A note to Gaslight:  I would hate to try to be raising daughters now.  It does seem as though the more sluttish they can appear, the better they like it.  And so do the wrong kind of people.  It is a nightmarish scenario that I think is becoming more widespread because of the instantaneousness of "communication."  The kind of communication apparently found on Web sites, the kind apparently sold wholesale in computer games, etc., ad nauseam.  The same strain of vermin were always around; it seems, however, that they are multiplying at an alarming rate, and that having a child of any gender is or can be perfectly frightful.  I do wish you success in your endeavors to protect your children, and I admire your recognition of the problem and determination to do something about it.  While at the same time, of course, allowing them as much as possible to be what they are:  children with an irrepressible curiosity about the world around them. 

 Well, etBartley:  help me out here.  Let me know which ones here are congenial and which ones are just yanking my chain.  You're not suggesting, are you, that etBartley is not as congenial as you surely seem to be? 

 montfred:  thank you very much.  And I'm ever so glad that I was pointed in this direction.  My friend was right about enjoying the company here.  Very congenial bunch, you are.

Alicen, I'd like to thank you for your posts, and kudos to your friend,  that thought you might enjoy the company here.

 NancyII -- good question.  Especially for someone now living in the frozen tundra of Indiana.  I'm like that commercial:  "I've been everywhere, man, I've been everywhere!" 

Actually, a friend who blogs elsewhere said that I might enjoy the company here.  Right on the money.  Much more inhabitable than the other blog, and that means its people, of course. 

I have been somewhat more personal in what I've written than I normally do.  My blog entries seem to have no relation to the subjects I said I'd be covering in the blog.  It seems that instead of preaching -- sometimes to the choir -- It's better to show a little of what kind of person I am.  THEN I may get into those subjects above, about which I feel passionate. 

 How did you find your way to this newspaper blog? 

 NancyII:  Now I feel I must admit it:  I was a real hill-billy in those days of which I spoke.  The little town was in Northeast Louisiana -- the people James Lee Burke refers to in his books as "peckerwoods."  The people in South Louisiana are really different, and the are two Louisianas, North and South.  We're very different, but I have a sister living in South Louisiana, and when I visit her once a year, as I try, we're all accepted.  We just try to blend in and not say much, because that's a dead giveaway.  And by the way, the house of which I spoke "In My Father's House" was torn down years and years ago.  I was sorry to see it happen.  Lots of good memories emanated from that house.  Another sister still lives in my hometown.  She, too, makes it to our yearly reunion in South Louisiana.

 Anyone remember Toys orange juice stand way out on Niles Street?  The trees are still there but the stand is long gone.  In those days the last building headed toward the canyon was the bait and liquor store that's still there.

 eBartley and ALLRED:  I can't even imagine rolling in one of those "spools" never knowing what I'd roll over.  Maybe I wasn't such a tomboy after all.  About collecting those bottles, that's something I can't imagine, either.  And it's hard not to think it might have been rigged.  Hope not. 

When a house was being built next door to us, the foundation was made up of several layers of bricks.  (Nobody had basements there.)  My friend and I were jumping from one foundation to the other; I missed and still have a gouge out of my shin to prove it.  Talk about hurt!  I don't think we ever jumped from one to the other anymore.  Too bloody a proposition. Fun while it lasted, though. 

Glad I got to know all of you a little better.  I need to check out your blogs. 

 KAFY     Radio Station   by the place your taking about Bartly     We went out every day to job sites and collected Orange Juice Bottles

Who ever bought in the most Won    I say WON      All of     Elvis    songs &nb sp;   we took in over 2000 bottles and took 2nd place

They never did tell us who won    I think the contest was a joke     they gave us 15    45 Records of people I never heard of

 The guys who owned the gas station were brothers and this was a very rural business.  They knew all us kids so kept it for me.  I don't remember who went to pick it up but I rode that bike through high school.  Once I rode it from Fruitvale (west of Fruitvale Ave off Rosedale Hwy) to Stockdale Highway to visit a girlfriend.  I've gotta tell you, the viaduct (overpass..2 lanes back then)  was a boogerbear so I pushed the bike uphill.  It doesn't sound like much but for us..that was waaay out in the boonies.

 Nancy, what happened to your bike after you broke your wrist?

spam code: RUNBK

(run back in time?)

 Sorry to the younger generation but you have no idea what you missed.   Thank goodness my kids and grandkids feel the same about raising families.  Kids need mind stimulation...not simulation.

 The same time we lived on Belle Terrace My younger brother and me would walk to the park on Oleander and swim for 25 cents  we were always pumped up when we got to go there     I bet that was a couple miles from home    One day we noticed on the side of a hill things sticking out     we went up there and found about 5 graves and caskets with bones in them

We took two of the heads home and buried them     At that time and still today I believe we did right     later we found out they were chinese    it was an old burial ground      never will forget it     I guess 20 plus years later their was a story in the California about that grave site. 

 I would ditch Sunday school with my older brother and going fishing for crawdads in the 80's in those canals by Belle Terrace. I remember one day we snuck off to "Deadman Trail" and my brother fell down one of the steep cliffs where I guess people would go bike riding. He got all bloodied up and it was no way to get out of the whooping that was coming to us when we got back to church for regular service. It didn't matter, we snuck off many more times instead of going to Sunday school. 

 In 1951/52/53  we lived on five acre's  Castro Ln and Belle Terrace    Went Castro Ln School the 1st year it opened

Two brothers and a sister  oh and a dog named Ace dad said he came from the Korean War  I do remember Ace killing two dogs that tried to hurt me one day  I wish Ace had been with me that day I was riding my new Bike and a Yellow Jacket landed on my right hand   yep he stung me    I ran into a car from the back end with my bike and landed on the hood  destoyed the bike but I was ok.

At that time we had canals all over the place just little one's but I learned to swim in them   I really can't remember when I didn't know how    speaking of water I remember the 1st time somebody else beside my dad spanked me    Me and quin went to the new school and took off our colthes and got into the new sinks and turned on the water   her dad showed up and beat the hell out of both us

Named spelled wrong but guin devindy she was beautiful   we were 9 or 10  can't remember    Her brother and me were friends   with that five acres we dug tunnels all over the place and put sheets of tin over them    it was great to crawel under them

We had a tower about 40' tall and that was our club house I think it used to be a water tower in the old days  we builted a deck up in it about half way    about ten of us were in it one day just doing boy stuff     and all of a sudden the whole floor went crashing down   it was like a elevator  no one was hurt and we were all still standing when it hit the bottom

God we could all write a book of the old days.

 To one and all:  this has been a pleasant experience -- hearing about the hazards and delights of growing up when children were expected, not encouraged, but expected to get out of the house and DO something!  Of course, as I grew older so did the expectations that I would help in the house, dusting, drying dishes (my sister washed them), and other very dull stuff.  And when Grandma came to visit she'd make sure we dusted the Venetian blinds and other not-usual chores.  We really did hate to see her come, and we were always glad when she left.  Besides, I was afraid of her.  (Who could have guessed?)  Children were there for a purpose, and that purpose was to help out.  And not complain about it, either!

Clothes lines, yes, good old clothes lines.  I'm sure many of you remember the smell of sun-dried sheets.  Delicious! 

Sam, let's not tell grandchildren what their parents did -- they'll want to do it too!  I've never told my grandchildren about some of the things I've done -- like climbing the tree next to the garage, getting on the roof, and then jumping off -- repeatedly.  But sometimes I'd just lie there on the roof and read or read the shapes of clouds.

Sagefever, there is no substitute for the love of parents for their children.  Some people are simply naturally better at it than others; it sounds as though you have a good case of it, and your children are lucky. 

There were of course bad times.  It wasn't all playing dolls, playing softball, running (beating the boys!), driving my little red firetruck up and down the sidewalk.  No life, no childhood, is perfect, but we like to remember the good while realizing that sometimes there was a bad.  We can recognize the difference and appreciate the contrast. 

 gaslight.  if your kids are being influenced to look like a skeleton because of *tv, movies and music*  maybe you should do something to boost their self esteem instead of allowing them to think aneorexia is hot.   i grew up in all that as well and i don't feel the need to  bbinge and purge. i also isten to music about anything under the sun but i don't go out and kill and whatnot.  i HATE when parents blame the actions of their children on forms of entertainment.   and if all your kids are sitting inside watchinh TV all day that's your fault, not the TVs.

i played outside all day everyday when i was a kid, i gashed my butt open when i was 7 doing flips on the T of a clothesline.  i got stitches.....  i got dirty. i got in fghts. i swam in large buckets and anything else we could put enoughwater in to swim. tarps with water and dish soap as makeshift slip n slides. ahhhhhh i can't wait to show my son the wonders of his imagination. <3

 GASLIGHT:  It is ALL true!  could spend hours telling you about the 50's & early 60's - awesome time.  Before all the crapolla these kids have we had a REAL life and loved every minute of it!

I always had to wear shoes,no matter what. I was one of the "first" to have only one parent,through(hush the neighbors will talk) d i v o r c e. So my demeanor and behavior had to be the best of the best at all times~ we were suspect anyway.No tree climbing,no gone all day gadding about. I would almost love getting hurt,while the Mercurochrome stung like nobodies business~ it was the only time my mother touched me. The balm of childhood was weekends spent with Nana and Pa.We would bake cakes,cokies,act out stories,make tents out of the sheets hung out to dry and feed the hobos tha came by.

The past had it's pleasant moments,but much pain too. So for my own children,as much as possible we kept cookies,etc and ditched the pain. I tried to pick from the myriad of choice available to them what was best then,and not have then relive my childhood. Each day dawns anew,what was is not always whats right for the future. I note all the best memories do have one constant~ the feeling of being loved.

 We climbed on the frame work of the new houses they were building around us!!!  Literally swung from the rafters!

Had a truck tire for a swing!  My first bike was a used one my dad bought and painted and put neew tires on. I was so short they had to put blocks on the pedals!  I also had to have blocks on the pedals of my trik when I was 4 or 5!!!!  I thought they should put blocks on the horse I learned to ride!!!!!

 Grandkids, lordy! As if it weren't enough the things we hid from our parents and grandparents! Then our kids have to worry what we may tell their children their parents did.

 Oh..and now that they're grown, my kids tell me all sorts of thing that would have gotten them chained to the wall if I'd known at the time.  At Sunday breakfast this week we talked about kids and tunnels and cave ins.  Mark (motopoet) told me about them digging forts and tunnels in a field where people regularly rode horses over them.  He said he only went through the tunnel that connected the forts they covered with tin just the one time.  He said he panicked by the time he got to the other side.  I said "YOU'RE GROUNDED!"

He snickered.

 Sam..you have a point.  And in my case, it was with the grandkids too.  I went to visit my daughter once and my grandson said "Nana, watch me climb this tree" and proceeded to climb to the very top of a thousand foot tree.  (Well, it looked that tall and was enornous.)  I thought I'd have a heart attack and yelled for him to come down that instant.  He informed me it was nothing and that he did it all the time. 

How reassuring.

 And just think Nancy, we get to repeat the whole thing with our own children as they grow up. Considering what we went through it's a wonder parents survive!

 HA...kids war stories.  And Sam, you're right, how did we survive?  When I was about 11 my brother bought me a fancy English racing bike with his first real paycheck from the oilfields.  I had been to Fruitvale Market and my little saddlebag was full of penny candy when I passed through the gas station.  I stood up to pump faster and changed gears at the same time.  When the chain slipped I went down hard breaking my wrist.

There was a short cut across the field next to the station and off I went bellowing at the top of my lungs, MAMA, MAMA and leaving bicycle, candy and all right where it fell.    When I was crossing the second dirt field my sister came out of the house in a panic...seven months pregnant..like a little bowling ball with legs.  They took one look at my dangling wrist and threw me in the car to go see Dr. Parrish downtown.   He had it x-rayed and declared that I was so hysterical that he was putting me in the hospital and knocking me out to set it.  I spent the night in San Joaquin Hospital when it faced H or one of those streets and proceeded to make the entire staff miserable.  My arm had swollen inside the cast and was cutting my thumb right off my hand ( I know it was) so they had to call Dr. Parrish out in the middle of the night to cut the cast back.  I was screaming "I want my mama, I want my mama."

My guess is that they all heaved a sigh of relief when they discharged me the next morning.

 It all sounds so very familiar witter, and it seems some of us shouldn't have survived childhood given all the obstacles.

Merthiolate was the worst, iodine a close second. Most of us kids greatly preferred Mercurochrome of course so a good thing the adults knew better.

 OH Boy more family stuff!!  I like these kinds of blogs :-)

OK, here goes guys - Totally remember the "in or out - don't slam the door"! "put some shoes on"! (NOT!) On Bank street there was a vacant lot next door, of course was told to not run through there as there were rusty cans, broken glass etc and (Bartley) I never wore shoes!  Playing hide n' seek, I ran through the vacant lot (of course!) felt a sting on my foot and kept going so I would be "home free"!  Got to the pourch, my friend said, oh your foot is bleeding and she turned white as a ghost and ran home to throw up!!  I banged on the front door and here comes mom, sees my foot and announces, "you're not coming through my house with all that blood get in the back yard! So I hobble to the back yard and here is mom with a basin of hot water with hexhall in it and a bottle of rubbing alcohol-OUCH! I had stepped on a broken glass bottle and literally sliced my heel open (picture a flap of your heel practically falling off!!) My mom was so mad she shoved my foot in the hot/hexhall water jerked it out and poured the alcohol over my foot!  Mom dared me to holler!!!  The whole time she is railing at me about going places I was told not to go, yada yada yada!!!  She bandaged my foot and sent me on my way!  By all rights (in today's world) I probably should have had a truck load of stitches but I survived!  My mom got me a tetnus shot every summer whether I needed it or not!!!  and that was just ONE incident over ONE summer!!!!!

NancyII:  I have a few more scars, too, but nothing like that palm cut.  And, yes, they are the badges of good tomboys.  Once I had a friend whose father bought her a Harley (she was about 13 years old); I was green with envy.  Can you imagine giving a 13-year-old a Harley?  (I'll bet she wishes she had it now -- it would probably be worth its weight in gold!) 

  Indiana is a great state, although it has its share of monetary problems -- just like any other state.  Valpo is a good little city with growing (make that groaning) pains.  It has its share of kooks but I do believe most of the kookiness is imported, as are so many of all its people.  I believe a lawyer can definitely make it here.  Depends, I suppose, on what kind of law you intend to practice.  In any case, welcome!

 Alicen..great story.  Not one upmanship at all.  We all have painful funny stories.  One thing though.  If I remember right, Monkey Blood was Mercurochrome  and didn't burn at all.  It was Merthiolate that set you on fire.  Somehow Mercurochome didn't do the trick since everyone knew if it was burning it wasn't working.  LOL.

When I was about 4ish we lived in a camp on Eidson Highway where the canal ran behind it.  I was runnning down the bank one days when and fell and slit the palm of my hand on a broken pieve of glass.  My Mom wrapped it in a turpentine rag and to this day I have a scar that runs from my wrist to almost the center of my palm.  They had no money for doctors then either although in todays world it would have required stitches.

I have also scarred knees like you wouldn't believe..those are the badges of a tomboy. ...lol.

 I went to college in Indy (Franklin College) and now I'm considering going to Valpo Law School. IN is my adopted home. I have some family and friends that way. I've definitely seen the "Big Box" stores decimate a few little towns already in that state. Some instances it was a much needed move in some it totally ruined the infrastructure of the towns. They are offically Wal-Mart dependent for their tax base. Those towns will collapse if it ever decides to leave

 jfrancais:  None other than north of Valpo.  How did you know to call it Valpo?

 NancyII:  This is not a case of one-up-man-ship (sp?), honestly.  But here's a story yours reminded me of:  we had a dirt/gravel driveway, and that we ran barefoot, you remember.  Once while running on the drive I stumbled on a rock that cut between the big toe and the second toe.  It was a large cut that bled like crazy.  These days I would have been taken someplace for stitches, but not then.  Who had money for such trifles?  So my mother poured a few drops of "Monkey Blood" (tincture of iodine) on the open wound, after which I blew it until I was breathless in an attempt to put out the fire.  Did that burn!  She may have put a bandage on it, but that's a hard place to put one.  Maybe I wore a sock, I just don't remember.  I was more careful running on that gravel after that. 

I was usually out of the house, too, playing hard.  I hated the rainy days. 

 Alice, are you talking about the town north of Valpo or the township by Indianapolis?

 Et, I had to laugh when I read about your grandmother "picking" the glass out.  In my family the story was that I used to hide my shoes under the house to keep from having to wear them.  I remember clearly lying on the couch with my feet in my mothers lap while she used a needle to "pick" stickers (goatheads) out of my feet.

Of course, I grew up  before the days of TV, and when it did come along, there was nothing on for me until the Mickey Mouse Club.  That meant we entertained ourselves. The mothers battle cry at the time was "In or out !"  (mostly "out") and "Don't slam that door !"

 eBartley:  it's so sad when a town loses its character.  There's a small town close to us, Chesterton, Indiana, with agonizing growing pains.  It wants to keep its small-town flavor, while at the same time bringing in the big-box stores.  It's hard to have it both ways.  And the town government wants very much the influx of new money.  Guess who's going to win?

 Cassandra - I do stand corrected.  Being loved by parents and grandparents is the best start a child can have in life -- even if it's in the middle of urbia (is there any such word?)  And to say that it's important to have a parent who wishes to participate in the child's life is a great understatement.  We were in awe when our second grandchild started kindergarten, and there were computers!  We thought it a grand thing, especially remembering our fear of computers when first introduced to them.  Now I wonder.  Computers and computer games are taking the place of people, at a time when "people skills" are needed more tan ever.  Nothing takes the place of interaction between or among people. 

 Witterpitters:  Sound very much like my first home except we were "townies."  At that time the city allowed chickens, and before my birth, I understood there was a cow as well.  The city fixed that, though.  I often wonder if gang-bangers ever get out into the "woods" or any kind of wilderness where they could become awed by the sight of the delights of nature.  Would they be awed?  Would they have an inkling of a Power greater than themselves?  Ironically, it seems at least sometimes that the wildness of nature can still the beast within.  Glad you were lucky enough to grow up so close to the earth. 

 Sam Heath:  Talk about cats!  We always had cats, even if they weren't "ours" in the sense that they were "house cats" -- my mother would never, never have stood for that.  But we did have cats around, and they were ours in the sense they visited us and let us pet them in exchange for some milk or leftovers.  Once, my sister told me, a litter of kittens was born in our bed -- just after Grandma left.  If we thought our mother didn't like cats, Grandma put her to shame.  The adults were all grateful that Grandma was gone when those kittens were born.  Then they grew up and away -- until the next litter came along.  My dad and my sisters and I all liked cats.  Cats and dogs gravitated to my dad.  He was a push-over for them. 

Awesome Cassandra!!  My daughter is the same way with her 2 boys! None of this sitting around business - DO something!  Even when it was 100 we were out running through the sprinklers!!! 

 just because there are dads and moms ( or 2 moms or 2 dads ) raising kids alone doesn't mean they aren't a family. as long as there's love, that's all that matters!

i have a 16 month old (he's awesome!) and i am lucky enough to be a stay at home mom, i get him out and about everyday. i open the patio door and let him play out in the sun, we don't really watch cartoons in the morning, we listen to music and play with tonka trucks. we go to the park and we play on the toys and walk in the grass and pick up leaves, pinecones, pods and such.....  he will not be able to sit on his ass in  the house all day when he's older. he'll make friends, play, get dirty, fight, flirt and all the other stuff kids are supposed to do!  all the stuff i did when i was a kid. outside is awesome, except when its over 100. lol

 In total agreement Bartley!  Bakersfield was a cow/ag town when we moved here.  I loved it then.  Now since hub and I are both retired, we take off in the RV out of Calif and may move back east when our daughter and her family move to Norfolk Virginia.  I have reached the point of anyplace but Calif!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh yes – childhood!  And it was great to be blissfully ignorant of the world outside my safe haven.  When we lived in Illinois we lived outside town on a farm.  I didn’t go to school (I was 6) as there was no school bus that came out that far.  There was a cornfield for my back yard and had great places for hid n’ seek! There was a water pump outside, a pump at the kitchen sink and an outhouse – I was happy as a clam!  We moved into town when my sister was born, then moved to California.  My mom “home schooled” me in the back seat of the car and every motel we stopped at.  I was 7 before we had a “real” house – on Terrace Way & So. “H” Street, nothing but fields across the street and beyond.  I met my “best friend” who I am still “best friends” with. The next move was to Bank & Oleander (age 11) and is where all hell broke loose for the next 3 years. I did meet another “best friend” who I am still “best friends” with! There was a heap of livin’ and fun, kick the can, meeting new friends, going to Jameson Ranch Camp for 3 summers and learning how to ride horses, milk cows, slop pigs, get eggs from the chickens, mix cement to make bricks to build a new barn (that is still standing to this day!).  At age 14 - oh boy!  I morphed out of the chubby shell into something I had no idea about!!!  I had no idea why the boys were staring at me!!!! 34-22-34 and only 4’11”! Again, I think being blissfully ignorant of some of the facts of life were better for us, not like now where they know everything at age 8.  Went to football & basket ball games every weekend, always dances after the games, the bands were all local high school guys and every summer a radio station (KAFY) would have a battle of the bands.  Cruzin down Chester Ave, usually Saturday night, Stan’s, Andre’s, Michener’s and back again!  Drag races from stop light to stop light (of course we knew which alley the cops hung out in)!  I don’t think I want to go back to that place, but I wish that place in time were still here.

 For those of us blessed with a childhood worth remembering it seems life too often goes downhill from there. Too bad kittens become cats and we have to "grow up."

 Agreed, etBartley:  more fun to reminisce about some things anyway than to relive them.  Gardening's nice, too, but I have a terminal case of laziness and would much rather look at the results than getting there.