I am upstairs at Nickerson, Kansas, Elementary School.

When you left me last I was in the fourth grade and Mrs. Howe was by teacher, but time has passed and I am now in the fifth grade.  That was a big promotion cause now I got the extreme pleasure of going upstairs to class.  That was very scary that first day as I had never been upstairs before.  Miss Swenson was my teacher and she was so sweet.  She is the one who discovered I had a penchant for writing, especially poetry.  She even met with momma to get permission to submit one of my poems to Jack and Jill magazine. I was so proud.  Well, yeah, I still remember to this day, so it must have made an impression!  I do not know what went on with that, but it was none the less an honor. My greatest joy my whole life was always a blank sheet of paper and a pencil.  Still is. The kids sometimes just give me note books, college ruled and they are all over the house!

Fifth grade was where reality set in.  A classmate lost her father in a farm accident.  Miss Swenson met a man and married him.  A new girl came to our school named Mavis.  Course the kids had to tease her and it was then I realized I had compassion in my soul for my fellow humans! Mavis became my friend and I protected her from the slings and arrows of fellow classmates. Then she moved away.

On to sixth grade and Miss Lauver.  Miss Lauver was a spinster.  While I knew what that was from the dictionary I was never really sure of all the implications.  She was very strict as I recall, but not mean.  It was in sixth grade I found out what happens when you take the internal workings out of a crank telephone, grab the wire and have someone spin the crank!  Hard lesson to learn especially for a little girl! Miss Lauver lived with her older sister who was also named Miss Lauver.  They came to the house one time to see momma. Don't know why.

Seventh grade brought Mr. Schriber.  That may not be spelled right, but he was a wiry little fellow and cute as a button with his curly hair.  He also was the coach.  Back then teachers could do that.  All of us girls worked very hard.  In seventh grade I learned the difference between and the commonalities of Nature and Nurture or Hereditary vs. Environment.  I am still in a quandary over that one.  Lot to be said for both sides.

Eighth grade and Mr. Bollinger.  He also owned the movie theatre. Never let us in free though.  My best friends that year were Jay Moore and Owen Lentz.  We used to stay in over recess and draw dream cars on the blackboard.  They did not know I was a girl but I knew they were boys, but that was about as far as that went.

No account of grade school in Nickerson would be complete without me telling you about the music teacher. Her name was Miss Barkiss.  Since she went to our church I am not sure exactly when she married the Principal's son and became Mrs. Houston. But while she was Miss Barkiss the woman tried tirelessly to coax a "c" note out of my tiny throat.  I could no way in hell carry a tune in a bucket.  But I must send accolades out to the dear woman who is no doubt singing with the angels in heaven, for trying. I now do the country songs around the yard and house at the top of my lungs, and am happy as can be with my never change tones method of what is known loosely as "caterwauling!"

And so I bid adieu to my childhood days at Nickerson Grade School.  The halls are froth with memories, some good; some bad, but all mine.  They helped shape me into who I am and I guess that is the environment part that comes into play. I guess it was inevitable that I then went to high school and I am going to tell you about that and grandma and my career as an actress hopefully tomorrow.

For now I will put my little ghosts back to bed and get on with the business of living while there is still breathe in the old body.  I have a lot of blank pages to fill before I fly away!

All the seeds of yesterday are the trees of tomorrow.  Lou Mercer

And now to Mrs. Howe, fourth grade teacher, Nickerson, Kansas.

Oh, I promised you yesterday I would get to Mrs. Howe.  Maybe it was a promise more to myself than to you, but nonetheless it shall be fulfilled today.  I think I dreamed about that woman last night.  Woke up in  a cold sweat for some odd reason. Usually only do that if there is a vampire in the room.

Anyway, just picture me as a tender little child of 8 years old.  We had no Kindergarten in our small town of Nickerson, Kansas, so we started right off in first grade at age 5.  The first grade classroom was the largest and we surmised that a lot of kids went in there and never came out.  That teacher was Miss Doughno (however you spell it). So sweet and pushed us in the swing and was just the loveliest lady,

Then we went to second grade and there was Mrs. Breece. A very nice lady, but demanded we learn to spell and we must now start cursive and all kinds of stuff. She was so proud of her little charges. 

Third grade and on to Mrs. Holmes.  Ah, the woman had the smile of an angel! Skin as soft as rose petals.  She was big on hygiene.  Every morning we had to swear, under penalty of death, that we had washed our face, combed our hair, brushed our teeth and she made us hold out our hands for inspection and they had better be clean!  I loved that  woman with every fiber of my being.

And then fourth grade and I swear I break out in a cold sweat when I remember Mrs. Howe!  Mrs. Howe was the smallest of all my teachers. Also the most wrinkled, had the hardest eyes, the biggest ruler and walked on cat feet up and down the aisles between the desks.  Being the shortest kid in class I always had my desk right in the front.  Right under her hawk like stare. I did not mind that.  What kept me in mortal terror was when she started prowling the aisles when we were doing our work.  I never knew exactly where she was and was terrified to look.

Her favorite thing was to creep softly up behind me (us) and if my pencil was not moving, she turned that ruler on edge and fwacked me right on top of the head.  Ah, Sweet Jesus! That still brings stars to my eyes today.  That is the sharpest, piercing est pain in the whole world.  Try it some time on yourself. Be sure you are wearing a Depends.  I am pretty sure that qualifies today as child abuse.

Of course there was the "hold out your hand" one that was given for minor infractions, like breathing.  I could handle that as long as I held my hand palm up and the ruler was flat.  Did not like it when the ruler was on edge and my tiny little knuckles were the object of her attention.

Not everyone suffered her wrath.  She had her little pets.  These kids were luckily the prodigy of the wealthier farmers in town.  I learned very early in life that rich people could do no wrong, but if your mother was a cleaning lady you were doomed from the "git go".  Now to the highlight of the fourth grade!

Bathroom break at recess.  Enter Beth and her popcorn ball swinging loosely in a scarf.  Exit little me. Run for the playground.  Enter Mrs. Howe with Beth and a soggy popcorn ball.  Seems while I was already on the playground that popcorn ball fell in the stool.  Beth explained to Mrs. Howe that I had in a jealous rage over her having one and me not, I had grabbed it and thrown it in there. It was down hill from there.

First came the call to my mother.  Then the ruler on top of the head.  Then the principal and there were rumors he kept a rubber hose to beat you with.  I must apologize profusely to Beth, which I did and I looked her right in the eye and she flinched.  She knew the truth and so did I.

Back in those days report cards had a place on the back for "Teachers Comments" and then a place for the parent to sign.  I still remember what she wrote, "Louella does her work, but she does not play well with others."  I told momma I did not do that, but Mrs. Howe was a respected teacher.  Beth had a rich daddy.

Now, here is the best part, Karma.  Over Christmas vacation Mrs. Howe got a thorn in her large intestine.  For almost a week we did not know if she would even live.  We prayed incessantly for her both at the church and me at home.  I did not want her to die.  Just wanted her to like me.  To make a long story short, neither of the two things happened.

If there are any of Mrs. Howe's relatives still out there I would like to say to you, she was a very good teacher and I learned a lot from her tutelage.  That was a time when it was alright to know which side of the bread the butter was on.  I have long ago forgiven her, but never forgotten.

To Beth;  If I ever run across you I will give you a popcorn ball. Probably neither of us will have teeth enough to eat it, but it will be symbolic.  You probably don't even remember the incident and that is good.  I remember for both of us.

Every thing that happened inside those walls and since had made me the woman I am today.  It was a time of poverty, greed and survival.  It was a time when child abuse went on behind closed doors and when the adult in the situation was always right and the kids always suffered.  Lots of kids did without back then and I just thank God that this has all changed.

And to all the little kids at Nickerson, Kansas Elementary school, I got a lot more memories and today was fun!  I may write on some more of these memories. If you went to Nickerson back then drop me a line and we can compare notes. Tell me some of your experiences and we can light up this blog! Jerry, if you are still out there I lost all your emails you sent me way back then.  Lost your address and all. 

I sometimes have random insomnia so what I do is in my mind I walk the walk home from school to our little house. I remember the names of the people who lived in the houses. Then I remember the classmates.  They say you can never go home and they are right, but sometimes in the middle of the night I like to make a quick visit and it makes me realize that little Louella Bartholomew did indeed become a vital member of society and now can "play well with others!"

Hey look I got that widget!

Now I realize this widget is not where it belongs, but it is here. By the time I get to the AIDS Walk on October 9, I may actually have it where it is supposed to go.  Or not.  For the moment I can bask in the glory of success! Which brings me to another point, but you could see this one coming couldn't you?

I can remember way back when one of my teachers, Mrs. Howe to be exact, told us about computers. I am torn at this moment because I so want to tell you about Mrs. Howe and our mutual disrespect for each other and how I learned about computers. So here is what I will do, I will mark it down in my little black book to write about Mrs. Howe and I will now tell you of the computer learning experience.

At that time I was but a wee little girl in the 4th grade and Mrs. Howe was our teacher.  Also at that time an adding machine was about as good as you could get for use in your mathematical equations which consisted of plus and minus. They were very heavy and awkward and had a handle on the side which you pulled down each time you made an entry.  So Mrs. Howe started telling us about new things that were being made and they would add, subtract, multiply and divide. She said they were very big and could fill a whole room and put off a lot of heat.  Little did I realize that this was the precursor to this thing I now type on.

I had a nephew, not the stoned one, who told me how often knowledge doubles and it amazed me to see that he was correct in his figures.  Just think back to 50 years ago, which a lot of you can remember very well.  1960 probably the 10 key was in everyday usage.  Typewriter was a big awkward thing that set on top of the desk or electric ones were probably coming into being.  When Sam brought home his first Word Processor, about 1984,  I was dumb founded..  That was way to complicated for me. Fast forward to today.

I can set here on this thing in the comfort of my home and type this blog, hit a button and in 3 seconds or less some guy in Germany has it translated and on his screen reading every word in German and you know I did not do that! Knowledge is indeed doubling, but rather than every five years now it is about the speed of sound..

I remember when I was getting my accounting degree 30-35 years ago we still did the columns with a pencil and added them in our head.  Ok, I had a calculator I used to double check, but we are talking 30 years ago, people. Now we enter it all on the computer which puts it in the proper accounts, issues a profit and loss and figures how much tax you owe.

I was very near the top of my class and the Dean knew me on a first name basis, but when I got tangled up with these computers I figured I was done for. Almost was, but I figured this is how it is, so I better figure it out.  Now  I have 2 kids that look at me with glazed eyes when I start talking html, bytes, and things like that. My oldest son works with them as a vocation. Bret uses them to download music and Debbie is knowledgeable. Other daughter plays games on hers.

So the world moves on and I shudder to think what new things I am going to have to learn before I can poke the toes skyward and fly away.

Love, lust, or indigestion?

http://www.firstgiving.com/loumercer



As some of my loyal readers know,  earlier this year I took my first tremulous steps back in the dating world.  Seven years of widowhood and I thought perhaps it might be nice to have someone to actually talk to, go out to eat with, and do some of the things that "couples" do.

So in typical Lou fashion, I ventured forth into the world of the older single woman.  Now I am here to tell you, that is  nowhere a human should go!  It is very scary. At first it appears very harmless; a coffee date.  Coffee is good.  Then conversation.  Conversation is good. From there it is all down hill.  Got to do it all over again, and again, and again.  Then you got to go on picnics and set there eating cold food thinking of all the things you should be home doing.

Then that whole conversation thing becomes a real bore. How many times can you smile through the tale of "back when I had my own company and I was so successful..."?  Finally you graduate to the hand holding, gazing- in- the- eyes thing and that is when you are close enough to see the nose and ear hair and believe me, that is a real turn off! As if our taste in music, Classical vs. Country; movies, Musicals vs. Cheech and Chong; food, French vs. Red hot scorch your ass Mexican; weren't enough to doom any chance at a relationship!

So guess what?  I am not looking for love, I had that.  The idea of love is wonderful and there are movies full of it and it can move mountains and I think that is just great.  I love the idea of love, and I think it is probably great for a lot of people, but not for me.

Now the lust thing.  That is a whole 'nother kettle of worms by itself.  I hear it is great, just not my thing.  I am too old, too wrinkled and way to arthritic to think I want to try and appear sexy to some old guy who is too old, too wrinkled and too arthritic to appear sexy to me. So let that one just lay there and simmer!

Now to the Indigestion part of this equation!  I can do that and I can do it very well.  I love the Green Chile, Jalapeno and the Habanero.  Now if you think I can not get a good dose of indigestion out of that, you are sadly mistaken!  And you all know when indigestion strikes, love and lust are both left laying alongside the road!  Things of the past, so to speak.

So yesterday I bopped up Union looking for the antique spinning wheel that matches mine.  Got invited to have coffee with some young guy (Which did wonders for the ego!), thanks but no thanks, and then came home. 

This warning to all men out there:

Still got it; ain't gonna' use it!  Eat your heart out!

Off to church in my new tee shirt.

http://www.firstgiving.com/loumercer

Got to put that in first thing everyday so you be sure and get the message.  I am almost ready to go to church and I am going to wear this new tee shirt the kiddies brought me from Washington.  It is black and it says "I am right 98% of the time.  Who gives a crap about the other 3%!"

Isn't it amazing how quickly our children adjust to our personalities?  I think this boy spent a few years thinking I was a bit flaky, but even at that , he snapped out of it a lot sooner than his sisters did.  My oldest daughter was 24 years old before she came to me and said, " You know I used to think you were not very bright and not at all wise to the ways of the world.  I am truly amazed how smart you have gotten in just the last few months!"  Way to go Debbie.  She now has a son who is figuring out that she is a little smarter then he thought. 

Motherhood is an amazing journey and I fear it is one I shall never fully understand nor completely appreciate.  Don't get me wrong, I would in no way ever hope that I had not undertaken this journey, but if I had even one inkling of what lay ahead I think I would have paid more attention to my own dear mother.  Hell, I would have fallen at her knee and never taken my ears off of her!  But now the best part of all.  I have learned to accept my failings as a mother because of something a therapist told me "You did the best you could with the knowledge you had at the time."

There!  Now you know I have been to therapy or have I?  Got some high class friends you know and I might have just gotten a bit of free advice.  You do know I was not the perfect mother, but I tried. At least this tee shirt shows this particular kid figured momma out way early in the game!

Have a good one and try to remember "You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself".