loumercerwordsofwisdom.blogspot.com

Monday, April 18, 2016

Thought I forgot how to do this!

This is the blanket I crocheted for Bret and Amanda's little one.  It came out really nice if I do say so myself!
So I decided to do a little different pattern for Ryan and Heather and their little one.  It came out pretty good also.
So, now that I know I can still do this, I am going to make a few of them and sell them on Etsy!  Daughter Debbie did not see the pictures on facebook so I am putting them in the blog.  Here you go!  Tell me what you think.

Love, mother.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

A sad little horse.

The neighbors have a horse.  It is in a field in front of their house.  It has a shed to stand in and that is about it.  Oh, it gets food and water.  The neighbors on the other side also have a horse.  It has the same life.  The two horses are separated by an offset fence so they do not have any contact.  They just stand there close to their respective fences.  What a life.  Neither one ever gets ridden or taken out of their pen.  I do not know why either neighbor has a horse.  I guess so they have some where to spend any money they happen to have left over.
I taught Ito to say please.  I go out with carrots and he holds up his left front foot.  I give him a carrot and he eats it slowly.  Then he raises his foot again and I give him the other carrot.  It is a game we play, but alas, the game is over.  The neighbors are moving to Castle Rock.  They are actually mostly moved.  Ito is all alone over there.  It is very sad to me to think of him all by himself.  I am sure they will come and do something with him.  I know he will be glad to see them, but ai am sure he will miss his other horse freind and who will give him carrots?  He can't ask for them.  Maybe his new owners will know that horses like carrots.  I sure hope so cause he is really a nice horse.
So I am off to bed, but just wanted to let you know, that my heart is very heavy tonight.
Sleep tight.

Saturday, April 9, 2016

I'm Buster Brown! I live in a shoe!!

Thinking about my new brown shoes way back when, and I remembered the ditty.  "I'm Buster Brown!  I live in a shoe! (Bark) That's my dog Tide, look for him in there too!"  That was back when they knew how to make advertising that stuck with you.  That was also back when shoes were made to last.

"Aren't you glad you use Dial?  Don't you wish everybody did?"  "Ivory Snow is 99 44/100ths percent pure.  It floats!"  Never mind that it only floats because the man in charge of stirring it to "trace"  went to lunch and forgot it and it stirred air into it while it was hardening on the mixer.  They did not want to waste the whole batch so they tested it and discovered it floats and that set it apart from the other soaps.  Back then baby diapers and clothes had to be washed in Ivory because it was "pure".  Later Dreft figured out how to do that and it was almost as pure as Ivory, but they only had powdered laundry soap, so they could not float it to show how "pure" it was.

I remember the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  Montgomery Ward had one also, but since they were so hard to come by we did not have one of those.  When Dad would bring home the Sears catalog it was like Christmas all over again.  Some of the pages were color and that was always a treat.  We had to be careful though and not look at the panties and bras because they were almost naked women there.  I think Jake snuck a peek now and then.  And when we had pored over the pages until they were dog eared and the new catalog arrived, the old one was "re purposed" .  That means it went out back to the privy and was used for toilet tissue, which was not invented yet, or if it was we could not afford it.  We learned early in life that the colored pictures, which were slick, were good for nothing except papering the cracks in the wall of the out house!

Thinking about that old outhouse always brings back memories of the Currant bushes that grew along the path.  Ever eat a  currant?  You would remember.  In the Spring, the bushes are covered with small yellow flowers.  In due time those dry up and tiny little round fruits appear.  They are about the size of a very small pea.  Do not under any condition eat one of those things when they are green!  That is second only to a Gooseberry in sourness!  My God, those things can pucker your whole digestive tract!  When they turn purple you might be able to choke one down, but best to wait for black.  When they are black and just begin to be a tiny bit soft is peak eating.  Now I did not say they are good.  Under no condition is that statement coming out of this mouth.  Black and a tiny bit soft they are edible.  I know there are some recipes that call for currants and I am assuming they are alright in that context, but this is definitely not a fruit I am going to seek out. I see in my back yard that the birds have planted me some currant bushes.  Oh, I am excited.  I will leave them for the birds.  The birds will also get the Choke Cherries.  I will pick enough to make one batch of Choke  Cherry Jelly and then let them feast on the remainder.

And now to the point I am coming too which I have forgotten in my rambling.  Oh, yeah, advertising.  I recall when Coke used to have the bears and Budweiser had the Clydesdale's.  That was advertising.  I knew they wanted me to drink Coke and have a Budweiser beer.  Couse that was also back in the day when you drank a Coke and then burped and it burnt your nose.  (I heard that the original Coke had cocaine in it, but who knows.)  Irish Spring was like taking a shower in Ireland!  Levi was probably the first to show a woman with out a blouse(from the back so the Levi label could be seen), but I knew it was Levi.  Maytag washers were built to last and last and I believe that to this day!

I set in front of the television now and wonder just what subliminal message they are sending me.  A sullen, skinny little guy walks into an empty room, probably a loft warehouse some where, and suddenly the music knocks me out of my rocker, a scantily clad woman appears out of no where and  her and the skinny guy begin wallowing on each other.  Since she has very long hair I finally decide it is an ad for hair color.  Or maybe a bra.  Oh, wait!  It is a granola bar.  She is eating healthy. OK.  I give up.

I especially like since lawyers can now advertise, those ads.  A woman comes on and says, "I was delivering pizza and got hit by a truck and for 2 years my insurance did not pay me anything until I called "Mr Good Guy"  and he got me 2.3 million dollars."  Now he can not get everyone that kind of money, but call anyway.  There is no mention that he takes 30-40% and the hospital, doctors, therapists, etc. relieved her of the rest.  Also, law dictates for the most part how much she is going to receive.

Drug companies advertise for blood thinners and then the disclaimer that you may bleed to death.  Irregular heart beat?  High blood pressure?  Overweight?  Disclaimer that side effects of this medicine may be death.  You know what I am saying here, don't you?

And now in closing, I know the rule about "i" before "e" except after "c", or when sounded as "a" in "neighbor" and "weigh".  Why can't it just be "i" before "e"  all the time?   Just a little something to think about as we go about our busy day!

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Yep, I am one of Gooch's best!

These are the two that started it all!  This was their wedding picture.  Mom and Dad.  Christine and Reuben Bartholomew, January 19, 1935.  Or thereabouts.  The family record may be a bit screwed up.  The point is not that, the point is this is the woman who gave birth to me and the man who caused that to happen.  

My dad was pretty much a share cropper and did day labor for farmers in the area.  He had been in World War 1 in the Calvary.  I know this because he had a scar on his upper arm close to his shoulder where he had been bitten by a horse.  I am very careful around horses because I do not want one to bite me.  They must have been happy because they had a baby every two years right up until Dorothy was born and then they stopped that nonsense. 

Back in those days, the best anyone could hope to do was eke out a living and that is what they did.  There were 6 little mouths to be fed and 6 little bodies to be clothed.  Mom cleaned houses for the ladies around town and us kids kind of just existed.  There were two times during the year we knew we would get something new.  It goes without saying that one of those was Christmas.  Santa Claus could always be counted on to deliver to our house.  I think that might have been helped by our dear Aunt Helen and Uncle Skinny.  They sometimes came by about that time of year. But maybe not because my mother was very resourceful and hard working.  She raised chickens and rabbits and I learned  very early  how to gut a rabbit and I could then and still can now, wring the neck on a chicken and scald it and pick it faster then anyone else.  I digress.

The other time something new could be had was when school started.  We knew we would get a new pair of shoes and a new dress.  This is how the shoe thing worked; we got a new pair of shoes from the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  Our feet were carefully measured and they would be brown.  They would be lace ups and they would be leather.  And they would fit.  And they would last.  My shoes would be handed down to Donna when I outgrew them.  Donna's would go to Mary and Mary's to Dorothy.  There the cycle ended.  The shoes then left our house and went to God only knows where, but there must have been someone poorer than us!

Ah, but the new dresses were planned for the whole year preceding.  Mom went to the feed store in town for the chicken feed and rabbit pellets.  Gooch feed packaged their wares in a cotton bag with Gooch clearly marked on the bag.  Flour and sugar also came in those bags. Yeah,and corn meal.  About everything because the world had not yet become a disposeable entity.  Mother would buy matching bags so she had enough for one dress.  Then she would choose another color and pattern for the next go round.  She very carefully cut out one dress and sewed it for each of us.  That was our new dress for school.  Of course they were handed down.  

Of course there were also times when the Gooch trademark was placed not quite where it should have been and the "ch" or  "Go" might appear on the hem of the skirt, but Momma always tried to keep that in the back so we did not see it.   Now I gotta go on record here as saying that Gooch always had the best and that was their  logo "Gooch's Best."  That also went for the bags.  I sell on ebay and several years back I sold a big pile of the bags.  The bags were 36" x 36" and the least I got for one was $8.99 + shipping and I sold one to a lady in Korea for $49.00 + shipping.  I would love to luck into a bunch more of those.

Anyway, until I was grown and gone I was known as "One of the Gooch girls."  Until I was 8 I thought my name was Louella Gooch.  I did not give a rat's ass. My mother worked hard making clothes for us kids.  When I hear Dolly Partin sing her "Coat of Many Colors"  I remember my mother bringing home some leftover slip cover material from some place and making me a brand new coat.  It was corduroy and it was light teal.  I loved that coat and when I could no longer fit in it my heart was broken.

I also remember my mother and her "box of rags."  When our clothes reached the point where they could no longer be repaired they went to the rag box.  Mother would then carefully cut out the "good parts"  which were like the skirt and parts of the sleeves that had no wear.  These were used for quilts.  I have curtains hanging in my kitchen that I can point to and know that my mother had a blouse with that fabric in her later life.  Old habits die hard.  

The parts that were still kind of good were torn into strips.  A slit was cut in each end and they were linked together and rolled into a ball.  This was then taken to the "weaver lady down by the doctor's office, "  where they were woven into a rug of whatever length we had scraps to make.  We could come home with a nice rug for a couple dollars.  

When mother got something wool she was in hog heaven.  Wool was cut into strips about 3/4" wide and sewn together.  She then took her crochet hook and cotton twine and somehow crocheted the strips into a thick rug.  Wish I could remember how she did that.  

Sometimes she was Momma, sometimes she was Mother.  She was also Mom.  And later grandma.  She was the driving force behind the woman I am today.  Not because she made me who I am, but she emolated who I should become.  I wonder if someday one of my kids will sit at a computer and remember me with the same all consuming love that I still have for her?  We will see.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

The bane of my existence is such a small thing.

As far back as I can remember I have been plagued by the dreaded mouse!  I hate them.  They are small, dirty little creatures that carry germs and poop on the counter. They can go into very tiny places and I read once that if they can get thier nose in a crack they can collapse thier body and slide through.  I do believe that.  My first recollections of mice as actual creatures in my world was when we lived on Strong Street.  I was probably 6 or 7, which is awfully young to be subjected to the rigors of mouse killing, but I was.  Mother opened the vacuum cleaner and there was a nest full of baby mice in there.

I must digress here for a moment to say this, never do I remember ever having carpet in any house we ever lived in and there certainly was no carpet on Strong Street for damn sure, so what that woman was doing with a vacuum cleaner is more than I can fathom.  I think she had it just as a large mouse trap, because that was the only time I ever recall it being in our home and why she opened it is definitely beyond my reasoning capabilities.  Back to the tale.

She handed the bag to me and some other sibling with the instructions to "Take those out on the front sidewalk and mash them with a brick."

I digress once more to interject that not only was the sidewalk in front of the house the front sidewalk, but it was also the only sidewalk any where around the house, or any of the neighbors houses.  For that matter it was the only concrete walkway on Strong Street at all!  It joined a flat concrete slab that was the front of the house that was cracked and falling away from the house, but it was, nonetheless, the front sidewalk.

I remember peering into the bag and seeing the tiny, pink, hairless mice in there.  Thier eyes were not open and they made a sort of squeaking sound.  As sure as there is a God in Heaven and a devil under the deep blue sea, I knew I was not going to mash them on the sidewalk.  I ran back into the house and pleaded with momma to let us keep them because they were so tiny and so cute.  I told her I would feed them and take care of them and they could sleep with me.  Needless to say, I was relieved of mouse mashing duty.

My house has a doggie door in the back door.  That is so the dogs can come and go.  It used to be big enough that I could crawl through  when I locked myself out, but over the years the size of my animals has diminished so that now it is about big enough for a cat.  Icarus has always been an indoor cat with out door habits which means I do not have the litter box to deal with at all.  What I do have to deal with is her eating habits.  Or her lack of eating habits.  I have been told that cats bring mice into the house to reward the owner for thier care and the cats know the owner is not smart enough to catch thier own food.  What ever the reason it seems that sometime during the course of any given day, I will be rewarded with fresh food.  Cat brings it in and bats it around until I notice that my dinner has arrived and then she stands back and waits for me to eat!

Ah, but I am wiser and faster then that damn cat!  I have 2 of those long handled pinchers that are used to pick something up off the floor that I have dropped.  I have become quite adroit at reaching down and snapping up the mouse, taking it to the back yard and flinging it over the fence into the field where it will be safe (broken ribs and all.)  If  I happen to look out my back window and see her coming across the yard with a treat for me, I slide the doggie door in place.  Cats are not very bright are they?

My doggies are getting old and I fear I will not have them too much longer.  I am getting a little older myself so I have decided when these animals are gone, they will not be replaced,  As it is, if I dropped dead tomorrow, they could never adjust to the real world.  But that cat is going to outlive me sure as the sun comes up in the morning.  When the dogs are gone, I think I will eliminate the doggie door and get Icarus a litter box.  Not sure how that will work, but I am getting too damned old to catch mice!

Saturday, April 2, 2016

How many years ago was that?

I woke up this morning in a black 1949 Ford on my way to Jetmore, Kansas.  One kid in the front seat and 3 more in the back seat.  Going to go see Grandma Seeger.  Jesus!  How many years ago was that?  It must have been about 1968 or 1969.  I was newly separated  and it was my day off so I was trying to keep some sort of continuity in my life.  I had shaken the dust of Garden City, Kansas off my feet and was living in a 2 bedroom rented house near the Reformatory in Hutchinson.    Just off East Sherman but I do not remember the name of the street.  I doubt that it is still standing, because it was barely standing then.

The first thing that happened was when I called to have the gas turned on, they condemned the stove which was the sole heat source for the house.  That had to be fixed, of course.  Probably should have left the gas off as it turned out later to be a thorn in my side.  It was a constant battle to keep the kids from touching it and burning themselves.

I was working nights and sleeping very little.  I had done the laundry and not folded it yet so it was laying on my bed which was located on the back porch.  I set down in the front room for just a minute and fell sound asleep, only to be awoken to cries of "FIRE!"  Shit!  Debbie threw water on me and I was awake instantly!  Seems dear Sammy, turned the kitchen stove on and poked a piece of paper in the flame to see "What would happen?"  He did not want to burn his fingers so he threw the burning paper on my bed full of clothes.  Need I go into detail?  Of course I do.  I immediately began dousing the fire with water and finally had it out and no smoke was coming from it.  To be on the safe side, I drug the mattress into the back yard.  I called a friend of my brothers and he came and hauled it away.  I am not sure the landlord ever knew where his mattress went.

Smith!  That was the name of that street.  That was my baptism by fire into the world of single parent life.  The girl who lived across the street babysat for me.  She also babysat my only pair of jeans I liked. Remember that when I left my husband I weighed 92 pounds so I was considerably thinner than I am now.  Actually, there could be 2 of me now!  She also releived me of my class ring and my wedding rings.  That was also where the kids got ringworm.  Sam filled the gas tank on the Ford with sand.  The old $150 Chevy that I arrived in Hutchinson threw a rod and I bought a 1949 Ford from Jake's friend, Clell.

You must know that back in those days, child support was optional and my husband opted out.  Welfare was there to help single mothers, but if you worked, they did not help you because you had an income.  Since I worked and could see no way to feed us if I quit, I never drew welfare.  No welfare, no alimony, no child support.  I must say part of the child support not coming was my fault.  My husband explained to me, as if I were a couple bricks short of a load, "You wanted the divorce.  I did not.  You have the kids.  I have nothing.  You should be paying me because you took them away from me."  And in my befuddled, insecure little mind, that all made good sense.

After a time the roof began to leak and the landlord would not fix it so my mother let me move into her house over on 5th Street.  That also brought a change of employment and began my career as a cook at the Red Carpet Restuant.  The husband moved to Hutchinson and took a job at Cessna.  We reconciled for a week or so and then he left town because he "just could not do the boring existence thing."  Welcome child number 5 and a tubal ligation!

I dated a radio personality and learned to decorate wedding cakes.  The radio guy turned out to be a real jerk but the cake decorating turned into a fairly lucrative part time job.  I dated a guitar picker and learned how to sing country!  When Christmas time came, his mom gave me 3 pairs of cotton underwear.  Never really got over that and so much like Glen Campbell or Hank Williams, I moved on.  Then  I found out just how good booze could be and it could always be depended on to see me through the rough patches.

And now I dream about those days.  When I was there it was a constant battle and there were times I wondered if I would survive.  There were days and nights when putting one foot in front of the other was the only hope I had.  Just one more day.  One more night.

Got to end this here because I am starting to feel sorry for myself and I do not want to do that.  That is how life becomes unbearable.  Just gotta keep my shoulder to the wheel, my eye on the prize and take it one day at a time.

Click to play



Friday, April 1, 2016

If I could shut off my memory....

Morning seems to be when I remember best.  I woke up this morning  back in the late 60's.  I was working as a waitress in a restaurant in Hutchinson.  It was my first job in the real world with my kids dependent on me since I was newly seperated and had filed for divorce.  Back in those days child support was optional and welfare required that you not work to qualify for help from the state.  So there I was.  I had never waited tables as a means of support.  Many years before I had been a cook/waitress/dishwasher at a place out on 4th street called the Tiny Tear.  Course most of my life at that time was spent in an alcohol induced fog, so I remembered little of that experience.  But now it was   ten years later.

The people who ran this resturaunt took pity on me and were very patient and they needed help on the night shift really bad.  The logistics of the job are not important, just the people.  There were the two "real waitresses" and a young girl who was attending college and supporting her self.  There was also a cook,  cook's helper and a dishwasher.  We were closed one day a week and that was the only day off that we had.  To make a long story short, the cook and the young college girl fell in love.  Oh, it was so romantic.  They billed and cooed and carried on something fierce.  She, however, appeared a lot more enthralled with the relationship than he did.  The strange part was, they never dated.  Never.

 He would leave work on Sunday when we closed and not appear again until Tuesday afternoon.  Where did he go?  The young college girl did not know.  Nor did anyone else.  She cried and he gave her a ring.  But still they never dated.  He swore he loved her with his whole heart, and she believed him.  We all did.  And like all things in life and like mother always taught me, "It all comes out in the wash!"  He was going to Wichita.  Why?  Why not?

The young college girl gave up and returned the ring.  She moved on.  He quit cooking there, the two "real waitresses" moved to Texas, and I took a job cooking at the Red Carpet Resturant.  I saw the cook from time to time, but that friendship petered out as any friendship that has secrets will.

Many years later found me in Pueblo, Colorado.  A lot of water ran under this bridge and I finally found my niche in the construction industry.  The AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  It was sad back then.  People were dying at an alarming rate.  I divorced again, got my degree in accounting and all my little acolades because I was so damn smart.  Then I married for the last time.  For whatever reason I began volunteering with the AIDS group in town and it was tied in tightly with the Gay community.  I have watched the face of AIDS and sexual orientation change from complete denial to total acceptance in my life time and I am proud to say I was in the forefront of most all of it!  but I digress.

I remained friends with only a few people back home, but one of them was a friend of the cook.  Remember him?  He was the one who ran away to Wichita every chance he got.  The one who left the college girl crying.  He became quite successful in his chosen profession, but he never married.  One day his friend called me and said "Do you remember 'the cook' "?  Sure I did.  She then told me he was rushed to the hospital and they had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was in a coma.  The next day he was dead.

Weeks would pass before the autopsy returned the results of his demise.  AIDS.  Not really AIDS, but disease associated with the syndrome.  At that time it was still a "gay disease."  At that time it was selective.  It was a scourge.  You were not even tested if you were not gay, and he was not gay!  Oh, wait a minute.  All the trips to Wichita began to creep in on the corners of my mind.  Could he have been leading a secret life?  Was that what that was all about?  The young college girl had become a quite successful architect and married very well, but he had not.  He lived all alone in a very nice house and had friends, but no romantic interests.  Or  so we thought.  It all comes out in the wash.

And why do I have this on my mind this morning?  I think it is because of the hatred that is being spewed through this election.  One governor struck down a bill passed by his state governing body that legalized discrimination.  Another is proposing legislation that legalizes it!  Contenders for the position of president are calling to criminalize birth control, homosexuallity, gay marriage, and about anything that has been passed in the last 20 years.  I may have to run for office myself.

My platform would be love and tolerance.  No discrimination.  A living wage and a chicken in every pot.  The only two things I would outlaw would be homelessness and poverty.  Everyone that wanted an education would get it and a few that did not want it would get it anyway.  Drugs would be illegal.  Gangs would be illegal.  Killing people because you are a jerk and can, would be illegal.  You get the picture?  Kind of a pollyanna world, so to speak.

But in the meantime, I send good thoughts to "the cook" and everyone who hides in the shadows because of fear or shame or whatever reason.  If the college student/architect or the "two real waitresses" or someone who knows them happens to read this, I wish you would contact me.  Just go google loumercer3, or Lou Mercer.  Or leave a comment below.  I would love to hear from anyone that knew me back then.

In the meantime remember:
 BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED!

Another year down the tubes!

Counting today, there are only 5 days left in this year.    Momma nailed it when she said "When you are over the hill you pick up speed...