Making Bubbles with Gum

How did you learn to blow bubbles with gum? Me, well it was not the traditional way or at least that is what my memories are telling me.

As I said in the previous post, we made the big move from eastern Pennsylvania to the Pittsburgh area. Where we lived was not on the bus line so it was difficult for us to get around. We would have to walk from one place to another.

I have this one memory that is like a ghost. I can barely see it in my mind's eye but I know it's there.

We walked to the store to get something. Who knows what it was and I ended up with a piece of gum.

I decided I needed to blow a  Well, Father was not going to teach me the appropriate way to blow a bubble.

My little impatient self was not going to wait on someone to really teach me if my Father was not going to teach me. So what did I do, I would stretch out the piece of gum manually and then put it up to my lips. Then I would blow on it. I don't know how effective that method really was for blowing a bubble.

It's just a memory that I can laugh about now that I'm older.

The First Time I was in Foster Care

By the time I was five, we were living in Annville, PA which was in the same county as Hershey.

In 1980, I began kindergarten in the Annville-Cleona School District.  My kindergarten teacher was Ms. Lemon.

Since I was so young, I don't know much about that time in my life.

I have the briefest of flashes of memories. Whether they are real memories or just made up of figments of my imagination, I'll never know.

For some reason, I have this vision of a movie theater in my mind. However, the first real movie I can recall seeing was E.T. so I don't know if my memory is a true memory or a combination of separate memories that formed a new one.

I remember a boy named Wesley. It may have been the foster mother's son or it was another boy who was in foster care.

Then there was the chickenpox incident. From what I have been told, I had chickenpox while I was really young. However, I think I had it during the time I was in foster care.

My mom told me that even though they didn't have money during the time we were in foster care, she spent money to see John Denver in concert. She now regrets it because she should have been saving money.

Tanya and I in foster care

I don't know when we got out of foster care. Soon we were back in the hands of the man who caused me great pain.

Our lives were going to be in turmoil once again. Join me next time as I continue this journey of telling my story.

Seminary . . .

I have rewind the hands of the clock to tell this story.  

When I left off, I was 6 years old and my mom was making us white shirts with iron on letters.

Today's story takes place when I was an only child so I must have been 1 or 2 years old.

Mom and I went out to lunch today at a Mexican restaurant.  I ordered Huevos Rancheros.  When the plate was delivered to my table, they had included a slice of tomato with my order.

I did not eat the tomato because I have a love/ hate relationship with tomatoes.  As I admitted this to my mom, she told me the story about when my father attended seminary.

That was brand new information because I never knew my father had attended seminary.  She told me that she would drive him to seminary and luckily some people would allow her to come over so I could nap.


Afterwards she told me of our neighbors would grow vegetables.  He would drop them off at the front door so we ate a lot of free produce.  One of the veggies, he grew was tomatoes.  She would make a lot of stewed tomatoes out of those tomatoes.  Maybe I ate too many of those tomatoes when I was a child so now I do not like tomatoes that much.

Today I learned some new details about my childhood.  I never knew my father had attended seminary.

Just say no to white shirts with ironed on letters

Sometimes you have to wonder what you were thinking when you look back to the outfits you wore so many years ago.

While I was in Pittsburgh over Labor Day weekend, I found a photo of me wearing a shirt that made me say Why?  Mine you I was only 6 in the photo so I had no choice in the attire I was wearing.

No, the why?!? was directed towards my mom.  She had decided to make white t-shirts with iron letters.  Each shirt had the family member's name on the shirt.  The only one who avoided what I call the shirt incident was my cousin because she was only about 6 months when my mom made the shirts.

So what was the reason for those shirts?  We had a family reunion in Lancaster, Pennsylvania since my aunt who at that time lived in California was in Pennsylvania.  My mom did not have much money so she created the shirts with the little bit of money she did have at that time.  The style though screams early 1980s.

I can only remember going to Hershey Park while they were in town.  During that reunion, I rode the Super Dooper Looper, my first roller coaster.  

That hair of mine - Did I take a weed wacker to it?

Me this past July riding that roller coaster - I even helped a little girl conquer her fear of riding the ride.

Traci

The Bicycle

This is another fragmented story.  I have pictures in my mind.  However it is like a jigsaw.  The pieces must fit together but how is unknown.

We lived in Bunker Hill close to Jonestown in a house while I was a toddler. 

I have this photo in my mind of a tricycle or bicycle.  Knowing what age I would have been, it probably was a tricycle.

We had been out and about for the day.  Or maybe we were taking a walk. 

I had decided I didn't want to ride the bicycle anymore.

My father got so angry that he decided was going to sit on it and try to peddle it.  (He was a big man. - 6 foot tall and at least 200 pounds)

I don't think the tricycle was broken.

I sort of remember a car but I don't know how it relates to the story.  I don't think my mom drove.  She may have until a certain point.  

So weird of a memory.  

It just shows you how his anger took over.

Traci

And So It Began . . .

Since I was so young, I can't remember when the actual abuse began.  All I know is that it was somewhere between the ages of 3 and 5.

I spent the summer of being 3 with my grandparents in Ohio.  I don't remember much about the trip.  I've seen photos though.  In those photos, I was a joyful child. 

My grandpa, my great uncle, and myself at about 3 years old

Then it was back to Pennsylvania.  From what I've been told, my father lost his job.  His anger took over.  My stubborn but joyful self was an obstacle he did not like.

It may have been because I had been naughty.  It was the norm for children to be spanked in the late 70's and early 80's.  Okay not the norm but it was common.

Instead of a switch, he used his belt on my butt.  However since he could not see, he ended up hitting my lower back.  I was left with bruises.  

To this day, I don't like people to smack my butt.  It bothers me.

I have back issues.  I don't know if it was because of him smacking me.

Traci

Boxes

Tomorrow I'll begin telling stories of my childhood.  

A lot of these stories are stories that I've heard or fragmented memories.

I describe those memories as "Boxes."

A few weeks before my sister died, I went to a Goo Goo Dolls concert.  At some point after that concert, I got their newest album.  There was one song on the album called "Boxes."

"We'll have tiny boxes for memories

Open them up and we'll set them free

There'll be bad days and some hard times

But I'll keep your secrets, if you keep mine."

During the first weeks of mourning, I would play this song over and over and just cry.  

I can't remember all the memories from my childhood.  Some of the reason is because of my age.  It's also because my mind closed off some of those bad memories.  Although I can't remember all of what happened, there are a few memories from when I was nine that haunt my mind.

During the next blog posts, we are going to open up some of those boxes of memories.  It's going to be a tough read.

Please be gentle when you read those blog posts.

Traci