Week 24 of 2012 - Eye Glasses

I was 10 years old when I started to wear eye glasses.  It was in fifth grade as I recall...OK so now I know that you all are going to laugh over this but...There was a time when I was rather shy...loud mouthed and talkative but afraid of the silent moments in between. Probably sounds strange to you but...I would often try to sit in the back of the room in school, you know slide in a back seat and sit there unnoticed. Hopeful that I would not get called upon to answer questions which I was not prepared for or ones which I simple did not know the answer to. I always felt embarrassed or shameful if I could not come up with the right answer. I am not sure why. I was usually OK in the back of the room until my mouth got me in trouble, then I would be moved up somewhere closer to the front of the room.

Janet Smith - 1964 before glasses

 

In fifth grade, my teacher's name was Miss French.  I loved her.  She was a young new teacher right out of college.  She had the prettiest hands and nails in the world.  I told myself that one day I would have hands and nails just like her.  She always had them polished and they looked beautiful. Is that funny how something like a person hands can have such a lasting memory for you!    It was her class room in the fifth grade that I realized that I could not see the blackboard clearly anymore.  The first couple of times, the Miss French scoffed it.  But after the third or fourth time, she gentle encouraged me to trade seats with someone in the front of the room.  Which I did not mind because I could see her better and to my surprise, the blackboard too!  On Friday as we were getting ready to board the school buses, Miss French gave me a note which she had written to my Mother.   When she gave it to me...I protested...I did not do anything wrong...I did not talk too much today...She smiled and assured me I was not in trouble.

The whole way home on the bus I wondered what my teacher had put on the paper which was seal in an envelope.  I wanted to open it in the worse way but...I did not. I debated about not giving it to Mom right away but Miss French had told me that I was not in trouble...So when I got home, I gave it to Mom.  “Were you talking too much?”  She asked.  “I said NO, Miss French said I was not in trouble but to give you this”  She open up the envelope and took out the note. It was written in lovely handwriting worthy of the best teacher!

 

Dear Mrs. Smith,

I believe that Janet should have her eyes checked.  She seems to be having trouble reading the blackboard.  I have moved her to the front of the class for now but she ought to see an eye doctor as soon as you can get her an appointment.

Sincerely,

Miss French

So within weeks, I went to the eye doctor and sure enough...I would become a member of the “4 Eye Club”!   “You should wear them all the time”, the doctor told me.  You can remove them when you are playing outside if you want so they don't get broken.  So that is what I did. I do remember forgetting to leave them indoor for recess on more than one occasion. They always seemed to get in the way, when that happened...You would fall down and the glasses would go flying... Or you would get hit by the ball and they would be mashed into your face...Or you would be swinging on swings and they would go flying...When you are an active kid, you are hard on glasses....

Sharon and Janet - Summer 1965 before glasses

At Christmas time a few months later....

Sharon Jan and Sue - playing a new game on Christmas evening in 1965

Hope you enjoyed this little memory.  Did you get glasses?  Let hear about your memories.

Jan Smith

Leaving Home - Week 23 of 2012

Home is where the heart is, home is what you make it, home is where they love you, home sweet home, home is the nicest word there is, ....why do we even want to leave?  Fortunately for most, we do leave home and we learn that leaving makes home and its memories even more special.  When I heard this week's topic, several key times in my life came to mind. 

Probably my first "leaving" was to go to Judson Collins or Lake Huron Methodist Church Camps.  The normal pangs of homesickness didn't last too long and the week was quickly over.  But my first REAL leaving was when our family moved to Imlay City when I was 17 years old.  Luckily,  Mom and Dad thought I should be able to graduate with my class at Romeo High School and I quickly learned that it was kinda cool to have two towns with friends and I adjusted easily.  In twelve months, I left home again to going to Western Michigan University about 200 miles away.  As a typical 18 year old, I couldn't wait to get "outta Dodge" and get on with my life.  I remember Mom and Dad making plans to drive me and "my stuff" to Kalamazoo, but their work schedule didn't permit them to take me when most of the freshmen students would be arriving.  I had to go early....like on Thursday.  The dorms opened on Saturday, but school didn't start until Tuesday due to the Labor Day holiday. They had made special arrangements for me to be there early.  The old camper was cleaned out and all my belongings were packed in the sides of it where the "green beer cases" were stored along with the camp stove, stakes, and other camping necessities.  I was the only one in the dorm, up on that fourth floor of Smith Burnham Hall, in the big, six girl suite up over the lobby and circular drive.  As the old green station wagon pulling the now empty camper drove away, I stood at the window and sobbed.  Down the hill and out of site, only to reappear down on VandeGeisen Road and again in the distance on Stadium Drive, I still remember today wishing I could change my mind.  It was a long few days, but all was perfect when my roommate, Janet Johnson, arrived accompanied by her family, late on Monday evening.   Leaving home for college turned out fine!

There were others...leaving home and going to Chicago as an 18 year old for a nanny job, leaving WMU after 4 years for our first jobs in Adrian, including my "new mother" status, leaving Adrian for Harbor Beach, which has become our longtime home.  Living here longer than anywhere else, we are so thankful for the place that our family calls home.  I recently left my "work" home after 35 years of small town retail.  We always called it "home" because we spent so much time there and really had "one happy family" of employees.  Leaving that home has been amazing.  I feel blessed to have had the opportunity that Dad never quite reached. 

I also think of my children "leaving home" and how many times I have cried, especially when they left Harbor Beach to return to MSU after a visit.  Once they got back to East Lansing, I was comfortable with the absence, but it happened with each one throughout their college careers.  I have to admit that it still happens..and they are adults now, with established homes, careers and lives, living across the state and country.

Leaving home...its a normal thing.  Thanks to God for all my "leavings."   May I always use them to the best of my ability!

Week 23 of 2012 - Leaving Home

I left home really early, sixteen years old to be exact.  I had made this very adult like decision and I got pregnant and now it was time to take responsibility for my actions.  I had no idea what the future held for me BUT I knew that there would be a baby in it....sooner rather than later. The 2nd most difficult day of my life was the day the positive pregnancy test came back...This was in the early days of pregnancy test. It was 1972, when a teen pregnancy was treated very differently than today.  I had relied on a friend's Mom to help me get it. She called me on Saturday to give me the positive results.  I told my boyfriend that night and from the beginning we talked about getting married.  There was never a doubt in our minds that it was the right thing to do.

My boyfriend and I decided to take a few days to think about how we would tell our parents. By Monday, morning all of my friends and most of  the school knew that I was pregnant. It became very obvious that we were going to have to tell our parents NOW.  I had confided in my friend's Mother because I trusted her.  I had not confided in her daughter.  I believe to this day that my confidant had no idea that her daughter would spread this information around the school in 24 hours, but she did! Her daughter called everyone she knew and the information spread around like a wild fire.  This became a critical lesson to me about friendship.  I learned the type of friend I wanted to be and the type I did not want to be. I learned that not all people will be your friends. It was the first time I learned how hurtful it was to be betrayed.

That day became the most difficult day of my life. I spoke to my boyfriend and told him what happen and then I went home to tell my parents.  When I arrived home from school, my mother was sitting  in the family room in front of the TV watching her "Soaps".  I can still see it today!  She had two or three soaps that she watched everyday!  I thought they were the biggest waste of time but she loved them and really did not want to be bothered while she was watching them.  I sat in Dad's chair while she sat on the love seat.  For nearly two hours I tried to build up the courage to tell her what I knew she needed to know.   Several times tears welled up in my eyes but she did not seem to notice.  Eventually after what seemed like an eternity, I said " Mom, I need to tell you something" and I started to cry.  Through my sobs I told her,"I'm pregnant".  The look of shock and disbelief haunts me to this day. She was speechless and after what seemed to me the the most agonizing silence, she said, "How do you know?" I explained that I had a friend's Mom run a pregnancy test for me.  She said, "Those aren't always accurate! I need to call your Dad!! " And she left the room. I could hear her mumbling in the other room as I sat in Dad's Chair and cried.

Eventually I went to my room and cried some more.  Dad came home from work and came straight to my room.  Dad rarely even came upstairs and when he did he always knocked on a closed door.  Not today, he fling opened the door and said, "How could you do this to your Mother and I?" I felt a piercing pain in my heart as I sobbed.  I had let them down in the worse possible way that I could.  He stood in the doorway for a few moments and then he turned and left the room.  Later in the evening he came back upstairs.  He told me very calmly that I had made an adult decision  and now I would need to make some more.  He asked me, " what do you plan to do now?"  I told him, that Gary and I planned to get married.  He told me that marriage was not my only option.  He said,  "You know that you could always give the baby up for adoption.  There are many couples who are waiting for this very special opportunity."  I nodded and began to cry again.  "I don't want to do that", I told him and once again he left the room. 

In the days that followed, it was painfully obvious how much I had disappointed my parents but I could not undo what I had done.  Over the next week or so I continued to insisted that Gary and I would marry so my Dad told me, " Well you need to tell your Grandfather and maybe he will marry you or maybe we'll have to do something else."

SO once again I prepared myself to disappoint someone I dearly loved. I thought...oh when will this ever end...Grandpa Smith, being a retired Methodist minister was a special man.  I idolized  him.  He was the most peaceful caring person I knew.  I never heard him raise his voice. He always knew what to say and when to say it.  He had the power and authority to marry Gary and I if that was what we wanted.  So I chose my moment well. I waited until it was just Grandpa and I, then I told him.  I searched his face for the reaction that I expected to come and I never saw it.  His eyes never left mine, his face was so peaceful and full of grace.  I saw no disappointment, no judgement just pure love.  And I know that my father did not tell him before hand.  Dad made certain that I took full responsibility for what I had done. He had left that job up to me to do.   Grandpa told me that he loved me and what did I want to do. I told him that Gary and I planned to marry and he said " Set a date and we can do that."   I very sheepishly said to him, "  how will I ever tell Grandma?"  He replied, 'Don't you fret over that, you just let me take care of it!"  And that was that. In the coming weeks, we planned a simple wedding.

Shown in the photo from left to right: Lillian Smith, Leah Smith, Harold Smith, Janet Smith, Gary Tietz, Betty Tietz, Howard Tietz, Rose Kaake and Rev. Everett Smith in the front- May 28, 1972

On May 28, 1972, Dad went to Detroit to get Grandpa and Grandma Smith, bringing them to Imlay City.  Grandpa married Gary and I in a simple Saturday afternoon ceremony which was attended by our family, the Tietz family and a few close family friends. It was on that day that I left home at the age of 16.  So young and pretty scared but I would never have let anyone know.

Week 22 of 2012 - Breadbox

Oh what a topic...a breadbox.  Most people today do not even know what a breadbox was.  Ask a few people and you will get this look of bewilderment.  “Breadbox, what is that? “ They are still available and I was quite surprise when I did a google search that there are a lot of them out there...All shapes and sizes. Some are wooden and some are plastic and medal... Wikipedia says “A breadbox (chiefly American) or a bread bin (chiefly British)[1] is a container for storing  bread and other baked goods to keep them fresh. They were a more common household kitchen item until bread started being made commercially with food preservatives and wrapped in plastic.”

Well, I did have one when I was first married. They had regained popularity in the 1970's and 1980's when most kitchens had one. Mine was wooden and sat on my counter in Arizona next to my refrigerator.  It had an "oval medallion decorative thing" on the front of it.  I do not remember if it was a floral motif  or something else.  And I did store bread in it.  My children would remember it.  I do not remember if I brought it to Illinois with me when I moved here. Somewhere along the way I got rid of it.  I probably just did not have the counter space anymore.  I seem to recall that my mother had a nifty tin box (rather like lunchbox material) that she got from the Twin Pines man or for some promotional event at the grocery store....or on second thought was that a potato chip tin box!!!  On how my memory sometimes plays tricks on me!

My first husband's Grandma, Grandma Kaake had a bread drawer.  That was the first time I saw such a thing...Well it wasn't just a bread drawer, she also stored her cookies and sweet treats in there. You opened the drawer and it had a special tin lining of sorts which fit exactly inside the drawer. You would slide open the top of the metal lining. The bread drawer was a deep drawer and she always had it full of good stuff.  Every kid who walked through her door made a beeline for the bread drawer to find out what kind of goody she had in there today. There were always cookie and bread but sometimes you might get lucky and find brownies, pie or donuts!

So there you have it...My memories of a breadbox, bread drawer and a Potato chip tin!

Jan

Week 22 - 2012 - BREADBOX

Breadbox...bread box...I'm not even sure how to spell it correctly.  I haven't thought about a breadbox in 30+ years!  I remember Grandma Smith (Lillian) having one, I remember my mother in law, Gloria Semp, having one and I remember having one myself, early in my married life.  Breadboxes, while I'm sure were developed to keep a food staple...bread....fresh, were also part of the decorating scheme in a kitchen.  Often matching the canister sets that sat on the counter, I remember ones of chrome and black, copper and the "go with everything" white.  Usually, there was a shelf inside for more storage space and air vents in the back or sides.  As the "country" theme became popular, breadboxes became desirable in wood.  At that point, oak or walnut to match the kitchen cupboards was the rage.  At craftshows in the 1980's, custom painted creations were readily available with various themes.  Sometimes you would find wooden canister sets, trash containers and wall shelves all to match.  Do you remember the canister sets, too?  From large to small....flour, sugar, brown sugar, coffee, tea, a cookie jar...the more the better!  Oatmeal, rice, corn starch...did we just like to clutter the counter or was it convenient to have it at arms reach?  Today's clean, uncluttered look is a stark comparison to my early years of life.  If you haven't thought about the breadbox lately, you're not alone.  What other things can you think of that just aren't used anymore?  I'm sure there are many!