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Marysafan
Member
08-07-2000
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 8:30 am
I grew up in a small mining community. Our lives were pretty much controlled by the mines. My Dad worked a rotating shift cycle, so our meals changed as his work cycle changed. We hated when he was on midnight shift because we had to be very quiet while he slept during the day. We didn't have much money and when the miners went on strike things got really hard, but we managed somehow. There was a state park about 20 minutes away from home and we spent a lot of time there. We camped there in the summer time and it was the only place Dad ever felt like he could relax. They still spend a lot of time there. We affectionately call it our "summer home". In the early 1960's the mines shut down for a time, so my Dad and some others went out to find work in the uranium mines in New Mexico. He brought us out there with him a few months later. We lived in a trailer. Mom, Dad, four kids, and two dogs. Mom hated it real bad, hated everything about the place. We only stayed one year, just long enough to add one more member to the family. We moved back home where Dad got a job helping to build the new Air force base until the mines reopened. I have to laugh when the Starting Over gals complain about such things as washing your hair in the kitchen sink...like we ever had a choice! lol!
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 8:40 am
I didn't really have what I consider an unusual childhood, but my family had a lot of trauma to deal with. There were 5 of us- mom, dad, older sister, me, younger brother. Slightly less than 5 years total separated the three of us kids in age so we were born pretty close together. When I was 4, I caught meningitis, was hospitalized for 3 weeks, almost died, and did lose my hearing. I lost a lot of my motor skills and I had to learn to walk all over again. Then when I was in the 1st grade, my mother and brother were the victims of a random act of violence. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. My mother was a stay at home mom for all of us until we reached first grade. My brother was preschool age and she had taken him out in the neighborhood for a walk one day. They were in a section of the neighborhood that was being developed and was somewhat isolated and woodsy, but we lived in a beautiful and safe middle-class neighborhood and never had worries. That day, there was a drug addict out in the woods and he saw my mom and brother and came out and pulled a knife on them. He told my mom to come in the woods with him. She refused and he started stabbing her. She picked up my brother and ran for dear life and he came after her and stabbed her in the back as she ran away. When she reached the part of the neighborhood that was more residential, he disappeared back into the woods and she was able to get help at the first house she came to. She lost a lot of blood and was hospitalized for several days. It was one of the most frightening times of my childhood. Then when I was in the 5th grade and my brother was in 3rd grade, he went into seizures one night and almost died. It turned out that he had previously undiagnosed heart problems. He had to have what was major surgery in those days and a pacemaker was placed in his heart. We spent that Christmas in the hospital with him. He almost didn't make it. So life was a scary place for me when I was young. I never had that illusion of safety that most children in typical (if there is such a thing!) middle class families get to have growing up. I knew from a very young age that tragedy happens sometimes. It definitely still affects me as an adult. I have to work very hard not to be a very fearful person. I've been through periods of depression and I have suffered from panic attacks, and I don't doubt those things played a role. All that aside, I recognize how lucky my family is that we came through all of that (and more!). We have an unbelievable bond and consider each other best friends as well as family.
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Deesandy
Member
08-12-2003
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 9:17 am
Hermione69, you have the best mom! She did what it took to protect her child. I am sure you get some of your strenght from her.
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Pbnj
Member
07-17-2003
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 9:36 am
So many interesting stories! Someone said that everyone has a story......this thread proves it! Mamie's post about following fire engines sparked (no pun intended LOL) a memory.....we were poor so our form of entertainment was to take Sunday drives.....all around, the country, the city, etc. One time, as we were getting close to home (about a mile away), a fire engine came roaring past us, my dad said exitedly, 'let's follow it...see where it goes'.....yep, went straight to our house. My mom went into hysterics, it was so bad that my dad kept driving.....we rode around until she got ahold of herself and then went to see what happened. Turned out there was an electrical problem, burned the house to the ground, we lost everything....my mom was devastated. Then all the sudden, a fireman came out with a huge photo album.....all of our pics were saved.......most were singed around the edges but we didn't lose them. That's all that was saved. My mom sobbed with relief....that really was all she cared about. We moved in with my g'ma (her mom) while they searched for another house to rent. We found one in the same neighborhood. It was a weird situation......I'll never EVER forget the smell of the fire......very strange, sickly sweet odor *ugh* One smell memory I have that I just love is of stale cheese corn that my dad would 'bribe' me with when he took me to the local bar on Saturday mornings. I love that memory because it was the only time he took just me (I have five sisters so we didn't get much individual attention) He'd always say, 'we can't tell mom' I remember sitting at the smoky, smelly (stale beer and popcorn) bar, thinking I was pretty cool....couldn't have been more than 4 yrs old because it was when we were living in the 'burned down' house and that happened when I was that age. Sometimes he'd give me a sip of his beer......I actually liked it! Years later, in my late teens/20's, I drank more than my fair share.....just like dad LOL anyway, weird memory......guess I thought of it because of the SMELL of the fire...made me think of one of my favorite smells as a child ahhhh, memories loved Reiki's hotel story......all of them are interesting. And Kaili, you were an adorable kid.....you should see some of my 12 yr old pics...that's the 'awkward' age.....definitely had the ugly stick thing going on IMO I had a friend who lived in a hippie commune (in the late 60's/70's) I always wondered what her kids thought about their childhood.......rock n roll and very fragrant parties were the norm LOL
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Kaili
Member
08-31-2000
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 9:49 am
Oh my- yeah- I'd like to say it was the awkward stage, but I was only about 8 in that picture. That would make my cousins 10 and 11 though. Oh yeah, and I remember one time when I was maybe 12 saying something smelled like pot and my mom wanted to know how I knew what that smelled like. Hello! Kids remember waaay more than parents think. Maybe parents forget how much they remember about their own childhoods.
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Pbnj
Member
07-17-2003
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 9:50 am
dang, I'm slow writer, a lot of new posts since I started writing mine......anyway, Hermione, I can't imagine the fear...all those 'physical' threats to your family. I was afraid you were going to say your mom died. It sounds like she was very close. I'm so sorry you had those worries as a young child, especially the hearing loss...that's a major major adjustment for anyone to make but a 4 yr old? that's awful oh well, seems like you've made the best of it....good for you. I'm sure it's made you a stronger person than most and I agree, those things most likely have a huge impact on you today. I can't see how you couldn't be affected by all of that. and Marysafan~~I had to laugh too when the SO guests freaked about Rain using the sink to wash her hair. I thought everyone did that (when I was younger...I don't do that anymore but there were too many of us in the house for everyone to use the tub) Sounds like you had a rough life too......mining for a living had to be hard but it's an honest day's work....nothing to be ashamed of, that's for sure. My dad robbed local bars and banks for a living so that's why the comment about shame.....kids made fun of me because they knew my dad was the local criminal. I would have given anything to grow up like you I'm not complaining though because I do have some great memories....mostly from when my dad wasn't around (in prison) LOL
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Marysafan
Member
08-07-2000
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 11:16 am
Pbnj, I share something with you. My dad used to take me to the bars with him when I was little. He also used to say, "Don't tell mom"...but she kinda caught on when I would arrive home with a big orange mustache from drinking orange pop. I also got my first taste of alcohol, from sipping my dad's beer...and must have delveloped a taste for it early on. When I got into my 20's, I probably drank more than my share, that's for sure. My Dad had a hard life, so I don't blame him for becoming an alcoholic. It made for some rough times at home, but I can understand his need for trying to dull the pain. When he was three his mother ran off with another man, and on her way out of town, left him off at the local orphanage. It took several days before his widowed grandmother finally found him and took him in. He was raised by her and his three bachelor uncles in a French speaking home. So he had to learn to become bi-lingual. And at an early age, went down into the mines, just like his father, and his uncles and his grandfather (who had been killed in a mining accident). So, our house wasn't the Cleaver house by any means...but I know he did the best for us he could, and that he loved us as best as knew how. Pbnj, I really feel for you that to have been tough. So Often the sins of the fathers are passed on to the children. It's so unfair.
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Midlifer
Member
04-16-2003
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 11:46 am
Wow, you guys have had some interesting posts. For those of you had some some very negative aspects to your childhood, do you have more "sympathy" for the news-noteworthy "celebrities" who blame their crimes on their childhoods? (No, I'm not insinuating that you guys will get into crime. I just like a different perspective.)
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Schoolmarm
Member
02-18-2001
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 1:00 pm
I love reading these posts about unusual childhoods. For the most part, I lived the "Cleaver family" life. Mom stayed at home and Dad came home every night at 5:15. HOWEVER, my Mom was a professional cake decorator and we usually had wedding cakes or mints on our dining room table. We thought that it was normal to eat cake "scraps" and icing for a snack. I was reminded of the other usual thing about my childhood when reading the posts about living in hotels and having to play quietly all the time. Yes, I lived in a QUIET house. No guests. My Dad raised chinchillas in our basement and they are nocturnal. Everyone in our family walks lightly on floors as stomping or even walking normally would wake the chinchillas up. On second thought, maybe that was just a ploy my Dad used to keep us quiet. Hmmmm.
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Hippyt
Member
09-10-2001
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 4:33 pm
Wow,this is a great thread! I have heard bit of these stories around the board over time,but it's really cool to read them like this. Great idea Kaili. So,here's mine,lol. I was born an Air Force brat. When I was 2 my Dad was sent to fight in Viet Nam. He says now,that he almost took Mom and I and left the country,it was the hardest thing he ever did,leaving us. When he came back,I was 4,and didn't know who he was,broke his heart. Of course,knowing what I do now,I'm just glad he did come back. His experiences there,and his 'welcome' home ended up having a big effect on my childhood. As my parents basically became pseudo hippys. I can remember lots of people over at the house,music all the time,people playing guitars and singing. Candles being burnt in used wine bottles,lol. I was an only child til 7 so,this was one big good time for me! When I was in first or second grade a band moved into the house next door. I don't know if any of ya'll would remember them,they were called Black Oak Arkansas,and they had like,maybe two pretty big hits in the 70's. There were groupie girls and loud music coming from the house night and day. They had this huge St. Bernard,named,well Bernard. He and I got to be great friends,seeing as how his owners were a little too loud for his tastes. When I went to second grade,Bernard walked to school with me everyday. He would sit outside til recess then play with all the kids,then walk me home. I would give him a huge tub of water and big bowl of food. Sometimes fill up the kiddie pool for him. He did this the entire year. Well,the band was getting more money,and they built themselves a big mansion in the Ozarks,and moved away,and they took my Bernard with them. When I grew up my Dad finally told me the dumb band burned their own mansion down,and Bernard died in the fire. My parents,had my brother,which settled them down a lot. And,childhood got a little more normal from that point on. But,from that time,I learned a love of music and animals I still have with me today. And,a great respect and love for the veterans of our country. Great memories.
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Hippyt
Member
09-10-2001
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 4:48 pm
Oh,and I forgot the whole part about the Grandparents who lived on a watermelon farm. They had no indoor bathroom til I was a teen. We would go spend summer nights down there,and have a bath outside in a big wash tub,with water from the pump. One night,me and my cousin were sleeping with my Grandma,she told us to be very quiet,and got out of bed. She grabbed the hoe by the bed and killed a big water moccasin snake that was coming in the bedroom door. In the summer, all the kids would sit out on the porch and eat all the fresh watermelon we could stomach. Ok,I'm really done now.
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Jagger
Member
08-07-2002
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 5:02 pm
OK I'll give this a shot, I'll just list some of my highlights of growing up. I come from a large family, my folks had 20 kids, 3 of them died with in months of being born. We were dirt poor, if we couldn't grow it or raise it we usally didn't eat it. Talk about eating potatoes, we had them at least twice a day, sometimes 3 times a day, some days that's all we ate. I was so sick of potatoes when I got out of the house I didn't eat them for about 2 years. When I was very young we lived in a house that had no running water, an outhouse, and a wood burning stove, which did not heat the loft ( Think Little House on the Praire type home), I lived their till I was 3, don't remember too much about it other than waking up crying at night because I was so cold. Moved to a new house that my family built, I have a memory of falling down something and being left there, from what I was told I fell down the cloth shoot that was yet to be finished and I was there from early morning till late night when they noticed I was no where around when it was bed time. We had a small chicken coop where when it got really cold out my dad would make us go sleep with the chickens to keep them from freezing, talk about stinky. I remember going to school and being picked on all the time because of dirty torn cloths and being dirty and stinky myself. One summer my brother and I got my dad so PO's at us he made us build a treehouse out of stuff we found at the dump ( that's where we got most everything, other peoples garbage was our cherished possessions) we had to build that treehouse and live out there the entire summer, the only time we were allowed in the house was to do work, my mom would set food out once a day for us to come and get, if one of the other brother or sisters saw it first we were SOL. My dad was a booze hound and a mean one at that, we got beat on a regular bases, especially me, for some reason he did not like me, and I felt the same way about him. We would try to hide if we knew he was at the bar, but he usally searched us out. As soon as I was old enough I was out knocking on doors looking for work, I'd do any and everything I could to make any kind of money, everything from shoveling snow to weeding gardens to trying to sell stuff through the mail, had to use the neighbors address so my folks didn't find out about it. I was so happy to graduate from highschool and get out of the house and it took years for me to accept my dad again. Me and my mom always got along. Now that I have been on my own for over 25 years I understand the stress my parents went through and can deal with the things that happened during childhood. I would not wish my childhood on anyone, even my worst enemy.
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Ginger1218
Member
08-31-2001
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 5:29 pm
Well, I look upon my childhood as good and bad. I had wonderful loving parents. We were not wealthy, but middle class. We lived in Brooklyn. My father was a kind gentle man who loved to tell jokes. My mother was a real "jewish" mom, she was very very protective. Well, the bad part is that my mother was an extremely sickly woman. She had the worst asthma I have ever seen in another human being. She was always sick and in the hospital. She was on Prednisone (cortisone) before they knew what it did to you. She took it for 30 years straight. Then she was weaned off, but by that time the damage to her body was beyond repair. First of all she had a strange childhood, her father (my grandpa - who died when I was 4) was a gambler. She never felt secure. So between the steroids and her own emotional baggage, she had a severe nervous breakdown when I was 11 or 12. She was in a hospital for 4 months and had shock treatments. This is very hard for a young girl to witness and see. She was not able to be involved in my life at that time - my father basically did everything for me and my sister. When my mother came out, she was better, but she still suffered the rest of her life. Eventually the steroids killed her - many years later. But my childhood was spent taking care of her. I used to give her injections of adrenaline when I was 8 years old. Despite this - I was happy. especially in the summers when we used to go to a Bungalow Colony in upstate New York for the whole summer. My dad came up on the weekends because he worked in the city during the week. I still remember the feeling that I had when he used to get off the bus and whistle to let us know he was there. I loved both my parents and miss then terribly. Boy, I am rambling. Better to think about this than to think about what is going on in my life now LOL.
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Ginger1218
Member
08-31-2001
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 5:30 pm
P.S. I had an older sister, 5 1/2 years older. We were never close then, but we are best best friends now.
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Reiki
Member
08-12-2000
| Tuesday, February 10, 2004 - 6:15 pm
Pbnj, your house on fire story reminded me of the time we had a fire in our hotel. It was a beautiful summer day and my mom and I were in the backyard trying to start a fire in the bar-b-que my dad had built out of cinder blocks. We were having the hardest time ever getting that darn fire lit when we heard the fire siren go off. We lived in a small town so if the siren went off the whole town turned out to see where the fire was. It was an exciting thing. I got half way down the driveway when I realized that there was smoke coming from the 3rd floor of our building! My grandmother's apartment. The fire was at our house! Thank goodness she wasn't home. My mother ran inside to make sure everyone had gotten out of the building. My brother was in his bedroom listening to music but got out safely. One of our borders, who happened to be a volunteer fireman was trying to put out the fire in my Nanny's livingroom. My mom had to drag him out of the building and wrap towels around his singed hands. Well it turns out that it was this volunteer fireman who started the fire! He broke into the the apartment, tied the curtains up in knots and put sterno cans under Nanny's sofa. Because my brother (a minor) was in the building at the time he got the maximum sentence for arson. If he had wanted to start a fire so badly he should have come out back and set a fire in the bar-b-que for us. Thanks goodness Mom and I can laugh about this now. I can still remember he yelling out to me. "Where's the fire!?" and me yelling back "Here!"
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Kaili
Member
08-31-2000
| Wednesday, February 11, 2004 - 8:51 pm
He started the fire in your grandma's apartment on purpose?! Why break in to someone's place and do it? Did he think he wouldn't be caught? What a nut! Scary. I remembered something else a few minutes ago. It's not as unusual as living in a tent, but it goes with the moving around thing. My mom moved around a lot. So did my dad. Usually in the same area but it was a lot of house hopping you could say. I would visit my dad in the summer and everytime he picked me up from the airport, he would take me to a new home. Then at the end of summer, my mom would pick me up and take me to a new home. They always moved while I was gone. So although we moved around in the same area a lot, I always ended up in different schools. I started Kintergarten in Salem, OR...no pre-school for Kaili. The next year we were still in Salem but I was at a different school. The year after that we were in Independence, OR and I was at a new school. That was third grade. My grandma died that April. My mom (and aunt and cousins cause we were never living far apart at any time while I was growing up...if you couldn't tell from the photo the "moms" are twins) decided to move back to Racine, WI where I was born in order to be near my Grampa. Same house and everything next door to my Grampa (he had built it for his mom years before). Fourth and fifth grade were the first years that I was in the same school for two years. Then after that I enrolled in a magnet school which was 6-12th grade and I was actually in the same school for seven years! I didn't know anyone at that school though so it was kind of like moving again and starting all over. most of the kids who went to that school came from a Fine Arts elementary school and most (many) knew each other. But I met my best friend in sixth grade and we still see quite a bit of each other even though she still lives in Racine.
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