World Book and Friends Visit

I love it when a new memory sweeps over me. It happened today as I drove to work all by myself. I worked at home this morning - a result of a rough weekend suffering from a gastrointestinal illness (scientific words for "the trots"). I didn't want to go to work and end up running to the bathroom with "issues".

I was pleased that the banana and apple I tested on my gut didn't cause any immediate issues, so I reported to work mid-day. On the way I listened to a retro book, "C is for Corpse", set in the 1980's. The narrator in the book spoke of a character's translucent skin exposing veins like a book overlay. A memory of the World Book Encyclopedias we had growing up (and everyone else did too) popped into my head.

My grandfather, Herbert Leslie Morehead, designed our home at 202 Crombie. It featured lots of built-in dressers and shelves in each of the three bedrooms. The World Book Encyclopedias and Mom's other favorite books were placed lovingly in another built-in shelf just outside my parent's bedroom. Dad wasn't a book-reading kinda guy. He was a Sports Illustrated fan.

The World Books were fascinating. They contained those clear page overlays showing all of the body parts. I remember being assigned a report on the country of Ecuador in 6th grade. Of course it was pre-Internet, so I turned to our trusty World Book for all of my information - geographic, economic, population, culture. Ecuador didn't have any overlays. One time, after the books became more of an afterthought, someone "pressed" a flower in the letter "M" book, without the benefit of wax paper to protect the book. Many pages in "M" got wrecked. Working in the waste and recycling industry I have come across many people wanting to get rid of their beloved World Books - sure others would want them. Um, nope. They are badly outdated now. There are places to recycle books - Google in your area or use Earth911 or other recycling websites to find out where to take them. They are good flower presses. haha

I mentioned that there were the other books in those shelves. That shelf was the source of my first "naughty" books to read - in my rite of passage from youth to adult fiction. Of course they weren't really naughty. They were just a step up from the youth fiction I'd been reading. Nancy Drew didn't have boobs, she had titian hair! I certainly couldn't just march into the library and check out titles like "Lady Chatterley's Lover" in Atlantic, Iowa.

I'd sneak a title from the shelf, and hide it in my room as I read it, dry mouthed during the sexy parts. Once I hit Junior High, there were all sorts of wonderful books to satisfy my curiosity like "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" and "My Darling My Hamburger". I no longer needed to sneak from Mom's stash. Good memories though!

Lucky for me that Friday night I was still feeling fine when our friends Steve (aka Moose) and Kay Wilt stopped by on their way to a wedding in Kansas. We went downtown to RoCa for one fancy drink and then took them to our new go-to, the Iowa Tap Room for supper. It was lovely to see them - hope they didn't get what I got the next day!

Leaf my imagination alone

Before Dutch Elm disease wiped out the trees lining Crombie Street in Atlantic, we spent lots of time raking each fall. (or Harley Baxter, our neighbor from across the street who did our yard work did).

We had fun with the leaves before they were burned or bagged for the trash. Of course we know now that's not good for environment. It's so wrong, but the smell of burning leaves takes me back to that time. You'd think burning something organic would be okay...but it puts bad stuff into the air, polluting it. Burning can be especially hard on people who have lung problems like asthma. But we didn't know that then...

Maybe Harley took our leaves over to his little backyard farm for organic material. Yeah! We'll go with that for now. Anyway...I digress.

When Mom would send us out to rake leaves, of course we didn't just do the job. Oh, no. It had to end up being so much more than that.

I was usually hanging with my sisters and maybe a stray Reinertson - our next door neighbors. Laurie Reinertson and I grew up thick as thieves. We'd rake the leaves into piles and jump into them! Next we'd rake them into shapes on the ground - like walls for horse stalls. Then with jump ropes we'd take turns being horses and riders. The horse would have the rope around her waist and the rider would steer her around. Great care was taken to choose the horse's name and what she looked like. "I'm black with white stockings and a star on my head." "My name is Star!" I loved being a black horse. (sheep?)

We likely made a bigger mess out of the leaves than they were before we started. But my Mom's true mission was to wear us out. Mission accomplished. This black horse never had trouble sleeping.

Not the Bullock yard (2014 photo)

Our house

A Father's Day segment on the CBS Morning Show featured a reporter returning to help his own father clean out his childhood home. One his father built. His dad's health is such that he needs to move closer to a relative - somewhere that isn't 2 stories, now that he uses a walker.

The reporter reminisced about his childhood home and talked about how safe he felt there. That took me to my own "Wayback Machine". Click on the link to see more on this term - Yes, my life has deep roots in cartoons. It explains a lot, no?

The Bullock home was my own safe fortress. My Dad (and Mom, because she was there more due to Dad's life on the road) was it's king. Even though Cindy told Betsy that a monster was in our closet (therefore Bets always had to sleep with it closed), I felt safe there.

Like the CBS reporter, our house was designed and built by a father. Not mine, but my mother's - Herbert Leslie Morehead. It was a modern design for Atlantic, Iowa in the 1950's. That flat roof brought headaches in years to come, but the unique style was always pleasing to the eye.

With my grandma Morehead when we remodeled the house

One memory I have is the sound of the screen door slamming behind me as I dashed in for a drink of water, use the bathroom, grab a bite, many times a day. I bet we drove Mom wild. The action was outside - in the "woods" the thin strip of trees on the lot next to ours. Or in the sandbox, swing set and playhouse designed and built by our grandfather. And that was just in our yard.

Take our yard and multiply it times about 20 - due to the post World War 2 families clustered in the neighborhood. Each day was an adventure. Would the Mallon boys try to encroach on our pretend family with a house in the woods? Our dog Jud always barked at that crew! Maybe Patrick Hayes would ride his bike down the street. The Reinertsons were always visiting from next door. Perhaps something was up across the street - at the Tylers and Westbrooks. Or I might head to Fairlawns where we knew who lived in every single house! Graysons, Fausts, Wereshes, Smiths, Bredensteiners, Van Nostrands, the Hensley boys, Drakes and oh so many more! We wandered randomly on our bikes too - into storm drains. I learned how to cross barbed wire fences.

But at the end of the day, the house at 202 Crombie swallowed me up. I had a much-needed bath. My Dad my come in and say "I'm getting a drink of very, very cold water now...and then pretend to throw it on me...or really do it!" Oh how I'd scream! Mom would say, "DAVE!" Miss you Dad.

Happy Father's Day to the bestest daddy.

Bemidji 1991

Betso is 50!

Look at Betso's curls! (I look still mad that she's not a boy..)

Monday August 27th is my baby sis's 50th birthday. Elizabeth Nelle Bullock joined 3 sisters all those years ago. I think my parents were hoping for a boy, but it worked out well in the end.

Dad was a "travelin man...love when I can" (thanks Bob Seger). He sold ladies lingerie for Lorraine a company that made underwear, pajamas, robes, nighties, slips - stuff like that to stores around Iowa. Back then, nearly every town had a store that sold such things. He also had the big accounts like Younkers and Von Maur. His job required him to leave most Mondays and he'd return Friday. With that schedule it's surprising any of us were born! Rumor has it I appeared after Mom traveled with Dad on a sales trip to South Dakota...

Back to Betso...so there may have been a bit of disappointment (as there probably was when I was born) that the baby was a girl. Bets was such a cute little thing (many called her Bitsy Betsy) that everyone got over it quickly. Except me. I had wished for a baby brother dammit! During Captain Kangaroo one morning - I distinctly recall it! I've mentioned in this column before what a tomboy I was (am).

Mom put this Styro bubble on her in Florida like it would save her from drowning...

Instead I got a girlie girl. She was adorable - always tiny, with curly hair that bleached out in the sun.  good about having her Barbies be the nurses for my GI Joes. And she played a good Jane West to my Johnny. Betsy and I roomed together while Susi and Cindy had a room (I could hear them punching each other out sometimes...). Bets and I played together a lot, and as the older sis I was able to pull the wool over her eyes at times. Like when we'd tickle each other's backs - I'd tell her she didn't do it right, and she'd have to do it over...

Along with being cute, Betsy was also lucky (or perhaps a little bit smart), because she would always win games. We had a bunch of them in the cupboard in the built in dresser in our room. Stratego, Mystery Date, Kerplunk. Our grandfather Morehead designed and built our home at 202 Crombie in Atlantic and it had lots of built in features. Cindy told Bets that a monster was in our closet (bi-fold shutter doors) so the doors always had to be closed when we went to sleep. Come Christmas morning, we'd wake up at dawn to go visit the Santa gifts! (Most likely, once she figured out the Santa gig...Betso had found where Mom had hidden the gifts earlier).

Betsy was kind of a spoil sport when the folks had parties - one night they had rolled up the rug and a bunch of them were dancing on the hardwood floor. Bets told them it was time to clear out. I guess she was tired! I must have been in college by then.

Betsy didn't physically mature until she was nearly through high school - so of course she wasn't in the popular group. In fact some of the boys called her "Plateau". (Not sure how I missed out on being called those names). Somehow she ended up with breasts...yet I didn't...

Nurse Betsy after her capping ceremony

When Betsy and her friend Julie came to visit me at ISU I couldn't even get her to party! But by the time she headed off to Creighton University in Omaha to study nursing, she was all growed up - and the boys noticed her then! I recall she turned 20 the day before we got married...all those years ago.

After graduating, with nursing jobs scarce, she took a position in Pueblo, Colorado where she met the man of her dreams, Dr. Wayne Kohan. It's funny how life works that way. Once Wayne finished his residency they moved all the way to Kennewick, WA - so I don't get to see her all that much. Together they have five great children - we got to see them all recently at the fam reunion.

The Kohans

We did a "surprise" birthday celebration in Cannon Beach for our lil sis. The pope (Bolder) was there! Susi gave her the medallion. Safeway spelled her name Betesy on the cake, and Ziggy nearly got a lick! She was a good sport about celebrating several weeks early. I made a video slide show to celebrate the occasion.

Bolder in the Pope hat

Ziggy goes for it...

I'm glad Betsy wasn't a boy after all.

Happy 50th Birthday sis! Love ya!