Ideas for Sharing Stories and Photos

I thought I'd share the way I used  Mommy's Piggy Tales  as a framework for two projects I completed this month for our grandchildren.   I'll write the normal MPT entry later.  K

 

Ideas for Sharing MPT Stories and Photos 

with Grandchildren

Karen and her Dad in 1946

One motivation for my joining the Mommy's Piggy Tales (MPT) project was to record the stories of my youth to somehow share with our grandchildren. Our 8-year-old granddaughter (M) seemed interested in stories, so I put together photos of me from 60+ years ago with similar ones of her. Amazingly, I was able to coordinate many photos such as the two with our dads playing in the snow in 1946 and 2005.

M and her Dad in 2005

I adapted the text from MPT to make it more personal for her with phrases like "I played with dolls just like you do with your American Girl doll"  or "My school building was much older than yours." 

Several websites can be used to compose the book such as Shutterfly, Kodak, and others.  I used Shutterfly because I have done several other projects and I'm familiar with the quirks of their system.  I'm sure the other companies have similar capabilities.

I decided on the short, basic book, the 8x8 twenty page version.  I titled mine "Sharing Family Stories, Part I:  The Early Years" which fit nicely on the three lines of the cover.  Since M is now in 3rd grade, I decided to include photos and stories of the two of us through 2nd grade.   Part II will be "Your Great-Grandparents," and hopefully other parts will follow. 

When my copy arrived just before Christmas, I was totally THRILLED with it.  When other family members enjoyed it as well, I felt the project was definitely worth the effort. My daughter-in-law commented about how much she had learned by reading the book.

My second digital photo project this fall was a personal alphabet book for each of our younger grandchildren.  Although websites (like Shutterfly) have formats for this type of thing, I found them too restrictive for the reasons I explain below.  For some people, though, the pre-designed book might be just fine.  I thought the little book was sturdier for toddlers and since I have the info, replacing a page, if necessary, would be simple.

When Granddaughter M was 3, I had made a book for her and designed a template.   My experience gave me ideas for this year's projects for our three younger grandchildren.  I bought a little 4x6 inch photo album that had 32 pages (although a few more would have been nice) for each child.  On every page I put a photo of the child or a family member with the letter.  After looking at some favorite photos of the child, I was able to come up with something for each letter.  In my box of scrapbooking scraps, I had some colorful mats to complete each page.  A paper cutter is helpful too.

Sample Pages from Children's Alphabet Book

By having more than 26 pages in the album, I could have multiple photos for 5 letters plus a cover page.   "M" is the initial letter for several family members as well as "Mommy" so I needed extra pages.  Thus it all worked out well.  I'll admit, though, that I did plan ahead a bit and got photos of each child with a toy xylophone!  Fortunately none of them had any "x-rays."


If you'd like more information about either of these, feel free to contact me.

MPT Part 10: Eighth Grade Memories

This is the tenth in a series of blogs I'm writing for Mommy's Piggy Tales .  Janna has provided a forum for members to write and share stories from their youth.   This episode relates the memorable  family events in 1956 and my eighth grade year in school, 1956-57.

A Challenging Year with a Good Ending

The year 1956 was one with many emotional swings for all of us.  Fortunately, the year ended on a high note that continued. 

Although we never had discussed this as a family, my parents, M and I all thought that little Joe might grow up feeling like an only child.  M and I both hoped that maybe we'd have another baby, even though Mom was 39 at the time.  So in the early spring, we were delighted when (again) Mom and Dad told us after a Sunday night dinner that we were having a baby, this time due in late September.   M and I wanted the baby to be late and arrive on Joe's Oct 9 birthday, so they could share celebrations like we did.  Wouldn't that be fantastic to have four children (non-twins) with two birthdays?   It was a cute joke for us.  But mostly we were happy that once again, the family would be growing.

This pregnancy turned out to be a most difficult one as Mom had a lot of sickness and other complications.  She needed to be hospitalized (20 miles away) for 6 weeks in the spring which concerned all of us.  M and I took care of ourselves and we had suitable arrangements for Joe.  Dad visited Mom every night, a long drive after working hard all day.  I wrote to her daily because I was too young to visit her by the hospital rules.  However, one night Dad and M suggested that if I wore a scarf and lipstick and I could pass for 14!  Dad got me in to see my mom and we all felt a bit better.  As I think about this now, I'm guessing that my dad had asked the staff to "look the other way."  I'll also note that Mom saved all my letters and gave them to me in her later years. 

Mom improved and was allowed to come home and was told to do "almost nothing" throughout the summer.  She took a leave of absence from playing the organ at church and her other activities.  We all helped with Joe and continued praying for the new little one.

While these events were happening in our household, my mom's sister (my cousin D/best friend's mom) was also pregnant.  They were due in July so again the extended family would have two cousins the same age living in the same town, going to the same schools.  How neat is that?    Everyone joked, that D and I wouldn't need to play with dolls any more, we could play with real babies!  It really was exciting for us to talk about these things as we walked to school.  We knew it was an unusual and special situation. 

On July 16, my aunt gave birth to a baby girl.  All the talk was about baby equipment, schedules, clothing, and similar things.  There was excitement in the air for sure.

Then less than a week later, Mom got a terrible phone call.  Her father, who lived 3 hours away, had had a sudden heart attack.  No warning, he just slumped to the ground in front of their house.  The message my mom got from Grandma on the phone was "no news is good news."  I had never heard that expression before... so Mom explained that if we didn't hear anything, that meant Grandpa was doing OK.  In several hours, the phone rang and dear Grandpa had died at the hospital.

The next few days are still very clear to me.  Although my grandparents then lived in a city 3 hours away, they had been in our small town many years, so Grandpa would be buried in our local cemetery.  My dad and uncle drove to the funeral but my pregnant mom and her sister with a newborn and all of us kids stayed home.  They did have a service for him in our town that we could all attend.  This was the first time I had experienced the death of anyone close to me.  Now, as an adult who lost both parents when I was well over 50, I have tried to imagine what this summer was like for my mom.  She was having a difficult pregnancy, lost her father, and had three children at home.  God was looking after all of us, as only He can.

M was driving at this point, so she gladly took over many family errands.  We were riding along in a blue and white Oldsmobile.  M and other teens would often wash the car in the driveway so that anyone else who was out "riding around" would stop and chat.  And sometimes she'd go off with friends, leaving me with the mess to clean up.   That was the thing the high school kids did -- be seen and fun would just happen!  These local traditions seem funny to us now.  But that's the way it was in our small town.

Our baby sister, A, born Sept 25, 1956.  A precious little girl.

September came and Mom seemed to be doing OK with her swollen feet, salt-free diet, and uncomfortable figure.  And on the morning of Friday, September 25, Dad woke us up saying that they were headed to the hospital.  M and I took Joe to a family friend and we were off to school.  Hadn't we done this three years earlier?   I was sitting in my 8th Grade English class shortly after noon, when I heard the school office phone ring.  Immediately, I thought, "I hope that's my dad."   Sure enough, someone came to the door and got me for a phone call.  I ran to the principal's office.  Dad's cheerful voice told me what I wanted to know most.  Mom and Baby A were doing just fine!  We had picked out her name, three years earlier.  She was a beautiful baby with thick, curly black hair.  According to my mom, she was the best baby ever, who seldom cried and always smiled!  What a blessing!

So now I'll end this with a fun family photo in the familiar setting taken in March 1957. We think our adult personalities are subtly depicted!  M is the stylish HS senior, ready to move on with her life. (Great skirt, eh?? )   I am the scientist, the practical one, who actually enjoyed babysitting.  Joe is the analytical and logical engineer.  And adorable A, the free spirit, who grew up to be an able writer.  Please note that A does NOT have huge feet.  The shoes are Joe's.   My parents referred to us as their two families of two children,  "The Girls" and "The Kids."   We think that our age differences kept Mom and Dad young as they raised their two families in two different eras.  They rolled with the punches and loved every minute of parenthood. 

M graduated from HS in the spring of 1957 and went away to college in the fall.   I finished 8th grade and was ready to ride along to the big world of high school!

MPT Part 9: Seventh Grade Career Explorations

This is the ninth in a series of blogs I'm writing for Mommy's Piggy Tales .  Janna has provided a forum for members to write and share stories from their youth.   This episode is seventh grade 1955-56.... a looonnnngggg time ago!

Seventh Grade:  Early Career Explorations

Karen before first band trip, 1955.

In the summer before 7th Grade, I was thrilled to be invited to join the High School Band.  In our small system, sometimes the band director would select junior high students to play with the Senior High band.  I'm sure my piano lessons and sight-reading skills helped (thanks, Mom). It also meant a fun summer with saxophone lessons, band practice every Monday night (an important social event), learning how to march, and traveling to county fairs in nearby towns.   My sister, a junior in HS, was the drum majorette.  She made it very clear to me that I was "on my own" with the junior high crowd on all trips.  At that time, I preferred to ignore her anyway. 

Speaking of piano lessons, finally I decided to speak my piece. It had to end.  After years of lessons, I couldn't even play "Happy Birthday" without music...and where can you find such music at the spur of the moment?   On the other hand, my mom, who had only a few lessons as a child, could play anything after hearing a few bars and she could change the key to suit voice ranges!  I would never be able to do that.  My piano teacher, Mrs. S who was also a family friend,  probably had some clues that I wasn't enjoying the sessions , since I usually cried.  I didn't mean to, my crying genes merely took over.  I'd practice and she'd say "too mechanical" or "needs more feeling."  She was right, of course.  So it was a happy day for all when Mom finally agreed that piano wasn't going be my profession!  (A side note: Since my mom was our church organist, we had to get an "outside" musician for our own family events, like weddings.  Mrs. S agreed to play for my wedding years later.  Fortunately, my mom asked her, I probably would have cried.  I don't know if Mrs. S cried or not at the ceremony, but I doubt it!  I did send her a Christmas card for the next 40 years, with no crying.)

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The following happened while I was in Junior High.  In my later years, I was asked to think of youthful experiences that had some bearing on my professional career.  This was the one that came to mind.

One day on a trip to our farm I asked my dad,  "Why do you buy seed corn?  Why don't you just save some ears from the last crop and plant the kernels?"

He answered with some information about better qualities in the seed corn like percent germination, disease resistance, etc.  But he realized that I wasn't really believing him.  So he suggested that I design an experiment to gather my own data.   I knew this would be fun.

Mechanical Adding Machine circa 1930

He gave me some mature earns of corn that I could use in any way I wanted.  He suggested that I start with the simple "rag wrap" experiment.  I placed some kernels in neat rows in an old towel, wrapped it up and kept it wet.  Then I unwrapped to check for germination at various stages.  I kept all my results in a notebook.

After a couple of weeks, my dad was pleased (maybe surprised) that I was still interested in the experiment.  He said  "Karen, would you like to use the adding machine to analyze your results?"  This was the best part.  Dad often had our grandfather's adding machine on his desk  but we were never supposed to play with it.  (Had I ever touched it?  Well....)  Anyway, now I was able to use some simple statistics to make conclusions about my experiment.  I played with the numbers and the adding machine for weeks.

The reason I tell this story is that it was the first time I had used "technology" to analyze experimental results.  I also tell the story because it shows how my dad encouraged me to investigate on my own.  I cannot remember my results from the experiment, but more importantly I remember how much I enjoyed doing it and how supportive my dad was for me as a budding scientist.   In those days, science wasn't a popular career path for a girl.

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As I've mentioned previously, our paternal grandparents lived near us.  Grandma had declining eyesight, so I read to her and did other things to help her.  I especially loved talking to her about her life as a young girl.  How I wish I had asked her more or that I had written her stories.  She was a very special lady.  One task I could help with was writing her Christmas cards.  She would dictate messages for me to write to various friends.  I used my very best handwriting.  The messages would start with "My granddaughter is helping me write this..."  Then I addressed the envelopes, stamped, and mailed them.  Long after Christmas, I found out that I had misspelled her family name (her own maiden name) to all the relatives!  How embarrassing, how could I have done that!!   

M age 16, Karen 13, and Joe 2.

Here is our birthday photo, November 23, 1955.  Mom came up with a clever idea, bridges, for our shared birthday. M was  excited to get her driver's license. So sometimes I was now riding along with my sister at the wheel, whether she wanted me or not!

MPT Part 8: Sixth Grade and Noises

This is the eighth in a series of blogs I'm writing for Mommy's Piggy Tales .  Janna has provided a forum for members to write and share stories from their youth.  Here we are at 6th Grade already!

Sixth Grade Noise
 

 

Wheat Harvest June 1954 with Dad and three kids on the big John Deere combine

Riding along in 1954 for the family meant including a baby in all activities, even a ride on the big John Deere combine.    In a previous post,  I discussed summer picnics in the wheat fields.  

January 1954  Karen Age 11 and Joe 4 months

Our home life was very exciting these days with a baby.  Joe probably thought he had four parents the way we doted over him.  Although I realized that other families had had new babies before us, I had no idea how wonderful it was to have a baby to love and watch grow.  (Years later with our own children and now with grandchildren, my Baby Joe memories come back very easily.)

My dad had a very distinctive laugh that was frequent, loud, and sincere.  In a group of people, you always knew he was there!  Joe had to learn that these were "friendly" noises in the family.  Often, Mom, M and I taught Joe little tricks to show Dad when he got home.  One day we had worked hard to teach him one of the cutest of any baby's tricks, the "fake cough."  Joe knew that we would respond to his "illness" and he'd do it again and again.   When Dad got home and saw the performance, he spontaneously let out one of his trademark laughs.  It totally scared his baby son!   And then we all laughed and cried together. What fun memories!

At this point,  my parents had realized that my sister and I had VASTLY different methods to get what we wanted.  M was very open, stating her opinions clearly, and sometimes with dramatic flair.  On the other hand,  I was compliant and waited patiently for a good opportunity to make my point, or (as was the case for the following story) I might even use other people to help me out!

A plaid flannel shirt for a piano duet???

Most students in our school system, started band in the summer before 5th grade.  I had really wanted to join, but Mom was somewhat against it.  She was pleased with my progress in piano although I really don't know why.  I had some basic skills, but not much musicality.  However, Mom truly believed that "real" music lessons were on the piano.  Throughout the 5th grade, I brought home requests from the band director soliciting new members.  I used these notes to keep the topic on Mom's mind, although it seemed to me that she ignored my hints.

Band was a love of my maternal grandfather.  He played the trombone in city bands throughout his life.   On one visit, in front of my mom, I asked Grandpa to tell more of his band stories.  Then he mentioned that our cousins (who lived in yet another town in Nebraska) were all playing instruments fairly well:  the flute, the saxophone, and the trombone.   We had known this, of course, but when Grandpa talked about learning teamwork in an instrumental group, Mom listened.  Shortly after that visit, I decided to bring up the band issue to my parents separately.  Dad was easy, he agreed to anything.   But Mom didn't pull out her usual remarks.  In fact, she merely said that the summer before 6th Grade would be a good time to start.  Then by the fall, with all my good music-reading skills, I'd easily be caught up with the other kids!   SUCCESS!!     And so it was, I started with saxophone lessons in the summer before 6th Grade and by fall I was ready for Junior Band AND Junior High.  For the next seven years of school, band was an important part of my life!  (Thanks, Grandpa.  I really appreciated your help!)

In the fall of 1954,  I nervously walked to school with my cousin and other friends four blocks south to the Junior High School (Grades 6,7,8 for our system).  Even in a small town with only two schools merging and friends I already knew, I still found things to be anxious about.  We were going to change classes and have multiple teachers.  Math was replacing Arithmetic,  and English was the former Language, Reading, and Spelling all in one.  But what I dreaded most was Physical Education.... did we really have to shower in a big room, all of us?  Yes.