52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History - Neighbors

This week's prompt in the 52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History is "Neighbors. Who were your childhood neighbors? Have you kept in touch with any of them? Do you feel the concept of 'neighbors' has changed since then?"

I grew up in a small town in western Kentucky.  While it wasn't Mayberry per se, the older I get, the more it transforms into it.  

The one thing that doesn't grow rosier with each year was the relationship with our neighbors.  We had some of the best neighbors - the kind that you hear stories about.

When I read this week's prompt, I immediately thought of our neighbors just down the hill from us.  They had four children, the youngest was just months younger than myself.  From my earliest memories, she and I were inseparable.  I have a photograph of the two of us - we were barely 2 and 3, but there we were in the sandbox my daddy had made.  She was in all the pictures of my birthday parties as I was in hers.    

Walks to school together, bike rides anywhere in the neighborhood, playing in the dying light of days during summer vacation - there we were.


Then, one day, she told me her family was moving to West Germany (yes, there were two then) because her father was being transferred.  We were in middle school by then, but it was like losing part of me.  She would come back to visit each summer and we wrote each other constantly.  I still have her letters!  Stories of going skiing on Spring Break in Switzerland or a track meet in Paris sounded much more adventurous than "I'm going to the Smokies" or "I'm going to Cape Girardeau", when in fact, they were the same distance.


She and I've come together again on Facebook.  It was wonderful finding her and part of my childhood again.

The neighbors on our street and the surrounding ones would come together again and again in times of trouble and times of celebration.  They kept an eye on all the children and, many times, my mother knew of my antics before I ever got home!  

There was a sense of community then; one that's sadly missing from today's society.  While I know my neighbors, I don't "know" my neighbors.  I wave, they wave.  We exchange baked goods on holidays.  We speak while in the yard.  But it's not the same. 

We went back to Calvert City last year when my sister and I took our mother's ashes for burial in Iowa.  We parked in front of our old house.  I can't help but wonder if that community is still there and if it's still Mayberry for the children of Cypress Street.

(I apologize.  I've not written any articles lately.  I started a new job about 6 weeks ago and have been stressed with re-entering the office environment.  Things have fallen into place now and I should be writing much, much more.)

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History - Spring Has Sprung

In Week 14 of 52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History, we're writing about Spring. What was spring like where and when you grew up? Describe not only the climate, but how the season influenced your activities, food choices, etc.

Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"  ~Robin Williams

And no one knows how to party like Marshall County, Kentucky, on the first Monday of April.  Regardless of what the winter had brought, regardless of how cold it had been, children of Marshall County knew that April would bring Tater Day!  That's right, folks.  An homage to the lowly sweet potato sprout and a old-fashioned "trade day", the first Monday of April became a local holiday.  Schools were closed and a parade was planned.  There were rides to ride at the park in Benton and Hutchins Bar-Be-Que to eat.  I'm sure there were my dreaded clowns there, but, in the euphoria of corn dogs and funnel cakes, I don't remember seeing them there.

Unfortunately, I only remember going a few times.  My parents would usually take this opportunity to work on our garden.  We owned not only the lot our house was on, but also the lot across the street.  Without a house there, it was ours to play on.  Daddy had built a two story playhouse that was originally used in the Calvert City Christmas Parade in 1969 as Santa's Workshop.  The front half of the lot was more like a park.  We had a fire pit, benches, flowers, a tire swing on a limb of the old mulberry tree.  The back 1/2 of this lot was a garden.  And it was this garden that was the bane of my existence!  Green beans, strawberries, cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes, corn, grapes.  It was this garden that, later in the year, would prevent me from getting to sleep late.  But it was also this garden, that in a short few weeks, would bring strawberries.  Wonderful, luscious, plump strawberries, which brought homemade / home canned strawberry jam and stewed strawberries.  And those brought warm cornbread and homemade shortcake.

We worked all through the summer and fall from that garden.  Spring producing plants would be replaced by summer and then fall ones.  The canners were in full gear with jams, preserves, vegetables, pickles as well as frozen.  All those cans ended up in the pantry in our basement.  And the efforts of that spring, summer and fall helped feed us through the winter.  

Until it was Spring again.  And Spring brought thoughts of Tater Day, rides and corn dogs, but the realization of helping in the garden and mowing the yard.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History - Whistle While You Work

This week in the 52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History blogging event is Week 9: Sounds. Describe any sounds that take you back to your childhood. These could be familiar songs, jingles, children playing, or something entirely different.

Whistles.  No, that THAT kind of whistle.  

There were two type of whistles that my sister and I grew up with.  Our mother had us trained like Pavlov's dogs with her's.  Her distinctive short 3 tone whistle could mean anything.  I remember getting separated from her in a store.  I was panicked!  Where was my mommy?!  Then, I heard that familiar whistle!  There she was!  I also remember hearing it when I was outside and she was in...or she was in the front yard and I was in the back.  Wow!  Could that whistle carry!  

Our father now, he was a master of the whistle.  Whether it was a short catcall or one of his favorite Glenn Miller recordings, our daddy was an artist.  And he whistled all the time.  We owned the lot across the street from our house and half that lot was a garden.  He could be heard there as he was hoeing or picking produce.  Doing odd jobs around the house, he whistled.  During hikes on our many camping trips, he whistled.  During good times or bad, work or rest, he whistled.  I remember one day, when I was visiting my parents and he was working outside.  The windows were open and his whistling came through the windows.  If I could name one consistent music of my childhood, it's my father's whistling.

Two very different types of sounds - one very special feeling.  Mother's been gone three years now, Daddy two.  

How I wish I could hear their whistles again.

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History - Confessions of a Computer Cougar

This week's challenge for the 52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy and History is about technology.  "What are some of the technological advances that happened during your childhood? What types of technology to you enjoy using today, and which do you avoid?"  I think it will be fairly simple as you read along.

I have to admit, I didn't have to let it in the door.  It was my mistake.  I invited it.  I welcomed it.  My first was simple - did odd jobs around the house and kept me entertained.

But I was fickle, fickle I say!  Within a few years, there it was!  Oh and it was beautiful!  This one was shiny (what?  don't give me that look) and was so much more knowledgeable than my first.  What did I know back then?  I was a fool, but there was something dangerous about this new one.  I'll admit, it was that factor that intrigued me.  Sure, it took up space in my living room just as my first had, but this one, I justified to myself...knew Windows.  Oh yeah, baby.  And this one knew something called...the Internet.  I told you the new one in my life was dangerous.

So, we settled into a comfortable routine, this one and I.  I checked my mail, chatted with friends, even trusted it with my beloved genealogy.  Oh, the games we'd play together and the songs we sang!  Well, I sang, but it played along with me.  But you see, this soon became not enough.  Sadly, we parted ways, but I had a new plan in mind.

Like Frankenstein, or perhaps Frank in Rocky Horror, I would build my perfect one.  Self-taught and with help from the other man in my life, I pieced together something that would have made Konrad Zuse green with envy!  Bits of data flew around inside with lightening speed.  Driving down the Information Superhighway with the wind in my hair had never been faster.  I had to replace parts here and there, but what's life without band-aids now and again?  After a few years, love and care just wasn't enough....AGAIN. What was it?  Was it me?  Why did I keep attaching myself to something that wouldn't fulfill me?

Then, one day, a few years ago, I spotted one that caught my eye.  "How you doin'?" it seemed to say from its box.  I know, I shouldn't have even been looking, but that's how it is sometimes.  Just when you don't expect it, there it is.  We've been in a lovely relationship now since that night.  It's showing a few signs the others did, but I'm determined to keep this one around for a while.  It might help that I also have a laptop and a notebook, but only use them when my back's turned to the Big Guy.  Oh...and on vacation!

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Toys

This week, GeneaBloggers poses the topic:  Week 7: Toys. What was your favorite childhood toy? Is it still being made in some form today?  I seriously doubt it.

While most of my childhood toys were "outside games", I had a few things to do indoors.  There were always books, board games and Barbie dolls.

It had to be seriously cold outside to stay in the house....or I had to be bleeding from the ears.  Ok, not seriously, but you remember that kind of childhood.  If school wasn't in session, the minute breakfast was done, I was out the door.  Came home for lunch and then out the door again.  My father got home from work at 4:25 and we had supper at 4:30 on the dot!  After that, more outside until the dreaded streetlights came on.  We scattered like ripples in a pond the minute the streetlight even looked like it was coming on.  Children ran in every direction because you didn't want your mom on the front porch yelling your name to the neighborhood. 

On those occasions that my playground was bordered by the walls of my bedroom, I would take my Barbies from their case in the closet.  Would they dress in the haute couture of 1970?  Of course not!  MY Barbies had specially made....calico long dresses made by my mother...and even had ric rac!!

Johnny West in his bachelor days

You see, while other little girl's Barbies were dining with Ken on Broadway in New York (this was before Malibu Barbie House so deal with it) or zooming around in a pretend sports car (that looked suspiciously like a shoe box), my Barbie was busy settling the frontier with Johnny West.  Yes, Johnny West.  Scourge of all  things bad in those thrilling days of yester-year.  She'd NEVER be seen with Ken, who'd idea of adventure would be changing his neck scarf!

And the best part?  The very best part?  Johnny West and Barbie (whose name was Barbara for these purposes) traveled in a scale model of a covered wagon.  That's right - carved wheels, bench seat, all the comforts that those early pioneers had.  Well, it would have been covered if Mother and Daddy figured out what to hang the canvas from.  You see, my Daddy could make pretty much whatever he wanted to.  He was a skilled craftsman and handyman.  He also had a wood working lathe, but I don't believe he used it on this.

By the way, Johnny and Barbara West also had a beautiful pair of horses to pull the wagon.  Their harnesses were of the finest leather and had silver buckles and fasteners.

They also had their family and friends about them as they blazed their way into the new frontier.  The same Christmas that Johnny West made his way to our home, Santa also brought along Jaime and Janice West and Geronimo even came along for the adventures.

Yeah, I was a history nerd even back then, but I blame it all on this man.  I know that my 7th great-grand uncle didn't look like this, but *swoon*

So, what was my favorite toy?  Imagination.  Thanks to Mother, Daddy and Daniel Boone.