luscious_purple | Entries tagged with parents

On this date SEVENTY-FIVE years ago, my parents were married!!

They had to hold their nuptials at 7 a.m. -- yes, THAT early! -- because, back then, Roman Catholics got hitched only on Saturday morning, and the first Saturday of July was especially popular because the factories traditionally shut down for the first two weeks of the month and everybody went on vacation at the same time. It wasn't until I was a college graduate that I knew it was possible to take a vacation at a different time.

And today it makes FIFTY years since my mother made me mow the lawn while my father did his Saturday errands. I was 13 going on 14 and I *hated* doing yard work.

But then Dad came home and he was carrying a white vase filled with 25 large red roses, which he presented to Mom for their 25th anniversary.

Later that day we went to a camp on Lake Shirley. It belonged to the family of a woman whom my Uncle Pete was dating (they would marry the following year and she would become my Aunt Bev). Uncle Pete had brought fireworks up from the Carolinas and I played with the sparklers while my older male cousins shot off firecrackers and Roman candles. I think we were there until three in the morning.

Obviously, as a younger teen, I wasn't in a position to arrange a fancy party for my parents' 25th. I was just starting to think about planning a 35th anniversary party for them when Dad died.

It was seven years ago today that I danced in the Lithuanian folk dance festival in Baltimore. I had such a blast, even though I didn't have time to journal about it while it was all happening.

And, speaking of journaling ... TWENTY years ago today I made my first LiveJournal post. Who would have "thunk" it would have triggered many other events that shaped my life. And who would have "thunk" the site would end up in Russian hands? The world of today is indeed strange.

I wish I could post lots of photos, but I don't feel like doing all the linking. I am tired and I want to go to bed.

I know I haven't posted here in a month, but I just wanted to say...

... I *loved* this piece!!!

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/03/opinion/pony-boys-montreal-expo-67.html

Even though I grew up in Massachusetts, I had never heard of them. I was a little younger than they in the summer of '67. But I had the same burning desire to get to Expo 67. It was fueled by TV commercials on the Boston stations.

In my second-grade classroom I started writing a short story called "Off on the Bar." The Bar was "half bus, half car" and was chasing after a constantly moving city called Gigantic. The student teacher helping in the classroom finally told me I was using too much school paper, so I got myself a notebook.

And, that summer, my parents and I went to Expo 67.

Current Mood: nostalgic

Last weekend the boy toy and I did some reorganizing of the small storage unit behind my condo (basically, it's an extra, non-climate-controlled closet). That involved opening a bunch of boxes of fragile items that had been sealed since I packed them after Mom's death in 1997. I did a good job back then -- absolutely nothing had broken over the years! And there were some things that I'd totally forgotten I had, like a couple of salt and pepper shakers made of blue and white china. They look like nesting chickens. I think my mother acquired them during her "blue and yellow kitchen" period in the 1970s. Boy toy and I added some of the items to the corner cabinet in the dining room and repacked others with less padding so that they would fit into fewer boxes.

I'm amazed at the amount of stuff my parents had. And the boy toy's grandmother too (who was about my mother's age, and who was close to the boy toy, so he inherited her china). I think it was their generation's culture -- they were the ones who didn't have much money in the Depression, and thus not many material possessions, so once they became young adults with their own homes, they wanted to "catch up." Plus, a lot of the modern kitchen gadgets we take for granted hadn't been invented yet, and add to that the social conventions that everybody wanted to entertain and that brides and grooms needed to receive gifts. No wonder, then, everybody had collections of china and covered candy dishes and aluminum-and-glass fruit "baskets" and pretty vases and hors-d'oeuvres trays and punch bowls and ... well, you get the picture.

I suppose I could try to sell this stuff, but I have no idea if it's worth anything. There's probably already too much of it on the market and not enough buyers. Ah, well. I will keep on enjoying these pieces, and maybe someday people will use them to pay for my funeral.

Tomorrow I'm driving out to the Eastern Shore for another "Revenge of the Stitch" SCA event -- a "garb wars" kind of competition in which six-person teams have 24 hours to sew up a whole medieval outfit from scratch. Should be fun, and I will continue to learn hand-sewing techniques.

I should end on a light note: you've got to see these briefs. Warning: you can't *unsee* them! :-D

Crossposts: https://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1275122.html

One: I finally finished writing my "letter from Pennsic."

Two: Today was the 101th anniversary of the birth (and 36th anniversary of the funeral) of my father. Here is a photo of me and my parents when I was in college. The quality of the photo isn't that great, but it's a nice memory.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Crossposts: https://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1266183.html

It's July 3, a big anniversary in my book, and not *just* because I started my LiveJournal 15 years ago today.

Seventy years ago today, this happened:

I think my parents looked nice on their wedding day, don't you?

Also, it makes two years today since I danced in the big Šokių Šventė in Baltimore. Here's a photo of our "seniors/veterans" group, taken the morning of the festival:

Right now a subset of my Malunas friends are in Lithuania for the Centenary Song Celebration (which also includes dancing and instrumental music and displays of tangible folk arts). I really wish I could be there, but I lack both money (duh!) and a steady male partner (I kept getting shifted around during rehearsals for the 2016 festival, and mostly I got put with a bowlegged guy who kept dropping hints that he'd like me to become his fourth wife). I hope I can get back into Lithuanian folk dancing in time for the 2020 Šokių Šventė in Philadelphia.

Crossposts: https://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1264835.html

One hundred years ago TODAY, a couple of Lithuanian immigrants in Gardner, Massachusetts, welcomed their first child: a boy of fair skin and hair who resembled his mother. They named him Anthony, later nicknamed "Tony." He grew up active and strong and took technical courses in high school, but his parents died when he was a teenager, so he went to work in the factories.

Tony volunteered for the service right after Pearl Harbor, so the Army Air Corps sent him to Scott Field in Illinois for training in radio operation, navigation, and airplane mechanics. He was sent to India on "the Hump" route of the China-Burma-India Theater of WWII. After the war, he met a woman at a dance, and they married and built a small house together. After many years of trying, they had a daughter of whom he was always proud. He once told her that the day she graduated from college would be the happiest day of his life.

Sadly, Tony -- my father -- died the year after I graduated from college (the first time around). But at least he got to see that. It's true that I've spent more years of my life without him than with him. But at least I spent my important growing-up years with both parents in my life.

And his spirit is with me whenever I'm doing something he would have enjoyed, whether it's dancing, marveling over the latest technology, or looking up at a plane in the sky.

Happy 100th Birthday, Dad. Laba naktis....

Crossposts: https://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1253752.html

In case you may be wondering why I find August 29th a day to be endured rather than enjoyed ... today is the 35th anniversary of my father's death. For those of you who haven't been around me long enough to know the full story, and/or those of you who don't want to touch LiveJournal with a ten-meter pole, I'll put the original LJ entry from Aug. 29, 2003, under a cut.

( The sad story here... )

And here's another way I think about my Dad, even today. Heck, you can read more of my past writings by clicking on the "dad" tag on whichever journal you're reading this on.

As far as the rest of today ... it's been a quiet, rainy day, with not much to do except plug away at my freelance writing and keep tabs on the Harvey flooding situation in the Houston area.

Current Mood: pensive
Crossposts: http://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1253382.html

First off: Today is the 34th anniversary of my father's death. Coincidentally, at the time of Dad's death, my parents had been married for 34 years (and about seven weeks). So, about seven weeks from now, I'll have a sense of how long my parents' marriage lasted.

Gene Wilder has died at age 83. Mostly I remember him as Willy Wonka.

Tall Dancer called me again tonight. I guess this is becoming more of a weekly check-in thing. This time around I avoided talking about job searching and mostly prattled on about dancing, eating the endless leftover cole slaw from the epic party, my weekend plans, and so forth. He is always more reticent about his personal life than I am with mine -- the whole pseudo-counselor thing, I guess. But he did say he is going camping at an outdoor "relaxacon" over the coming holiday weekend. Up with friends from Kentucky and Tennessee. I think he did the same thing over last Labor Day weekend, too.

Happy find at a local Little Free Library: I snagged a copy of the Ron Chernow biography of Alexander Hamilton that inspired the Broadway musical Hamilton. Given my financial state, I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of seeing the actual production, but at least I can enjoy the book.

Crossposts: http://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1238993.html

Friday, July 3: It would have been my parents' 68th wedding anniversary. Of course, my parents were married for 34 years and about 7 weeks before my Dad died. Consequently, in about 14 weeks I'll be able to say that the time that has elapsed since my father's death is equal to the length of their marriage.

Saturday, July 4: Pretty quiet day staying at home. The boy toy and I binge-watched the second half of the first season of Turn on Netflix. We had watched the first half of the first season and then never got around to seeing the rest. Of course, we haven't seen the second season yet, and it's no longer on FiOS-on-Demand, so we'll have to wait a bit longer. In the evening, I went to the next court over in my condo complex to watch the municipal fireworks, while the boy toy stayed indoors to reassure poor Julia.

Sunday, July 5: Boy toy and I stopped at the farmers' market, where we bought our first peaches of the season, and then we drove down to the southern end of Calvert County (southern Maryland). We had a nice meal of fish and chips and checked out the Calvert Marine Museum, which has a little bit of everything -- dinosaur bones and other fossils, aquariums containing live fish, many different boats, tons of artifacts from the oyster and crab industries, and a restored lighthouse, complete with attached outhouse. (Apparently the museum hosted an outdoor Barenaked Ladies concert on Friday night. Dang.) On the way back home, we cruised some of the Calvert County byways in a search for public beaches that might be worth visiting in the future.

Coming up this week: work on my next freelance magazine article and an attempt at water aerobics class.

Current Mood: satisfied
Crossposts: http://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1216881.html

Yep, once again we have reached the anniversary of my father's death. Now it's been 32 years since he walked the face of the Earth.

However, instead of dwelling on his death, I'd like to imagine seeing him again. Granted, if he had been alive all this time he would be two days short of his 97th birthday. But in my mind he will always be 64.

Dad died long before I had any notion of joining the SCA or even doing other remotely "fannish" things. Also, he did not seem particularly interested in history other than World War II history, and I doubt he knew much about the Middle Ages. However, he was a welder by trade, and he knew enough carpentry to build his own house. So he would be able to appreciate many of the handcrafted items we use in the SCA. His service in the China-Burma-India theater of World War II -- he was based in India -- greatly increased his tolerance for summer heat and humidity, compared with most people who lived their entire lives in Massachusetts.

So, if I were to take Dad to Pennsic for a day, I'd get him dressed in a pair of floppy pants if he wanted to go shirtless, or I'd get him a knee-length men's tunic that he could wear over his swim trunks or shorts if he wanted to. I'd put a straw hat on his head -- or wrap it in a turban -- and we'd go exploring the merchant area. I'd show Dad all the armor and medieval furniture for sale. I'd point out the workmanship and I'm sure he would want to talk to the craftspeople about how they made that stuff.

Then we could go to the battlefield and I'd show him what people REALLY do with all that metal stuff. It's not quite like watching football or baseball, but he would probably pick up on the excitement. In time, perhaps he would learn enough about the function of armor to make himself useful on the sidelines by doing some quick on-the-spot armor repairs. Or he would be a great waterbearer, as long as he remembered to drink enough water himself.

Later on I'd introduce Dad to Baron Rorik and other cribbage-playing friends for some good, relaxing card games and some cool drinks. Since Dad was always a volunteer bartender at the Lithuanian club -- and at home I think he took more pleasure in mixing fancy concoctions for guests than actually consuming them -- I'm sure he would love to try some of the meads, beers, ales, cysers, and other goodies that SCAdians brew up. He might not ever want to drink a Schaefer again!

Finally, since Dad would choose 1970s-style variety shows over the cop dramas that Mom liked, he probably would like to spend his evenings listening to the bards around the campfire. Or maybe dancing in the Pennsic dance tent -- the steps would be unlike the foxtrot and polka of his youth, but I bet he would learn quickly. Mosquitoes would not be a problem -- he always said that they didn't like to bite him.

Ah, if I could only spend a day with my Dad the way I am now...

Current Mood: contemplative
Crossposts: http://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1195128.html

A woman’s home is her castle.

When I think of “home,” I don’t think of the condo I bought nearly 15 years ago. I dream of the perfect little house.

Two bedrooms, one bath, six closets. A basement, half finished, and an attic with a real fixed staircase. A garage just big enough for a whale of an American-made car.

Shiny varnished woodwork. Maple trees to shade the roof. A backyard hill made for sledding.

My father and mother built that house. One evening, as a thirtysomething man trying to start a family with his wife, my father sketched out the design of the house on a crinkly sheet of tissue paper. The initial sketch became more detailed as he took a ruler and pencil and measured out the walls and doorways just as he had been taught in his high school mechanical-drawing class. Then he and my mother bought a half-acre of land and got the foundation dug. All summer long, the two of them worked 10 hours a day at their factory jobs, grabbed a sandwich for supper, set up a couple of clamp lights, and hammered away until midnight.

My parents brought me home to that house as a newborn. Growing up, I knew every closet by name (front-hall closet, work-clothes closet) as well as by the sound of its door and by its contents (the squeaky canister vacuum cleaner, the musty scent of worn sweaters and pants). The medicine cabinet made a prolonged metallic squeak as my father opened and closed it when he got up at night to take some aspirin. The sheets on the backyard clothesline almost blinded me with their cleanliness in the sunshine.

One evening at the dinner table when I was about seven years old, my mother announced, “We don’t have to pay the rent anymore.” I didn’t know anything about veterans’ mortgages at the time, but I garnered the sense that we had planted deep roots and I would always be able to build cardboard-box houses in the cellar and roll down the back hill with the grass slap-slapping me in the face until the world spun weirdly.

Time passed, and one Sunday morning my father dropped dead in the bathroom he had built, and some years later my mother went into the hospital and never came out. I bought a condo near the big city where I’d always wanted to work and sold the little house in the small town to a single mother who had been born at the hospital near my condo.

My life puttered on until the economy crashed around me. Now I am old and hard to employ, and I worry constantly about paying the mortgage. I know I could not have foreseen the Great Recession and its lasting impact, but some days I bitterly regret not keeping my parents’ house free and clear. At night I close my eyes and still dream about the perfect home, built by my parents’ hands, with hopes and love.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Crossposts: http://luscious-purple.livejournal.com/1184815.html

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Lady Patricia of Trakai

May 2025

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Dwarf Planet in Purple

Dancing in the shadow of light

Entries tagged with parents

Many anniversaries

Nostalgia

Keeping occupied

Two main subjects tonight...

It's July 3 again

The Century Mark

That day again...

What's going on

Weekend wrapup

Creative Anachronism: Dad at Pennsic

LJ Idol Week Three: In Another Castle