Happy Birthday Michele!

I am pretty sure I am singing happy birthday to you here. Love you!

Waffles and Ice Cream

When Michele and I were little, Noni used to make whatever we wanted to eat. Some days we would get fresh from the pan fried dough and a plate of powered sugar to coat the little suckers. I can remember eating soft boiled egg with toast. Waffles were one of my favorite. Her waffle iron made 4 rectangular waffles that were nice and thin so they would get crisp. Not like these Belgian giants you see everywhere today. You could cut the waffles into strips and dip them, or build with them, depending on your mood. But these tasty treats were best when they had a ice cream between them. There always seemed to be a box of Neapolitan ice cream in the house ready to be cut into slabs and serve on two piping hot waffles. You had to eat it pretty quickly because cold ice cream and hot waffle didn't play nice. The ice cream would get melty and the waffle soggy if you weren't quick.

Now for something completely different

Growing up in Iowa in the thirties, and early forties. To say the least, it was different. Children were grouped by sexes, and age, and size. My group was about eight boys. Young, around ten years . small in stature. We were known as the little kids. Big kids were older, larger, and wiser. So they thought.As a little kid, it was my job to avoid the big kids. The big kids job was to find us, and beat us up. Our battle ground was the woods. Big kids would build camps, have fires, and tell adult stories. We would try to spy on them and listen. When captured, we had to sit close to the fire, and always on the smokey side. But we still listened. By those smokey fires I learned about life and sex, and how to cuss. Once my brother Dick and I were captured. We were tied up. The big kids had a pow wow to decide our fate. The smoke was to tell. If it blew towards us we were to be burned at stake. I think the jury was rigged. They tied us to a tree. Put grass and branches all around. Lit the fire and left, screaming like banshees, whooping and yelling. Dick and I stomped on the fire with our feet. Finally got our hands free, and ran through woods towards home. Perhaps this is where the big difference between then and now starts. We never told anyone.Especially our parents. I'm sure we had the usual discourse. "Where you been?" "Nowhere" What ya do"? "Nothing" "Who where you with"? "Nobody" This is the first time I've ever told this. Dick and I swore to secrecy. Two lessons to be learned. Don't let the big guys get you. When you burn anyone at the stake, always tie their feet.

Family Photos

You can check out some family photos here.