Ok…I’m Old! – Part 3

 

I LOVED ordering books from these! I still have my 2 absolute favorites: Baby Island (1937) by Carol Ryrie Brink, and The Ghost of Dibble Hollow (1965) by May Nickerson Wallace. When the kids started bringing these home I would order books for them as well. Although I have to admit to getting a TON of the Garfield books for me!

 

 

These were advertised EVERYWHERE. Even on matchbooks. I wondered just how many people became famous artists from sending in their drawings. I had a friend who could accurately draw all of the examples, but never sent any in.

 

 

We would always get new shoes at the start of the school year. I thought this measuring thing was magic! And I loved the little tilted stool the sales person would sit on while trying the shoes on you. 

 

 

Another piece of magic: instant photos!!! My mom took SO MANY TRULY TERRIBLE PICTURES with this thing! She NEVER got it right. But it WAS magic…

 

 

Once we got this we NEVER made popcorn in the old pot on the stove again. And the little cavity in the top where you could put oleo in to melt all over the popcorn as it was coming out…wow. (We never had butter…too expensive.) 

 

 

Just a little side note: We ALWAYS had apple slices when we had popcorn. The combo of the salty popcorn with the sweet apple was so good. And the popcorn would go into the big blue enamel bowls. This picture pretty is almost an exact replica of the 2 bowls we had.

Another side note: These were also the throw-up bowls when we were sick. Whoever was sick had that by the side of the bed to throw up into. I know, TMI, but hey, this is my blog. I can do what I want…

 

Freya’s Cats

 

 

Don’t know how I stumbled across Freya and her cats, but I’ve always loved any kind of mythology and started looking into it. Because: cats.

 

As with a lot of mythological tales, there are several versions of this. Here are a few nuggets that I discovered:

 

Freya was the goddess of war, love and beauty. One story says that Thor gave her the two cats to draw her chariot. Another one says that when her husband Odr left Valhalla she cried red-gold tears and they formed into the two cats. Tradition gave the cat’s names as Bygul and Trjegul.

 

She rules over the heavenly field Fólkvangr, where she receives half of those who die in battle. The other half go to Odin in Valhalla. Although she always searched for her husband, she never found him.

 

There is a ton more info in various books and poetry, but I didn’t feel like plowing through it past the few bits I’ve shared here. After all, I was mainly in this for the cats…

 

So…in lieu of a real Norse saga I thought I’d write some Haiku.

 

Brave Goddess Freya

Her chariot drawn by cats

Weeping red-gold tears

 

Bygul and Trjegul

Her cats of power and strength

Always by her side

 

Grieving for all time

Searching the heavens for Odr

Never to be found

 

Memory Lane is Filled with Potholes

 

 

More and more I have been led to write more about my life, mainly for my granddaughter. I want her to know more about me and what things were like in a life that was not the easiest, but did include some wonderful things. For a while I wrote in a journal, but then realized that Lia can’t read cursive, so I stopped doing that. If I’m going to have to print words, I might as well do it in my blogs. I have always tended to focus on the negative, and want her to know that yes, there were good things about my past, and I did have happiness amongst the valleys. My grandparents lived with us while I was growing up, and it never occurred to me to ask what their lives were like growing up. I know a few plain facts, but that’s about it.

 

So I will begin the journey, going as far back as I can remember. I will try to focus on more of the positive stuff, and skim over the negative. Because there is always a balance. When I am honest with myself and start brooding on the negatives, I have to admit that amongst the rubble there were bright spots. Take hold of the bright spots! Cherish them!

 

So many times I have come back to the poem I wrote when my dad died. I know I have posted it more than once, but I will post it one last time here.

 

Choosing The Chains

 

Choosing the chains

     that weigh us down

Choosing the ties that bind

Packing the baggage

     we carry for life

Some of us traveling blind

 

The closer we get

     to the end of the trip

The heavier seems the load

We carry our burden

     and stumble along

The twisting and uneven road

 

The wise ones let go

     and let Christ take the weight

From their shoulders

     no longer bowed down

And continue the path,

     claiming freedom at last

Replacing the chains with a crown

 

                                 dljbinder2004