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When I was a little kid, spring break was fun! It was the time when all the moms, took their kids downtown to be outfitted for their new Easter wardrobe for Church. Brother would get a new suit, dress shirt, tie and shoes. I’d get a new dress, new coat, new shoes, and always a new hat with a matching purse. White gloves were a must. On Easter Sunday, my family was styling at church, with the rest of the congregation.
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When the teen years came, all that went out the window and my group of friends from Catholic school was headed for the beach. We’d flock like turkeys and bask in the sunshine, in our one piece bathing suits, or two piece bathing suits, if any of us managed to talk our moms into it. One year, when we were all about 14 we decided to call the public school girls that wore bikinis, trashy, only because we were soooooo jealous. They over heard us and we got the snot knocked out of us. The following spring break, my whole group got bikinis.
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“Downtown†wasn’t there anymore, so we discovered the new thing that was built, called the shopping mall, and that was a lot of fun. We played on the see-through elevator a lot like stupid idiots. Between the mall, eating at the ice cream parlor, and the beach; every single day of spring break was fun and we didn’t waste a minute. :new_rofl:
Fast forward to the 21st century. It seems like it was a lifetime ago that we were such goofy teens. It seems like a lifetime ago that every kid in the county was here for spring break and summer vacation too. This was thee place to be; where the happenings always were. No beach, no mall, no nothing. This is place where the boom boom machines coming from the cars were banging so loud me couldn't hear the TV news in the living room. Where the stupid woman lived, that could never manage to get anyone's name straight. Nobody had a real name anyhow. They all went by nicknames; Scooby, Bam Bam, PeeU, Tweek, Tork, for instance, who are all still around the area by the way. :new_shocked:
Every single day, here they came in droves to hang out, at our house up on the hill. I remember very vividly asking the boys, where they were going as they ran out of the house with our chicken, and hollering at them "Hey, that was for our dinner tonite!" And kaboom, they plopped it on the grill, feeding the army. Hus couldn't understand why are grocery bill had reached huge proportions. I ended up having to join Sam's club so I could buy food in large amounts since I had to feed so many every day. Hotdogs and burgers on the grill, and bags of chips all over the yard and soda by the cases. Some sat underneath the trees, others had hoods of their cars or 4 wheelers to sit on and we had to build another picnic table to accommodate the ones that just dropped in from mars.
Behind the little orchard, there was the pool, down toward the garage. They'd be splashing and playing in our large Wal-Mart pool like crazy people. Yelling, screaming, the boys teasing the girls, the girls drowning the boys. They never shut up. Tidal waves gushing over the sides of the pool. Had to shove the hose in there every night to get it filled to the top again. Never could keep the water balanced at all with them doing that. I can’t believe I have to add more chemicals again, darn it, I’d gripe a lot. I wondered how many kids peed in that pool today. I'd tell my boys to shower well at night and use plenty of soap. One time I bought brown soap. Mother always said that brown soap would kill cooties and by gosh, we needed a cootie killer in my house. I had such a headache every night. No matter...My philosophy at the time was that at least I knew where my kids were..... :lol:
The troops ran in and out of the house, as if I had a revolving door. I'd ask "who are you, where do you live, does your mother know you are here, and did you flush the toilet"...like a broken record. Grease, oil, mud, tracking in all over the floor all the time. "How about wiping your feet at the door, whoever you are?" I was so exhausted from cleaning up constantly that I never could get my work done and was always running behind. They used spray paint and painted their names all over the garage last year. Holy cow. Strange initials I didn't recognize and lots of art work too. Hus was not amused. They covered the inside of the garage leaving their marks. I figured it was better than them all getting tattooed. Jobs. Why don’t these kids get jobs and have something else to do? No such luck. The yard was a mess with drink cans littered all over the place. I was always running out there with a big black trash bag, having a fit, asking everyone to please use it. Nobody did. My place was trashed every day, inside and out. :ugh:
The girls were wearing those cute tiny little tops with their big bosoms falling out and hot pants with their fat hanging over, and butt cheeks showing out the bottoms....oh gee whiz. Then I had a flash back: I don’t remember looking in that dreaded three-way mirror when I tried my bikini on. Was I a walrus? The girls would come inside and sit at the table with me and discuss their love lives as if they were 40 years old. What a soap opera, and right at my table too. Very interesting young ladies. "Got cake?" one of them would ask. "Yes, in the cabinet in the box" and before I knew it, I’d have us our own pitcher of ice tea on the table, our own bag of chips, and I was baking a cake. About 4 cakes a week. I wondered how they could stay so skinny and eat so much. Then I decided, it was all going to their boobs. Pass the cake, please. One girl was practically in tears one day as she professed her love for my son. On and on, “he’s so gorgeous, I love him soooo much†then, I asked "which one?" And she replied "Either, it doesn't matter." The kids went home eventually, but sometimes, they stayed so late or hit a storm that they had to sleep over, whoever they were.....Just park it anywhere, it's too late to be on the roads, but be sure you call your mothers, I'd say. Kids on the couches, all over the floor, whatever.
Hus would come home from work and I'd tell him his dinner was on the stove. He'd look there, and it would be gone. Opps, someone ate daddy's dinner. I'd be scavenging through the cabinets trying to rustle up him some dinner in a pinch. I finally figured out to hide his dinner in the oven. He'd ask me, "who's that one and who's this one?" I dunno anymore...they weren't here yestarday. Then he’d want to know what I did all day. Grrrrrrr. :new_shocked:
So here we are once again on spring break. My goodness, it’s quiet. Too quiet. I wonder where everyone is. And then I start thinking about it: They grew up! One couple is married now. One girl has a baby. I know quite a few are away at college now in one place or another. One is working as a mechanic in town, another at City Hall, and one at McDonalds. One of the girls is in nursing school, another in college, going to be a teacher. The ones waiting to graduate this year are probably all still in bed like mine, vegetating. What about the mall? The Easter bunny is there! What about going someplace? Let’s get ice cream! What about getting some kids together to do something,. anything? Let’s fire up the grill! Want an Easter bonnet? The kid says he’s bored. “I can remedy that with choresâ€, I announce; and then, boom; he’s gone like a shot out of a cannon. Quiet, again.
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I see this spring break as a prelude to long, quiet summer. I used to dread summer because I never had a day of peace and quiet around here. It was always something going on, way too noisy, and way too messy. I’m not looking forward to summer this year, because I know that in a strange way, I’m going to miss all that, all those memories. Things have really changed. It’s not like back in the 20th century anymore, or last year at spring break. I don’t go to the garage anymore and hardly ever take walks through the little orchard either. But when I do, you can still see the outline of where the pool was set up, which is being over grown with grass.
Sometimes I do have to look at some of the signatures on the garage wall and when I see them, I don’t recognize many of them. But some, I cherish. I guess this isn’t thee place to be anymore. There’s not even one lousy coke can laying on the grass in the yard. But at least I can remember that there were so many memories made here for a lot of kids who will someday tell their kids about the times they spent up at the house on the hill. My house is almost clean for a change. And that’s really different. I wonder how you are supposed to make new memories when there’s nobody home.
When I was a little kid, spring break was fun! It was the time when all the moms, took their kids downtown to be outfitted for their new Easter wardrobe for Church. Brother would get a new suit, dress shirt, tie and shoes. I’d get a new dress, new coat, new shoes, and always a new hat with a matching purse. White gloves were a must. On Easter Sunday, my family was styling at church, with the rest of the congregation.
When the teen years came, all that went out the window and my group of friends from Catholic school was headed for the beach. We’d flock like turkeys and bask in the sunshine, in our one piece bathing suits, or two piece bathing suits, if any of us managed to talk our moms into it. One year, when we were all about 14 we decided to call the public school girls that wore bikinis, trashy, only because we were soooooo jealous. They over heard us and we got the snot knocked out of us. The following spring break, my whole group got bikinis.
“Downtown†wasn’t there anymore, so we discovered the new thing that was built, called the shopping mall, and that was a lot of fun. We played on the see-through elevator a lot like stupid idiots. Between the mall, eating at the ice cream parlor, and the beach; every single day of spring break was fun and we didn’t waste a minute. :new_rofl:
Fast forward to the 21st century. It seems like it was a lifetime ago that we were such goofy teens. It seems like a lifetime ago that every kid in the county was here for spring break and summer vacation too. This was thee place to be; where the happenings always were. No beach, no mall, no nothing. This is place where the boom boom machines coming from the cars were banging so loud me couldn't hear the TV news in the living room. Where the stupid woman lived, that could never manage to get anyone's name straight. Nobody had a real name anyhow. They all went by nicknames; Scooby, Bam Bam, PeeU, Tweek, Tork, for instance, who are all still around the area by the way. :new_shocked:
Every single day, here they came in droves to hang out, at our house up on the hill. I remember very vividly asking the boys, where they were going as they ran out of the house with our chicken, and hollering at them "Hey, that was for our dinner tonite!" And kaboom, they plopped it on the grill, feeding the army. Hus couldn't understand why are grocery bill had reached huge proportions. I ended up having to join Sam's club so I could buy food in large amounts since I had to feed so many every day. Hotdogs and burgers on the grill, and bags of chips all over the yard and soda by the cases. Some sat underneath the trees, others had hoods of their cars or 4 wheelers to sit on and we had to build another picnic table to accommodate the ones that just dropped in from mars.
Behind the little orchard, there was the pool, down toward the garage. They'd be splashing and playing in our large Wal-Mart pool like crazy people. Yelling, screaming, the boys teasing the girls, the girls drowning the boys. They never shut up. Tidal waves gushing over the sides of the pool. Had to shove the hose in there every night to get it filled to the top again. Never could keep the water balanced at all with them doing that. I can’t believe I have to add more chemicals again, darn it, I’d gripe a lot. I wondered how many kids peed in that pool today. I'd tell my boys to shower well at night and use plenty of soap. One time I bought brown soap. Mother always said that brown soap would kill cooties and by gosh, we needed a cootie killer in my house. I had such a headache every night. No matter...My philosophy at the time was that at least I knew where my kids were..... :lol:
The troops ran in and out of the house, as if I had a revolving door. I'd ask "who are you, where do you live, does your mother know you are here, and did you flush the toilet"...like a broken record. Grease, oil, mud, tracking in all over the floor all the time. "How about wiping your feet at the door, whoever you are?" I was so exhausted from cleaning up constantly that I never could get my work done and was always running behind. They used spray paint and painted their names all over the garage last year. Holy cow. Strange initials I didn't recognize and lots of art work too. Hus was not amused. They covered the inside of the garage leaving their marks. I figured it was better than them all getting tattooed. Jobs. Why don’t these kids get jobs and have something else to do? No such luck. The yard was a mess with drink cans littered all over the place. I was always running out there with a big black trash bag, having a fit, asking everyone to please use it. Nobody did. My place was trashed every day, inside and out. :ugh:
The girls were wearing those cute tiny little tops with their big bosoms falling out and hot pants with their fat hanging over, and butt cheeks showing out the bottoms....oh gee whiz. Then I had a flash back: I don’t remember looking in that dreaded three-way mirror when I tried my bikini on. Was I a walrus? The girls would come inside and sit at the table with me and discuss their love lives as if they were 40 years old. What a soap opera, and right at my table too. Very interesting young ladies. "Got cake?" one of them would ask. "Yes, in the cabinet in the box" and before I knew it, I’d have us our own pitcher of ice tea on the table, our own bag of chips, and I was baking a cake. About 4 cakes a week. I wondered how they could stay so skinny and eat so much. Then I decided, it was all going to their boobs. Pass the cake, please. One girl was practically in tears one day as she professed her love for my son. On and on, “he’s so gorgeous, I love him soooo much†then, I asked "which one?" And she replied "Either, it doesn't matter." The kids went home eventually, but sometimes, they stayed so late or hit a storm that they had to sleep over, whoever they were.....Just park it anywhere, it's too late to be on the roads, but be sure you call your mothers, I'd say. Kids on the couches, all over the floor, whatever.
Hus would come home from work and I'd tell him his dinner was on the stove. He'd look there, and it would be gone. Opps, someone ate daddy's dinner. I'd be scavenging through the cabinets trying to rustle up him some dinner in a pinch. I finally figured out to hide his dinner in the oven. He'd ask me, "who's that one and who's this one?" I dunno anymore...they weren't here yestarday. Then he’d want to know what I did all day. Grrrrrrr. :new_shocked:
So here we are once again on spring break. My goodness, it’s quiet. Too quiet. I wonder where everyone is. And then I start thinking about it: They grew up! One couple is married now. One girl has a baby. I know quite a few are away at college now in one place or another. One is working as a mechanic in town, another at City Hall, and one at McDonalds. One of the girls is in nursing school, another in college, going to be a teacher. The ones waiting to graduate this year are probably all still in bed like mine, vegetating. What about the mall? The Easter bunny is there! What about going someplace? Let’s get ice cream! What about getting some kids together to do something,. anything? Let’s fire up the grill! Want an Easter bonnet? The kid says he’s bored. “I can remedy that with choresâ€, I announce; and then, boom; he’s gone like a shot out of a cannon. Quiet, again.
I see this spring break as a prelude to long, quiet summer. I used to dread summer because I never had a day of peace and quiet around here. It was always something going on, way too noisy, and way too messy. I’m not looking forward to summer this year, because I know that in a strange way, I’m going to miss all that, all those memories. Things have really changed. It’s not like back in the 20th century anymore, or last year at spring break. I don’t go to the garage anymore and hardly ever take walks through the little orchard either. But when I do, you can still see the outline of where the pool was set up, which is being over grown with grass.
Sometimes I do have to look at some of the signatures on the garage wall and when I see them, I don’t recognize many of them. But some, I cherish. I guess this isn’t thee place to be anymore. There’s not even one lousy coke can laying on the grass in the yard. But at least I can remember that there were so many memories made here for a lot of kids who will someday tell their kids about the times they spent up at the house on the hill. My house is almost clean for a change. And that’s really different. I wonder how you are supposed to make new memories when there’s nobody home.
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