! I am still waiting for her to send me a copy (I dont have one myself) Can this count as a warm fuzzy? ggggg George, your turn, to turn lead into gold ;-) | ||
| Susan |
A good memory huh? I tried so hard to repress those (all 2 of them!). Anyone remember Pathfinders? Remember the huge regional camping events each year (forgot the official name)? Me and my friends had a blast walking by all the other church campsites, checking out the cute guy situation. Also, it was "warm and fuzzy" sitting around the campfire singing. Some of the coldest nights of my life were spent in those flimsy little tents, giggling the night away!!! See, I can find something nice to say after all. | ||
| Billthompson |
Susan, Were they called "camporee" kind of like a combination of the words "camp" and "jamboree". That was the first word that came to mind. I don't know if that is right or not. The campfire singing sticks in my mind too. I fell in love with some girl from another state on one of those trips. I don't think I ever actually talked to her or anything, I was only 10 years old. At the time I thought she was the most marvelous creature I had ever seen in my life. We ended up at the same boarding academy several years later and I was no longer attracted to her in a dating way, though we did become friends. She dated a friend of mine and I dated a girl from her home church and Jr. Academy. We "double dated" occassionally, which in a SDA boarding academy usually means we all sat on the same row at Vespers or some other similar event, same table in the cafeteria, etc. Those are actually quite nice, sweet, innocent memories. Bill Thompson | ||
| George |
Allenette, As soon as I can figure out how to write it so I wont get erased I will wrete it. Yes, burn them. George | ||
| Billthompson |
Susan, You triggered a very different kind memory than what I have been working on for publication here. I've been woring on this big, serious theological treatis of how I once believed in salvation by works but caught my first glimpse of grace as a senior in boarding academy after hearing Morris Venden speak. Thanks for the pleasant, "warm fuzzy" detour. I really needed that! Bill Thompson | ||
| Maryann |
Hi Allenette, Well..........warm fuzzy? No! Really funny fuzzy, Yeh!:=)) That was a great start! Now.....cough up a warm fuzzy:-(( ;-)) I always get a charge out of your flowery versions of boarding academy. I'm soooooo forutunate to have missed that experience! :):):).......Maryann | ||
| Loneviking |
'Warm and fuzzy' and 'boarding academy' are non-sequiturs to me. I tried Monterey Bay during the summer and it was like a prison camp to me. I couldn't wait to escape by going down the beach and jumping on the little blue bus to Soquel or Aptos. My wife has good memories of the place--she graduated from there. Now, I do have REAL good memories of the day academy that I graduated from. The two best years of my life were spent there. Friday night racing quarter miles way out in the country. Or, tailgate parties on the canal behind the drive in theatre which transmitted the sound on am stations. Cross country, school sanctioned road rallies. Halloween water ballon fights all over town (this academy was in a little town in the middle of farm country). Funny, I went to PUC after academy and it wasn't bad at all. I had a real good time there and wound up finding a wonderful lady to love and we're still together. L.V. | ||
| Maryann |
Hi guys, The whole point of this of this thread was to get our heads out of the depths of despair and resentment. As Bobc put it so well, we are re-cycled adventist. That experience was for a reason?! Let's just hunt down the funny, fuzzy, warm goofy, nutty, corny etc experiences and use them as a diving board to new and fulfilling experiences. You guys are doing a great job!;-)) But I still think we can all come up with a happy.......? at least once a month. Maryann | ||
| Maryann |
Hi Loneviking, BTW, I always get tickled at your abbreviated name. For me, L V means Las Vegas as that is where I live:-)) Maryann | ||
| Maryann |
Hi Y'all, I got this on an e-mail and thought it was a great memory from it's author only know as "Pat." A Beautiful Story By Pat The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away. "You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!" "It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned. The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier. That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again. The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt! And so the pattern was set. On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered in under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character. In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attaches, and when it is all over, you will be standing up." I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed. Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer. Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the works "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER." But I didn't stop there. I zig zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official-looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it. Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest myhead. It felt lumpy I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: "Read John 14: 27-29. I love you both, Mother." That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: "I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. You'll find the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me." The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57. I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets. | ||
| Max |
Beautiful story, Maryann. Thanks for importing it. | ||
| Denisegilmore |
Here I am unable to sleep and found this wonderful thread! You all have some great memories and it was a blessing for me to read them. Thank you, Denise P.S. Maryann, in May, at the end of your post you mentioned a song that does hit a soft spot in me. Sentimental Journey. It was and still is one of my favorites with fond memories of my parents. Thank you. gonna take a sentimental journey, gonna take a trip back home.... | ||
| Loneviking |
O.K.,O.K., Las Vegas checking in!:) I was scrolling back up through these posts and got to remembering the camporees in Cal. We had a lot of fun and my club had a great drill team that won several awards. We were trained by an ex-Marine who was a combat vet. He had us doing all sorts of crazy things including monkey drills which impressed everyone. (A monkey drill is three or more columns, each going a different direction until the end when they join up again). There were always girls to ogle, pantie raids to scheme for, amazing mishaps with tents and equipment and lots of highjinks. And of course, our most favorite warped version of the Pathfinder song: Oh we are the Pathfinders weak... We fell in the creek last week... Faithful as we swim along, in truth and nudity... A message to tell to our parents We fell in the creek last week.. And here comes dad with a big fat belt for you and me! HeHeHeHe....I'm feeling so much better! Lone Viking...... | ||
| Max |
We used to call ourselves the Pathlosers. | ||
| Maryann |
Hi Yíall, This is my momís memory through my memory with a few, touch up, questions Iíve just asked her about to re-fresh my re-memory. Back in 1927 when George and my mom was almost 6 years old was the last time she remembered a Christmas like Iím fixiní to re-tell. In the 1920s, Canada was a wide open and free of population and pollution country. Mom was born and raised outside of a little town called Steinbach that she remembers as 40+ miles from Winnipeg. The only language spoken in her home was German. Her family was quite rich in the basic needs of life such as food and shelter as they were farmers. Money, on the other hand, was spread really thin. There was no electricity or running water or indoor toilets! In fact, Mom didnít see her first electric light till she was 12 years old when she went to Winnipeg for the first time! Sometime in Dec. of 1927, Grandma used some of the cream and egg money to buy some special material for Christmas dresses for Mom and her sister. Momís dress was made of a crepe type material. (For you men out there, that is pronounced crape NOT creep!!!!;-) The color was a soft off red that was somewhat shiny with lots of ribbons and most important, a coiled flower on the left side. This was one of those old fashioned long dresses that had the waist attached down on the hip area, (like a silent movie era dress), and this coiled flower was at this spot about hand level. She remembers this flower so well, just fingering it and not believing she really had this wonderful, beautiful on HER dress! With unbelievable slowness, the much anticipated evening, Christmas Eve, finally arrived. Grandpa had the horses hitched up to the sleigh and the family piled in. Mom had 2 sisters and 5 brothers and I have no idea how many still lived at home to piled in the sleigh. We sit here in CA. all warm and toasty and you guyz up in the northern states are also warm and toasty and when you jump in your car and turn the heater on full blast, that too is nice and warm. This was a different story. You see, Grandpa not only was a farmer but builder too. He and Momís brothers had built the Lutheran Church in Steinbach, so were rather prominent citizens. He also provided the Christmas tree for the Church and Grandma got the honor of decorating it. So, on this Christmas Eve, the night was clear and crisp and a mere 20 or 30 degrees below zero! Everyone had on big thick coats, hats and gloves. There were piles of blankets to wrap up in for more warmth and the ìheaterî was turned on. Heater? Yeh, uh huh! The heater consisted of potato sized rocks heated in the stove, wrapped and put on the floorboards to keep the feet warm! That ride is burned into Momís memory. The air was so cold you could hardly take a deep breath. The squeaking of the sleighís runnerís on the snow was like music as the horseís hooves made crunchy sounds as they trotted along. The two miles to the church was the longest eternity of her life. The excitement was nearly unbearable! Finally they arrived! As they walked in, the children went up in the balcony with the boys on the left and the girls on the right. The parents also separated with the men on the left and the women on the right. The Christmas tree was breathtaking. It was in the middle, up in the front of the Church and stood about 16 feet tall! The candles in the Church were turned down low and the Christmas tree was the center of attention with the many, many lit candles in cups that Grandma had placed in it. The preacher in his black gown was at his pulpit that was at the left side and the choir was singing carols with many horn and reed instruments accompanying them. This was the most exciting day of Momís childhood. There was a pile of small, brown paper bags that had much-coveted goodies in them near the tree. The way to earn a bag was to come to the front and recite a verse from the Bible or from a Christmas theme. This, my Mom did along with her brotherís and sister and each were presented with at little brown bag. After the usual, longwinded sermon, they piled back into the sleigh and with the choir music still ringing in their ears, headed home. The crunch, crunch of the horseís hooves in the snow and the squeak of the home made, wooden and varnished sleigh were the only sounds except for the occasional squeal of delight from the children in the cold, clear late night. Upon arrival, the kids immediately dumped the contents of each bag on the long dinner table. The ultimate purpose of course was to see who had the most and what. This was a once a year treat and the bags each held approximately an apple and orange, a few handfuls of different nuts and the biggest prize of all, CANDY! The kids lined it up and compared each otherís loot and traded and tasted the goodies till very late in the night. The next day, Christmas day, Grandpa brought in several large brown grocery type bags full of apples, oranges and nuts to be devoured by the family. This was also a once a year treat as money had to be saved during the year for this occasion. These were their Christmas presents. Mom turned 6, Feb. of 1928 and that was the year her folks became SDAís. This was the last Christmas of this magnitude that she experienced as a child (or even as an adult.) Becoming SDAís brought on a wave of persecution from that small community that lasted through out her childhood. There were only a few other families that became SDAís and they worshipped together when they could but nothing ever equaled that Christmas of 1927! I hope yíall enjoyed this little nostalgic journey with me;-) And Max, thank you so much about ribbing me about the ìpaganî Christmas trees! You brought forth another memory;-) :):):):)........Maryann | ||
| Valm |
What a wonderfully nostalgic story. I am a sap for nostalgic stories and Christmas with all of its trimmings. Thanks. Valerie | ||
| Denisegilmore |
This is the third time that I've opened this thread, fully intending to post memories of my parents and for the life of me, cannot get a word out. I have no clue where to begin, how to word it, and all that. Seems that their memory, very much good by the way, is the hardest one to post about. One day perhaps, I'll introduce you all to my parents. I am very proud of my heritage and I have fond memories. Denise P.S. Maryann and everyone, how is it that you all can so easily write these memories out? I am praying so that I too, can write of my parents. Pray for me please. | ||
| Maryann |
Just pretend that the screen is you best friend and then let you finger's do the talkin';-) THEN GO BACK THE NEXT DAY AND READ THE WHOLE THING BEFORE YOU POST IT!!!!!! Cut if needed! |
