Remember when you could walk anywhere and play anywhere under the age of 10 without your parents hovering over you to make sure some weird stalker wasn’t tracking you down?
I think the worst thing I ever heard (and the only time my parents got concerned) was around Halloween time when we were given candy : there was a rumor that some people were putting razors in the candy, so we would have to check the candy out before we could eat it.
My best costume had to be when I was Raggedy Ann and Andy was Raggedy Andy. We scored big time on treats that year. I feel like Halloween had a special feeling to it and less commercial than it is today. Maybe because I don’t have kids, but it just feels like everything is always about money now. I mean… seriously…. if you don’t gift at Christmas (regardless of whether you’re Christian or not), you get “that” look. You know the look. The Scrooge in me battles gifting for the hell of gifting. If I want to, I’ll shower those I love. For others, formalities are not my thing.
Does anyone even eat Red Hots anymore? Remember those gigantic cinnamon balls you could get at 2 cents a piece and could choke on in a minute flat? Your whole mouth would turn this ugly red color and I don’t EVEN want to know what was in those. I blame a few cavities and broken teeth from those monsters.
Remember when everyone was skinny and actually sat down at a table to eat? I’m the first to admit I don’t do it anymore, but family time used to be golden. No leaving the table, no tantrums, and a swat on the butt was common if you didn’t follow the rules. To this day, I think people have gone completely insane in this country on ‘protecting’ their kids.
There’s my rant for the day. #liveitup
I was at a party with my 5 housemates (all Air Force guys) back in the early 90s. These guys would have D&D nights, drinking nights and basically I was pretty much a friend (and outsider) to this community. I had my own room, but would frequently find it shared by some random stranger that parked in the bed without my approval due to lack of space
The first guy was a douche. He was a DJ on a country station, pretended to pay our electricity bills while he went to town and bought whatever he wanted. When we finally figured this out, all of of us disbanded. The 2nd was a truthful guy : someone I thought I felt in love with (although I had no idea what love was at the time) and he moved early on to Korea. Our 3rd roommate ended up getting married, and the 4th dropped out and went back to Idaho or Ohio (I can’t remember) to live the rest of his life out.
Of all of these guys, I would have to say I was the most successful. I started with a horrible past (college drop out), meeting far too many men, being a trash white girl that was only looking for someone to be with. I had no future, no life.
Yet. at some point, I decided to leave. Probably after throwing my first at our largest roommate twice and then his car, to find myself in the hospital explaining that my 3 broken bones that were qualified as a breaker’s break were due to a “fall on the driveway”. Of course, the doctor never believed it, but I found myself in a cast and realized I couldn’t live this way anymore.
I found a halfway house (between a prostitute and a homeless alcoholic) and lived on Ramen Noodles for 2 years before I found out my French grand father had died.
Mom called me and asked me to come to France for the funeral. At this point, I was 121 pounds at 5ft10 and had been refused for recruitment in the Air Force due to the lack of pounds I had on me. Perhaps that saved me: all I wanted to do was to become a KC-135 pilot to refuel B-52s in flight.
The death of Grand–Pere made me realize I was wasting my life away and I became adamant on becoming someone someone could be proud of. I worked my 12 hour shifts, did what I could do to prove I was worth it and ultimately was able to achieve what I am today. Wiuthout the will, the emotional backing of my grand parents, I am not sure I would be where I am today. but I thank them from the bottom of my heart. Je vous aime.
I was either 2 or 3…. we were based on the West Coast of the United States due to my dad’s work and I remember climbing our white fence, with white flowers on the trees. Our new dog, a collie, was young and playful and kept knocking me over.
I grew up in a multi-lingual home, with a French mother and an American father, who both looked stunning together : unfortunately the whole thing turned ugly the day Mom decided to take us back to the ‘homeland’.
Back to my first memory. It was spring/summer. Everything was white. My dog was my companion, along with my favorite ‘toy’ I have kept all of these years. Mom would sing to me in French. Dad would come home, in his full military uniform, dressed as a true soldier and I remember the shiny objects on his vest when he wore his official uniform.
I remember being a happy baby. No sad moments until 3 before we moved to the East Coast. Life was pretty good. And Snoopy my beautiful pet remains by my side nearly 39 years later.
Kudos to you Snoopy. I’ve had to resow your nose, your ears, and you probably have those beads in you that are forbidden for children today. Yet, I’m not dead yet, so chances are, this society has just gone to hell with their security and safety warnings…..pet