Dancing in the Living Room

Dancing in the living room. When we lived in Florida one of my favorite things to do was dance in the living room. Our living room was one of the few carpeted rooms in our home and it was sunken as it had a step down from the dining room. There was a rod iron railing that divided the two rooms. Not only did I love to dance in this room, this was where I would secretly take my baby brother to teach him to walk. Apparently, I wanted credit for this event. I spent many hours listening and dancing to Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass. The album belonged to my parents and displayed a young woman covered in nothing but whipped cream. Although, I had never taken any formal lessons I enjoyed flinging myself around the room, leaping with my arms flung out. It was some time during this period I asked my parents if I could take tap dancing lessons at the local dance studio. Once a week I would ride my bike up to The Royal School of Ballet for my lesson and learn all about shuffle, ball change, step. We would also spend some time doing some sort of tumbling, which I remember not being very good at. However, I enjoyed learning how to tap dance and took great pleasure in the sound of my tap shoes hitting the floor. I ended the season with a dance recital that my father and sister attended. It did seem a little odd years later when I looked back on it that my mother had not attended. This was the one and only time that I took formal dance lessons of any kind. However, in Jr. High and High School I was a member of the drill team.

Trolls and Ratfinks

Trolls and Ratfinks. Back in the mid- sixties, trolls were all the rage. They came in a rainbow if hair color and from teeny tiny to quite large. The coolest thing about trolls, though, was their hair. It stuck straight up and could be tested and stuck back down into the little crevice in their head resulting in a bun. It was fun to collect these little creatures and their clothing as well. Years later as a classroom teacher, I ran across a troll at Target, which I immediately purchased for my classroom. We had read a Jan Brett book about trolls, and he seemed the perfect companion for the book. I was happy to have one again. Another, little creature we loved to play with were Ratfinks. They were tiny little plastic "rats" that came in an array of colors and stood up more like a person. I must have had several, because I made their home in a cigar box with little Kleenex beds. Imaginary play was always my favorite along with anything of a miniature size. I remember many hours of enjoyment from these tiny toys. 

Harriet the Spy

Harriet the Spy. When I was around ten years old, I fell in love with all things detective. Along with Nancy Drew, I loved watching The Man From U.N.C.L.E., The Girl From U.N.C.L.E., and Honey West. Whenever Ann Marie and I played spies I would quickly claim to be April Dancer or Honey West. Somewhere along the way I read the book, Harriet the Spy. It was all about a girl my age who loved to observe and spy on people. She would take copious notes in her composition notebooks and refer back to them to solve her cases. I once did a book report about Harriet back in the 5th or 6th grade. It was written in my neat  cursive script, as it was always important to me that my work was of high quality. I even included a portrait of Harriet toting her spy supplies along with her. I was quite proud of my efforts as I never considered myself a gifted artist. Years later they made a movie about the book which I enjoyed watching with my daughter. I can't say that she was quite as enamored with Harriet as I remembered being. 

Confirmation

Confirmation. At St. Margaret Mary's Parochial School, confirmation was held every other year. This resulted in you either being confirmed in 5th grade or 6th. It fell during my 5th grade year, so I was ten years old when I was confirmed. In the Catholic Church confirmation is considered one of the seven sacraments. In order to be confirmed we were required to commit to memory over fifty questions and answers from our catechism. We had to be able to recite the answers word for word. Questions like, "Who made me?,""God made me in his image and likeness." Part of the process was picking a confirmation name. I remember arriving in class that day having completely forgotten about this. I had not considered any name, and when put on the spot chose Mary the mother of Christ. To be honest I never really liked this name, maybe because it rhymed with Shari. I remember years later being a little envious of my sister who had chosen St. Francis of Assisi as her name. I always loved that saint. One of the things I really looked forward to, was getting my own missal for confirmation. It was white, quite thick and very grown-up. Not only could I follow along with the mass, it also had special readings for each day in honor of the saints. I still have it to this day and treasure it.  (Along with my plastic chalice and host from my First Communion.) On the day of my confirmation I had to wear a white robe and a red beanie. As we processed into the church I felt quite holy as this was a special day in my young life. We had been taught that when we were confirmed we would be soldiers for Christ, willing to lay down our lives for our faith. We had also been instructed that we would have to answer some questions from the bishop to see if we were prepared for the sacrament. He asked a couple of questions to the group that I thought were quite easy. I remembered how many hours I had devoted to learning all my catechism questions, and I was a little disappointed he didn't ask any harder questions. I was always the devoted student. The final act was to be a "slight blow" to the cheek administered by the bishop to show our sincere commitment to the whole soldier for Christ idea. I remember when it was my turn, I knelt down and the bishop slapped me across my cheek. It was no slight blow in my mind! It actually hurt. This might have been the beginnings of my journey away from Catholicism. Years later when I was the sponsor for my younger sister's confirmation it was all about peace and love. No slapping at all! This was a kinder, gentler church. Go figure?

Tressy

Tressy and Barbie. One of my favorite things to do when I was living in Florida was to play Barbies. Except that I had replaced my Barbie with a Tressy doll. She was super cool as she had hair that could grow. If you pushed the button on her trim waistline and pulled the center strand of hair it would grow into long trestles. Then when you wanted a short, sassier look all you had to do was twist the button on her back. Voila, short hair! I spent many hours playing Barbies with my best friend Ann Marie. Back in the sixties you did not have a plethora of the dolls themselves. Rather, you collected outfits for your doll. I had a small, pink armoire that held all my Tressy clothes and accessories. One of my favorite outfits was the Jackie Kennedy pink suit with the pillbox hat. I even had a fur coat for mine. I remember painting my Tressy's lips with light pink nail polish, and piercing her ears with studded sewing pins. Years later when Ann Marie and I reunited, I packed Tressy in my luggage and brought her along to my trip to Ohio. As luck would have it, Ann Marie still had her beloved Barbie doll. While Ann Marie and I caught up on the years between our meeting, Tressy and Barbie had a reunion, too!