Tag Archives: Kansas City

Buchanan Dam, TX

A question, Small towns, Stuff, , , , , ,

imagesI grew up in Kansas City, Missouri–yes, Missouri.  The major part of Kansas City is not in Kansas.  Kansas wasn’t a state when Kansas City was founded in what was the state of  Missouri. The town was named for the Kansas River.

But, enough of that geography lesson.  Back when I grew up, neighborhoods were friendly and people lived in their homes forever. We knew each other and helped each other.   The older I got, the less this was true.  We moved so often and seldom knew our neighbors–until we moved to Buchanan Dam, Texas, into a small subdivision with five houses.

imagesBuchanan–pronounced in Texan, BUCK-a-nan–Dam was a lovely place to live.  There was an eagles’ nest a few miles west.  We had deer who ate my tomatoes which meant I didn’t have to garden–I don’t do that well. We had wild flowers, wonderful views, cool breezes, and great Mexican food down the road, close to Fuzzy’s Corner.  images

But the best part was that we had great neighbors.   Suzanne was a nurse who looked after out health.  One night when George thought he’d had a heart attack–he hadn’t–there was Suzanne, waiting by the ambulance to see what she could do.  Down the hill were two boys who kept us in groceries with the chickens and vegetables they raised for 4-H. May and Al lived behind us and kept an eye on the place.

And then there was Bob, a handy man who watched out for all of us.  This was sometimes a problem.  Once a floor lamp broke so I put it down in the trash.  A few days later, Bob made the long trek up our driveway and knocked.  When I opened the door, he handed me the lamp which he’d repaired.  What a great guy.  The only problem was that the lamp still didn’t work. I didn’t want to put it in the trash again because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  Actually, my main worry was that Bob would fix it again, bring it back and this would become a never ending loop.  My solution was to put it in the back of my car and smuggle it into Burnet where a friend disposed of it for me.images

Do you have stories about your neighbors?  I’d love to hear them.

 

What did you want to be in seventh grade?

A question, Writing, , , , , ,

When I was in seventh grade at Border Star Elementary School in Kansas City, MO, my teacher had a class project:  we all wrote our autobiographies.   If you’re wondering, “What does a twelve-year-old have to write in an autobiography?” the answer is, not much.  

Nonetheless, we were all excited about this.  We typed one page, single spaced, which were all copied on something purple and, by now, nearly too pale to read.  We put the thirty-six pages together and bound them.  In the end,  we each had a hand-bound book with the story of everyone’s families and pets and vacations.   Believe it or not, many, many years later, I still have this.

The very last section of each autobiography was about our plans for the future.   What did I want to be in seventh grade?  I wrote, “I want to be a ballerina, author, and illustrate my own books, and, in my spare time I will write plays and act in them.”

How close did I come?  I realized very soon that I’d never be a ballerina:  I liked to eat and didn’t like pain,  Besides, I’m not the most graceful of people.  And, as much as I liked to draw, I always had trouble with noses in a frontal view.  This lack of skill left my people with oddly flat faces which left out illustrator.   I also learned that I’m not an actor.   I’m too inhibited to become another person and show their emotion.

However, I did become an author with ten published books and I also wrote an award-winning one-act play in college.   Two out of five–that’s pretty close.  

What did you plan to be in the seventh grade?  How close are you? 

The day a ship almost ran over me–a HUGE ship

George, travel, , , , ,

I was incredibly lucky growing up.  My mother loved to travel and took  me to Europe twice while I was in high school.   I believe this changed me, made me a more open person, realizing that Kansas City, Missouri–as much as I loved growing up there–was not the center of the universe.  I also had several very funny incidents there.  Here’s the first one.

When we got to Lucerne, we visited all the great spots, my favorite the 170-meter-long  covered bridge.    Then we went to our hotel which was not in Lucerne but on the lake with beautiful views of the lake and the mountains from our rooms.    We saw paddle boats on the lake and decided to get one.  Mom and I pedaled out and away from the shore, the wheel our pedals turned rotating strongly and quickly behind us.  We enjoyed the breeze and the view, laughing and having a great time–until we both looked up and saw a huge ship bearing down on us.  I have googled “ships on Lake Lucerne” and don’t find freighters listed but this is my story and, as I remember,  that ship was an enormous freighter.   And it headed directly toward us!

Aware that the ship didn’t slow or turn, Mom and I started pedalling backward.  When that didn’t move us fast enough, we turned the tiny boat around and pedalled until our legs were weak and barely made it to shore.  But we survived, didn’t even get wet.

Many years later, George and I headed from West Texas to Denver.  He wanted to take the “scenic” route which means bad roads and few filling stations, but it was scenic.  At noon, in the middle of a broad valley with no town or businesses in sight, we saw a rustic restaurant.   Once inside, I discovered a picture of the covered bridge in Lucerne on the wall.   The owner/cook came from Lucerne–I have no idea how he ended up in this barren part of Colorado–and told me the bridge had burned down but was rebuilt.  Then I told him about my adventure on the lake to which he said, “Lots of tourists get killed that way.”

I’m not sure he was kidding.

 

My parents didn’t teach me to hate. Thank you!

Celebrating, Family, Musings, , , , , , , ,

My parents didn’t teach me to hate

I look back over the years and realize what an amazing statement this is:  my parents didn’t teach me to hate.   Never once did I hear a word against any group or people, religion or race.   I didn’t grow up with the burden of prejudice.  I didn’t have to unlearn the lessons of racism.

You may not think this statement makes my folk sound special.  I hope your parents did the same.

What makes this fact  remarkable is that my father was born in 1904 and my mother, in 1907, hardly years of openness and acceptance of others.   I was born in the 1940’s and grew up in a world filled with bigotry and hatred, in a world of separate restrooms and in a city where the public swimming pool was closed because white people didn’t want to swim with black people.   Because of the way my parents raised me, I didn’t understand why anyone would object to this.    Thanks, Mom and Dad.  

I thought of this again about a week ago when I watched a PBS program about Oscar Hammerstein.  He was a man born in 1895, a man ahead of his time, a writer who asked questions and forced discussion on many issues, especially of race and prejudice, in the lyrics of his marvelous musicals.

In 1949, Hammerstein wrote South Pacific.   I was born in Kansas City, MO, a little off Broadway, but wonderful touring companies came through.  I saw South Pacific in the theater when I was eight.   After the show was over, I asked my mother about the song You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught.   She told me that some parents teach their children to hate other people, people who are different.  I asked her why.  She couldn’t explain.  Neither can I.

In Showboat written in 1927, Hammerstein  dealt with misogyny.  Julie, who had “black blood”,  was married to a white man, a union which was against the law.  I saw this movie when I was nine and couldn’t understand why two adults who love each other couldn’t marry.  I still don’t.

My parents raised me in church and taught me that the Gospel means acceptance and love for all,  no exceptions.  

Thanks, Mom and Dad.  

 

What I miss living in Texas

Musings, , , , ,

I grew up in Kansas City, MO.   My father was a huge University of Kansas fan so we drove to Lawrence for every home football and basketball game as well as the Kansas Relays.

What I especially loved–even as a young child–was the glory of the changing leaves during our autumn drives.   Do I remember them as being more beautiful than they were or do I just miss them that much?

What do you think?  Do you enjoy the four season?  Which is your favorite and why?