Tag Archives: Memoir

My Hair: A Family Affair 2

9 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Grandmother Marie was never too busy to see to my hair. When I was in eighth grade she decided I needed more curl and gave me a machine wave.

machine wave

 

The machine had a thread-wrapped chord which plugged into the electrical outlet on the wall. Wires with clamps hung down until it was time to attach them to the steel rods where Grandmother had rolled my hair. She used a rat-tailed comb to pull each strand through a slit in a pad which had been built up with sheep’s wool and covered with rubber to make it thick. Even at that it wasn’t enough to keep my ears, my scalp, and the skin on back of my neck from getting burned. I can almost feel it and smell the singed hair now. After she attached the clamps I sat still until my hair heated up enough to make the curl permanent. That was when she removed the clamps, rods, and pads and sent me off to play.

I don’t know how many machine waves I got, maybe only one, but I seem to recall most of the details still. It was as bad as going to the dentist to have my tooth drilled without numbing. Anyone my age would recall that sore trial.

machine wave 2

When Grandmother wasn’t looking, I tried to get my old hair back by washing out the heat wave, but alas, I was stuck with frizzy hair and no redress except for it to grow out. When I went back to school, my teacher, a WW2 veteran like my dad called me frizzy head in front of the whole class and I was so embarrassed that if I could have I would have flown right out the window. Now, however, I realize that he may have been getting a bit of well-deserved revenge for all the times I disrupted his teaching by deliberately asking him questions about his war experiences. Fortunately, the classmates were all good friends, so my shaming only went so far and I was back to my bouncy self again.

I can’t complain about grandmother giving me a permanent wave, because when I grew up and became a hair-dresser I gave perms and got them too. Grandmother asked me to give her one each time I went to visit her, which wasn’t too often because I lived in California and she lived in Colorado. I didn’t mind a bit, but I was glad that science had moved along enough by then that perms, while smelly, were hardly painful at all.

From the time permanent waves were invented they grew in popularity until straight hair became the rage in the 70s.Our daughter never had to have one in fact she straightened out the wave in her hair every morning with a regular curling iron. Some girls laid their heads on the ironing board and ironed their hair straight or asked someone to do it for them. Fashion can be fun, but sometimes it can be somewhat of a trial as well. One thing we’ll always know is that it will never remain static.

Here’s someone else who had the same experiences I did.

 

My Hair: A Family Affair

2 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Bedell family1920s The Bedell/Hunter family: Granddad, Roger Bedell, Great-Aunt-Vera Hunter, Dora Bedell (my mother at 4), Grandma Mabel, and her mother Great-Grandma-Hunter

Mabel Bedell, my maternal grandmother, was a gentle person who was born in 1892 in Breckenridge, Colorado, the daughter of a miner. She completed the third grade. She had four children and owned, with Granddad Roger, an apple orchard on the outskirts of Canon City, Colorado. During The Great Depression, most of the family came to live with them because they had a house and food.

For some reason my first memory of hair comes from remembering Grandma Mabel when I was about four years old. I don’t know where we were that day, but I’m sure I was busy. Grandma Hunter asked if she could comb my hair. Perhaps Mother had told her what a wild-child I could be and how hard it was to get me to slow me down for any kind of grooming. I approached Grandma warily because I didn’t believe she could comb my tangled hair without hurting me. Grandma Mabel, however, took her time working through the tangles in my naturally curly hair while I managed to sit still until she finished. I can recall the love I felt as Grandma Mabel gave me a hug and allowed me to get up and go play. It is the only memory I have of her. She died when I was seven.

My other Grandmother, Marie Bowers, born in 1893 in Point Pleasant, Illinois was the first of thirteen children whom she helped rear. After graduation from the country school’s eighth grade, Marie became the teacher for all eight grades. When she and Grandad Ira moved to Canon City Colorado they started up a “Beauty Shop,” in their house on Main Street. Later they moved to a bigger house that had room for apartments and a beauty shop. While constructing the space for the shop Granddad went to work at the Colorado State Penitentiary as a guard.

Bowers Beauty salon

Grandmother Marie liked to help my mother take care of my hair. When I was small she would wrap and smooth strands around her finger to form what she called long curls. I enjoyed the curls bouncing around my face and neck and asked for them often.

When I was six years old, Dad returned from the trenches of World War 2. He bought a restaurant in a small valley town with the help of the G. I. Bill, and the Bowers family was off to a new life.

My parents, Dora and Ivan were so busy with the restaurant that there was little time for family life. Dab and I ran wild, but our favorite place was at the restaurant where Mother and Dad were. We had jobs for which we received twenty-five cents an hour. We washed piles of dishes when the tourists filled the place. David took cases of empty soda-pop bottles into the garage next door to be picked up by the soda-pop delivery truck. If the café was busy enough I got to try my hand at frying hamburgers and cleaning the grill. There’s a certain way to clean a grill and I learned it.

Most of the time, since no child in town or out of it, ever took more than one bath a week, my clothes and hair smelled like restaurant kitchen. I didn’t notice and I don’t think anyone else did either.

One day, however, after school, I told my mother this was the night for the yearly operetta and she was caught unaware. Oh, she had cut down a beautiful blue chiffon dress with sequins for me to wear in my role of the lisping girl, but we hadn’t done a thing with my hair. She scrubbed it in the kitchen sink, cleaned out the sink, and towel dried my hair. Ther was no time to do anything else so she combed it and let me go. I liked it the best I had since the long curls. I was off to the high school auditorium to sing: “I love to hear a melody, I love to hear a symphony, but best of all I love to hear, my doggy say bow-wow.” They probably gave me the role because I wasn’t shy and because everyone knew my dog Brownie. In fact he was probably waiting outside the school to walk me home.

DiVoran and Brownie

Cruise of a Lifetime~Part 5

6 Mar

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

After sailing all night, we have moved onto the Main River (pronounced mine). Today was a sailing morning so we slept in. We got up, showered, dressed and went to breakfast. We were joined by Richard, Judy and Lucy, better knowing as Lucy B.

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We went through one lock during breakfast. We had gone through many locks overnight. It is a fascinating procedure to watch…and sometimes a bit nerve-wracking!! The ship is designed so that, when we go under a low bridge, all the chairs on the top deck are flattened, the sunscreen is collapsed, and the “bridge” is banished to its hiding place, so that everything up top is “flat.”

At 10:00 there was a glass blowing demonstration in the Lounge. The glass blower did the traditional demonstration in the Chilhuly style. He makes his products like Pyrex. According to the info sheet: “(he) creates an exquisite work of art from industrial glass in this captivating demonstration.” He displayed his wares, and they were fascinating. He had oil and vinegar bottles that I would have loved to get for myself and our girls, but we had to think about shipment, and so didn’t. He had jewelry – earrings and such. Really beautiful artwork. Below are a few examples of Chilhuly glass works.

(Credit to: By Patche99z – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5328589

After lunch in the restaurant, we began the walking tour of Miltenberg, “The Pearl of the Main River.”

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It is a neat old town. Fred and I thought we had been there before, when we lived in Germany, but we didn’t recognize anything we saw. Here are some good pictures of the town that we took.

 

We had a good guide. (NOTE: all the guides that Viking uses are locals, and they really know their stuff about the towns we visited. We were impressed) There is a red sandstone that is used locally as well as sent all over the world, as it is quite desirable. We walked and walked the town. Quite unique.

We were back on board the ship after a bus ride from the foot of the Red Stone Bridge. The ship had traveled farther up the river, and we caught up with it and re-boarded.

We had dinner in the ship’s restaurant, and our table mates were Velma and Jeff from Australia

and two others, whose names we didn’t get. Velma suggested a way that she designated her pictures: She would take a photo of the daily information sheet that is given to each cabin, with the date visible, and any photos following that photo belonged to that day. I thought it was a good way to keep track of the photos I was taking, and began doing what she suggested. It seemed to work out quite well. I was impressed with her suggestion, and told her so with my thanks.

We were really tired and so to bed early. Our old age is showing!

 

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

My First Car~Part 2

17 Feb

A Slice of Life

 Bill Lites

Bill Cross Plane

 

The extra money I saved working at Furr’s Super Market allowed me (with my parents help) buy a new Harley Davidson Sportster when I was 17. This machine was the one that got me interested in motor cycle clubs there in Albuquerque. They had all kinds of cool club events that I participated in. The one I liked the most was the “Hare & Hound” chase at night. A bunch of us would line up abreast with our lights on, and then act as the “Hounds” and slowly take off across the desert until we flushed a rabbit. Then it was open throttles to see who could chase down the rabbit first. Do any of you have any idea how fast a rabbit can run and make a 90-degree turns? Needless to say, that could be a very bumpy ride as the wind would deposit small mound of sand around each little tuft of vegetation, and running over one would sometimes causing unexpected airborne adventures.

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When I was 18 my parents finally relented and allowed me (Here it comes!!) to buy “My First Car.” I think the main reason for their decision was that the car was in pretty sad shape and needed a lot of work, so they figured I couldn’t get in too much trouble with it. I can’t remember who I bought it from, but I paid a whopping $50.00 dollars for it. It was a 1940 Chevy Coupe and all I can say is that it ran. Now came the challenge I had been waiting for all those years. Rebuilding lawn mower and motorcycle engines had kept me busy over the years, but it had not satisfied the desire to rebuild my own car. Now I had a car to work on that I could call my own. Believe it or not, when I said it would run, I wasn’t kidding, flat out it wouldn’t go over 50 mph on a level road, and much less up hill.

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The first thing I did was to get the car into our garage and began to clean up the engine. I didn’t have a lot of tools or a hoist, so I didn’t remove the engine. But I degreased the engine, flushed the radiator, replaced the water hoses, replaced the spark plugs, cleaned up the distributor and installed new points. I changed the oil and installed a new oil filter and a new air filter. Then I rebuilt the carburetor and, with a friends help, adjusted the timing. I painted the rocker cover, oil filter, air filter, oil filler cap and water pump to make the engine compartment look a little flashier.

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Then I started to work on the body. I found some replacement bumpers and grill at an auto salvage yard (that was back when you could remove the parts needed yourself and very cheaply). I had to replace the heater hoses, install new seat covers, install new floor mats, and recover the platform under the rear window. Of course I had to have a “Necker’s Knob” on the steering wheel. And amazingly the radio worked (on most local stations). The next thing was to sand down all the rough spots on the body (apply and sand “Bondo” where needed) and primer the entire body. We didn’t have clear-coat finishes back then and I didn’t have the money for a fancy multi-coat lacquer job, so a friend helped me with a nice enamel paint job. When I was finished with all that, the only difference between how my car looked and the one in the photo below is that my car was painted Turquoise, had a permanent windshield visor and no fog lights.

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As it turned out, I finished fixing the car up just in time to meet, DiVoran, the love of my life. However, the when, where and how we met is another story for another time and blog. I knew DiVoran’s brother, David, from working with him at Furr’s Super Market, and when he told her he knew this guy at work who had a car and a motorcycle, she said, “I know a Bill Lites from school. Maybe I should get to know him a little better.” Well, she did get to know me better; a lot better, and we spent many evenings after that in “My First Car” running around town and at the drive-in movies. I drove that car until I shipped out with the U.S. Navy. Funny thing about that car; I had waited so long to get it, and now can’t remember who I bought it from. Then I put all that time, money and effort into restoring it, and now, for the life of me, I can’t t remember exactly to who or when I sold it. Oh well, I’m just glad I have this much of the memory of that time during my teenage years.

 

—–The End—–

 

The Cruise of a Lifetime~Part 3

14 Feb

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

Our second morning began again with breakfast. We shared our table with Tina and Bob.

We had sailed overnight to Cologne, Germany, and arrived about 10:30 a.m. Shortly thereafter, we began the walking tour of the historical center of the city. Our guide told us that Cologne is the oldest city in Germany. It dates back to around AD 50, when the Romans established a major settlement.   We had a really interesting guide. He told us how the Romans conquered one side of the river – the side we were on – but couldn’t get across to the other side. They called the people on the other side “barbarians.” Now, the politically correct people call them the “cross-eyed” people instead.

In 1709, Italian expat and Cologne resident Giovani Farina created a citrus-scented toiletry he dubbed “Eau de Cologne” in honor of his adopted city. Other perfumeries followed, especially Wilhelm Meulhens, who founded the famous “4711″ brand (named after the address of his manufacturing building). There are several museums in the area, as well as a Chocolate Museum – which we didn’t get to!

Because it was Sunday we could not get into the cathedral until after services, so we walked around the outside of it and the square. Our guide told us about the cathedral, how long it took to build which part, which was the oldest, etc. He gave us other information about Cologne. He was a very interesting man.

 

Many years ago, while we were living in Germany and took our own tours of the country, we visited Cologne, and found a fountain that depicted an interesting and funny story about German workers.

 

While on our tour, we walked right up to the fountain – called the Elves of Cologne. We were so excited! We thought we would have to find it on our own, and there it was! Wikipedia says: The Heinzelmännchen are a race of creatures appearing in a tale connected with the city of Cologne in Germany. The little house gnomes are said to have done all the work of the citizens of Cologne during the night, so that the inhabitants of Cologne could be very lazy during the day. According to the legend, this went on until a tailor’s wife got so curious to see the gnomes that she scattered peas onto the floor of the workshop to make the gnomes slip and fall. The gnomes, being infuriated, disappeared and never returned. From that time on, the citizens of Cologne had to do all their work by themselves.

 

After lunch and naps on the ship, Fred and I went back out into Cologne to find a book on the Elves of Cologne, which we found in the “information” building. The story is essentially what I remember about it.

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Our dinner companions that night were an Australian couple, Velma and Jeff.

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We also had Jill and Roy from Albuquerque, New Mexico (actually Belen). He is a retired veterinarian, and she is a retired nurse. We had a most interesting talk about Albuquerque   We also had dinner with Rich and Mary from Pennsylvania who we ate with the first night on board.

Back to the room and relatively early to bed. These are long days, and we still aren’t over our jet-lag.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

 

My First Car~Part 1

10 Feb

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

Bill Small Red Plane

 

I believe I have mentioned before that I started working at an early age (see “I was a 12-Year Old Businessman” blog 01/23/2013) because I had big dreams of things I wanted to do. One of those dreams was to own a car that I could work on and call my own (As I was growing up, my mother always told me she thought I was mechanically inclined). If you can believe it, that didn’t seem so far in the future to me, as the law in New Mexico, at the time, allowed a person to get a driver’s license at age 14. I started my dream adventure at around age 10 by mowing lawns with a push mower (In case some of you younger readers don’t know what that is, the mower doesn’t have a motor on it and the power to cut the grass is provided by you).

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By the time I was 12, I had saved enough money to buy a Sears self-propelled gas powered mower (Of course you know what those are, right). I spent a lot of time pushing those mowers around the neighborhood to my various jobs. As my lawn mowing business grew, my parents helped by driving me and my mower to jobs outside our neighborhood.

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My lawn mowing reputation grew and in the winters I had a paper route to help supplement my income. So, by the time I was 14, I hadn’t saved enough money for a car, but I needed better transportation than a bicycle for the paper route and to get around town. Strange thing about this was that my parents didn’t want me to have a car, but they were OK with me having a motorcycle. Go figure! Most parents won’t even talk to their kids about having a motorcycle. So, after I got my driver’s license, I bought a used Harley Davidson 125cc motorcycle. Boy could I carry a lot of newspapers on that machine. And, I could go anywhere in town without breaking a sweat.

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When I was 16 I got a part-time job as a bag boy with a super market that opened a new store in town. With this job and my paper route, I was making enough money to make payments on a larger motorcycle. My parents helped me buy a new Harley Davidson 165cc motorcycle and now I felt like the “King of the Road” on my bright red cycle. This was the mid-50s and “Fonzie” was a big hit in the “Happy Days” TV show. So of course I had to have the cool “Fad” threads to play the part (leather motorcycle jacket with lots of zippered pockets, Levis jeans with rolled up cuffs, motorcycle boots, and a “Duck Tail” haircut) and complete the scene.

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Now I know it’s hard for some of you to imagine the Bill Lites you know today as ever having been one of those motorcycle bums all those many years ago. And I’m sure that, those of you who know me don’t believe I ever had enough hair for one of those hairdos. Well, just take a look at my sophomore year book photo.

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Now I know, with the title of this blog, you were expecting to hear all about my first car, and it’s coming. I promise. It was a growing process, so hang in there, I’ll get to it (maybe in Part 2). At the super market I worked my way up to “Checker” (Cashier) that paid more and wasn’t near as hard work as carrying out armloads of heavy paper bags full of groceries to customer’s cars (in all kinds of weather), unloading truckloads of heavy boxes (at 4:00 am) and mopping/polishing floors. The lawn mowing jobs and the paper route went to others who would work for less.

—–To Be Continued—–

 

 

 

 

 

My Friend Ray Part 2

30 Dec

A Slice of Life

 Bill Lites

Bill Cross Plane

 

As the word spread, and Ray’s air conditioning business increased, it wasn’t long before he had to start hiring help to keep up with all the work. At one point he had 5 trucks and 5 people working for him. Things were going really well for Ray, and as a matter of fact, during one year, Ray says he made more money with his sideline air conditioning business than he did working full-time for Leaver Bros.

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One of Ray’s employees approached him one day and mentioned that the owner of the Friggitt Lounge had an air condition system that needed repair and wanted to know if Ray was interested in the job. When Ray inspected the A/C unit, he discovered that it had (what appeared to be a bullet hole) in it. He took the job and repaired the unit, after which he and the owner, Joe, became good friends. Things were going well with the Friggitt Lounge and sometime about 1970 Joe asked Ray if he would like to be a partner in the lounge. Ray knew a good deal when he saw one, and bought 1/2 interest in the lounge. Business just got better and better.

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Then one day (sometime later) out of the clear blue sky, the local Mafia paid the bartender a visit. They informed him, that from then on their protection fee would be $1200 each week. When the bar tender told Joe and Ray about the Mafia visit, Joe said he wasn’t going to bow down to that kind of extortion, and that they could kiss his behind before he paid them one red cent. Ray tried to tell Joe that these were bad people and that he shouldn’t try to fight them, but Joe wouldn’t listen. Ray finally told him that he didn’t want to get involved with those people and wanted Joe to buy back his share of the business. Joe agreed to honor Ray’s request and just that quick Ray was out of the lounge business.

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Ray continued to work at Leaver Bros. and his sideline A/C business. According to him, it wasn’t 3 months later that the Friggitt Lounge became one of many businesses in the area that burned to the ground. That fire made Ray wonder if that original bullet hole in the Friggett Lounge A/C unit might have been the first warning that his friend Joe had received from the Mafia about his refusal to pay their weekly protection fees.

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After about 3 years, one of Ray’s original A/C customers, seeing how prosperous Ray’s Air Conditioning business was, approached Ray, telling him how he had always wanted to own a business of his own.   He asked Ray if he would be interested in selling his business. After some consideration, Ray quoted him a price and the man agreed to Ray’s terms, and the deal was done. (Keep in mind Ray has been doing all this while working full-time with Leaver Bros.)

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Some people have the most interesting life stories. Ray is one of those people, and I consider it a privileged to have him as a friend. If you have liked this story, stay tuned for more interesting blog stories to come, in the near future, about

“My Friend Ray.”

 

The End

 

Christmas in Germany

27 Dec

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

 

 

Recently, on facebook, I saw that our daughter, Karen, has posted a picture that took me right back to our first tour of Germany. She stated that it: “brings back memories of living in Germany!”  We were in Wiesbaden, living in government quarters, which was a “stairwell” with two “apartments” on each level. And there were two stairwells in each building. We happened to live on the top floor, which we later discovered was the best place to live. No one above us…if we needed a breeze, we had it whether or not the other levels had the breeze or not. The only drawback was carrying grocery sacks up those three flights of stairs – and laundry down to the basement!

But usually, at Christmas, we were encouraged to decorate our picture window. I seem to recall there were competitions among the buildings to see who had the “best” or most elaborate decorations, or the most meaningful….you get the picture.

Therefore, this picture really reminded me of that time. Here is the picture Karen posted:

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I’m sorry this picture is in black and white. However, let me show you one of the building we lived in, and what we did one of the Christmases:

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Our apartment is the upper left one – the one with the silver bells. I don’t think we won any awards, but it was fun, anyway.

Here is another picture, but not of our stairwell. They may have won an award!

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Ten years later, we were stationed in Heidleberg. We lived in a different “type” of government housing, with the picture window at the end of the building/room, rather than like the housing in Wiesbaden. Here is what I did for our window treatment there.

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The Germans made these wonderful decorations out of wood/wood shavings. That’s what this one was. Unfortunately, I must not have packed it well enough, because it arrived in the States rather beaten up, and unusable. In any case, I don’t have it any more. But we enjoyed it while there.

My taste in Christmas decorating may not be very elaborate, but Fred and I both enjoy what we put together to decorate our house.

But more than that, many of our decorations and tree ornaments are from Germany, and we are reminded of our time there every time we decorate our tree, or put together some sort of decoration in the house. It was a wonderful time in our lives, and we are thankful God gave us the opportunity to live outside our country.

 

Our Fifty-Eighth Wedding Anniversary

7 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

Bill and I were married at the Congregational Church in La Mesa, a small town on the California coast. Friends of Bill’s Mother’s had come through Albuquerque where I lived with my parents, and had invited me to ride back to California where they now lived, so I could visit Bill. He was stationed on the U.S.S Hector at the naval base in San Diego.  It seems now that when we decided to get married, so I could stay there with him, all we had to do was say, “We’re getting married,” and everything was done for us that could be done at such short notice.” In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t a “shot-gun” wedding. Even though we’d been engaged for a year, our mothers were shocked when we called them.  Since Bill was only nineteen and a parent had to sign for a boy under twenty-one, Bill’s mother sent her permission. I, as a girl of eighteen, did not need signed permission from my parents, but I did need a blood test.

Our dads were unable to be there because they were both on business trips – William Lites, Senior, for the Southern Baptist Convention and Ivan Bowers for the Atomic Energy Commission.  They worked hard to support their families and were both gone many hours and days throughout our teenage years.

Our mothers worked for the government at desk jobs in Albuquerque.  They worked hard too, but they had more regular hours and were able to come to the wedding.  My Mother, Dora Bowers, drove out with my Aunt Jenny, and my cousin, Kathy.  Bill’s mother, Agnes, and Bill’s younger sister, Judy, flew out on a  TWA Constellation from Albuquerque.

I had planned to wear my pink linen dress from the previous Easter for the wedding. It had only a tiny stain on the skirt, but Joan, the lady I was staying with, insisted on borrowing a wedding dress from her friend.  We were married by the Reverend Curtis Claire.  He chucked obey from the wedding service because he thought it was too old fashioned.

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We had the weekend before Labor Day to get ready for the wedding. Our mothers and hosts booked the church, bought the cake, made the punch, took us grocery shopping, and helped us find a place to live, none of which either of us had ever done before.

We drove Aunt Jenny’s car away from the church. When we left Joan’s house after the reception, however, we had to get into Bill’s chopped and channeled 1932 five-window Ford Coupe and drive the ten miles on the San Diego Freeway to our new home. It was a bedsit in an old house, next to Balboa Park in a suburb of San Diego.  We had the tiniest yard you ever saw, with a pomegranate tree in it. We left the white vinyl couch made into a bed because we were at work all day and it wasn’t worth bothering to fold it up every morning and put it down every night.

Chop Car

On Bill’s first day off, we went to the San Diego Zoo. I don’t’ think I’d ever been to a zoo before. It was wonderful and I loved it. I got a job at a diner and rode the bus to work. We had a lot of fun, we both loved the movies and went to one every weekend in downtown San Diego. On quiet nights at home, with no T V, Bill worked on model airplanes and I read library books. On a misty night in January, we packed everything we owned into the second-hand Mercury Bill had traded the hot rod for. We drove over California mountains and across Arizona desert to Albuquerque where I stayed for eight months attending Beauty School while Bill went cruising to Japan swabbing decks all the way.

Sand Paintings

12 Apr

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

In previous memories, I’ve mentioned my Aunt Jessie.

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She was a lover of “things.” She never married, and things became quite important to her, and she surrounded herself with the things she loved.

Living in New Mexico, she became enamored of all things Indian/Mexican. She purchased and wore many different pieces of Indian turquoise and silver jewelry. She had necklaces. She had bracelets. She had rings and earrings. She loved every piece she owned.   I was fortunate to inherit all that jewelry when she died.

She wore fiesta dresses a lot – both to work, and at home. (Please see my blog on December 9, 2012, titled “Fiesta Dresses” for an explanation of them)

One thing she learned to love were sand paintings. It is truly a unique art. She had dozens of those paintings around her house, and I was pleased to be able to take my pick of the ones I wanted. All had pieces of crushed turquoise in them. Some had larger chunks of turquoise. But they were all unique. I so enjoy that, with them on my wall, I still have a touch of New Mexico around me.

See what you think:

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