It's A Big Round Schoolhouse

After a bit more time of thinking about it, I have come to the understanding that probably everyone could wonder about themselves if the childish antics of their youth were displayed end-to-end. So, I am choosing to not "despise my youth", but rather to recognize that these things took place over a period of years, some of which were before I was eight years old. It's a loving Heavenly Father who allows us the time to learn before accountability sets in and then continues the process with the gift of the Holy Ghost and repentance thereafter. Still, my resolve remains.

Comeuppance

Blogging memories of childhood with my grandmother has brought me to a place I have never been. Not until the stories showed up on these pages did I realize how I must have tried her patience. I am embarrassed at the self-will, the downright disobedience. How could she tolerate it? It could only have been love.
I truly hope that that name, "little pill", can also come with the reminder that it is often a little pill that relieves someone's pain and suffering, calms a troubled heart, and aids in healing.
Today I resolve to more fully live up to the better side of the name used to describe me as a child.

A Spoonful of Sugar

What is it with kids and "sweet teeth"? They seem to think that EVERYTHING will taste better with sugar in it. Well, I found out by experimenting with sugar in my citrussy tomato soup that this philosophy doesn't always work. But it was so unbelievable to me that I had to try it twice! - The second time, Grandma made me eat it.

And what about the practical joke? Pepper sprinkled onto chocolate cake? When I played it on my friend, she got another piece but when she did it back...

There was the time Richard and I sat at the table for what we determined to be an eternity. Liver is just never good. There is no recipe on earth to fix it, it simply is not for human consumption. So after the rest of the family was retired to the living room to watch television, and comfortably settled in, Richard and I quietly took our plates outside and dumped their contents over the fence. We were SAVED! Or, so we thought. The next morning we had to have a stern talking to because the neighbor told on us; but we still got out of liver.

Grandma asked us one afternoon if we wanted to make "vinegar taffy". We wondered why anyone would want to make such a thing! But she explained to us that this taffy really was a yummy sweet candy and there was only a little vinegar in it. We were willing to go along because we believed our grandmother would never trick us like that. So we went to the store, bought the ingredients and waited for the next day to make this strange "sweet".
We measured, poured and stirred, heated and stirred some more until it was ready. It had to cool for a little while because we were going to pull it and stretch it with our hands. They had to be all buttered up to keep the candy from sticking to them. We pulled it and pulled it till it turned white and then we twisted and braided it. We let it finish cooling and then broke it into bite-sized pieces, and y' know? Grandma was right!

Honeybee Baby

For a while Dad had beehives on the roof of our house on Monterey Boulevard. Yep, right in the heart of The City. He kept them up there so that they would be as out of reach as possible, and when he worked with them he wore protective clothing that made him look like a "moon man".
After a while they swarmed and covered a section of the fence. I'm not sure how long he actually had them after that.
But, I recall Grandma harvesting honey from the honeycomb by warming it over the stove. The wax would melt and rise to the top of the honey, which was left underneath.
One day while the stove was going with honey in the pot, Dad asked us if we wanted to watch a baby bee being born. Richard and I were very excited to witness this event, which took place on the kitchen table under a glass bowl. It was amazing.

P.S. This is not my Dad in the picture but it sure looks a lot like him, doesn't it?

Little Purple Pansies

Of all the flowers I have ever known, and I'm sure I don't know them all, I love daisies and daffodils. They are beautiful without being too fragile, strong enough without looking sturdy. And they are cheerful and invite a sunny disposition.

Then we have the pansies. Richard and I once sang a song in Primary, in front of everyone, called "Little Purple Pansies". I remember practicing for this performance of sorts. Grandma would remind us to look up so as not to sing at the floor, and to sing out.

Primary used to be on Tuesday afternoons. It was a bit of an activity day with gospel lessons. On Sunday we went to Junior Sunday School and had gospel lessons again but this time it was a more spiritual setting. Anyway, the reason for bringing this up is because I just want to mention that David and Lloyd Chandler sang "Davey Crockett"!

Some of the pansies Grandma grew in the back yard were little miniature flowers, which I adored because they were so small. Richard and I used to pick them so we could take Grandma a bouquet. She had a little tiny vase for the little tiny flowers;
Mmmm, such a sweet memory...

"Little purple pansies touched with yellow gold,

Growing in one corner of the garden old,

We are very tiny but must try, try, try,

Just one spot to gladden you and I."

Grandma's Favorites

Grandma loved the flowers in her yard. These are the ones I remember best! Roses, Calla Lillies, Indian Torch, Pansies and Orchids. Most of these she had growing right outside the kitchen window.

For A Rainy Day

At church we had a visitor from our Stake High Council, Brother Don Dowling, who brought up the blessing of saving for emergencies. It is always smart to have some $ tucked away in a savings account should a need arise. But I felt truly validated when he brought up the ever humble money jar.
At our house I have three such "jars". Two of them are actually very nice looking wine bottles that Celeste saved for me from Red Robin where she is a manager. I put nickles and dimes in one of them and quarters in the other. For the pennies I currently use a gallon apple cider jug because pennies are far less frequented by the "needy". Brother Dowling said that he had a jar such as this and when the time arose to make an unscheduled trip, he was able to put new tires on his car. I want to also sing the praises of keeping this kind of savings.
When Suzanne had Jacob she lived in Georgia. I never thought I could ever make a trip like that, but she wanted me to come and be with her when he was born, (and so did I ;) so I dumped out my jar and started counting. I had well over $300! This was almost enough to cover the entire air fare, so I flew to Georgia. It was a first in setting the precedent for me to travel to the births of my grandchildren, and I have been there for most of them. (Garret - a C-Section - and Mollie were born 6 days apart so I missed Mollie's. Thank goodness for Celeste's wonderful mother-in-law who was able to be there. And then Kamryn - another C-section - was a week after Isabel and Suzanne's mother-in-law flew to Hawaii to save the day; Jared was still on his way home from Iraq for R and R.)
But the change from those jars has bought a few fresh things from the grocer at the end of a month, provided gifts, gas for the car, clothing, and object lessons and treats for Seminary, and these are only the things we remember! (I had to ask David for a memory jog). Anyway, I am a FIRM believer in spending only dollar bills so that I can add the change to the kitty. Repeatedly, this has very much paid off.

The Brownie Man

You've probably heard of the Gingerbread Man and the Pilsbury Dough Boy? I live with The Brownie Man.
David is getting a reputation for being an expert brownie maker. He made brownies frequently when Levi came over, but now that Levi has moved to Utah, the brownies have slowed down quite a bit. So, when the Yentes Family came to help us tame an out of control weed situation, he jumped at the chance to thank them with brownies.
Barbara gave a talk in Sacrament Meeting last Sunday and she mentioned those brownies right from the pulpit! This kind of advertising will not go unnoticed and I'm sure the opportunities will come for David to shine over and over again!

So, why all the reminiscing?

Just thinking about my Grandma Shipp.
It's her birthday. If she were alive, today she would be 105 years old.
Even when I was a little girl I knew my Grandma wouldn't live on this earth forever. But when you are a little girl, the future seems so very far away and things like this aren't something we need to think about right now. Well, then was then; and now is now, with all the memories.

Grandma was always so careful when she brushed my long hair. I would put up a fuss and she would say I had a sensitive head, so she very kindly put my hair in braids. ...Braids minimized tangles.
On very rare occasions, she let me brush her hair. I would sit on the top of the couch with my back against the wall so that I could start at the top of her head and her instructions were that I must not lift the brush until I brought it all the way down to the ends of her hair. This also minimized tangles.
Sometimes we would sit down with the great big book of nursery rhymes. She and I and sometimes Richard would read together and by the time I wasn't so young anymore I knew them well.
I had a couple of favorite books. One was "Little Black Sambo", a Little Golden Book about a small boy who was approached one at a time, by three tigers and with each one, he bargained his way out of being eaten by offering them a piece of his clothing. Later, the tigers meet up with each other in the jungle and because of their covetous desire to have the others' items, they chase each other around a tree, each holding onto the tail of the tiger in front of him. With Little Black Sambo watching, they run so fast around that tree that they seem to simply become a yellow streak, and then the streak becomes a circle of melted butter. Little Black Sambo gets all of his clothes back, and the moral of this story is, of course, not to be selfish or covetous.
The other book I loved for her to read was "Blueberries For Sal". I could very much relate to this one because it was all about going berry picking with your mother on the side of a hill. - On the other side a mother bear has also taken her child to the hill to pick berries. I was delighted by it!
I have been able to purchase "Blueberries For Sal". It is still read in homes and schools all over the country but "Little Black Sambo" is "politically incorrect". Even though there is no insult to African Americans in there anywhere, "Little Black Sambo" is no longer in print. I have searched on e-bay for a good used copy of the Little Golden Book off and on for years but the price always soars so high that it is this side of ridiculous, so I let it go.
Grandma was, well, our grandma. She was kind and loving. For her and Grandpa to take us in, and, with our Dad, provide for us and care for us and love us was a blessing most children don't get to have. Being able to know my Grandmother on the same level as a mother, with the added patience and understanding that comes with life's experiences, was full of lessons I would need to carry me through the rest of my life. She afforded me a foundation of love for which I will ever be thankful.

Happy Birthday, Grandma :)

Pride Goeth Before The Fall

I got roller skates! I don't remember whether they were for Christmas or a birthday, but they became a favorite way for me to spend my playtime. In learning to skate I held onto parked cars. As my bravery increased, it was fortunate for me that we lived just a few houses away from where the street started uphill, and I used this to my greatest advantage in skating. I would hold onto a bicycle-parking bar that went out from the coffee shop about a quarter of the way across a very wide sidewalk and was close to the bottom of the hill. The bar allowed me to pull myself up, just a couple of inches at first, and roll down. I went higher and higher up that hill until I felt pretty darned confident.
I had seen the Olympic ice skaters on t.v. and I liked their style. I still very much enjoy their graceful turns and spins, and I became proud of myself for my new found skill level. I could do some of those spins and one that I recall was being able to turn by gaining momentum and then bringing my heels in so that I would turn around and around facing the inside of my circle.
One day I decided to try something new. Those Olympic skaters could jump. I put on my skates and tried jumping. I could do it! Not very high but I still could. I didn't dare jump very high so to put flair into my performance I added a jump rope. As long as I was careful and slow it worked but I needed to be able to jump just like I did without skates. I increased my jumping speed and made the attempt despite the warnings of my brother and the rope got caught in the wheels of a skate. I fell flat on my face! Richard ran to get Grandma as I laid on the cement. My mouth was bleeding and it hurt but when my Grandma took one look at me she laughed! Immediately she covered her own mouth, apologized profusely, giggled a little, and told me how sorry she was that I had fallen down but that I looked so funny with my upper lip stuck up like that. It took me several minutes to let go of being mad at her laughter 'cause I guessed she was right. I could feel that my lip was pushed up as I landed on my face (she even showed me in the mirror) and I was lucky I hadn't broken my front teeth. So all that really got dented was my pride.

Justice and Mercy

In today's world we see much of injustice. Daily in the news there are reports of others being wronged in every way imaginable. It has even gotten to the point where leaders are counseling us not to admit to anything on a legal level without proper representation because words are twisted, easy targets are sought after and punishments are too severe. Compassion and mercy are reserved for the victim alone without thought to the one who may have to pay the eternal price when, in reality, we all must pay an eternal price unless we repent.
We did our first learning about Isaiah today. Nephi quoted him often in his teachings because he was one of the few prophets who had permission to write about so many of the things he saw in visions. Mercifully, Isaiah wrote in such a way as to be difficult to the understanding of the wicked to preserve them from becoming accountable for laws they would not keep. And the mercy of the Lord prevails as we seek His help through the Spirit to understand those sacred writings.
Court convened at about 6:30 this morning. Every student had a copy of the script. The cast was selected and we began. Yes, Isaiah is not easily understood, even by those who are seasoned in the gospel, but as we discussed justice and mercy and how we are "graven on the palms of his hands" there was a quiet in the room befitting the scene.
The thing that impresses me the most about my Seminary class is their level of spiritual maturity. They reverence that which is sacred. Barbara Yentes asked me about the silliness that teenagers can get into. I told her that perhaps there might be more of that as the kids became used to me and I to them, but now I don't think so. They have a depth of understanding and gratitude. This kind of love for our Savior surpasses the levity of youth. It becomes part of our core and makes of us people of God.

Who is the most important prophet to ever live?

I got many answers to this question this morning. It made for some fun discussion as we reviewed great contributions made by great men of God. But I was so proud when it didn't take too long for Parker to say, "President Monson, because he is the living prophet".
I took a yellow marker and wrote on the board "yellow", because it is President Monson's favorite color. Then I took a brown marker and wrote, "chocolate" on the board because he loves chocolate, but the basket of chocolate candy bars caught immediate attention.
On each bar there was a slip of paper with a question for the student and then how it would be answered by the prophet. Example: "How many children do you want to have? President Monson has three, two boys and one girl." This game was Suzanne's idea and I especially liked how the kids could relate to the prophet through their own answers as well as his. Each student had good comments and observations.
The last was a Snickers bar and the question was, "Can you wiggle your ears like President Monson?" and Clara could! She did it for us... twice! Then Kaitlyn read the part of a talk given in General Priesthood meeting where this story was told.
We read quotes by President Monson and briefly discussed them, noticing that most of the Prophet's statements were about keeping the faith. He said, "I urge you to hold fast to your standards. I plead with you not to waver", and "Courage, not compromise, brings the smile of God's approval."
We are preparing to get to know a little about Isaiah next. And perhaps, because we have been able to view a more personal side of our current prophet, we may better be able to relate to a prophet of old. Nephi said to liken the scriptures to ourselves and he also chose to repeat the words of Isaiah in his own writings. It would seem, therefore, that we too would do well to understand the counsel of these ancient men of God.

Baptism Day

When I was 7 years old I was an angel for Halloween. Unlike the "angel" in the picture I didn't have wings, but instead, across the yoke, written in gold was "Li'l Angel Child". I loved that costume and once Halloween was over I got to wear it to bed.
The following February I celebrated my 8th birthday, so I was very excited. Jumpsuits may or may not have been available but I wanted a dress, so my Grandma sewed white fabric over the words on my angel costume and I was baptized in it.
Most child baptisms are on Saturday, and so was mine. One of my friends, Janet Bellamy, was having her 8th birthday party on that very day. I had invited her to my baptism but instead, she had her party and I remember being disappointed at leaving the party early so that I would be on time for my baptism. But I also remember thinking I was lucky to be able to be baptized. Actually, I was baptized 3 times. My hair kept coming up out of the water, but the third time was the charm!
Another couple of interesting facts about my baptism: 1. I was interviewed by Bishop Chandler, my father-in-law (future of course!), who was our bishop at that time; and 2. I was confirmed on the date of my first child's birth, March 4th.

The Day I Didn't Run Away

My Grandma was one smart lady! Just like in the incident with the silly putty, she outsmarted me more than once!
I remember being bent on running away. Oh, something got stuck in my craw and I was convinced that my life would be better lived out elsewhere so I proceeded to make ready for my departure.
Grandma said she would help me and offered to make me a couple of sandwiches because, she said, I was sure to get hungry again and an extra one might be nice for later on. We wrapped them up, along with an apple, in a red bandanna and tied it to the end of a stick we found out behind the house.
Next, Grandma said I would probably want to wear a sweater under my coat because it gets really cold at night. So she helped me put a sweater on under my coat.
Grandma stopped me from leaving right then because she wanted a picture to remember me by and as she went to get the camera she told me how much she loved me and was going to miss me. I stood and posed in the dining room for her picture, but by now I was getting pretty emotional. We both cried for several minutes and she told me I didn't have to go if I didn't want to. I decided to stay, so she helped me take off the coat and sweater and together we ate the apple and the sandwiches.

Remember The Human Family

Today marks the anniversary of the bold and inhumane attacks on both Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and an attempt on the White House. This day has gone down in infamy as an act of open war on innocent civilians. It is a day that must never be forgotten.
Earlier I wrote about the need to never forget, and of the importance of defending freedom, etc.. And while my thoughts about these things have not changed, I feel compelled to go in a different direction.
We donated blood this afternoon. The goal was set at 2,993 pints - the number of lives lost because of that fateful day eight years ago. I don't know if they reached the goal or not, but there was a crowd that kept the phlebotomists hopping the entire time we were there. I am proud to be part of a nation that reaches out to serve their fellow beings, even when they are strangers.
There was a young firefighter there who had donated bone marrow to a boy in the Dominican Republic, which saved the child from cancer. He was recruiting others to put their names on the registry because it is difficult to find a match, even within the family. (And by the way, if you are a match and you agree to donate, your transportation and expenses are paid).
I was wearing a sticker that said, "Be nice to me. I donated blood", when I went into the grocery store with $33 to buy a few veggies and some cans of chili. I picked up a bit more than that, knowing it would be close at the cash register. My total came to $33.95. I was ready to return one of the cans of chili, when the cashier took a dollar out of her pocket and paid my overage. She said with a big smile on her face that she wanted to thank me for donating blood because she couldn't, and then she added, "After all, it says to be nice to you, doesn't it?"
While it's easy to focus on social ills and what's wrong with the nation, I still want to believe that most people want to do good, that their hearts are large and generous. Even if this is not altogether true in spite of our differences, we are still the Human Family. This , I believe, is the most important thing we can remember, and not only on September 11th.

Stand For Righteousness!

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I went to work as usual, but there were whispers in the air when I got there. It was my job to supervise kids on the playground at Dennis Earl Elementary School and the first place I headed was the office to get my orange vest and pack. I was stopped by the Principal, Mrs. Marta Kyte, who briefly told me what had happened with one of the Twin Towers in New York and that if any children asked me about it, it was my responsibility to reassure them that they were safe here.
On the playground, the buzz continued, and when the bell rang, Mrs. Kyte went on the intercom and once again did her best to calm listeners, but I was allowed to watch the news as we learned of a second plane crashing itself into the other tower. As the news went on they added two more locations of attack; the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania which plane had been headed for the White House, but the passengers attempted to take control and crashed. There were no survivors from any of the planes and the total death count was 2,993 souls.
It is good that this day of remembrance comes around once a year, but almost in spite of it, people have lost the surge of patriotism and loyalty that swelled up at the time. How can we as a nation just turn our backs on our own defense. "Peace at any cost" will ultimately turn into bondage if we let it. Accounts of righteous wars were written throughout the Book of Mormon, warning us that freedom isn't free; that there are two prices we must be willing to pay to maintain liberty. Those two prices are righteousness, and a willingness to put our lives on the line in battle.
Two wars. The first has been waged since the Heavenly Hosts made the choice of either Satan's plan or the Savior's, which continues here on this earth. But the second is more difficult to recognize. We are taught to love our neighbor and to be thoughtful of their beliefs but when do we arrive at too much tolerance? How much unrighteous dominion is too much? And when do we become involved in someone else's problem?
At baptism we covenant to bear on another's burdens. This does not mean that we simply stand by and watch the bully do his dirty work. If we are to do what righteouness demands, we stand up and act on behalf of the oppressed. How is it possible for people to close their eyes to something they have the poweer to do something about if they will but unite.
In 2001 there were four attacks on our own soil, taking thousands of the lives of our own people. Let us "brave up" and have the courage it takes to make our voices heard, both in missionary work and at the ballot box; by example and by declaration, that we will DO watever the Lord dictates and stand for truth and righteousness in all things.

Of Magic Tricks and Building Boats

Seminary was fun today. First we imagined what it would be like to leave home as Lehi did, but in our own day. Then we were crash landed on the moon as we were heading toward our mother ship, and had to prioritize as a class, a list of provisions we would take in order to walk the rest of the way. (Great discussion and insights into decision-making, etc.).
I asked the class if anyone could cut a hole in a sheet of paper, that two people could pass through comfortably. Since no one knew how it could be done I got to be the one to show them how, but of course, the only reason I knew was because it was in the lesson! (Unfortunately the illustration isn't transferable so you'll have to find it through a search engine if you want it. It's the "walk through paper trick") It ends up to be a huge circle. It was a great example of how the Lord often asks us to do things that seem impossible, but He makes a way.
Then we made a paper folding of a sailboat with instructions for how to fold, etc.. It wasn't an easy little project but it required us to carefully follow the directions and even then, some couldn't make it work - including me on that last step! I offered Seminary dollars to anyone who could successfully complete it and there were 2 who did!
Lots of doing in this lesson. Lots of student involvement. I really like that.
Lastly we watched a short video and then dismissed. It was great!

Vanishing Putty

Warning labels come on many things, but there is one product where this is lacking........ Silly Putty. Yes, Silly Putty. I mean it! My Grandma told me that if you leave it out of its little egg, it will disappear, so I was always very careful to put it away.
I loved how you could transfer the Sunday Funnies onto it by pressing the putty on the picture you wished for it to pick up. Very cool! It could bounce, stretch, and be molded into anything. The only thing about it that was a drawback, was that it was not nice to take out of hair or clothing or carpet. But I LOVED it!
One day I was bouncing it in the house. Everyone was home so there are witnesses to what happened next. We were in the dining room and I bounced it pretty high, but it never came down! My Dad put me up on his shoulders so that I could look in the molding, but it wasn't there. We crawled all over the floor, checking under all the furniture but it wasn't there either. It simply was gone. I never saw it again.

All In A Name

At Sunnyside Elementary I had the most fun teachers for kindergarten; they were Miss Curly and Miss Doll (probably "Dahl", but I like mine better :)
In the third grade we had a teacher who yelled a lot. Her name was Mrs. Storm.

On Behalf Of Richard

Honestly, a confession is wanting here. In all fairness to Richard, I was a bit of a ring leader as a kid; NO, scratch that! I was... well, I was bossy. Downright. Arrogant even, because I always just knew I had things right. And it took me a lot of years and a lot of foolishness to learn otherwise.
Richard was a quiet, sweet child. I............ couldn't have been. So, he is entitled to a large measure of vindication from responsibility for these antics.
It wasn't until a few years ago that I reflected on the term "little pill", but my time has come to offer sincerest apologies because in spite of being little, I'm sure there were times when I had to have been hard to take.

Sometimes bad things come in threes, or The Fireplace And The Basement Revisited

Once Grandma reminded me of a day when we kids were very busy.
While she was downstairs doing laundry, Richard and I decided to decorate the livingroom by placing a small pile of ashes from the fireplace on the arms of the couches and chairs. Then, because it was so beautiful, we added ashes to the center of each of the seats. We were scolded and told not to play in the ashes or the livingroom. Grandma probably went outside to hang clothes on the line to dry, so we went downstairs, gathered up fistfulls of nails and put them into the dryer. When Grandma discovered this she sent us back upstairs where we promptly filled the toilet with potatoes.

The Fireplace And The Basement

Next to the kitchen, around the fireplace is where many gather for the warmth and coziness of family and friends. Our fireplace at Grandma's was a hub. It provided several things that have added to the sweet memories of my childhood.
We had a ritual at our house. Bath time was every Saturday night, in keeping with being clean and ready for church the next morning. We always got bubbles, the water was not too terribly high but there was plenty for playing with the boats Dad had made for us at Christmas time; of course there were some of the store-bought kind but the best ones were the ones from Dad.
After we played and scrubbed and got our hair washed, we were wrapped in huge towels and hurried to, you guessed it - the fireplace. Here we toasted our little selves til our skin glowed pink and ready for getting dressed into our pajamas.
Sometimes having the fire going meant we could pop popcorn over the open flame. Grandma had a popper that was a sort of box made of metal mesh. It had a long handle and the lid could slide up and down the handle, opening so that kernels could be added, then closed for the popping, and then opened again to remove the yummy corn. We were allowed to help but we had to be careful not to get the popper in the fire because our treat would be burned, and we also had to make sure we didn't get too close!

Downstairs was a place of wonder and mystery. We weren't supposed to go down there to play. There was a table saw and stacks and stacks of cut logs stored, piled all the way to the ceiling in places, for the purpose of keeping that fireplace usable in the winter. There were also tools and nails and materials rather unfamiliar to kids. There were no real windows to speak of, and the light had a long chain which was too high for us to reach so it was dark, in spite of the light over the stairs, even during the day.
With kids, rules are always such a temptation to break and because our curiosity was more than we could sometimes bear, we would, on occasion, venture into forbidden places down there in the dark. I don't know what we expected to find, but we were usually disappointed in how ordinary it became on closer inspection. But twice, not once but twice I paid a price for my precocious ventures. I went downstairs with no shoes on (another broken rule), and I stepped on a very long nail that went pretty deep. And then another time, we were climbing on the outside of the stair railing and I fell into the large sink we called "the washtub", onto my head. Very painful. (Could these doings be part of the reason my Grandma called me a "little pill"? Hmmmmmm.)

When Penny Candy Was A Penny

The way I figure it, I was born in the meridian of time.When
my Grandpa was a boy he could buy a bagful of penny candy for a penny, and now it takes dollars to buy a few pieces. So since when I was a girl penny candy was a penny, my time was perfect!
Cheerios were .25 per box, a pack of gum was .5, a gallon of gas was .23 and a postage stamp was .3 .
Grandma used a ringer washer. The speed limit was a standard 75 miles per hour on most highways. We got 3 t.v. channels, and color television was just invented. (I remember our first t.v.. We were not the first ones on the block to have one, but we didn't wait too long... well, at the time we thought we did!)

Movie Night, here we come!

From the very moment "Julie and Julia" began I was taken by it; charmed all the way through, I adored the music, the story line, the dialog, the cast - everything; almost. But I'm afraid I was haunted by the idea of recommending it to others. I am soooo glad that "clearplay" has come to our rescue! I don't know why there are people out there who think it is suave or sophisticated to use bad language and to display moments that are meant to be sacred between a husband and wife but I felt that the few things that were slipped into this movie were out of character for its class and style.
Two lives become intertwined as Julie Powell decides to launch a want-to-be writing career, with a blog. Her subject: "Mastering the Art of French Cooking", by Julia Child. This "Julie and Julia Project" is given the deadline of one year to complete all 525 recipes, blogging about the experience all the way through. And while we are looking in on Julie's kitchen, we are also allowed to view the events that led Julia Child to do her own writing.
When this telling of two true stories becomes available on disc, I have every intention of filling my house with friends, popping some popcorn and running it through the "clearplay" dvd player, so that others can also enjoy it the way it was meant to be filmed in the first place.

More From Childhood

- Memory #1. One summer morning Richard and I decided to walk up to the cross on Mount Davidson. It's up behind Saint Francis Woods. Grandma was still asleep so we hurried and left before she got up and could tell us "no". I supposed we could get there by just going uphill. Dad had driven us up there once when the fog was thick as "pea soup", and I thought it was a very cool place. So we did it! We walked past some of the most beautiful homes I had ever seen and we kept going up. We got there. We spent a little time exploring and then we went back home. It took hours. We only got a little lost once, and we got home okay, but we also got in trouble for it.
- Memory #2. Our Doctor's name was Dr. Strong. He was very nice and his office was just across the street from Grandma's. The dentist was there, too. Whenever we went to the doctor or dentist and handled it well, we got to get an Ice cream from Bruno's cafe up the street. Bruno also sold hamburgers, soda, comic books and candy, but we rarely spent money for those things.
- Memory #3. Mr. Webb also had a store up the street. One day I got into a collection of my father's silver dollars (solid silver) and I took some of them up to Webb's. Webb's was the store I could get to without crossing the street and he had what I wanted to buy. Anyway, when I was found out, Grandma went up to the store to try to reason with him and exchange the silver from the collection with dollar bills. She tried and tried but to no avail. He wanted them and simply told her it was our loss. - We never went to his store again.
- Memory #4. On Monterey Boulevard, down the street from 450 (Grandma's house) about 5-6 houses, there used to be a hill where there are now apartment buildings. On that hill we used to pick blackberries, slide down the side on a piece of cardboard, play all kinds of make believe; we built a fort there, and climbed the eucalyptus trees; I'll never forget that smell.
- Memory #5. Richard and I had pieces of wood that Dad cut and sanded for us. We placed them end-to-end on the floor and made roads all through the house. We drove Richard's cars on them. Dad also made boats out of wood for us to play with in the bath tub that he had painted different colors.
- Memory #6. When the Oakland Temple was built and dedicated, my Dad got to help President McKay down the stairs and naturally, I told him he must NEVER wash his hand again because he had touched the Prophet's hand and I felt privileged to hold it after the Prophet had.
- Memory #7. Mud pie making in the back yard.
- Memory #8. I was learning to tie my shoes. We were in the back yard playing and I didn't want to take the time to try to do it myself, but when I asked my Dad he said I needed to do it. I was pretty put out about it but I worked through it myself and after that I never forgot how.
- Memory #9. About fish: Grandma had a pond in the back yard made from an old footed bath tub, and she kept koi in it. And all the way across the back fence my Dad and Grandpa hung beautiful abalone shells. We used to watch Dad and Grandpa clean fish and pound abalone after going fishing or skin-diving. But the best fishing memory I have is going to the beach and watching Dad and one of his friends or Grandpa catch fish with the one or two-man nets. They could see the fish from the shore. This was a wonder in itself! Then they would run out into the wave when it was at just the right point, and thrust the poles of the net into the sand and hold it there while the wave ran back out, filling the net with little smelt. They would pull up the net with the fish in it and flip them onto the sand where they would wiggle all over the place. It was the job of us kids to run and gather up all the flopping fish and put them into a bucket to take home for dinner!
- Memory #10. When I went to Sunnyside School I would sometimes walk home for lunch. My favorite lunch to eat with Grandma was cottage cheese and fruit or tomatoes. What I loved to take to school was tuna sandwiches - and ONLY tuna! YUM! Also, back then, girls always wore dresses to school. This was even so all the way through high school. AND, at school in San Francisco,when an adult entered the room, we all had to stand up, but in Daly City this was not the case so I felt more than a little foolish that one time, for standing.

Which Church?

Most of the kids in our San Francisco neighborhood were Catholic except me. It made me curious to pass that big church every day on my way to and from Sunnyside School. Occasionally we would see the nuns walking to the building next door wearing their black habits. They were a mystery. Having only ever been to our own church I really wanted to know about this other church so I asked my Grandma if I could go to Catechism with my friends. Of course I got an emphatic "No", so I took matters into my own hands and went anyway.
I was so excited to see that things were just like Primary! They began with a song and prayer, then they had opening exercises. After that we went to a class with other children our own age. Again, like Primary. The teacher gave a beautiful lesson and I just kept thinking of the similarities, until she got about halfway through and then abruptly closed the class and we went home! I was surprised that the best part of the story had been left completely out but being a child, and a guest, I said nothing about it. I was left with a profound realization that they didn't have the fullness of the gospel. I remember thinking that they never mentioned the temple and that it was central in importance to the subject they were covering. That day I learned from my own experience the difference in the two churches. I had no need to return. I left the book they gave me behind. This would have been the end of it, too, except for the nun who showed up at the door the next day to bring me that book!

The World Through Grandma's Eyes

As I've said before, I lived with Grandma Shipp from the time I was three years old until I was nine. These were the happiest years; you know how grandmas are. And while mankind may see them as just old grownups, my grandma was a refuge from the storms in my life. She was soft and kind but like a mother bear with her cubs, she was a defender! We know she loved us completely.
She had a bond with nature that she shared with
me and Richard. Her influence was real as we
picked blackberries together up on the hill behind Sandra's house. And when we walked to school she would point out different trees and flowers. The sky seemed to be her favorite, though, because she often brought to our attention a beautiful moon or the clouds or a spectacular sunset. Grandma appreciated the world and God's creations and I am glad she taught us to do the same.
Last night as I was driving west, I noticed a gorgeous sunset - a red sun with an equally red flaming sky all around. Then I noticed in the rear-view mirror a striking contrast. The sky was hazy, cool blue and the chalk moon reflected light from the sun but none of its flame. Such a startling difference for the same sky, on the same night and at the same time! I got a real kick out of it and I know my Grandma would have, too.
I think about her and how grateful I am for everything she taught me in the all-too-short six years I got to spend living in her house. I miss her. I miss her singing, her story-telling about "the olden days", reading nursery rhymes, letting us help cook dinner, saying bed-time prayers, gathering us up and giving us hugs and kisses. At moments like these, all was right in the world. Because of her, the harshness of some of life's realities have been made bearable and life, more beautiful. Thank God for Grandmas.

The Lord's Vineyard

Our Stake welfare project is raisins. While this may seem to be a minor contribution in the scope of just what is essential in the way of life-sustaining commodities, it might do us good to consider the true value of a little dried grape.
I like to think that raisins are for children. They seem to get so much pleasure from such tiny things. Raisins are sweet, natural, high in nutrients. They are loved in cookies and other desserts but are just as delightful all by themselves. And because we go out and do a bit of pruning in the spring and harvesting in the fall, we get to be part of the process that brings them to the table of little ones all over the world.
There is something sacred and humbling in this work of the Lord. The very atmosphere out in that dirt is right up there with being in the temple. He loves His children, and He allows us to be blessed by helping to provide for those who are going through hard times.
We've gone through some hard times ourselves and have been blessed by being able to use food from the Bishop's Storehouse. One day, as I was preparing food in my kitchen, I looked over and saw printed on a label - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As I read, my eyes focused on the name of the Lord, and the reality of His love being made manifest through this kind gift sank deep into my heart. He was providing temporally for our family in a very real way even though it was through the hands of many others.
When the bishop had called us in to see how we were doing and we told him we were trying our best to be self-sufficient, he asked why we hadn't been in to see him about food and the reply was that we were doing our best to provide for ourselves. He explained that sometimes part of being a good provider is to make use of the system we had been putting into for many years and that we would not be doing our best if we didn't make use of the Lord's gift. (It was true that we had spent time over the years participating in various welfare projects wherever we lived. Once David even came home green from packaging jello at the dry-pack cannery in Missouri!)
Because of the experiences we have had on a personal level with the church welfare system, I have reason to reverence the place, the time and the food itself. We enjoy fellowshipping with ward family when we go to the vineyard, but we try not to be wasteful or careless in our work. We know that these little raisins will be sent out to kitchens of God's children and that they will bear His name everywhere they go.