Pictures and memories - Pennsylvania house

This was our house in Pennsylvania. I have 1965 as the year it was built, so the date must've been on a slide or picture. My parents built the house. Before that, we rented a home in the same neighborhood or close by. At least, that is the story I remember.

I'm not sure if that is the house above, but I'm guessing it was the rental. I don't think we moved into the built house until 1966, but that is a guess from pictures. 

I have few memories of the house. I don't remember my bedroom at all except that the window faced the front of the house. I remember looking out that window and watching my friend Kim walk away after knocking on the front door to see if I could play. I couldn't. I was being punished or something and was supposed to be taking a nap.

I remember the upstairs bathroom. It was pink. I remember the family room, the dining room, the living room, and I have a vague memory of the basement and kitchen. Also, the king-size bed in my parent's bedroom. My mother had a red velvet spread with matching pillows on the bed. Very royal-like. The red velvet spread made all of the moves with us, but she never used it after we left Pennsylvania. I remember her in that bed when she got violently sick from eating mushrooms, and the doctor made a house call to care for her. I think that's why I don't like or eat mushrooms to this day. 

There was a neighborhood park built behind our houses. I recall my mother telling us the neighbors had it built. I remember riding one of those animals on a spring where you rock back and forth. I had broken my collar bone and wore a sling. I remember taking it off so that I could use my arm. My mother caught me. She whistled--the woman had the loudest whistle that could be heard for miles, I'm not kidding--and she yelled at me to put it back on. The park is still there.

I remember once playing with a friend of ours, Peter. He and his mom were at our house, and he and I were in the family room. I was going through some stuff on a table, and there was a mask on it leftover from Halloween. I put it on and roared, forgetting that Peter was deathly afraid of that holiday. I remember going into the bathroom under the pretense of having to use the toilet, but really, I went in there to cry because I felt so bad for scaring him and making him cry. I can still remember that filling in the pit of my stomach for causing harm to someone else. A lesson learned.

My dad planted flowers at that house. Apparently, he loved to be outside planting. That is weird to me because I don't remember him doing that in Indiana. He'd putter around outside, but we never had the flowers there that we did in Pennsylvania. I know that living there was the best time of my mom's life. I wonder now if it had also been my dad's. I think when you build a property, you do so with forever in your mind. A good piece of that house was in both my parents' minds always, I think.

In 1967, my mother designed and built her pool. The shallow end was two feet deep for teaching, and it was ten feet at the deep end. The sides of the pool were corrugated aluminum. We had a deck, and then outside the pool, we had this little patio outside our living room sliding doors. 

My parents threw a lot of adult parties and family parties. We always had the neighborhood kids over to swim. I have a lot of memories in that pool. It was a great pool. I had these colored dive rings--much thicker and sturdier than those you find today--and I could dive and get all ten rings all over the pool without taking a breath. My dad would have me perform that for visitors. It was the first time I learned that accomplishing something could make my parents proud. I also remember worrying that I would fail in that endeavor and let my dad down. I had those rings until this year when my husband threw them out without my knowledge.

My mother was a swimming instructor, and she started a swimming business in our backyard. All the neighborhood kids learned to swim in that pool. She had over one hundred students and threw a big graduation celebration at the end and made her own certificates. It was the most significant time of her life. She resented moving and giving up her business. She never got over that. 

We had big neighborhood birthday parties. I only remember my sixth birthday. We played games in the basement--London bridges, musical chairs--and I remember being upset when I lost. I mean, really, it was my BIRTHDAY. Luckily for me, my dad captured that moment.

We moved the summer of 1970 because my dad got transferred to North Carolina for his job. I actually remember saying good-bye to everyone, then driving down the road. I looked out the window at everyone and waved and waved until we made the turn, and I couldn't see them anymore. Then I cried.

I used to wonder how different our lives would've been had we stayed in Pennsylvania. Usually, when I got down in the dumps. I'm fortunate that our family stayed in touch with our next-door neighbors. Over fifty years!

It was an excellent beginning to my life. I'm grateful for the memories and friendships. And that pool. It led to a great career in the aquatic industry, where I made even more memories and friendships. 

Wishful Wednesday

Today's topic is: "If you could relive any moment what would it be?"

I wish that I could relive the moment that my Dad left my house in February 1997.

He was visiting me and was ready to drive back home to Indiana, stopping at some friends along the way. We stood in my living room saying our good-byes and when I hugged him I got this feeling, this really, really strong feeling, that I would never see him again.

I didn't. He died on March 22nd.

If I could relive that moment over again I would hug him tighter. I would insist that he stay for a few more days. I would tell him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. How much he made me laugh. How kind I thought he was. I would hug him, hold on to him, and never let him go.

Seven years ago

Today is the anniversary of the death of my father. As I do every year at this time, I tell my daughters about my father.  I like to recall memories and recant some stories and just let them know that I did have a father. The month of March is a bit hard leading up to this day, but once the day has passed, I feel that it is okay to let go.

Today I am in Boston on vacation. Today I didn't really sit down at the dinner table and start talking about my father. I mentioned it earlier in the day while driving to downtown Boston, and my elder daughter giggled at the story of how much she used to follow my father around the house. That was about it. Instead, I kept the memories and the stories inside.

It isn't easy to talk about with others. My mother has a different view of my father, my brother isn't into having these types of discussions, and my husband really doesn't know what to say. It truly is a personal event and not one that can be explained to those who have never experienced it.

I miss you, Dad. I miss the funny remarks you would utter during a serious conversation that would break the tension and lead everyone down a different conversation path.

I miss your laugh that would end up in a cough.

I miss your big chest and your gigantic hugs.

I miss the way you could make others laugh....especially me.

I hate you never got to see Madison grow and that you never met Darcy, who is you in so many ways.

Life continues without you, but I still think of you in so many ways.

Today is one of them.

It's a Beautiful Morning

In the mornings on school days, I love to wake my children by climbing into their beds and snuggling with them. Because they both go to school at different times, I can do this with both of them equally. I wake Madison first. I kiss her soft cheeks, and she puts her arms around my neck, and we lie there quietly talking.

I awaken Darcy next. I slip under her covers and kiss her little cheeks that smell of sleep, and she lets me while she sucks on her thumb. Eventually, she will roll over as if just awakening, see that it is me in bed with her, and she will throw her arms around me and squeeze.

It is one of the highlights of parenting and a fantastic way to start my day. I am determined to continue it as long as I can before they become too old for their mother to climb into bed with them.

I don't remember much about how my parents awakened me until I was a teenager. Then my father would usually do the honors as he was always up first.

My father was a morning person. He would awaken and roll right out of bed whistling. He started his day with a shower and a shave, and he whistled and sang the entire time he was doing it. I found it quite annoying as I was not a morning person. When my father would enter my room to wake me, he would flip on my light and sing loudly, "Wake up sunshine! Oh, what a beautiful morning...."

Now, as many of you know, I have a thing about lights, and this would irritate me to no end. I would snarl and yell, climb out of bed, and turn the light back off. Then, proving how I was the damn boss, I would jump back into bed. 

It never fazed my father. He would laugh, disappear, wait a minute, and then flip the light back on.

Finally, one day he asked me how I wanted him to wake me in the morning. I said softly and gently with minimal noise. 

Me: "Kiss me and quietly say, 'Good Morning, Cara, it is time to wake up."

The next day I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and a kiss on my cheek.

Him: "Cara, it's time to wake up."

Me: "See, Dad, that is much better."

I stretched and yawned and felt at peace. My father smiled, whispered it was 7:30 AM, turned and tiptoed toward the door. When he got to the threshold, he flipped on my light and sang, "It's a beautiful morning!"

I will admit that I laughed.

Now that story is a favorite of my daughters. I like to tell it when they whimper while I snuggle with them. It is my way of saying I understand their feelings and that I'm gently easing them into the day.

Of course, that is not to say that someday I won't flip on their lights and sing to them. I am my father's daughter, after all.