I heard many conversations last week at work claiming “spring has arrived” or “spring has come.” Everyone said the rain and warm temperatures were the heralds. I won’t contest they are indications but are there more?

I was walking into work the other morning when I saw the geese had left deposits on the sidewalk. There was no sign of them this winter. Sign of spring indeed.

Last weekend I cut the grass before spreading weed and feed. This weekend, I cut the grass that put the feed to use. The green grass full of new growth weeds says spring has arrived. The co-op sold me a spray for any weeds surviving the weed and feed. Yard work starts with spring.

Bags of mulch sitting in the back of the Ford pickup is another sign. Each bag is waiting for me to spread their contents around the plants in the flower beds. They are looking forward to being empty and on their way to the recycling plant. Mulching is a spring and autumn task. Must be spring, autumn is months away.

The flowers blooming and trees leafing, the sound of geese and ducks flying north are signs of spring. But the best sign is our pontoon boat sitting in a slip off the South River. The marina finished the checkup and put it in the slip Friday. This is a sure sign of spring and the pending arrival of summer.

What tells you spring has arrived.

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Traditions — Christmas Day is upon us. Are you ready? For once we, my wife and I, are ready! We have the presents purchased and wrapped. They sit under the tree waiting for the package distributor to pick one and call out a name. If tradition holds, whoever the present is for will be offered help in opening it. Then comes the cries of “Show us what it is. Hold it up.” Cameras will flash and it will be time for the next one.

Our Christmases around the world

I was sitting here thinking how Christmas Day events have changed for my family over the years. My wife and I spent our first Christmas (1974) as a married couple in Keflavik, Iceland. The second was in Iceland also. Our third was in San Vito, Italy in an apartment above our Italian landlords. We were two and a half. My wife was pregnant.

My son joined us for the fourth and fifth (1977-1978) in San Vito. The sixth and seventh were in Pensacola, Florida. The Eighth (1981) was my daughter’s first as she grew us to a family of four.  The next two were in Coco Solo, Panama. We have been in Maryland for all of them since 1984.

Christmas traditions at our house

My wife and I bought a big artificial tree in Iceland and used it for forty years. It was always a challenge to find room in the government housing we lived in for the tree.  Some piece of furniture would hide in the bedroom or utility room while the tree decorated the space vacated.  Over several days before each Christmas, wrapped presents found their way under the tree. It was magic to the kids. It was late night wrapping that made the magic.

It became traditional for the kids to open one present on Christmas Eve. The rest waited for Christmas morning. Santa had to make a stop after all. Santa’s presents were the big items that required assembly. Santa’s helper had to pull tools and stay up late doing Santa’s work.  Christmas morning was hectic as the mounds of wrapping paper grew. The kids enjoyed their presents while we made dinner.

Today, the children are grown and have children of their own. They are creating their family traditions regarding Christmas *and other holidays*. Our traditions have changed to permit them to have theirs. We remember, in moments of nostalgia, past Christmases.

One of our traditions remains. Our smaller tree requires relegating a piece of furniture to another room. The tradition most missed is not being present when the sun comes up and watching the grandchildren discover what lies under their tree. We do get to watch them with the presents we bring with our visit.

Empty nesters, we accept the role of supporting cast ready for whatever role Santa needs filled. Has Christmas traditions changed for you? Use the comment to share your traditions.

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Will you have snow for Christmas? Perhaps it will be warm like it was here this morning. Or it may be freezing rain like we had yesterday. Yesterday, we woke to freezing rain and single digit temperatures. Today it got up to low sixties before the rain and wind started. My Mother called the weather we are seeing here “pneumonia weather.” That is what she called warm days interspersed with cold, rainy or snowy days.

Snow is not in the forecast. It wasn’t in the forecast for Corpus Christi, Texas in December, 1973 either. My wife had not remembered seeing snow in her twenty years. Having grown up near Peoria, Illinois, I did not remember a year without snow. Engaged to be married in January, I took my wife to meet my family.

We drove. It was the week before Christmas. It was in the mid 40’s when we left Corpus Christi.  We enjoyed good weather through Dallas and most of the way to Muskogee, Oklahoma. We were on Route 44 southwest of St. Louis when we saw the first snow. My wife was mesmerize by the “white stuff”.

We did not encounter any problems until we were on the outskirts of St. Louis. The sun had set. Snow limited visibility but not enough to force us to stop. It was after rush hour when we entered the city proper. Here, my wife’s appreciation for snow underwent a drastic change. The road surface became rough and we were limited to speeds in the range of 25-30 miles per hour. The reason was the snowplows had created a washboard surface on the road. If we tried to go faster, we bounced and the car slid. The trip through St. Louis was nerve-wracking. We were relieved when we crossed out of Missouri into Illinois.

Ruts in the road are good

I would like to report that my wife’s appreciate for snow improved with crossing the state line.  The snowplows in Illinois had kept their plows above the surface. They left a few inches of snow in which their truck tires formed ruts. I was familiar with driving under these conditions, snow ruts with the snow banked on both sides of the road. The rest of the trip home was at good speed while my fiancé complained I was going too fast. I don’t think I was but it was so long ago I can’t say I wasn’t. Regardless, I got us home safely.

My wife’s appreciation for snow took another turn the morning after we arrive home. She learned that you can make snowmen and have snowball fights. We spent several days there during which the roads cleared. The trip home was made on clear, dry pavement.

There were two positive results from the trip. My parents and siblings met my fiancé and she met snow. Both were fortunate occurrences. My fiancé became my wife in early January and the Navy sent us to Iceland where we saw many feet of snow.

I enjoy hearing from you. Do you have any stories about weather? Comment and let me know.

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The tree needs more Christmas presents

I lay awake last night considering Christmas gifts for my grandchildren. My wife and I had purchased the big items and they sat wrapped under our little tree. “Little” is a 5 foot artificial one we bought when the living room became too small for the big tree. Big screen televisions and new furniture shrunk the room. *The little tree looks great decked out with decorations collected over 42 years and buried under wrapped Christmas presents.*

The brain was on auto considering and rejecting many possibilities. Out of the deepest, darkest recesses of a writer’s mind came the idea for presents almost every child under 20 dread – books! Didn’t I enjoy reading as a child? Wouldn’t they enjoy the option to read instead of watching television and playing video games? Of course they would!

Living in fantasy worlds

Riding the edge of nocturnal peace, I hopped back to when I was my oldest grandson’s age. That was the year I discovered Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom series and I was hooked.  I wanted to find a way to Mars but only reached it through John Carter. I shared this desire under the stars with my best friend as we camped out.

I burned through Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and lost sleep after reading Something Wicked This Way Comes. The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien and Isaac Azimov’s Foundation Series were some of the most expensive books I bought. *Well worth my yard work and babysitting money.*  E. E. “Doc” Smith’s Lensman Series carried me through an interplanetary war and the conflict between super races. These and authors of the same ilk fed my imagination and solidified a love for reading.

Least you consider me lost in fantasy, I enjoyed reading other writers. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, George Orwells’ 1984 and Animal Farm, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace (started, never finished.) There were many others. But my first love was fantasy and science fiction.

Today’s adventure creators

Jump forward and I am adventuring with Daniel Arenson’s, Lindsay Buroker, David Dalglish, C. Greenwood, Craig Halloran, M.A. Nilles, R. A. Salvatore, Kelly Walker, Jeff Wheeler and more. Fortunately, not all adventures require swords, armor and magic. There are alternative worlds populated by writers I have read such as K.M. Weiland, Kassandra Lamb, Kait Nolan, and Marie Grace.

Fifty years of reading pleasure started with books available to me and read as a youngster. I bought some and received others as Christmas gifts. Perhaps gifts of books will start my grandchildren on a lifetime journey through worlds built by imagination.

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I join a bowling team

I was in the Navy three years when I transferred to Naval Communication Station Wahiawa, Hawaii. It was here my love for bowling germinated and blossomed. I checked into my new department and was assigned to a watch section. I was invited to bowl on the department team in the command intramural sports program pitting my department against the other departments. I sensed the invitation was not one I could turn down.

1970’s bowling ball

I used a bowling ball provided by the bowling alley the first season. The ball was black and made of hard rubber. It had the standard three holes and weighed a whopping sixteen pounds. The grip pattern was the conventional grip which is still available today.

My first year performances were ordinary. The second year, I bought my own bowling ball and had it drilled semi-fingertip grip. My scores improved. I scored between 520 and 570 every week in the department matches. I remember getting frustrated no matter how hard I tried, I could not reach a 600 series.

Patience is a virtue, really?

The frustration ate at me.  My teammates told me to be patient. Patience in a virtue I do not practice often. (My wife will attest to that.) But the time came when I had a three consecutive game total over 600. Still not a 600 series in the traditional sense but I didn’t care. It was a 600 total for game 2, 3, and 4 of a six game tournament.

How to bowl 288

I bowled a 288 game a few months later. During this game, my teammates cheered after each strike and gave me a round of razzing. The cheering and razzing got louder as the number of consecutive strikes grew. I think the razzing kept me from appreciating what was happening. A beneficial distraction. The tenth frame is a blur. All I know is all of the pins fell. The bowling format dictated I immediately bowl the 11^th frame. I didn’t get the same intermission and razzing. Without a doubt, I was nervous. I pulled the shot, the ball crossed to the Brooklyn side and left me a wobbly six pin. I missed it for a 288.

The 288 is the most exciting score I have bowled.  I used a ball primitive, by today’s standards, on lanes oiled using a hand sprayer and evened using a cloth mop.  I have bowled higher games and higher series but the excitement was not as great. These scores had the advantage technology brought to bowling balls and lane surfaces not enjoyed when I bowled 288.

Technology has brought many wonderful things but has it cost us also? What do you think? Use the comment form to share your thoughts.

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Welcome to “The Fall of My Life.” This website is dedicated to my family and friends who have supported me through the years. I will soon be a septuagenarian and I have a lived a good life with many interesting and some funny experiences. I plan to share them and things I find interesting as I work on my novels. I hope you will visit often.

Spring

 

The “Spring of My Life” began in Owensboro, Kentucky. My family and I lived a short time there, then in Indiana before settling in Illinois. Born in the 1940’s, growing up in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s was much different from what children experience today. My children and grandchildren have television with hundreds of channels, electronic tables, e-readers, internet videos, computers, and more.

My family had the first color television in our neighborhood. It was about four feet or so tall with a 21 inch screen. We had three channels to watch. Neighbor kids would come over, when my Mother allowed, to watch Saturday morning cartoons. Anyone remember Captain Kangaroo, Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry, Casper the Friendly Ghost, or The Shirley Temple Show?

Party Lines?

Our first phone had a handle to turn to “ring”. We were part of a party line. Each household on the party line was assigned a ring sequence. If you wanted to call someone on your line, you turned the handle in a sequence to generate the proper code for them. An example is two short rings followed by a long ring. We listened each time the phone rang to see if the call was for us. There was no indication that the line was in use. We had to pick up and listen to see if the line was available. There was no privacy. Any party on the line could listen in. The only indication I remember was a change in background noise when someone picked up on my call.

Fortunately, by the time I was old enough to date, we had a rotary phone on a private line. The rotary phone had a dial that had a hole over each number. You put your finger in the hole and rotated it to a mechanical stop before releasing. It generated a different number of electronic pulses for each number that were sent to the switching office. The switching office routed calls based on the pulses received.

We dialed seven digits to call anyone within our area code. Ten digits were used when calling long distance. There was an extra charge for calling long distance. It could be substantial since it was billed by the minute. Area codes were assigned such that houses on one side of a street could be in a different area code from the houses on the other side. There were families just a few blocks away that were long distance to us. Before 411, we called the operator to get someone’s number we didn’t know.

Summertime

We, my brothers and sister, spent our summers outside. Mom would fix breakfast and shoo us outside where we played with the neighbor kids until lunch. We rode bikes, played ball,  hide and seek in the woods and corn fields, or roamed just being kids playing together. After lunch, it was back into the sunshine, sometimes liquid sunshine, until dark. If we were good (lucky), Mom would let us watch television for an hour or two after dinner and before bedtime.

One of my favorite times was the hot summer days when a group of us would go to the creek. The creek, we called streams creeks, was about two miles from my house. Several of us would go down the hill from the elementary school to the bridge over the creek. We would cannonball off the bridge into the water. It was just deep enough that we would softly bounce off the sandy bottom. (No one in my neighborhood had a pool.)

Dreaming

My best friend and I liked to camp out in his back yard. He lived catty-corner from my house. We would gather wood from wherever we found it and burn it as campfires. We laid under the stars and made up stories. Our imaginations ran wild. We fought alien invaders, decided what we would do in case of nuclear war and much more. Our fantasies reflected events of the day. We lived The Cuban Crisis and Cold War with Russia. We had drills at school where we crawled under our desks as something to do should an attack take place. (Probably wouldn’t have saved us but we practiced anyway. My children laughed when I told them this.) Other times, he and I talked about what we hoped for in life. I lost track of him after I left home. I hope he has lived his dreams.

Growing up required interaction with people. Playing outside, going to school, after school events, summer jobs all meant interacting with people. My ‘just me’ time was reading. I was a voracious reader and continue to enjoy a good book.

Say what?

I tell my grandchildren how it was for me at their age and get back blank stares. How could I have lived without pizza delivery, computers, game systems, streaming video, hundreds of television stations, and cell phones? Wasn’t I bored? My answer is that I was not bored. It was probably the best years of my life before meeting their grandmother and marrying her 42 years ago. I had few cares and a wide open world before me.

If I have brought back memories, I hope you will share them. I would love to hear them.

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