The NFC B-Day Chat Thread

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Blooie said:
Me too. Maybe our MRIs will give us and our doctors a shove in the right direction. I don’t know about you, but give me an enemy I can fight and I’ll battle with the best of them. But put me up against an unknown and I just seem to flounder.



Oh, that is gorgeous!

Jae, we want photos if weather conditions permit!
Click to expand...
MRIs are very helpful!
 
How about a long Christmas story? It’s about two little girls and a Christmas surprise.

We lived in an old farmhouse house about 10 miles from town at the time, and money was, as usual, very tight. How tight? Imagine an eastern South Dakota winter and having the power shut off for non-payment just a few days after Thanksgiving. Yeah, that tight. There was an old wood stove, so we could cook and had heat, but the two back bedrooms (Ma and Dad had one, the four of us kids shared the other) were too cold to bear so we “camped out” on the living room floor, around the unlit Christmas tree. We had one glass lamp that was always kept filled for emergency power outages, common during ice storms or wicked South Dakota thunderstorms, but they used it sparingly. Dad also had a rusty propane heater that he used in the garage, so he put that in the crawl space under the house and would go out in the cold, squeeze his 6’4” frame under there and light it periodically to keep the pipes from freezing. He wouldn’t use it in the house...too much risk of Carbon Monoxide poisoning....but he felt that the crawl space was ventilated enough for running it in short bursts. There was also an old outhouse by the shed, and we all quickly learned to pee only during daylight hours. It was spooky dark out there!

Dad made it all seem like a big adventure, making a huge deal out of bringing in wood and pretending he was Charles Ingalls and we were living The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder. We always called my mother “Ma”, but he had to keep reminding us that he wasn’t Dad, he was “Pa”. I was Laura, Linda was Mary, Lori was Carrie, and Ronnie....well, he was Buford. He was always called Buford.

Dad got a nice, unexpected Christmas bonus along with his paycheck on a Friday..too late to get the power back on but he and Ma went Christmas shopping. His kids were gonna have a memorable Christmas after the last, uncomfortable weeks they’d had. He was always praising us for our “pioneer spirit” and said that they’d make it up to us.

They came home with their bags and teased us about “no peeking” at the Christmas presents in their room. I was - and still am - a notorious peeker, and had tape slitting down to an art, and they knew it. Before it got dark, Ma was back there wrapping while Dad heated a couple of big cans of Dinty Moore beef stew on the stove top. Late that night, when we were supposed to be asleep, Ma had the audacity to hide the wrapped gifts instead of putting them under the tree! How dare she? The light from that lantern was enough that I could see her stash two identically wrapped gifts in the built in flour bin in the cabinets. We never used it, but she was smart enough to put a stack of dish towels over whatever she’d hidden there.

That Sunday Ma and Dad went into town to pick up a few last minute items, and I dragged Linda into my folly. We opened that bin, and sure enough, one gift was for her and one for me. I got out the paring knife, carefully slit the tape and there before our prying eyes were two identical Instamatic cameras! This was long before clamshell packaging, so it was simply a matter of opening the boxes and marveling at us each having our own very real cameras. It must be remembered that until those marvelous gifts, Christmas for us usually consisted of a pair of flannel jammies, maybe some Presto Sparkle paints, and if they were particularly flush that Christmas, a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle to share. So finding real cameras was beyond imagining!

We had a field day!! We popped those little flash cubes on top, the film cartridges inside and took a gabillion photos of each other... funny poses, “professional” portraits, modeling poses...and then we managed to tuck everything back in the boxes just as we’d found them, wrap them back up neatly, and cover them with the stack of towels.

That Monday morning the power was restored, just a few days before Christmas. We were kept pretty busy catching up on housework we’d been unable to do without lights and being able to run the vacuum cleaner, remaking the beds with all the bedding we’d kept in the living room. I remember Ma, always finding the good in any situation, remarking that at least the mattresses had had a good airing out.

Christmas morning after breakfast, we all sat down in front of the tree. They usually started with the youngest opening their gifts first, then going up in age. I was always last. But this year, with her impish grin, Ma gave me and Linda our gifts first, at the same time. So we both opened those cameras, made the proper squeals of surprise, and then Ma said, “Now follow the instructions and we’ll finally have some Christmas morning pictures.”

Um, gulp. We’d already used all the flash cubes and shot up the film cartridges. Linda burst into tears. Me? Well, I looked at the disappointment on Ma’s face and the vein pulsing in Dad’s forehead, said my final goodbyes to the world, and waited to meet my execution. Ronnie and Lori just sat there, not fully understanding why they weren’t getting to open their presents yet. My eyes squeezed shut, waiting in dread. But I heard a snort, then another, and Dad burst out laughing. “Well, LaVonne, we gotta give the little scamps credit for finding a way to beat the boredom!” Ma didn’t find it so funny, but she nodded and then let the other two kids open their gifts.

I don’t remember through the years what other things Lori, Ron, and later on Bev may have gotten for Christmas, but I remember that Christmas clearly. Lori got a Chatty Cathy doll and Ronnie got an Odd Og. Real gifts...not jammies and paint sets or crayons, but real honest to goodness as-seen-on-TV things! And no pictures of that amazing Christmas.
 
Blooie, who needs pictures when you have that memory fixed firmly in your heart!

Great story
smiley christmas 2.gif
 
Blooie said:
How about a long Christmas story? It’s about two little girls and a Christmas surprise.

We lived in an old farmhouse house about 10 miles from town at the time, and money was, as usual, very tight. How tight? Imagine an eastern South Dakota winter and having the power shut off for non-payment just a few days after Thanksgiving. Yeah, that tight. There was an old wood stove, so we could cook and had heat, but the two back bedrooms (Ma and Dad had one, the four of us kids shared the other) were too cold to bear so we “camped out” on the living room floor, around the unlit Christmas tree. We had one glass lamp that was always kept filled for emergency power outages, common during ice storms or wicked South Dakota thunderstorms, but they used it sparingly. Dad also had a rusty propane heater that he used in the garage, so he put that in the crawl space under the house and would go out in the cold, squeeze his 6’4” frame under there and light it periodically to keep the pipes from freezing. He wouldn’t use it in the house...too much risk of Carbon Monoxide poisoning....but he felt that the crawl space was ventilated enough for running it in short bursts. There was also an old outhouse by the shed, and we all quickly learned to pee only during daylight hours. It was spooky dark out there!

Dad made it all seem like a big adventure, making a huge deal out of bringing in wood and pretending he was Charles Ingalls and we were living The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder. We always called my mother “Ma”, but he had to keep reminding us that he wasn’t Dad, he was “Pa”. I was Laura, Linda was Mary, Lori was Carrie, and Ronnie....well, he was Buford. He was always called Buford.

Dad got a nice, unexpected Christmas bonus along with his paycheck on a Friday..too late to get the power back on but he and Ma went Christmas shopping. His kids were gonna have a memorable Christmas after the last, uncomfortable weeks they’d had. He was always praising us for our “pioneer spirit” and said that they’d make it up to us.

They came home with their bags and teased us about “no peeking” at the Christmas presents in their room. I was - and still am - a notorious peeker, and had tape slitting down to an art, and they knew it. Before it got dark, Ma was back there wrapping while Dad heated a couple of big cans of Dinty Moore beef stew on the stove top. Late that night, when we were supposed to be asleep, Ma had the audacity to hide the wrapped gifts instead of putting them under the tree! How dare she? The light from that lantern was enough that I could see her stash two identically wrapped gifts in the built in flour bin in the cabinets. We never used it, but she was smart enough to put a stack of dish towels over whatever she’d hidden there.

That Sunday Ma and Dad went into town to pick up a few last minute items, and I dragged Linda into my folly. We opened that bin, and sure enough, one gift was for her and one for me. I got out the paring knife, carefully slit the tape and there before our prying eyes were two identical Instamatic cameras! This was long before clamshell packaging, so it was simply a matter of opening the boxes and marveling at us each having our own very real cameras. It must be remembered that until those marvelous gifts, Christmas for us usually consisted of a pair of flannel jammies, maybe some Presto Sparkle paints, and if they were particularly flush that Christmas, a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle to share. So finding real cameras was beyond imagining!

We had a field day!! We popped those little flash cubes on top, the film cartridges inside and took a gabillion photos of each other... funny poses, “professional” portraits, modeling poses...and then we managed to tuck everything back in the boxes just as we’d found them, wrap them back up neatly, and cover them with the stack of towels.

That Monday morning the power was restored, just a few days before Christmas. We were kept pretty busy catching up on housework we’d been unable to do without lights and being able to run the vacuum cleaner, remaking the beds with all the bedding we’d kept in the living room. I remember Ma, always finding the good in any situation, remarking that at least the mattresses had had a good airing out.

Christmas morning after breakfast, we all sat down in front of the tree. They usually started with the youngest opening their gifts first, then going up in age. I was always last. But this year, with her impish grin, Ma gave me and Linda our gifts first, at the same time. So we both opened those cameras, made the proper squeals of surprise, and then Ma said, “Now follow the instructions and we’ll finally have some Christmas morning pictures.”

Um, gulp. We’d already used all the flash cubes and shot up the film cartridges. Linda burst into tears. Me? Well, I looked at the disappointment on Ma’s face and the vein pulsing in Dad’s forehead, said my final goodbyes to the world, and waited to meet my execution. Ronnie and Lori just sat there, not fully understanding why they weren’t getting to open their presents yet. My eyes squeezed shut, waiting in dread. But I heard a snort, then another, and Dad burst out laughing. “Well, LaVonne, we gotta give the little scamps credit for finding a way to beat the boredom!” Ma didn’t find it so funny, but she nodded and then let the other two kids open their gifts.

I don’t remember through the years what other things Lori, Ron, and later on Bev may have gotten for Christmas, but I remember that Christmas clearly. Lori got a Chatty Cathy doll and Ronnie got an Odd Og. Real gifts...not jammies and paint sets or crayons, but real honest to goodness as-seen-on-TV things! And no pictures of that amazing Christmas.
Click to expand...
:lovelove it
 
Thanks, Debby. Guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic today...in a good way. Memories have a way of slipping away if we don't nurture them a bit. This was a story that I had tucked away for my kids in one of the treasure boxes a few years ago. Thought I'd share it here.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it, @sharron! Kind of puts me in mind of your new homestead..that same kind of feel.
 

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