Seeking next door neighbor

FALLen angel autumn display. No one in my neighborhood found it funny.

Who would you like to live next door?

You know, the person who you wouldn't care popped over unannounced? Someone who has similar life priorities as you and the same sense of humor? And didn't judge?

I love that scene in Stepford Wives when Bobby commented on Joanna's messy kitchen. Since all her neighbors had turned Stepford, complete with immaculate homes and shallow personalities, Bobby commented that Joanna's sticky kitchen was a "home away from home."

I totally get it.

My mom had a good friend. Let's call her Carol. Carol's house always appeared lived-in and she was a riot of good times. She also wasn't consumed by creating a spotless museum for her family.

I'm still looking for my Carol. In my neighborhood, it's unacceptable to have laundry on the dining room table and the rusted running board from the Jeep in the side bushes.

Here's one lady I wouldn't mind as my next door neighbor: Nancy. She loves her family, cooks, creates, and has a great time with her grand-babies. I can imagine she would be a blast to hang out with.

Who is your dream next-door neighbor?

That night in Sugar Alley

The flour mill in Alton. This is near Sugar Alley.

Please keep Calgary in your hearts as they deal with unprecedented flooding. 

Here is a little something I wrote a while back...about the Great Flood of 1993 in my hometown of Alton, Illinois. 

That Night in Sugar Alley

As residents deal with flooding, the Great Flood of 1993 saturates my brain with painful, yet nostalgic memories of the night downtown Alton flooded.

Growing up in the Alton/Godfrey area, I knew flooding was just one of those inconveniences of living near the river. I remembered the monumental flood of 1973.

Since that was a 100-year flood, I wasn’t old enough to experience another big-deal flood quite yet. However, 1973’s water-level glory was to be outshone.

This is how I remember the night downtown Alton flooded in 1993:

One evening, about 9 p.m., my husband and I were driving on Homer Adams Parkway, a/k/a The Beltline, when we noticed signs at businesses begging for sandbagging volunteers.

“Save Alton.” “Your help is needed like never before.” The appeals were blunt and desperate.

So, we reported downtown.

Running through Sugar Alley was a sandbag wall taller than myself. Of course, I was familiar with the sandbagging activity. It’s just that I’d never been that close to the front line.

People were sloshing and scurrying. The National Guard was there. The Red Cross was there. Business owners were pumping water out of basements at record speed.

But, what sticks in my mind just as vividly as that disaster scene, was a reunion of sorts. We ran across classmates with whom we’d lost touch after high school. Glad to see them, but time was of the essence. There was no time to catch up.

Santa Claus was there. Really. You see, a Wood River (Illinois) man and his wife assumed the personas of Mr. and Mrs. Claus year-round. They were up in years and enjoyed bringing joy. At Christmas they would open their home for kids to visit.

Mr. Claus wasn’t wearing his red suit in the heat, of course, but everyone recognized him with his long beard and jovial personality.

Downtown Alton spans a history of generations. In 1858, the Lincoln-Douglas debate was even held in that area.

Here are some of my downtown Alton memories (Stick with me. There will be a point):

Jupiter was a sweet little store on the corner offering mostly clothes, as I recall. My biggest thrill as a kid was the gum machine.

Snyder’s was an old-fashioned department store with an elevator.
Nasally voice—
“First floor: women’s wear, accessories, jewelry.”
“Second floor: domestics, sewing notions, draperies.”
That kind of store.

At a saloon and restaurant, my best friend and I, as kids, begged to sit at the bar instead of in the family-friendly dining area. We finally were allowed to occupy two barstools and experience saloon life. It wasn’t such a big whoop.

At Goulding’s Jewelry Store, I got my ears pierced when I was 13.

At one downtown tea room, an elderly owner would tirelessly serve her customers. The spot felt like a grandmother’s kitchen, and I always felt guilty for her waiting on us. My grandfather knew this sweet lady from his younger years.

(I’m making a point, promise. Hang in there.)

I remember going to the newspaper office to get my picture taken for winning an award in high school.

Tony’s Restaurant was and still is the destination for going somewhere special. Their pepperloin steak is famous, but I prefer their pepperoni and onion pizza.

Like most other Altonians, I spent much time at Hayner Library and probably took it for granted.

Oh, and the bank. It was the kind with the massive island in the middle with chained-down pens on top. Like where Uncle Billy lost the money in It’s a Wonderful Life.

Downtown has seen its share of restaurants and antique spots come and go. Some might imply ghosts chased away a good share of those businesses. Makes you wonder…

Here’s the point:

That night wasn’t about a river encroaching on some small town. It was about our river attacking our town. Our grandparents’ town. Their grandparents’ town.

I probably wasn’t the only one encountering a deluge of memories while building that sandbag wall. It made us work all the harder.

It must have been about 2 a.m. when we noticed National Guardsmen sporting life vests, an obvious sign of doom. We were exhausted anyway.

So we left.

I’m not sure if we had yet arrived home before the wall gave-way and our downtown became one with the river.

If only we had stayed that night, I’m sure we could have saved it.

Thoughts and prayers go out to Calgary during this extremely difficult time.

 
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Found the Marbles

Ladybug mug, ladybug mug

The summers I spent as a pre-teen at my aunt’s house will forever be snuggled in my memory. We did exciting, empowering things I never did at home. We would move furniture--just for the heck of it. We would eat lunch meat straight from the package, sort books and pick strawberries.

Whatever Aunt Susan had going on was sure to be giggle-infested and always interesting.

As we were having flavored hot tea for breakfast, my aunt asked me which mug I would like to use for my flavored hot tea. I spotted a mug sporting orderly rows of blue ladybugs.

I had never seen blue ladybugs. Are there such things? I still don’t know. At Susan’s house, though, finding magical blue ladybugs adorning a cup were just one of many surprises.

“Oh, you can keep that if you want," she said, recognizing my enthusiasm for the wacky cup. 

Of course I wanted it!

I still treasure that crazy ladybug mug and use it regularly. I would be heartbroken if it cracked but I’m careful.

You know, she might not even remember giving it to me. It’s one of those memories which means so much to one person while fading quickly from another’s recollection.

I’ll have to ask her one day if she remembers sharing flavored hot tea while her niece sipped from the most awesome mug ever.

Never too old to color

When I was a kid, a fresh box of crayons was the best thing EVER. A new coloring book sent me over the moon. 

I remember one mom in our neighborhood kept her kids' coloring stuff on a high shelf in the coat closet. I thought she was so mean.

I grew a bit older and would look for excuses to color. We're having a visitor? With children? 

Whoo baby, I'll get the crayons.

When my own kids were younger, coloring was our go-to activity. I loved rainy days, because they most assuredly guaranteed a coloring-fest.

As I was buying goodies for a slumber party many years ago, I picked up some crayons and a sweet coloring book; because you know, girls (and boys) love to color. 

No matter how old they are.

And I was right. Amidst the giggles and whispers, the girls flocked to those new coloring supplies.

Did my heart good.

"Hey, I know what let's do," I'll say to my grandchildren. My face will be eager with anticipation. The kids won't be able to reject such a hopeful soul. 

And another generation will experience the joy.

But why wait? Crayons aren't labeled, "For use only under supervision of a child." 

Age doesn't apply here.

Keep on coloring!

 

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Tales From Trish

Hang in there, budddeeee

During the holiday chaos, I neglected someone very special.

Green pepper plant was born a few years ago from seed. He was destined for a life in the garden. Other starters made their way outside, but this guy? Well, we became attached to him.

He's charismatic.

He offers teeny-tiny green peppers every once in a while. I know it's the best he can do. He tries so hard.

Recently, I've become concerned about his health.

It all started after Thanksgiving.

"Hey Christmas tree, you're standing in my light," green pepper plant said (trying to sound intimidating by using his "Joe Pesci" voice).

Did Christmas tree inquire about being moved? No, because Christmas tree and green pepper plant aren't friendly to one another--not since last Christmas when green pepper donned twinkly lights and Christmas tree was all,

"You're such a poser, green pepper plant."

Anyway...

Because of all the holiday hoopla, green pepper plant was forgotten in a dark corner. I believe I heard him wheezing faintly. He can be overly-dramatic sometimes, but on closer inspection I realized a rescue truly was in order.

Oh no, green pepper plant!! 

"Hang in there budddeeee," I said like Pauly Shore. 

Green pepper always liked Pauly Shore.

The patient was immediately taken to a sunny window where he has been receiving scheduled guilt waterings. Some of his leaves turned crunchy and had to be snipped--falling sadly in slow motion, and they remain on his dirt...in the spirit of compost.

And hope.
 

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Found the Marbles

Beagle dreamer

What could Mr. Cool be dreaming of?

Hugs from Kitty Baby?
Winning an argument with the Little Weirdo?

 Oh.

Sweet memories of youth. 

*sigh*