"What are those black things?"

 My husband's younger cousin once asked him one day when they were rummaging around in the basement about 10 years ago.

Those "black things" were records, Jason.  I'm sure you know that by now, though.

And today I found a whole box full of them when I was cleaning out a closet.  

My boys are getting their own rooms this weekend and Anna is moving into their old room so that she can have her own bathroom.   Cameron and Parker have shared a room for the last 5 years since their little sister was born.  The house already feels different.  They seem so much more grown up.  Except for the part where Parker asked me how to spell "girl", "allowed" and then asked me for tape.  You know where that's headed, right?  It was his first act of independence.  ; )

Back to the records.

There is some real treasure in that box.  Among the 45's are these titles:

• I Shot the Sheriff - Eric Clapton
• (Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman - The Kinks
• Y.M.C.A - The Village People
• How Much is a Man Supposed to Take - The Gatlin Brothers
• Take it to the Limit - The Eagles
• I Write the Songs - Barry Manilow
• Put Your Head on my Shoulder - Paul Anka
• Whip It - Devo
• Back Home Again - John Denver
• More Than a Feeling - Boston
• Blinded by the Light - Manfred mann's Earth Band
• Tragedy - Bee Gees
• Have You Never Been Mellow - Olivia Newton John
• Another Brick in the Wall - Pink Floyd
• The Gambler - Kenny Rogers
• Daydream Believer - The Monkees
• Valley Girl - Frank & Moon Zappa
• Kiss - Prince 

I think this is a pretty priceless collection, don't you?

Now I'm going back to move more furniture, books, clothes, toys and junk from one room to another.   When I'm all done with the painting and decorating I'll have lots of before and after pictures to show.  And I might also have a hernia.

Scary Hair

I haven't been able to have even one uninterrupted thought today and so this is all I've got for today's Flashback.  See?  White shirt and jeans.  I love this picture for a couple of reasons.  Number One Reason:  This was the first time I had dyed my hair.  My mom helped me do it at home and when we first dyed it, it turned out pink. Pink would have been just as bad as this brassy auburn.    Number Two Reason:  Kristie!   Number Three Reason: I weighed 95 pounds in this picture and look at the size of my shirt!  Ridiculously oversized.  Number Four Reason:  It is evidence of how crazy my hair is.  It's not curly and it's not straight.  It's what I like to describe as werewolf hair.  

Lately I think of how much I need to a new haircut and how much I'm tempted to go Anne Lamott on y'all and do the white-girl dreads. 

Don't mess with my baby brother!

I so totally handed Erin of Together for Good a great big meaty rib sandwich this week.  And you probably will have no idea what I just said because I'm speaking Briangreggese.  Anyhow, I told her I would definitely be linking up to Flashback Friday with her while she's babysitting it for Jo.  

And then?

I didn't.

So...Better late than never?  They say that, right?  I know "they" don't really mean it, though.

Flashback Friday!

***********

What is today?  May 16th!  Are you kidding me?!  That means I am 15 days late in posting a birthday post for my baby brother!  

Better late than ... oh! never mind.

My brothers and I were blessed to have parents who knew the horrid conditions of Detroit public schools and they did their darnedest to keep us in the private school run by our church.  My father had over 60 jobs between ages 14 and 48 but he never went a day without a job and my mom worked part-time on and off until they divorced in 1987 when she, obviously, had to go to work full-time.  (I'm rambling, aren't I?)

Our private school was run by our church and in 1986 the school was moved to a different location farther away from us and so a bus was provided for some of the students.  We would get dropped off at our church and the bus would pick us all up there and take us to school.  The bus driver's name was Charles.

One morning, after we had all gotten on the bus and were ready to be transported to school, Stephen, my brother, was singing.  He was singing our revised version of Magic Dance from the movie Labyrinth.  Instead of singing, "What kind of magic spell to use?" he was singing, "What kind of fruit should I use?"  Don't ask.  We were weird kids.  

Anyhow, Charles, the bus driver, told Stephen to stop singing.  But my brother could be quite...umm...belligerent?  Needless to say, he didn't stop singing.  And, really, he wasn't hurting anyone; he was just singing and entertaining the rest of us.  Charles lost it.  He came back to where we were sitting and started to twist my little brother's arm!  Stephen was only 8 years old.   

Then all 43 pounds of me lost it!

And all 43 pounds of me began to wail on that big bully bus driver with my little fists!

It's kind of an urban legend in our home.   I can pick on my baby brother but I will rain down the fury on you if you try to mess with him!  

Happy Belated Birthday, Stevie Wevie Wonder Bread!  I got your back.

I'll miss you, Gertie! I'll never forget you.

I bought her in September 1996.  Buying her was one of the best decisions I have ever made.  She's been the most reliable, faithful little car EVER!!!  The only work we've had to have done to her is routine maintenance and a few minor repairs.  

My grandma and grandpa went with me when I bought her.  I needed him to cosign for me.  I should never have asked him to do that for me.  Thank you, Grandpa, for believing I would pay it off on my own!  She's been paid for now for more than 7 years!  She has 192,332 miles on the odometer!  I really wanted to be there when she celebrated 200k!

She transported me countless times from my mom's house in Acworth to Brian's parents' house in College Park while we were dating.  She took me to Knoxville, Tennessee after we got married and then back to the Atlanta area just a few months later.  

We've lived in 2 apartments, 2 rental houses and 2 houses with mortgages on them.  But she's been there the whole time.

She took us safely to Kennestone Hospital several times as we introduced new little people into our family.  But she was my first baby.

And I cried (am crying now) when Brian drove to work this afternoon in a different car.  

My baby brother will drive away in Gertie today.  I'm sorry, Gertie; you don't know what you're in for and you didn't do anything to deserve it!  ; )

Did you ever read Black Beauty?  She had many different owners.  Some treated her kindly, some abused her.  In the end, she ends up taken care of and loved by the son of a former owner.  

I can only hope that Gertie will survive until one day when I can pass her on to Cameron.

UPDATE: It looks like my sister-in-law will be driving her most of the time so that makes me feel better.

Name your cars, people.  Love them and they'll love you right back.

who didn't know I'd become quite so attached.

Ghost of Easter Past

I tried to find some Easter pictures of us growing up.  I wanted to find at least one picture of one of my typical Easter ensembles:  hat, frilly gloves, lacy socks and dress.  All I can find are these pictures of Post-Frilly Rebekah.  Oh how I loved an Easter hat!  And my spring coats.  Because, in Detroit, everyone was definitely still wearing a coat in spring. 

Look at my poor cousin and I.  Matchy matchy.  

Right down to the necklaces.  Notice:  no coat.  These were taken in 1988? and 1990?  

After we had moved to Georgia.  Ahhhh!  Sunshine and warm weather.

Gosh!  That's some horrible perm!
But it's not as horrible as those Skidz the boys are wearing.  Hahahahaha!

Happy Easter, everyone! 

Wow! That song takes me back to...

I don't know that I have any specific memories related to music other than concerts I've attended.  But when I hear certain songs or bands I tend to associate people I know with that music.

For instance:

• The Cure - My best friend in highschool Candice
• Mercy Me - Kristy Dorminy (??  Not really sure why exactly ??)
• Red Hot Chile Peppers - My brother Stephen
• The song Take These Broken Wings by Mr. Mister - Sorry, Paul, I know it hasn't been your favorite since you were 10 years old but it's a hard habit to break.
• Neil Diamond - My mom
• Anything off Paul Simon's album Graceland - my dad, particularly during the time he lived in Jacksonville, Florida
• The song More Than You'll Ever Know by Watermark - Juli and Heidi and Shana

And other songs might not have a specific memory attached but rather certain places attached to them.

For instance:

• Soul for Real's album Candy Rain - takes me back to 1996 when I first started dating Brian
• The Cranberries' album everybody else is doing it, so why can't we? - Ski trip to North Carolina with my youth group 
• Wes King's song Thought You'd be Here - reminds me of when we were waiting to get pregnant with Cameron.  I'd hear this song nearly every day on my way to class at Clayton State and I'd cry all my make up off.
• Chet Baker, Maxwell and Anita Baker - all make me feel like I'm in downtown Atlanta on a date with Brian.  
• Ace of Base - 1994 Lynchburg, Virginia
• The Black Crowes, Angie Aparo and The Village People - remind me of when we used to go to Music Midtown festival 
• Ottmar Liebert, Bob Marley and The Dream Academy - all make me feel like I'm on vacation to Florida or Puerto Rico

 

 I moved the cd collection downstairs recently.  This is a shot of the bookcase and a shot of all the cd's that still needed to fit in here somehow.  I think it's high time we moved everything into digital files, don't you?

  And, in case you didn't notice, I have a varied taste in music.  ; )  Do you have any music-related memories?

Linked up today with Mylestones for Flashback Friday.

 

Late

The Scene:  My bed

The Time:   Very late at night

The main character: Me

After being awakened by the typical urge to pee in the middle of the night I climbed back in bed.   Trying to clear my mind and getting back to sleep is often a difficult task.  This night was no different.  I must have been thinking about the week ahead and all that needed to be done and all we would be celebrating: potty training Cameron, cleaning house, grocery shopping and our 7th anniversary.  

When you're a woman, in order to plan well, this thought must run through your brain once a month: "When was my last period?  I should be starting soon."  It's just part of life and so it must be part of your plan.   The next thought that ran through my brain however was not part of the plan: "I can't remember when my last period was.  It seems like it's been awhile!"

Up out of bed and to the calendar posted on the refrigerator.  Sure enough!  I was LATE!  I was certain I was pregnant even before buying a home test.

This was not supposed to happen now.  We wanted more children but this was not "good timing" I thought.  I laid down on the couch and tried not to get upset.  I had always said that a baby is undeniably a happy event and that I never wanted to be disappointed about it.  Sure, we were trying to budget and wanted to be in a "better place financially" before trying again,  the house was small and the boys would have to share a room,  our Chrysler Concorde would be pretty cramped with 3 car seats in the back seat but whoever was growing inside was a blessing and nothing less.

I held my belly and cried and talked to that little person and told him or her that I loved them and that I was so happy he or she was coming.

Two mornings later my suspicions were confirmed by not one but TWO pink lines.  Positive.

*****

With Cameron and Parker  taken care of for the night, I met Brian for dinner - present in hand.  We had agreed that we wouldn't exchange gifts this year [see paragraph 4, line 4].   We ordered Cajun food and our drinks.  I casually slipped him his anniversary present.  "Oh.  That's cute."  *pause*  His eyes popped out of his head and his mouth agape and grinning exclaimed, "REALLY?!"  It had taken him a moment but he understood and I was so thrilled that he was just as excited as I was.

*****

God then proceeded to soften the blow of our first surprise by giving us another.  "I'm a girl!" were the words the tech typed onto our ultrasound.

She was a surprise in the very best way. 

I Guess This Means I Have the Day Off!

I was 16 years old when I filled out my first job application.   And I got that job with my very first interview.  It was at a store called Cotton Salsa at the mall where they sold alpaca fur rugs, ponchos and embroidered T-shirts. My duties were essentially hanging up T-shirts, rearranging clothing racks and shelves and running the cash register.  Those were the days when you still had to put someone's credit card in that silly thing with a carbon-copy receipt and run the top of the silly thing over all of it to make an impression of the card on the receipt.  Remember those?  

I don't remember how long I worked there.  What I do remember is that, shortly after I started that job, the store was sold to a new owner.  This guy didn't give me a paycheck; he usually paid me cash from the register.  One day I went to work and the lights were out, the gate still locked up tight and almost all of the merchandise was gone!  He had just up and left without informing anyone that he was shutting down the store.  How strange is that?  But when you're 16 years old you're not exactly concerned about losing a job.  There were obviously no bills to pay, no rent was due and the money I made was only earned so I could go to the movies.  

I can't say that job was life-changing or that I learned anything from it except this:

Easy Come. Easy Go!

Linking up to Flashback Friday at Mylestones where the prompt this week was First Job.

Awkward

Petrified.

That is precisely how I felt about going to that big high school.  So I chickened out.  I thought it would be safer at the little private Christian school run by my church.

Safer.  HA!

After the first miserable year I came to the conclusion, via a Pros and Cons list, that I would rather take my chances at that big public high school.  It was a good decision.  

It was just too obvious in a class of 32 that I didn't fit in - as opposed to a class of 300. There my odds of finding at least a handful of people I could connect with were much greater.  Within the first hour I had reconnected with friends from my 8th grade year and felt immediately at ease.  At home.

 

(I miss you lots, Linda!  Where did you go?  I can't find you anywhere.)

High school.  It wasn't awful and it wasn't heavenly, either.  I'm just so glad it's over.  

Being an adult is so much better.

P.S.  Just for the record, it still gets on my nerves that seniors from the class of '91 messed with our yearbook so badly.  I still don't know which way is up in it.  Our class was much more responsible.  ; )

A heart that is just as full as this day has been

Love.

It's a subject too broad.  Too deep.

The goal in today's post:  Narrow it down.  Focus.

My flashbacks today have been mostly from three years ago.

We wanted another baby; our family of five didn't feel quite complete.  Someone was missing.   

Anna was only 6 months old when we started talking about having "the last one."   We knew if we put it off for too long then we would get comfortable.  We had two boys and a girl.  We didn't really want to be changing diapers for a lot longer.  We weren't looking forward to more sleepless nights.

But we knew it would be worth it.

And he is.  He is so worth it.

Labor started early that morning - maybe around 6 a.m..   We knew that this baby was coming today so Brian went to the office to quickly cancel his appointments.  I waited patiently for him to get back.  But if I was standing up the contractions were so painful that I would immediately have to sit down again and then they would be gone.  Based on this, I thought it might be a while before things got "hot and heavy".  So, we did as suggested, and made an appointment to be seen in my doctor's office before heading to the hospital.

During the 20 minute drive to the office and 10/15 minutes in the waiting room things had started to "progress".  Dr. Dyar checked me that morning around 9 a.m..

"Rebekah, you're 8 centimeters already.  I'll meet you across the street!"

And then my water broke right there in his office.

Yeah. We were definitely in a hurry then.

And, within the hour, I heard the announcement that I already knew in my mama heart:

"It's a boy!"

 Of course it was.  I knew very early on with that pregnancy that Landon Robert was next on God's agenda for our lives.  And I like His Plan.  He's been right all along.  I know He knows what He's doing.  And I trust Him.

What I don't understand is:

Why is this child up at 11:00 p.m. to tell me, "Mommy, I got the booger out.  It's in my bed." ?

Happy Birthday, Sweet Buddy!

Love,
Mommy

Linking this post up - very late- to Mylestone's Flashback Friday where this week's prompt was: Love.

Hi, I'm Larry and this is my brother Darryl and this is my other brother Darryl.

I have no memories of life before siblings.   Of course this is because I was only14 months old when Paul arrived and just 16 months later Stephen showed up!  My parents were the ripe old ages of 22 and 23 when they were DONE having kids.

 Poor kid.  Am I pinching his nose shut?

 Poor kid!  Why did he go along with this crazy idea of mine?

I like to tease and say that they are the hillbillies because I was born on the University of Michigan campus in Ann Arbor but we had moved to Virginia just before they were born when my dad was in the Army for a few years.

Cousins, parents, sometimes grandparents may fill a large majority of the memories of some people.  My growing up memories are mostly of my brothers.   Hide and seek - favorite hiding places were in the closets in their room.  "Crash Derby" - riding our bikes down the sidewalk and then throwing ourselves off the bikes into the grass just before you got to the curb at the end of the street.  Playing on the swing set in our yard - Singing out: "One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go!" and then jumping out of the swing at just about the highest point possible!  Amazingly only one bone was ever broken during this activity!  

 That's quite the ensemble there, Stephen!  You're rockin' those plaid pants, baby!

We may not have always gotten along and sometimes we still don't even though we're all thirty-somethings now but I know that they've "got my back" and they know they can count on me as well.   They're great guys and I can not imagine my life without them.

Check out more Flashback Friday at Mylestones where the prompt this week was obviously - Siblings.  ; )

Flashback #1

Just a small town [boy]
Living in a lonely world
[He] took the midnight train going anywhere
Just a city [girl]
Born and raised in South Detroit
[She] took the midnight train going anywhere

- Don't Stop Believin' by Journey

That's how I've always sung it.   I love songs that mention Detroit.   It's where I spent the earliest part of my childhood.  I think Eminem is Mr. Suburbia compared to me even though he's way more 'hood than I am.   (kidding)  I mean, really, 8 Mile?!   I grew up further South below 5 Mile. That means nothing to you if you haven't lived in Detroit, of course, but basically it means I lived in a not so nice neighborhood.   

I wasn't afraid of it though.   At least not until one afternoon after school my 5th grade year when I received a threatening prank call.   But it was the only time any violence had been directed at me personally.   Those were the days before caller id and unlisted cell phones.  

But we had good neighbors.   We knew nearly everyone on our street.   The Andersons, The Randalls, Dorothy (don't you dare try to sell fundraising candy to Dorothy - her husband is diabetic!), The Apostolopolises (Rachel was their daughter and oh! how we loved to say that last name - Apostolopolis!).   There were more of course but can't remember them all.   Terence Anderson, across the street, had a bunch of cousins that lived close by - Toot, Poochy and I can't remember the other one's name.  But you can't forget names like Toot and Poochy!  Especially since that was the same year Mattel came out with a toy named Poochie.   

It was a fun neighborhood in spite of a drug bust and the house on the corner being burned every Devil's Night. We often rode our bikes to the nearby park and walked a couple blocks to the corner store for candy.   We climbed trees to get on the roof of the Andersons' garage and I listened to "We Are the World" in Rachel's upstairs bedroom.  

We were blessed with parents who did what they could to keep us in a private school run by our church so that we didnt' have to attend the pitiful public school in our district.   I only spent one semester at Vetal. (I think that school has been closed and I can't remember if this is how to spell it.)   My grades plummeted from A's and B's to barely C's and D's.   I don't remember Mr. Nelson teaching.  What I remember about that semester was him listening to headphones at his desk, that we had a rabbit for a class pet, eating lunch in our classroom, making a paper mache puppet in art, that Reagan was President and that I was the minority as the only white child in my class.  

When you're a child, though, you just aren't aware that life is different in other places.  Your life is your life.  That's just how it is.  And you're happy with it.  And we were.
We were happy.

 

This post linked up to Flashback Friday at Mylestones.