Posted on 04/18/2015 5:32:00 PM PDT by Daffynition
we built forts all the time...don't really know why....at least two brothers had hammers dropped on their heads from the treefort....at least a couple of kids stepped on rusty nails...we would have "wars" with neighbor kids and put little apples on pointed sticks and fling them at each other....
then again.....lightning bugs....who can ever forget running around a night with an open canning far trying to catch a lightning bug and keep it over night...only to find that it had died my morning...
I was brought home from the hospital in a cardboard box.
In third grade I rode my bike to and from school everyday. Probably about a half mile or so each way.
The feminist revolution had more to do with than just the role of women, it has restructured the very fabric of our lives with small regard for liberty as it justifies every intrusion to be "for the children" or for the rights of women but rarely openly as the extension of leftist agenda.
Every father knows that his place is in the delivery room provided it is as big as a football field and has a bar at the other end.
One of my very first *dates* was with a macho guy in HS that was on the football team .... he took me bowling. I recall, he tried to wing the ball so hard as to try to *mix-up* the pins, so they would fly around and hopefully hit the *pin-boy* ....I didn’t think that was funny. I never saw him again, what a jerk.
When I was about ten I was staying on my uncle’s farm for a couple of weeks in the summer like I usually did. He had a big fat-bellied mare pony. I don’t know how it came about exactly, but I told my uncle I could ride that critter 55 miles to Grandma’s house. He dared me, so I went in the house, threw some stuff in a pillow case, jumped on the pony, and rode out of the lane. That stubborn old thing, which I swear was part mule, wanted to turn around and go home practically every step of the way, but three days later I rode up to the front door at Grandma’s.
If you came home with a date....he cut the engine B4 he pulled into the driveway...so as not to wake your parents....so you could ......erm....ahem.
As a bride, I lived abroad and long before easy/quick communications as we have today...I could call my folks to once a week *report*...and If I called between 5 and 5:15p any day of the week, the phone would get picked up on the first ring, b/c they were always at the dinner table during that time. Until dad passed, I know, mom always had the meal on the table. It was a religion with her.
As kids, we knew to be home by 5.
LOL ....so long as they don’t ask you to eat the placenta....all’s good. >8D
My grandmother told the story that when she gave birth to my father in a hospital in Philadelphia, the doc told her, her baby was going to die. She said she brought him home in a shoebox and kept him on the warming shelf of the woodstove....and nursed him back to good health.
Over the years I’ve heard women tell stories that were similar so often that I began to think they were “old-wives-tales*....and made good yarn-spinning.
I believed her. I believe you.
You must have been quite the sight!
Three days to a 10 y/o would seem like an eternity.
“Dinner was always between 5 p and 5:15p ....you better be on time.”
“Around supper my Dad would whistle when the food was ready. Dad could whistle louder than anyone I knew, I swear you could hear him three blocks away. So one of my friends would poke me in the ribs and say ‘your dad’s calling you’ and I’d go eat.”
My friends and I would either be playing back in the swamp, or baseball in someone’s yard (or the street), or after dark some sort of hide and seek type game. Could always tell when it was dinner time for my one friend, or time for him to get home and ready for bed, because his mom would ring a bell that could be heard at the farthest reaches of our play area. That was Todd Beamer’s mom, lol!
All I can say is Amen and Hallelujah!
Thank you so much!
My dad would whistle when it was supper time. You could hear his whistle miles away.
The first phone I remember was a crank on the wall and you had the phone that didn’t have anything on it. You had to crank the wall part to get the operator and tell who you wanted to call. You heard everybody’s ring on your party line and knew who were getting calls. Our ring was three longs and three shorts. Everybody knew everybody else’s business cause you could pick up the phone and listen in. Those were the days.....
I also have fond memories of being rolled down a large hill in a 55 gal. metal drum by a sibling among other things.
I’m amazed I’m still alive.
Good lord what a non typical
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