From the heart of a Southern girl living in the Midwest
Memories are strange and funny things. Try to remember what you had for dinner three nights ago, and there’s only a vague recollection; but the memories from forty years ago are fresh and clear. I hope you enjoy a brief look at the first few years of our firstborn’s life. It really does seem like yesterday…
First, scroll to the bottom of the blog page and pause the playlist music…(just click the two vertical bars in a circle)…and then return and play the video.
It was August of 1968…and time for two important milestones in our life…Bill’s graduation and the birth of our first child.
On August 24, our firstborn made his debut. He weighed 8 lbs. 5 ounces, was 21 inches long and 4 weeks late. I had begun answering the telephone with “yes, I’m still here”, when he finally arrived.
It was March 22, 1968. Sixteen inches of snow had fallen, and the city was covered in an amazing blanket of white…a rare sight for Memphis.
So, on that snowy day, while everyone else was sledding down the hills near the art museum, I was watching and laughing as everyone tumbled down those snowy banks….
There is a bank of memories for each of us. Sometimes, we have to reach pretty far back to retrieve them…but the memories are still there, layered in years of time.
In this case, I’m remembering an early Spring morning when I made the decision to “drop out” of college as a SENIOR. I had been sick and in the hospital for a brief time. I was working and trying to keep up with my college courses in spite of it. Somehow, at the time, it all seemed too much and the only decision to make. I remember even my college advisor tried to talk me out of it. My rationale was that I would return the following year and finish. As it turned out, it would be several years before I would finish a degree, and then, it would not be in English and Secondary Education, but Nursing. Amazing, the twists and turns our lives take.
After that, I took a full-time secretarial position for the Director of Distributive Education at what was then Memphis State University. He was kind and supportive and reminded me of Wally Cox, “Mr. Peepers”. Bill now had the time to study without having to work so much, and I focused on making life a little simpler for both of us.
Windy day. Taken in front of our little duplex as I’m going to work at my new job.
Bill finished his courses, but for some reason, wouldn’t actually walk in the graduation ceremony until August. He took a full-time position with an engineering firm in Memphis. After a few months, they sent him to a little town in Arkansas as the resident engineer on a construction site there. We were young and didn’t have children at the time, so we were elected to go. I had enjoyed my brief time as secretary to “Mr. Peepers”, but I was looking forward to this adventure with my husband.
The great thing about accepting this short three-month stint in Arkansas, was that the company paid for everything: the move, our rent in a brand new apartment, our utilities and telephone. We took advantage of this time to purchase new furniture and a new automobile.
We spent weekends in the Ozark Mountains or touring other parts of Arkansas and Missouri or we’d return home to Memphis for the weekend with our families there. It was a good time for us and we enjoyed our brief visit in Arkansas. The photos below were taken at the Red Apple Inn in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas. We had intended a fishing trip but ended up here for the weekend. Dinner and dancing and delicious food. For some reason, I had a nice dress with me but Bill had to rent a jacket from the golf pro! Fun memories…
Forty-one years later, and I still remember our first…slightly disastrous…dinner party.
Thankfully, I was able to laugh then with everyone else and still think it’s funny. We had invited Bill’s parents, sister and grandmother to be our first dinner guests.
Bill and Penny cutting up as usual. Lots of laughter. Frank, Bobbie and Granny. 1967
As I vividly remember all these years later, Bill and I had spent the morning cleaning our little duplex apartment. It was late Autumn and between classes and working part-time for each of us, there wasn’t a lot of time to do housework. But now, everything was clean and polished and ready for company.
I certainly hadn’t perfected “cooking” yet, but had a few things I could do pretty well by then. I had prepared “Phony Spumoni”, an Italian gelatin salad in a triple tier mold that morning, as well as potato salad, and set them in the apartment’s ancient refrigerator.
Using a covered stoneware pot we’d received as a wedding gift, I’d made baked beans in the oven, and then prepared Southern fried chicken. I don’t remember for sure, but I believe we must have had hot biscuits and a dessert.
Our dinner guests arrived. We enjoyed visiting a little while and then it was time for dinner. First, it was time to unmold the “phony Spumoni”. I took it out of the fridge and turned it over onto a serving platter and a bed of greens. Splatter…splatter…splat…went the top two tiers of the spumoni. The old fridge had not done its job. We scooped up what we could that looked somewhat chilled, but the presentation had lost its effect.
I took the stoneware beanpot out of the oven and set it on top of the old gas stovetop. It burst. Yep. Beans went everywhere.
We all laughed and laughed, then ate what was left intact: fried chicken, potato salad, soupy spumoni and biscuits.
