The 4th

Each summer of my childhood we left LaMarque about the 29th of June to drive to Washington State.  As far as I was concerned Washington was the Promised Land.  We got up at 4 am to head for Raton, New Mexico which was our first night's stop.  There were no LaQuinta's or chain motels along the way.  We never stopped at a motel that had colored neon lights.  Dad said that was sign they were hiding something with the colored lights.  When we did find a place to stay,  my dad and the manager would go to the room for dad to inspect it, and it if it was clean and met the standards, we stayed there.  We usually didn't get there until 9 PM or so.  Dad said it was important to make the first day "count".

From there we headed to Cheyene, Wyoming.  We got into Cheyenne much earlier and were able to go to the museum, shop and just mainly relax.  We never ate at "hamburger joints" as my mother called them, but rather had sit-down meals at restaurants along the way.  My mom had the say on where we ate.  When we stopped and got a coke, it was a real treat.  Dad liked driving across Wyoming because there were usually "gas wars". You would pass a station with gas for 22 cents a gallon and a few miles down the road another station would have it for 19 cents a gallon.  On a 2500 mile trip it was nice to get a good deal once in a while.

The third night we stayed in Twin Falls, Idaho at a quaint little place called the Colonial Inn.  We had been there every summer since I was 3, so the owner remembered us.  It was a white building in a U-shape with colonial columns all around the front.  In the back there was a garden of several acres and a huge above ground swimming pool.  There were also many pet cats on the grounds. Each one had a name and was well loved.  I loved the Colonial Inn.  After being trapped in the car for three days I could get out and run play with the cats and of course swim.  There was a restaurant we could walk to next door.

We got up early the next day for the final day of the trip.  Dad had the trunk open as we each brought our bags to him.  He had the rule that everyone was in charge of their own stuff.  Finishing loading he closed the trunk and we all got in.  As we were waiting to turn onto the road, I could hear noises from the trunk, I listened closer and was sure I heard a meow.  "Dad? Are you sure you didn't lock one of the cats in the trunk?"
"Of course not!"
"Well I can hear one meowing!"  We were about a block from the Colonial Inn. He agreed to stop.
Before he got the trunk completely open, a cat shot out of the trunk like it had been fired out of a cannon.  He was running as hard as he could down the road, as we stood there we saw him cut through the trees by the motel.
"Do you think that had happened before?" I asked my dad.
"Probably...he knew right were to turn!"

 It was a long drive from Twin Falls, to Qunicy, Washington where my grandmother lived.  There were lots of wide open spaces and fortunately by father drove by landmarks and knew exactly where the next gas station would be  We would usually make it in to Quincy about midnight.  We would stop by my grandmother's house, if the back door was open we would slip in as quietly as possibly.  The hide-a-bed couch in the living room wold be made up for me.  Mom and Dad would slip into the extra bedroom.  Just was the last light was turned out.  My grandmother would say, "Goodnight".  I would squeal, the lights would come on as we all got up to hug and talk until I fell asleep.

The next day we would all get up and start cooking. The big family reunion was on the 4th of July.  Mom helped Grannie make the salads and pies, I got to help by cutting cookies and timing them in the oven.  Dad and I also climbed the cherry tree in the front yard to get the cherries for pies, making sure not to eat too many, as we picked.

My mother only had three brothers, but my grandmother was the 2nd of 11 kids.  From the oldest to the youngest in her family was 33 years.  After about her 4th sibling, they were the ages of her own children and younger.  My mother had aunts and uncles that were more like brothers and sisters. That meant I had Mom's three brothers and their wives as uncles and aunts, then I had ten more sets of great uncles and aunts. They all had kids that were cousins...more cousins than names I could even remember. There were usually about 80 people that were considered immediate family.

The picnic was at Mt. Ranier National Park.  It was the most beautiful place. The mountains surrounded us with beautiful views every way and cool mountain breezes. Basically to a kid from Texas, it was paradise.  One year the family decided to buy the meat from this brand new place that made chicken.  Uncle Perry, my grandmother's oldest brother asked me if I would like to go with him.  We climbed into his big white Cadillac and headed to Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken.  It was ready when we got there. Uncle Perry, me and the lady from the chicken place loaded up the whole backseat with buckets of chicken.  When we arrived back at the park, every man there descended on the car to get the chicken.  By then my twin cousins Peg and Tricia,  along with Joyce from Oklahoma, Sandra from Seattle and of course the boy cousins, were all there.  I was always so excited to see them.

We ate and played on the playground until everyone started calling all the kids.  Then we got in the cars and headed back to Quincy, Ellensburg, Naches Valley, Seattle and the little towns. The family reunion was always the highlight of my summer.  Since we lived in Texas this was the one chance each year I had to spend with relatives.  It was so magical to me.  For them, just another family get-together.  But for this one day every year I too had a big wonderful family.

High School Homecoming....or Rather The Mum

At 15,  unlike most of my peers I had not had a date.  My parents were firm that I could not date until I was 16.  I really didn't care.  Boys made me nervous.  The thought of having to create conversation for the span of a date was overwhelming to me.  It was Homecoming week, the Cheerleaders had spent the afternoon in the hot girl's gym, behind the band hall, decorating for the dance.

By some fluke, I had once again made twirler.  In high school the image had much more pressure.  One of the pressures was having a mum to wear on my uniform for Homecoming. Nancy Dunten had taught me to dance...but I had no date and that meant I had no mum.   I had subtly suggested to my parents that they  might buy me one, however my mother's attitude was "No date, no mum....deal with it."  I was trying to.  Not having a mum for Homecoming was a big deal, not because of the date or the dance, but because I did not want to be the only twirler in the band, marching on the field, with no mum.

I could hear the chatter in the stands, "Oh someone doesn't have a mum, who is that, can you see who it is?  That is Jan Greenlee!!  She doesn't have a date for Homecoming!  That doesn't surprise me one bit....my daughter says she is such a mouse."
"Well my son said...." and so it would go, with my parents sitting in the middle of it, taking it all in, slightly amused.

Shelly Fox, who was a Junior twirler, told me not to worry, she would find me a date.... groan.  I didn't want a date, I wanted a mum.  On the afternoon of Homecoming, at the end of 5th period, Shelly came through, she had gotten me a date with Chris, who was also very quiet and in band.

I was sick.  First of all I had been in Driver's Ed with Chris and he had almost killed us all.  The thought of going anywhere in a car with him scared  me to death.  He was from a huge family who had a van, and I knew my mother would not let me go on a date with anyone who had a van.

Finally, after band he came and talked to me. "I'll meet you at the band hall after the game, I can't by you a mum, I don't have any money."  And...he was gone.  No one understood.  Now I had a date, but no stupid mum.  I had agreed to the date, so I would not be the only twirler without a mum, at least I didn't have ride in the car anywhere with him.  Now I would have to brave the humiliation anyway.  

My dad picked me up that afternoon with his cheery, "How's your day?"
"Terrible, I got a date for Homecoming but he is not getting me a mum.... I will be the only twirler without a mum."
"Well if that is the worst disappointment you ever have you will be lucky."   No one understood.

The band members were assembling at the band hall to march to Etheridge stadium, when my dad dropped me off on the circle.  I reluctantly got out of the car.....everyone was standing around talking....mum ribbons, swirling in the wind, hanging to their knees.  I was mortified I had the stupid date but no mum.  I heard a girl call my name and turned to see Kay, Shelly's sister coming up to me.  "Here Jan..... it's your mum!"  I was stunned as she pinned it on my uniform.
"Chris told me he couldn't buy me one?"  Kay just smiled and looked at me. "Well you just never know!" I never knew where it came from.  I think the twirlers must have taken up a collection to get it for me. The band marched at halftime presenting the back ground for the crowning of the Homecoming Queen.  I marched proudly with the mum ribbons fluttering all around.

After the game I changed clothes and met Chris at the band hall, we walked to the girl's gym where the Homecoming Dance was in full swing. After a few minutes of standing by the wall in the, Chris looked at me like he was in severe pain and said, "Ya wanna dance?"
"Not really."
"Good, I'll get someone to take you home."
And he did, although with the fog of the passing years, I really don't remember who it was.

New Beginnings

No matter how old you get, there is an opportunity for a new beginning.  I love to write but had, for a time, abandoned my blog.  I have wanted to be a writer since I was in Mrs. Crain's 4th grade class.
Being an ADD child that drove all my teachers crazy, compliments were few and far between. Since my mother was a teacher in the building, many times she knew what I had done wrong before I did.
I never seemed to be out from under a cloud until I had Mrs. Crain in 4th grade.

We were learning to write thank you notes. She came into our class, looked over the room and told us to "write".  Everyone was confused.  There were no instructions. She told us to  write about whatever came into our heads.  I started writing about the mountains. I had spent the summer in Washington State where the mountains amazed me by their magnificence and size.  Whenever we drove high into them, they were so pretty it took my breath away.  I wrote until she told us to stop.  Some people had still not written a word.

I remember across the top of my paper Mrs. Crain wrote, "Beautiful description Jan".  I was elated.  I could not believe I had done something to get such high praise.  From then on, when I finished my work, she told me to, "Just write." I began my journey.  My blog has been a continuation of that journey.

This week I had the opportunity to go to the West Texas A&M Writing Academy, started by Jodi Thomas, the author of 46 historic fiction Texas romances.  Most of the participants were published writers.  Our classes were led by successful published writers.  The group I was in had the privilege to be mentored by Rosa Latimer, author of the Historic Harvey House books.

I am so excited to have another beginning.  I hope you will continue on this journey with me.  The encouragement you have given me over the years through my blog, has given me the confidence to take this step.  My first book was WINDMILL TALES, published by the Texas Tech University Press.

I am currently working on two children books, one based on the blog post, An Old Man Named Henry and another based on the museum cat, Perkins, at the American Windmill Museum.  The big project I am currently researching is about LaMarque in the 50s and 60s.  The Last of the Tigers, class of 1970 is contributing to my research. The following pictures are some of the activities at the Writer's Academy.

Author of the Harvey House books, 

Texas New Mexico and Kansas, Rosa Latimer

West Texas A&M Writers Academy

Jodi Thomas, Author of 46 romances of          Rosa Latimer, Author
historic Texas.

Jodi Thomas, Author, Sharron, Rosa Latimer, Author, Jan, Donna and Kay

L-R Dallas,

 Bookstore owner in Canyon, Donna, Kay and Sharron

Christmas Cards

Did you get any Christmas Cards this year?  Did you send any out?  I send out thirty-five and got thirty-one.  There were years when I sent out seventy-five and still missed people.  I contemplated why my list had gotten so small and realized....so many people have died.  I am sixty-five so that is not unexpected.  

My fondest memories of Christmas as a child had nothing to do with gifts or places we went, but rather with Christmas cards.  My mother had three brothers, but her mother was one of eleven kids. Since Grannie was the oldest, all but 3 of her siblings were younger than her.  Some she even helped raise.  All of my great aunts and uncles were more like the were my mother's siblings.  And... they all lived in Washington State.  We only saw them once a year and for Christmas we were on our own.

In that stack of Christmas cards were my Christmas family visits.  My mother would read them and the put them in a basket.  The first thing I did when I got home from school was to grab the basket and start reading through all the cards.  They had news of cousins, school pictures, family pictures and stories of the adventures of the past year. Each one I read, I imagined their snowy houses and thought for sure they must go places in a sleigh on occasion.

We didn't talk on the phone much because it was long distance and much more expensive than today.  The only long distance calls we could afford were those to my grandparents.  To make the call we dialed the operator, then she would ask what area code we wanted to call.  She would click click click and then say "I have Area Code 509, what is the number?"  The number would be a name and number like WESTMORE 5-9797.  There  would be more clicking and finally an answer.  Then Mom would say, "Do we have a good connection?  Can you hear me?" The conversation would start.  Mom would always complain that when she called Grannie and Papa, they wanted to talk forever but when they called us, they kept it short. And that was why the cards were so special.

I dreamed every time a read a card, of living in Washington with the mountains and snow.  It seems like a fantasy land where Christmas must be like a story book.  Once Grannie sent me picture looking out her front window.  The snowplows would pile the snow in the middle of her street, and in this particular picture, it was piled so high she could not see the house across the street. I couldn't even imagine snow, much less that much of it.  

As it got closer to Christmas the basket got fuller.  Mom would take the cards we had gotten first and nestle them in the branches of the tree like an ornament.  There were a few I would always keep at the top of the stack, so I could read them over again.  The notes made it seem like family was just down the street. I would almost forget until I walked out into the balmy 80 degree humid coastal air.  

When Christmas got to only a few days away our tree was full of beautiful cards.  I knew just by looking at them who had sent them.  The tree and decorations would come down after New Years but the cards would go back into the basket and stay out a bit longer.  It wasn't unusual to come in from school and find my mom reading through the cards again too.

As I grew older I began to realize I felt  much closer to all those cousins, aunts and uncles than they ever felt to me.  They saw each other every week or so.  Being so far away we were pretty much forgotten, until our summer visits. To me however, it was as if they visited our house each year at Christmas.  My memories of those people are still cherished in my heart, a special part of of my childhood Christmas memories.