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I gave my dollhouse away this week. Making it with my Mom is one of my fondest memories from childhood. But we just didn't have the storage space for it here, so I gave it to a woman with two daughters. The memories I kept.

Read more... )
girafferty: (Default)
Photobucket

I gave my dollhouse away this week. Making it with my Mom is one of my fondest memories from childhood. But we just didn't have the storage space for it here, so I gave it to a woman with two daughters. The memories I kept.

Read more... )
girafferty: (Default)
Oh man, Junior High.  Does anybody really remember those years with fondness?  All those hormones coursing through our veins, and fellow students who are still unaware of deodorant.

This was during the recession of the early 90s, and my Dad was unemployed.  He would get a job but then be laid off six months later for a period of about three years, so money was very tight.  I did my best to not ask for any money.  I remember when Mom came to my first Track Meet and saw that everybody else was wearing the t-shirt that was our "uniform" she insisted on buying it for me too.  It was $10, I think.

All of my clothes were hand-me-downs from a girl my grandmother knew in her town.  Somehow Stephanie, a girl in my Math class picked up on that and would taunt me every day.  "What store did you buy your clothes from, Megan,"  I was ashamed to say they were used, so I would name some store in the mall and she would laugh at me.  The thing I realized later was, Stephanie was from the poor area of town and wore the same 3 dingy t-shirts all the time, even in winter.  I don't know why I didn't just flat out tell her they were hand-me-downs and remove her power over me.  But Junior High would be easy to get through if I could do it as a confident 30-year-old.

I also got into a lot of fights that year.  I remember one with a tough girl in my class.  I don't remember what it was about now but I think I might have been the starter.  She punched me so hard in the gut the wind went out of me.  I also punched a few guys who were in the habit of grabbing girl's butts in the hallway.  They soon learned to leave me alone, at least.

Junior High, man.  Bad years.
girafferty: (Default)
Oh man, Junior High.  Does anybody really remember those years with fondness?  All those hormones coursing through our veins, and fellow students who are still unaware of deodorant.

This was during the recession of the early 90s, and my Dad was unemployed.  He would get a job but then be laid off six months later for a period of about three years, so money was very tight.  I did my best to not ask for any money.  I remember when Mom came to my first Track Meet and saw that everybody else was wearing the t-shirt that was our "uniform" she insisted on buying it for me too.  It was $10, I think.

All of my clothes were hand-me-downs from a girl my grandmother knew in her town.  Somehow Stephanie, a girl in my Math class picked up on that and would taunt me every day.  "What store did you buy your clothes from, Megan,"  I was ashamed to say they were used, so I would name some store in the mall and she would laugh at me.  The thing I realized later was, Stephanie was from the poor area of town and wore the same 3 dingy t-shirts all the time, even in winter.  I don't know why I didn't just flat out tell her they were hand-me-downs and remove her power over me.  But Junior High would be easy to get through if I could do it as a confident 30-year-old.

I also got into a lot of fights that year.  I remember one with a tough girl in my class.  I don't remember what it was about now but I think I might have been the starter.  She punched me so hard in the gut the wind went out of me.  I also punched a few guys who were in the habit of grabbing girl's butts in the hallway.  They soon learned to leave me alone, at least.

Junior High, man.  Bad years.
girafferty: (Default)
I put off this entry for a few weeks because I really couldn't remember anything that happened of note this year. This was the year I started keeping a journal, so I eagerly went to my first one to see what I thought off as a 6th grader. This is my first entry:

January 1, 1993 Mood 89%


When you see this date and the date I received it (1991), you might be puzzled. I was using it before to write story ideas, but today I decided to rip out those pages and start a journal. I have a Snoopy diary I was using but I think a journal is more sophisticated than a diary.

This is the sophisticated journal:

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Oh yes, very chic. Unfortunately, instead of writing about anything interesting, my journal then was mostly about what grades I got in school and my "boy lists". Every week I ranked which boys I liked the best. Bonus points were awarded for red hair, left-handedness, and knowing I existed. I won't name any of my real-life crushes, but Mario Lopez (from Saved by the Bell) and Arnold Schwarzenegger often made the list.

Going through my memory box, I did find one interesting thing from that year. It made no impression in my journal, but I did a "mini-course" on making a literary magazine and I got a few pieces in. Below is proof that I have always been a procrastinor (and terrible poet).
The Story's Due! )
girafferty: (Default)
I put off this entry for a few weeks because I really couldn't remember anything that happened of note this year. This was the year I started keeping a journal, so I eagerly went to my first one to see what I thought off as a 6th grader. This is my first entry:

January 1, 1993 Mood 89%


When you see this date and the date I received it (1991), you might be puzzled. I was using it before to write story ideas, but today I decided to rip out those pages and start a journal. I have a Snoopy diary I was using but I think a journal is more sophisticated than a diary.

This is the sophisticated journal:

Photobucket

Oh yes, very chic. Unfortunately, instead of writing about anything interesting, my journal then was mostly about what grades I got in school and my "boy lists". Every week I ranked which boys I liked the best. Bonus points were awarded for red hair, left-handedness, and knowing I existed. I won't name any of my real-life crushes, but Mario Lopez (from Saved by the Bell) and Arnold Schwarzenegger often made the list.

Going through my memory box, I did find one interesting thing from that year. It made no impression in my journal, but I did a "mini-course" on making a literary magazine and I got a few pieces in. Below is proof that I have always been a procrastinor (and terrible poet).
The Story's Due! )

Ten: Twins

Mar. 21st, 2011 12:09 pm
girafferty: (Default)
When we would all be sitting in the car waiting for my mother, who had just run into the store for a few things, my Dad would take his glasses off and turn around in the front seat with a wicked grin.

"Say, kids," he'd say. "Why don't we leave Mom behind and go to Disney World?"

"Its the Evil Twin Brother!" We'd all shriek, and climb over the seats to put his glasses back on. Once they were safely on, Dad would "wake up" and say "Where was I? What happened?"

"The Evil Twin Brother was here! He wanted us to leave Mom behind!" we'd say. Dad would be shocked.

We would later take the evil twin concept to a new level. My brothers and I were always picking up the playroom (I never remember it in a clean state, always messy). So we would call on the Fast Picker Upper Twin, or the Steady Picker Upper. We would go to the wall where there was a secret panel (it looked like a blank wall), put our hand to it, go "Doo doo dee doo" and become our twin.

We all probably had ten "twins" each. The Rich Twin Brother/Sister was a popular one, because our spirit would be swapped with theirs, so while they were stuck in our middle-class existence, we would be living in the lap of luxury. The Poor Twin Sister was a good one to call up when I didn't want to finish my food. She only got a piece of bread a week at home, so she was grateful for whatever we had. The Blind Twin Sister and the Deaf Twin Sister were fun to pretend to be at times, too.

I grew up and stopped pretending the Twin game. If I put my hand to the wall today, I don't think I would hear the beeps any more. Too bad, I could have used a Quick Paper Writer Twin Sister in college, and a Patient Mother Twin Sister today.

Ten: Twins

Mar. 21st, 2011 12:09 pm
girafferty: (Default)
When we would all be sitting in the car waiting for my mother, who had just run into the store for a few things, my Dad would take his glasses off and turn around in the front seat with a wicked grin.

"Say, kids," he'd say. "Why don't we leave Mom behind and go to Disney World?"

"Its the Evil Twin Brother!" We'd all shriek, and climb over the seats to put his glasses back on. Once they were safely on, Dad would "wake up" and say "Where was I? What happened?"

"The Evil Twin Brother was here! He wanted us to leave Mom behind!" we'd say. Dad would be shocked.

We would later take the evil twin concept to a new level. My brothers and I were always picking up the playroom (I never remember it in a clean state, always messy). So we would call on the Fast Picker Upper Twin, or the Steady Picker Upper. We would go to the wall where there was a secret panel (it looked like a blank wall), put our hand to it, go "Doo doo dee doo" and become our twin.

We all probably had ten "twins" each. The Rich Twin Brother/Sister was a popular one, because our spirit would be swapped with theirs, so while they were stuck in our middle-class existence, we would be living in the lap of luxury. The Poor Twin Sister was a good one to call up when I didn't want to finish my food. She only got a piece of bread a week at home, so she was grateful for whatever we had. The Blind Twin Sister and the Deaf Twin Sister were fun to pretend to be at times, too.

I grew up and stopped pretending the Twin game. If I put my hand to the wall today, I don't think I would hear the beeps any more. Too bad, I could have used a Quick Paper Writer Twin Sister in college, and a Patient Mother Twin Sister today.
girafferty: (Default)
In June, the school nurse sent a note home that they had tested my eyesight and I needed glasses.  Up to this point I had assumed that everyone saw the way I did.  That's why the bad kids sat in the back of the classroom, because they didn't care if they couldn't see the blackboard.

Despite almost everyone in my family wearing glasses, my mother decided that I was nearsighted because I read all the time.  I would come home from school and read until it was bedtime, then wait until I heard my parents go back downstairs and turn my light back on and read some more. 

Since we were moving to the Rochester area that summer, Mom wanted to wait until we got to our new place before I got my glasses.  Until then, I was banned from reading.  This was gut-wrenching to me.  One day when Mom was out of the house, Dad had pity on my tears and let me sneak a book out of the locked bookcase.  I still remember I picked Sideways Stories from Wayside School.

When my parents were moving all our stuff, they dropped us off at Aunt Patty's house for the week.  Mom had forgotten to tell her of my restrictions.  Unfortunately, her daughters were all much younger than me so there wasn't much in the way of reading material.  But in the living room they had a book of Irish jokes and Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care, which I read from cover to cover.

I'd like to say that I learned some great lesson from my enforced abstinence from reading, that I discovered there was more to life than what's found in a book, but that would be untrue.  As soon as I got my glasses I was back deep in my bookshelf, happy to once again be a bookworm.
girafferty: (Default)
In June, the school nurse sent a note home that they had tested my eyesight and I needed glasses.  Up to this point I had assumed that everyone saw the way I did.  That's why the bad kids sat in the back of the classroom, because they didn't care if they couldn't see the blackboard.

Despite almost everyone in my family wearing glasses, my mother decided that I was nearsighted because I read all the time.  I would come home from school and read until it was bedtime, then wait until I heard my parents go back downstairs and turn my light back on and read some more. 

Since we were moving to the Rochester area that summer, Mom wanted to wait until we got to our new place before I got my glasses.  Until then, I was banned from reading.  This was gut-wrenching to me.  One day when Mom was out of the house, Dad had pity on my tears and let me sneak a book out of the locked bookcase.  I still remember I picked Sideways Stories from Wayside School.

When my parents were moving all our stuff, they dropped us off at Aunt Patty's house for the week.  Mom had forgotten to tell her of my restrictions.  Unfortunately, her daughters were all much younger than me so there wasn't much in the way of reading material.  But in the living room they had a book of Irish jokes and Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care, which I read from cover to cover.

I'd like to say that I learned some great lesson from my enforced abstinence from reading, that I discovered there was more to life than what's found in a book, but that would be untrue.  As soon as I got my glasses I was back deep in my bookshelf, happy to once again be a bookworm.
girafferty: (Default)

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been slacking on my Monday Memories lately.  To which I say: lay off me, I’m pregnant!  I will try to catch up sometime in the future, maybe in the second trimester when I’m supposed to get my energy back.

 When we lived in Syracuse, there would often be a knock at our front door from my friend Beth.  She would be glad to see me, then say, “Can your Dad come out and play?”

 Beth called him Mr. Fun Guy.  All the kids on the block loved him, because he gave out airplane rides and invented games to play with us, like Ooga Monster, where he would walk very slowly and try to tag us.

 The best was when we were at the playground, though.  He would push us so fast on the merry-go-round that I would feel sick to the pit of my stomach, but keep begging for him to go faster!  Faster!  We also liked playing Spider’s Web, where he would grab us and stick us in the climbing ropes, while saying in a scary voice, “No one escapes the Spider’s Web!”  Except everybody escaped the Spider’s Web, quite easily.

 Dad was in charge of putting us to bed, and when it was time to go, we would refuse to go up the stairs unless he did Trolley.  All five of us would attach ourselves to him, two on his legs, two in his arms, and one on his shoulders.  Then he would carry us all up the stairs that way.  My Dad was the strongest Daddy in the world.

 Then we would beg for Dad to tell us stories from when he was our age.  Some where from his own childhood, and some I found out later he stole from Bill Cosby.  Then he would sing “Love Potion No. 9” to us, and when he go to “I started kissing everything in sight,” he would kiss all of us.  As we were sent to our rooms, he would sing Lawrence Welk’s closing credits.

Now that I'm a parent, I'm in awe of all the energy my father had to play with us and carry us all around.  If I can be only half as fun as he was to us, I think my kids will have a good childhood.

girafferty: (Default)

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been slacking on my Monday Memories lately.  To which I say: lay off me, I’m pregnant!  I will try to catch up sometime in the future, maybe in the second trimester when I’m supposed to get my energy back.

 When we lived in Syracuse, there would often be a knock at our front door from my friend Beth.  She would be glad to see me, then say, “Can your Dad come out and play?”

 Beth called him Mr. Fun Guy.  All the kids on the block loved him, because he gave out airplane rides and invented games to play with us, like Ooga Monster, where he would walk very slowly and try to tag us.

 The best was when we were at the playground, though.  He would push us so fast on the merry-go-round that I would feel sick to the pit of my stomach, but keep begging for him to go faster!  Faster!  We also liked playing Spider’s Web, where he would grab us and stick us in the climbing ropes, while saying in a scary voice, “No one escapes the Spider’s Web!”  Except everybody escaped the Spider’s Web, quite easily.

 Dad was in charge of putting us to bed, and when it was time to go, we would refuse to go up the stairs unless he did Trolley.  All five of us would attach ourselves to him, two on his legs, two in his arms, and one on his shoulders.  Then he would carry us all up the stairs that way.  My Dad was the strongest Daddy in the world.

 Then we would beg for Dad to tell us stories from when he was our age.  Some where from his own childhood, and some I found out later he stole from Bill Cosby.  Then he would sing “Love Potion No. 9” to us, and when he go to “I started kissing everything in sight,” he would kiss all of us.  As we were sent to our rooms, he would sing Lawrence Welk’s closing credits.

Now that I'm a parent, I'm in awe of all the energy my father had to play with us and carry us all around.  If I can be only half as fun as he was to us, I think my kids will have a good childhood.

girafferty: (Default)

Sara Warner was the coolest girl in the 2nd grade.  She was very pretty, with long shiny blonde hair and blue eyes, and she came up with the best games on the playground.

 One day, she was telling her adoring fans how bored she was living in Syracuse.  “I can’t believe this is still New York,” she said. “When I think of New York, I think of the city where I used to live.”

 “I used to live in New York City too!” I said, excited that I had something in common with Sara.  “What borough did you live in?  I was in Brooklyn”

 “Oh, I can’t remember,” she said.  “We moved after that to Hollywood.  My Dad is one of the Warner Brothers.”

 “Ooh,” we all said.

 “You know the cartoon Tiny Toons?  He’s a producer on that,” she said.

  “I watch Tiny Toons every day!” I said, excited.  “What’s your Dad’s first name?” 

  “Robert” she said.  Every day after school that week I closely watched the credits to Tiny Toons to see Sara’s Dad, but his name wasn’t there. 

 When I went to Sara and told her I couldn’t find her Dad’s name, she said, “Oh, he had a big fight with his brothers about that.  He didn’t want the publicity of being in the credits.”  This answer satisfied me.

 One day an author came to our school to talk about her book, The Princess and the Unicorn.  This inspired Sara to adapt the book into a play.  With the encouragement of our teacher she directed, wrote, and starred in it.  Sara was the princess, of course.  I was a ladybug.  Mom took a red leotard and attached spots made out of an old black shower curtain to it.  My brothers’ Superman pajama capes made excellent wings.

The day of the play came and it was a rousing success.  All our parents came to see it.  My Mom and Dad went up to Sara’s parents to congratulate them, and my Mom said, “So, how’s Hollywood?”

“What?”  her Dad said.  Then Sara’s story came undone.  Her father had a brother, but he wasn’t a Warner Brother.  And they had lived all their life in Syracuse.

I don’t remember this revelation hurting Sara’s popularity any.  She was still the coolest girl in the 2nd grade, and she could tell the best stories.

girafferty: (Default)

Sara Warner was the coolest girl in the 2nd grade.  She was very pretty, with long shiny blonde hair and blue eyes, and she came up with the best games on the playground.

 One day, she was telling her adoring fans how bored she was living in Syracuse.  “I can’t believe this is still New York,” she said. “When I think of New York, I think of the city where I used to live.”

 “I used to live in New York City too!” I said, excited that I had something in common with Sara.  “What borough did you live in?  I was in Brooklyn”

 “Oh, I can’t remember,” she said.  “We moved after that to Hollywood.  My Dad is one of the Warner Brothers.”

 “Ooh,” we all said.

 “You know the cartoon Tiny Toons?  He’s a producer on that,” she said.

  “I watch Tiny Toons every day!” I said, excited.  “What’s your Dad’s first name?” 

  “Robert” she said.  Every day after school that week I closely watched the credits to Tiny Toons to see Sara’s Dad, but his name wasn’t there. 

 When I went to Sara and told her I couldn’t find her Dad’s name, she said, “Oh, he had a big fight with his brothers about that.  He didn’t want the publicity of being in the credits.”  This answer satisfied me.

 One day an author came to our school to talk about her book, The Princess and the Unicorn.  This inspired Sara to adapt the book into a play.  With the encouragement of our teacher she directed, wrote, and starred in it.  Sara was the princess, of course.  I was a ladybug.  Mom took a red leotard and attached spots made out of an old black shower curtain to it.  My brothers’ Superman pajama capes made excellent wings.

The day of the play came and it was a rousing success.  All our parents came to see it.  My Mom and Dad went up to Sara’s parents to congratulate them, and my Mom said, “So, how’s Hollywood?”

“What?”  her Dad said.  Then Sara’s story came undone.  Her father had a brother, but he wasn’t a Warner Brother.  And they had lived all their life in Syracuse.

I don’t remember this revelation hurting Sara’s popularity any.  She was still the coolest girl in the 2nd grade, and she could tell the best stories.

girafferty: (Default)
A few days after my 6th birthday, my fourth and final brother Brian was born.  After four boys in a row, my parents gave up on the hopes of ever having another girl.  Our family of seven was now complete.

My Dad finished his active duty time with the Army and now was working for a civilian engineering firm.  With five young children, it was hard finding reasonably priced housing that would fit all of us in the NYC, so he requested a transfer to his company's Syracuse offices.

We moved there in April.  As the new girl, I was hot stuff in the 1st grade classroom.  One of the boys at my table, Adam, asked me to be his girlfriend.  I said yes.  That night, he called my house asking to talk to me.  My parents were amazed that they already had to worry about their little girl getting attention from boys.  They needn't have worried.  I peaked at the age of 6.

One day during recess, another boy in my class picked me a bouqet of dandelions and asked me to be his girlfriend.  Jesse had a flowing black mullet like Uncle Jesse on Full House (hey, they were cool back then!).  I was overwhelmed by his romantic gesture and said yes.

This caused some problems when Adam found out.  "You can't have two boyfriends!" he said.

"Yes I can!"  I said.  After a few rounds of "Can not!  Can too!"  Adam went to talk to Jesse, and they came to an agreement that lasted us the rest of 1st grade.  To "go out" with someone in my class consisted entirely of standing next to them in line when we went to recess, and maybe holding hands when the teacher wasn't looking.  Once we got to the playground, the boys would separate from the girls to play their own games.

So every day before we lined up, Adam and Jesse would arm wrestle for the honor of standing next to me in line.
girafferty: (Default)
A few days after my 6th birthday, my fourth and final brother Brian was born.  After four boys in a row, my parents gave up on the hopes of ever having another girl.  Our family of seven was now complete.

My Dad finished his active duty time with the Army and now was working for a civilian engineering firm.  With five young children, it was hard finding reasonably priced housing that would fit all of us in the NYC, so he requested a transfer to his company's Syracuse offices.

We moved there in April.  As the new girl, I was hot stuff in the 1st grade classroom.  One of the boys at my table, Adam, asked me to be his girlfriend.  I said yes.  That night, he called my house asking to talk to me.  My parents were amazed that they already had to worry about their little girl getting attention from boys.  They needn't have worried.  I peaked at the age of 6.

One day during recess, another boy in my class picked me a bouqet of dandelions and asked me to be his girlfriend.  Jesse had a flowing black mullet like Uncle Jesse on Full House (hey, they were cool back then!).  I was overwhelmed by his romantic gesture and said yes.

This caused some problems when Adam found out.  "You can't have two boyfriends!" he said.

"Yes I can!"  I said.  After a few rounds of "Can not!  Can too!"  Adam went to talk to Jesse, and they came to an agreement that lasted us the rest of 1st grade.  To "go out" with someone in my class consisted entirely of standing next to them in line when we went to recess, and maybe holding hands when the teacher wasn't looking.  Once we got to the playground, the boys would separate from the girls to play their own games.

So every day before we lined up, Adam and Jesse would arm wrestle for the honor of standing next to me in line.
girafferty: (Default)
When I was five, we moved to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn.  Dad was in the Army Corps of Engineers and was assigned to the New York City sewers.  He didn't see any alligators down there, but there were giant albino cockroaches and rats.  He wore a special suit to go down there, but he still had to take a shower as soon as he got home.

I got my own bedroom, and my three brothers got the bigger room with a chimney that went right through the middle.  At Christmas we slept around it, and I heard Santa's sleighbells ringing on the roof!

This was the first year I went to school.  My bus dropped students off at several Catholic schools in the area, so Mom was afraid that I would get off at the wrong school.  So she had Dad follow the bus in his car on my first day to make sure I made it there safely.  This led to Dad being pulled over by the police as a suspicious person. Once he explained it, they let him go.

We were in a house that had been converted to be four officer's quarters.  In one quarter there was a little six-year-old boy.  One day I was complaining to him about how much homework I had.  "I have to write a letter of the alphabet ten times every night, capital AND lowercase," I said.

"Wait until you get to 1st grade, that's when they really lay it on you," he said.  I hated the 1st grade teacher at our school.  Every time we passed by her class in the hallway, she would say, "Let the babies pass by, children."  It made me so mad.  I wasn't a baby, I was 5!

My school sent a flier home about a reading marathon fundraiser.  I overheard my parents talking about it.  "Don't they know Megan can't read?  She's only in kindergarten!"  I felt so ashamed.  Some of my classmates could read, but not me.

One night in April I was in bed looking at The Berenstain Bears' No Girls Allowed.  Mom came to tuck me in, and I said, "Mom, how do you read?"

"You don't know?" she said.  "You've been learning the sounds of the letters in class.  All you have to do is put the sounds together to make words." 

Suddenly, it clicked.  I looked at the page and I could see the words!  From that day forward, I could read.
girafferty: (Default)
When I was five, we moved to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn.  Dad was in the Army Corps of Engineers and was assigned to the New York City sewers.  He didn't see any alligators down there, but there were giant albino cockroaches and rats.  He wore a special suit to go down there, but he still had to take a shower as soon as he got home.

I got my own bedroom, and my three brothers got the bigger room with a chimney that went right through the middle.  At Christmas we slept around it, and I heard Santa's sleighbells ringing on the roof!

This was the first year I went to school.  My bus dropped students off at several Catholic schools in the area, so Mom was afraid that I would get off at the wrong school.  So she had Dad follow the bus in his car on my first day to make sure I made it there safely.  This led to Dad being pulled over by the police as a suspicious person. Once he explained it, they let him go.

We were in a house that had been converted to be four officer's quarters.  In one quarter there was a little six-year-old boy.  One day I was complaining to him about how much homework I had.  "I have to write a letter of the alphabet ten times every night, capital AND lowercase," I said.

"Wait until you get to 1st grade, that's when they really lay it on you," he said.  I hated the 1st grade teacher at our school.  Every time we passed by her class in the hallway, she would say, "Let the babies pass by, children."  It made me so mad.  I wasn't a baby, I was 5!

My school sent a flier home about a reading marathon fundraiser.  I overheard my parents talking about it.  "Don't they know Megan can't read?  She's only in kindergarten!"  I felt so ashamed.  Some of my classmates could read, but not me.

One night in April I was in bed looking at The Berenstain Bears' No Girls Allowed.  Mom came to tuck me in, and I said, "Mom, how do you read?"

"You don't know?" she said.  "You've been learning the sounds of the letters in class.  All you have to do is put the sounds together to make words." 

Suddenly, it clicked.  I looked at the page and I could see the words!  From that day forward, I could read.

Four

Jan. 17th, 2011 07:22 pm
girafferty: (Default)
Another year, another move and another baby.  This time we moved to Ft. Dix and Reagan was born.  My Dad, and ardent Ronald Reagan name, suggested the name to my mother and she agreed.  Nobody realized that it rhymed with Megan until they brought him home from the hospital and I went to kiss him.  Mom said "Megan, be nice to Reagan!" and then my parents looked at each other, horror-struck at what they had done.  It was nice when I didn't want to come when they called me, I would just pretend I thought they wanted Reagan.

My biggest memory from this year was the day my Mom came home from the store and gave me a new pair of scissors and told me to put it away in the big desk.  I went to the other room and was about to put it away when I thought I would like to play barber first.  So I started opening and closing the scissors all around my head.  You can guess what happened.  I had cut huge chunks of my hair out before I realized it. 

I was a bald baby, and I was two before I had any hair to speak of, so my mother was quite sad that it was all gone again.  But I learned never to play with scissors again.

Four

Jan. 17th, 2011 07:22 pm
girafferty: (Default)
Another year, another move and another baby.  This time we moved to Ft. Dix and Reagan was born.  My Dad, and ardent Ronald Reagan name, suggested the name to my mother and she agreed.  Nobody realized that it rhymed with Megan until they brought him home from the hospital and I went to kiss him.  Mom said "Megan, be nice to Reagan!" and then my parents looked at each other, horror-struck at what they had done.  It was nice when I didn't want to come when they called me, I would just pretend I thought they wanted Reagan.

My biggest memory from this year was the day my Mom came home from the store and gave me a new pair of scissors and told me to put it away in the big desk.  I went to the other room and was about to put it away when I thought I would like to play barber first.  So I started opening and closing the scissors all around my head.  You can guess what happened.  I had cut huge chunks of my hair out before I realized it. 

I was a bald baby, and I was two before I had any hair to speak of, so my mother was quite sad that it was all gone again.  But I learned never to play with scissors again.

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girafferty

July 2015

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