Pie-ful of memories

Apple pie

Today as I was making pies and dinner rolls, it made me remember back to my childhood.  Growing up, Thanksgiving was a HUGE deal!  All the family (aunts, uncles, cousins) traveled to Grandma and Grandpa Wilson's house.  There was always this really big turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed tators, and burned pies.  Last night I taught Only how to make pie crust using a recipe I've used for years , except we did it in the food processor (my hands hurt).  They didn't turn out bad and she did a great job. Ah, so thankful there were no burned pies and we had plenty of dough left over to use the scraps as pie crust strips (as my kids call them). I'm thinking we should have kept one of the applie pies here to eat for breakfast!

Trying to be creative, Pinterest inspired

Piggy Tales: Flying cats, "tragedy", and country churches

"Hey Lynnet!  You gotta see this!" my brother called to me, luring me outside. Had to be something good like a snake or arrowhead, which we found frequently tilling the garden, because he was really excited. I barely cleared the back door when I saw my cat Marion flying through the air.  My brother had fashioned a crude, low-to-the-ground teeter-totter, placed cat food on one end and waited until she "took the bait," sending her on a first rate flying tour of the patio.  I was so ticked at him.  Not sure if he tried it again, but I wouldn't put it past him.

Pix by Fashion Doll Guide

"Tragedy"  I don't know what age most girls stop playing with dolls, but Bryan and I could prove that G.I. Joe & Jim were VERY good friends with Ken and Barbie for a very long time.  They hung out together in the barn (Jim still has a missing leg somewhere under the bales of hay), worked the sand pits (sand box), went camping in their cool campers, and anywhere else you could think of.  I think that Barbie secretly like Jim, but Ken kept getting in the way. Jim and Joe were both witnesses for Ken and Barbie's wedding under the towering maple tree on the west porch one early summer, as she wore a wedding gown my mother fashioned for her. One doll that I loved was my Chitty Chitty Bang Bang doll.  Oh, she was just beautiful in that dress, and I loved playing with her, until that fateful day when my brother gave my beautiful doll to my dog to eat. I somehow managed to salvage her head, but the mutilated body would have been a hay-day for NCIS.  Her dress?  Up in the attic with my other childhood dolls in a wildly flowered 70's child's suitcase.  I think that was the same week that G.I. Jim lost his leg in the barn due to hitting a rafter during a operative mission to save her.  I can think of far nicer ways to get revenge!  Did any of your siblings ever do anything like this when you were growing up?

Niotaze Christian Church

A little country church  The thing about growing up in a REALLY small town is there is only one "live" church and the other is a historical treasure. As the morning mist rose, leaving dew in it's wake, the bells began to ring, announcing that church was about to begin.  Some people drove their cars, but most people walked.  If you arrived early enough, they would let one of the kids ring the bell that hung in the tower entry.  That old thick sisal rope reminded me of something we used to lead the horses around the barn on. The secret was to grab it just above the double knot at the end, pull down as hard as you could and quickly lift your feet off the ground as the rope soared upwards, the deafening ringing filled the stillness of the sleepy town. Whoohoo!  What a ride!  You can find more musing about this church in my third grade tale. When I was in college, I wrote a fiction story based on the life I had in Niotaze and published it here:  Post Toasties Encounter (part 1 and part 2).


Hunter's Safety class - Mom loved doing stuff with us and, like most moms, signed us up for something we didn't want to do (remember the Judo lessons I had in FL) - Hunter's Safety classes.  I think I may still have that worn out yellow booklet in the attic. Regardless, I was never really excited about it, but Mom thought it was important.  I can't tell you all the mornings she would get us up before Sunrise and we would head out to my uncle's wheat field for Pheasant hunting or off to the garden to dig up fat juicy night-crawlers for our many fishing trips. I don't remember every actually shooting a pheasant, but a fish is much easier to get.  I hated taking the hooks out of their mouths, so sometimes I would just toss the worms out into the lake or pond we were at so we could be finished sooner.  It was hard to sit still for hours just to "feed" the fish with NO talking!  Sheesh it was torture! Guess it must have been fun, because we always had a mess of fish for dinner in the evenings and we came home laughing.


If you're just glutton to read more of my scintillating life in 5th grade when Elvis died and small town life flourished, you can find it here.

If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, click on over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). she has a third session starting up in February.  If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Young Adult Life: Graduation, the turnip patch, and bumps

This is week six of “My Young Adult Years,” guest hosted by Ginny Marie over at Lemon Drop Pie. Each Monday or Tuesday, I will be posting on my Young Adult Life edition of Mommy's Piggy Tales. 


Well, did you come today to find out what happened to Ooo-la-lah guy?  I'll write about him first, if you'll really try to make it through the whole post today. Deal? 


Ooo-la-lah guy: By the end of the Spring Semester, Ooo-la-lah guy and I were sending and receiving letters (you know, it's what we did before email and the www) twice a week.  I think they must have passed each other somewhere in Fayetteville or Tulsa. Every time I got his letter, I couldn't help but inhale the musky smell of Old Spice before ripping it open.  Sometimes he sent comics, Hershey Kisses wrappers (I used to put these in his mail box at the campus house),  or just a lonely letter. He was now an area supervisor for a propane company in Ft. Smith and in charge of three states, one of which I lived in.  I loved hearing his experiences and humorous encounters. He never came out and asked me to date him, but we continued to build on our friendship until we were talking about Forever.

School:  Rounding out the fall of my senior year (i squeezed 4 yrs into 5 yrs. to complete my degree), I began my student teaching was set for 3rd grade in Independence, KS.  I found Mrs. Fahler to be an inspiring teacher who cared not only for the materials she taught, but great concern for her students. During my time there, we studied addition adding by bowling, science and temperature with live crickets, and books to inspire and expand her students' world. After this was over, I continued to sub in that school until I graduated in May 1990, just after my 24th birthday.

Unexpected bumps in the road: Before I began my student teaching, I had to get a physical, so I went to a physician that I went to church with. It was during this routine exam that he asked if I could possibly be pregnant.  I was so indignant, that I couldn't only muster.  "Only if you can get pregnant by kissing! My mom raised me different that that!"  Whatever was "hiding" in my stomach was the size of me being 6 months pregnant. Immediately I was sent to a specialist, Dr. Miller and a CT scan which revealed 3 tumors in my lower abdomen. During surgery, they discovered seven benign tumors in my ovaries (the largest was the size of a football). I have a wonderful 6" scar on my tummy that gave my belly button a "great" new shape. I had to obtain special permission to delay my student teaching until 2 weeks after my surgery. I was so sore it, that I carried a pillow around to hold on my stomach. I was told that they were not sure if I would be able to have any children and I dreaded telling Ooo-la-lah guy. "Honey, I'm marrying you so you can have my children, we can always adopt." Oh, I just love this guy! If you would like to read more of how hard God worked to orchestrate our love, head over to A Little Love Story. I predict a happy ending.

Turnip weekend

Turnip Patch  By the summer of '89, we had fallen in love and were discussing marriage. My family really liked him and mom went through great efforts to encourage our relationship.  Many times she would have a wiener roast when he was there, so we could sit by the fire and talk. My estranged father had just been arrested for molesting little girls and pornography, so Dave knew he had to talk to my mom and brother before he could ask me to marry him. While visiting me at my mom's that October, my brother and family came up from Bartlesville, he and my brother headed out to pick turnips, and surprise!  If you would like to read how he proposed to me, you can find it at   He married me out of revenge.   The picture by Monte was taken at our wedding and is one of our favorites, now hangs in our family room.

photo by Monte Boulanger

Losing a job and new blessings: Less than 30 days before we married, Dave told me that the company he worked for was making nationwide cut backs.  His boss was kind enough to tell him to take his vacation days he was going to use for our honeymoon in the Colorado mountains, to search for a new job. A week later, Dave was hired as a Service Advisor for a local Ford dealership and  has held that position for a little more than 20 years. The blessing?  He was now home every night instead of spending 4 days on the road, with his previous job.  We've been able to look back many times over our marriage to see how God took something we couldn't make sense of and shown us the hidden blessings of those trials.

Children: Well, as you can tell, we have three children.  We struggled with fertility issues, I took fertility drugs to conceive our first.  During that pregnancy they found yet another tumor in my ovary, and two months after Oldest's arrival, it was removed along with massive scar tissue that caused our difficulties. Oldest was a mere four months old when we found ourselves pregnant again and we cried.  We didn't know quite how we were going to do it, but 13 months to the day and hour after Oldest, Only made her appearance at 10 lbs.  Youngest complete our trio in 1998.


Thank you so much for sticking with me through six weeks of Piggy Tales concerning My Young Adult Life. I appreciated your comments, as they have been a HUGE blessing during this journey.  I hope you got a few giggles and not many tears, or possibly some inspiration. I hope your memory was jostled in the process of reading my memories. If you feel inspired or nudged to write down your own Piggy Tales, hit the keyboard or pick up a pen and restart those memories!

If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, hope on Over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). she has a second session starting up in October.  If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Piggy Tales: Racing to grandparents farm

Visits to Grandma and Grandpa Smith - My father's parents lived "out in the sand hills" about 30-45 minutes north of us, in between Havana and Elk City, KS.  Now, when I say 40-50 minutes north, if this were a straight road, it would take 15-20 minutes, but these were curvy, hilly, 2-lane dirt and gravel roads, one lane bridges, where tractors took up most of the road, sometimes we would have to stop because some stray cow was out.  I smile when thinking back because a lot of those roads didn't have regular stop signs.  Slowing slightly, we would glance at the cross roads as we approached the look either way towards the converging roads and see if there was dust pluming into the air. Wahlah!  A country traffic light at it's best!

Racing to the end  My parents would take off on two different roads that lead to their house - just to see who would get there first. When we first came back from FL, we had  a wonderful old navy blue station wagon that would allow dust, that billowed from the road, to roll in.   Sometimes Bryan and I would ride with Mom, radio blaring some country western song, we would be belting out the tune right along with the singer. Other times we would ride in the back of our father's Dodge truck, most of the time, overcome with dust by the time we arrived, but we loved it. Back then, we only had A.M. radio, and KGGF was our local station. Sometimes they had giveaways and we would call in to answer the trivia question.  Our prize?  A wonderful stack of country 45's that now sit in my attic.

I don't remember exactly when we got rid of the station wagon, but it was replaced by a wonderfully new '72 light olive green Chevy Malibu, complete with AM/FM radio and heating and air.  It was always a race to see who could get their window rolled up before the oncoming dust overtook us, leaving us with a fine layer of grit on the inside of the car and us.

They lived on a farm in the sand hills.  A series of twist and turns, pot holes and cattle guards, before we would inch down their long lane.  We always craned our necks, hoping to be the first one to catch a glimpse of their house.  Sometimes Mom would stop and let us out at the far edge of what you might consider their yard, about 1/2 block from their house, and we would race each other and Mom to see who could get there first.  Their wood screen door, banging and creaking, alerted them to our arrival, that and the multitude of squawking chickens and barking dogs. The front porch was cluttered and there was always a cat sunning in one of the many windows.  I always dreaded if Grandma would ask me to go down to the dark damp basement, just off the porch, where they stored canned goods. I was sure there was SOMETHING down there waiting for me.  

Grandma's Roll Recipe

Grandma always had a 1/2 apron on, standing in their narrow kitchen, rolling out homemade egg noodles for chicken and noodles we would have for dinner. After she cut them up, she would lay them on the kitchen table to dry as she prepared the rest of the meal. It was just the right place for us to snatch a piece, if she didn't catch us. Resting on the other end of the table would be a huge ceramic bowl full of yeast dough waiting to me made into cloverleaf rolls. YUMMO! It was always fascinating to me when I would watch her fix dinner.  She made bread without a recipe and they turned out perfect every time. Huge Fluffy cloverleaf dinner rolls... I asked her to write it down once and she just said "What ever for?  I don't know what I put in it!"

my drinking cup

Grandma always offered us a cup of hot tea in these small cups as we would sit in the living room. Bryan and I loved asking for our special drinking cups, mine was red and his was blue.

There were always piles of books and magazines (Enquirer and stuff). Grandpa had a CB radio system set up in the dining room - it was always going off.  Grandpa always wore the same outfit it seemed - grayish work shirt and pants, and a worn gray cap on his head. In his pocket he kept a tin of tobacco, which he grew in the garden, and rolled his own cigarettes. They always butchered their own meat - pigs and cattle, cured and smoked it. One time, I was there and they were branding the calves and doing something else to them.  Yum, Yum!  Those mountain oysters were sure good!

Sometimes the cousins (my two uncles and their families lived in Kansas City area) headed down to the barn to play in the towers of hay - I think we all got a whopping over the egg fight we had. They always had tons of chickens, peacocks, Siamese cats (those were mean!), and a few dogs, my favorite was the collie dog. Sometimes late at night, if you were sitting out on the step and it was really quiet, you could hear a mountain lion scream...  In the winter, we would take cardboard or our Red Ryder sled and slide down the hillside in the woods - you had to be really careful not to hit the trees.  In the summer, we camped down by the river, fishing for bass and catfish, or swimming in the pond. 

Do you have any special memories spent with grandparents that you can share? 

If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, click on over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). she has a third session starting up in February.  If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Piggy Tales: Barnyard surprise and a true friend

I was hopeless when I was growing up. Okay, let me clarify that.  If you were to ask my mom, I'm sure she would tell you something different, but I was hopelessly crazy about animals.  

My cat Marion

First it was a gerbil or hamster named Mickey when we lived in Okinawa, then in Kansas we always had cats roaming the barn, a cow in the pasture, rabbits, dogs, chickens, and let's not forget all those strays that I wasn't supposed to feed. Mom even used to let me fix birthday cakes for my cats! (Yes that is a Farrah Fawcett t-shirt I have on - loved Charlie's Angels)

Have you ever heard a young child ask for a pony or horse for their birthday?  I must have asked every year, from the time I realized what they were, for one, but knowing it wasn't going to happen.  Doesn't hurt to ask! Every year I was met with a smile and nod from my mom.  She was probably thinking - "Yeah right!"  That's what I would have told my kids.  I exhausted the library of almost every book about them, and have the whole series of The Black Stallion.  My favorite book was The Blind Connemara by the same author who wrote the Billy and Blaze book series.

That day when I got off the bus, I had no idea my life was about to change.  My parents told me they had a surprise in the barn for me.  Right away I knew that it had to be Pansy, my Grandma Wilson's milk cow, probably had calved while I was at school.  It's always fun to play with the new calves - let them suck on your fingers, or watch them attempting to stand on wobbly, untried feet.  So I headed out the door, but they stopped me about 1/2 way to the barn and put a blind fold on me.  Now I was really curious!  What could be the big deal about a new calf? As I was guided to the barn, the pungent odors of the straw and cow manure excited my senses. Once inside the barn, they positioned me facing the milking stall, where I could hear Grandma talking in low tones and the rustling of straw.  "On the count of three, open your eyes," Mom said as she removed the bandanna... I must have screamed of something, because there before me was the most beautiful 3 yr. old Palomino horse I'd seen! I was a little nervous about getting on her that day, and if you want to read about how that adventure turned out, check it out in my other post.

Have you ever had a friend of the heart - someone that knew all your secrets and life and didn't tell anyone?  Katie was that person for me. I never actually met her or even saw a picture of her. but I could see her physical features in my mind.  She was my best friend from 3rd grade, all the way up until a few months after I had our first child, when we stopped communicating.  I have thought of her many times, have written her, but the busyness of life took their tool, and our relationship slowly came to an end. I have mourned that loss and have been tempted to pick it back up.  I'm crazy huh?  I mean really with the age of the www and Facebook, surely I should be able to locate her, right?  I actually know where she is, but she has suffered much neglect.  You see, she resides in my attic, as well as in my heart, because Katie was the name of the person I fabricated and wrote to in my cream colored, locking blank book - my journal. By giving her a name, I felt more free to write my thoughts as if someone real person were going to read them and so began my life-long love affair with writing and my fictional friend, Katie.  

If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, click on over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). she has a third session starting up in February.  If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Young Adult Memories: Co-ed dorms, loneliness, and ooo-la-la!

This is week four of “My Young Adult Years,” guest hosted by Ginny Marie over at Lemon Drop Pie. Each Monday or Tuesday, I will be posting on my Young Adult Life edition of Mommy's Piggy Tales.

Ah, the taste of independence.... Coming off a second summer of working at Camp Hope, an inner-city summer program, I had a taste of independence, close friendships, and a sense of purpose.  I was comfortable with where I was, but changes were coming.

After spending a year at Bible college, I made the decision to transfer to Pittsburg State in Pittsburg, KS to pursue a degree in elementary ed. It was hard leaving Montica and the safe environment I had, the students I knew, the teacher who cared, the roommate I loved like a sister.

I left that morning with my '72 Chevy Malibu packed with stuff I thought I would need.  I had no idea that, what I needed most was my spare tire for that blow-out I would have 30 miles from PSU.  I was on a dusty side road unloading my crammed trunk in search for the tire iron underneath EVERYTHING, crying and ready to home. I tried in vain to get the lug nuts off that tire, but it wouldn't budge.  God sent a fatherly looking farmer who had a gazillion more muscles than I to wrestle them off, change my tire, and send me on my way.

Because expenses were tight, I opted to move into a co-ed dorm and was supposed to have a room to myself, but when I arrived I found things much different.  I circled the block, about went down a one-way street, just to find the dorm I was to move into. I was very intimidated, felt out-of-place, and scared.  I couldn't even walk up those steps.  I had never felt so alone.  I drove around until I found a payphone and called my mom and told her I was coming home. Needless to say, she told me I couldn't come home and I ended up staying to finish my degree.

I soon found Marta, my roommate, was very young, fresh from HS and eager to immerse herself in the sorority life. Earning a degree was the furthest thing from her mind. There were no other single rooms open, so I had to make the best of it.  Coming in late many nights, sometimes drunk, she was not the quietest. Finally after she vomited on the floor after one of the parties, I got her into her bed, cleaned up the mess (I had just mopped our floor that day), and headed down to the study room to cool down.  The next morning, I told her that was never going to happen again, and it didn't.  I spent a LOT of time in that study room because I quickly developed insomnia and a deep loneliness.

Staying in the dorm was an unpleasant experience, but eventually I made a few friends, but had little in common with them.  I was so thankful for Campus Christians, a non-denominational ministry, where I felt most at home.  Montica and I begun visiting there while students at Bible college (30 minutes away) because my brother attended PSU and was part of the ministry group. What a blessing it was!  We went on retreats, had Bible studies, pizza parties, table tennis tourneys, just hung out, talked, and formed tight friendships. It was like a huge family with lots of brothers and sisters. Don, our campus minister, knew right where we were all coming from (he has been there since '78). His easy-going spirit put us at ease, as he guided and encouraged us.

Guys: There were about 6 guys in that group that really stood out - can I say oo-la-la?  They were athletic, easy going, fun, very friendly, and unattached.  I don't remember the first moment I met him, but he was cute, but there is no way a guy like him (former football player) would notice a girl like me...

I sat in the cool, dark study room in an old pair of sweats, listening to the night sounds, waiting for sleep to take hold. A shadow darkened the door way and the light flipped on, blinding me momentarily, as the night watchman stepped into the room. "Hey Lynnet!  Whatcha doing sitting in the dark?" 

Huh?  Oooooo, can you guess who it was?  Yep, it was HIM!!!  From that point on, each time he made his rounds, he would stop by the room and, if I up, we would sit and talk about everything. Before we knew it, we were good friends, buddies...  Sometimes he would slide the comics page under my door with some note written on it.  Once, Marta and I tee-peed his room at the campus house, removed labels from his soup cans , short-sheeted his bed, and more. The next morning, he left the comics, but the note said to beware, because the Big, Bad Wolf (BBW) was on the prowl and was going to retaliate a troublesome sheep...  Soon he started signing the notes with BBW and always addressed them to Sheep.  Did I mention he smelled so good - Gotta love Old Spice Musk!
If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, hope on Over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Piggy Tales: Peculiar creatures, POWs, and snapshot memories

In "Heading South" I told of our family's move from KS to Homestead AFB, Florida, but settle in for a few more stories of life in this coastal state. 

green anole (not a true “chameleon)

I loved living in Florida! The curvy street we lived on was abundant with kids who enjoyed strapping on those metal skates, playing hide and seek, tag, or drawing with chalk on the sidewalks. We didn't play inside much - who wanted to with ALL that sunshine! 

Sometimes we would color pictures and go door-to-door in the neighborhood trying to sell them for 25¢. Other times we would chase down the ice-cream truck that passed through daily - taunting and teasing us with it's circus type music.  I loved the ice cream bars and the fudgesicle, but my brother always got one of those multi-colored frozen treats. Most of the time, we had to share, so compromise was the key.

At night, I would lay in my bed and listen the throngs of frogs that flooded the streets sing, like a huge slimy choir, all wanting to be the lead.  In the morning, it was with great effort to walk in the street without stepping on the ones who literally croaked in the night, murdered by passing vehicles. We could almost hear the squishing if we listened hard enough. 

One thing we loved playing with were the lizards - they were EVERYWHERE!  We figured out if you hold onto them by their tails, it will come off, so we had to be really careful. The horned toads we had in KS were not near this fragile! We loved digging in the flower bed under the banana tree looking for  their super small eggs.  If you kept them too long out of the dirt, they would shrivel up like dried peas. Bryan and I had huge hopes of bringing some inside and raising them, but Mom wouldn't have it. Last session I wrote how my brother hid one in Easter egg... 

My bird wasn't the only thing that used to get out.  Sometimes our poodle, Minnette would run out the front door and chase any helicopters that were flying overhead.  I think she truly believe she thought she could chase them down and bark them down. We later figured out that, once we went back to KS, that we could set off a firecracker, and she would come running back.  We made sure we kept plenty on hand for just that occasion. 

I remember when Mom took us to the airport for a special event - some POWs were coming home. It is still clear in my mind seeing President Richard Nixon, exiting the plane first, waving, smiling... As each soldier stepped off the plane, a ripple of excitement passed through the observers. Children called for their daddies, wives stood with tears in their eyes, shaded from the sun, each straining to see their hero descend from the plane. Their uniforms hung on their gaunt frames while tired smiles as they scanned the crowd. There were throngs of people and, while I don't recall all the controversies of that time, one particular protester had a German Shepard sitting out front with sunglasses and a sign over it's back protesting Nixon's presence.





  What peculiar pets or experiences did you have when you were growing up?  If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, click on over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Young Adult Memories: Mischief, home, and disguises

This is week three of “My Young Adult Years,” guest hosted by Ginny Marie over at Lemon Drop Pie. Each Monday or Tuesday, I will be posting on my Young Adult Life edition of Mommy's Piggy Tales.

 We were surrounded by poverty, crime, bigotry, drugs, and kids who were desperate for real love, attention, and a way out. If we chose to dwell on what surrounded us, it would consume us and we would enable the repressed spirit that resided there. Last week I shared my heart in Inner-city, The Pit, and Irreversible impressions   It has been terribly hard to just choose a few memories, but here are a few more.

"Camps are dedicated to providing safe and structured environments where young people can grow academically, socially, emotionally and spiritually. It is the building of a city... One Child at a time."  Urban Promise

Retreat in the Pocono Mountains - 1st year

The neighborhood kids could hardly help themselves. A group of strangers had descended on their block and they not only talked funny, but they didn't have a clue. 

• The first week, a few of the elementary boys broke into our battered blue van and decided to steal it. Lack of experience on their part caused it to roll backward down the drive, across the street and into the neighbor's fence. 
• During camp, the kids tried to escape and run away, and after hours, they tried to break into the building we stayed at.  
• Once, we came home one early evening to find two kids having sex out back under that stairs - the girl was 6 and the boy was 12.  Another late one evening, after our weekly Philly meeting, we found some of the kids had smeared dog poop on EVERY doorknob. 
• We were graciously given head lice, which we didn't discover until we were in standing on Broadway in NY City. 
• One of the older kids brought a golf club onto the grounds and was swinging it (after hours) and hit another child in the mouth. We were sure we were going to be sued over that one. 

From Montica:  The thing I remember most about it (Camp Hope) was Raul. A little 8 year old boy who threw rocks at me but I would not give up on him. He told me he knew nothing about this Jesus I was talking about. We sat on the stoop of a home near the church and I told him about Jesus. I heard later he graduated from school and was helping at the church. 

Ewww!  It was SO gross down there.

Our building had three distinct floors that we shared with the cockroaches: Basement had the kitchen, small stage, and eating area. Mont and I spent almost 2 days cleaning it the 2nd year we returned.  That's what we got for returning a week earlier than everyone.  Second floor had two classrooms, which we used for a boys and girls sleeping quarters with a large closet separating the rooms, plus a questionable toilet. Creaking wooden stairs led to the Third floor which was open with a larger stage, baptistry, and a bathroom with a shower. Can you imagine 12 of us sharing 1 shower? Getting up early to beat everyone else to a cold 5 minute shower was the key. Sometimes we would be sitting on the stairs, half asleep, waiting for someone to get out.  Nightly we would gather upstairs to discuss the day, handle any conflicts, laugh, prepare for the next day, and have devotions.  It was that time that we looked forward to, but it was a time to relax and really talk about real issues and struggles in our personal lives. It was where we bonded.  Sometimes Robert or Frank would bring their guitars and we would sing or just listen, sometimes we cried, sometimes we laughed, but always we listened. The fire escape off that floor led to condemned stairs, just right for catching a breeze in the evenings, watching a hot-air balloon float across the sky, or just waiting for God to speak.

 A teacher's major contribution may pop out anonymously in the life of some ex-student's grandchild.  A teacher, finally, has nothing to go on but faith, a student nothing to offer in return but testimony.  Wendell Berry

Nurse Nadine cares for "baby" Jeff.

Teen Helpers: In efforts to encourage and mentor the teens in that area, we had Teen Helpers at each station and age group.  We tried to do special things with them - taking them to the beach, including them in camp responsibilities, and fun events planned just for them.  It was a learning process for all of us that was not always without some tension, but usually with some fun.  Once, we planned a mall search  with them, but we were met with unexpected resistance.  Each of us dressed in disguise and the helpers were supposed to find us, obtain our signature, and the one who found the most won.  Some were easy, but Jeff and Nadine was the most difficult to find. Yes, Jeff is the one in the baby buggy, complete with pacifier and all! The saddest part of all, is that we were asked to leave because we had kids with us who was not white.

Thank you so much for stopping by and taking their journey with me. If you'd like to check out Camp Hope, it has since grown, and is now called UrbanPromise.  Last year they were featured on Extreme Makeover, Home Edition. Where it started from and where it is now amazes me and I'm thrilled that God has taken this ministry from a meager 12 people to an organization of mega proportions it is today. 

If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, hope on Over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Piggy Tales: Runaway, fire drills, ocean creatures

From the rolling hills of Kansas, I found myself transplanted to a land that was filled with excitement and good memories. In "Heading South" I told of our family's move from KS to Homestead AFB, Florida, but settle in for a few more stories of life in this coastal state.

We had them.. See them floating in the back, hiding behind the plastic plants?  Oh, there it goes! Is that a tiny sea-horses living in our fish tank?  Yes, I have always been interested in all those cool animals that God created, but we had some unique ones that I loved watching when we lived in Florida. When they died, for whatever reason, they went to the great porcelain heaven in the ground. They didn't seem quite as minuscule as those Sea Monkey sitting on the kitchen counter, but were more fun to watch. 

"Pretty Bird" she chirped from my shoulder, picking at my hair. Remember those huge yarn things that our mother's used for hair boys?  My bird loved picking at them.  How was I supposed to practice my piano when she kept distracting me? I scooted her over and hoped she would find something else to occupy her.  I loved having my yellow parakeet, but sometimes she was a little annoying.  Have you ever had an inside pet purposely try to escape to the great outdoors?  I remember Pretty Bird doing this at least TWICE!  Yes, multiple times!  How in the world did we ever get her back?  The first time it happened I thought I'd never see her again, but Mom grabbed the first thing she could think of - a fishing net on a 6 foot pole. Why we had that I'm not sure, because we never went fishing in FL.  We followed her from tree to tree, yard to yard, waving that silly pole, making her fly until she finally gave up and flew down to us. I'm sure most people thought we were nuts.  That silly bird lived until I was in college!

School:  I loved going to school in Florida. There were three 1st grade classrooms, all with long narrow windows on two sides that stayed open most year round.  Our classrooms were not enclosed in one building, but a series of connected rooms, open breeze ways that faced an open courtyard that we used for play, science experiments, and PE. One time we had fire drill and we all filed out to the playground that was to the back of our class, clinging to the fence as the bells droned on and on. Most of us had our hands on our ears to block out the loud noise. One girl ran BACK into the room for her jacket, ignoring our teacher's command to stop.  She would have been TOAST if it had been a real fire! Our teacher was so upset with her and I'm sure her seat was on fire once she got home!

Fun Stuff: My mom loved doing different things with us and she took full advantage of living where we did. We would sometimes stop at the side of the road and buy fruit and veggies from a local market stand that we couldn't find at the local PX.  Sometimes she would take us to Cypress Gardens where we would wander through the myriad of gardens and pathways graced with beautiful girls in Civil War type poofy dresses.  It amazes me that they didn't faint from the heat with wearing those hot dresses.  One of my most favorite places to visit was Sea World.  Yeah, Disney World was available and we went twice, but it was expensive. We would rather wander the winding avenues of such a exciting place where you could pet and see some pretty awesome creatures up close.  I remember almost dropping my camera in the shark tank when I lost my grip on it during a school field trip. We stopped one time at some wood workers shop, where the man used all cypress wood.  I still have that wood thing mom let me pick out.  I thought it looked like some animal begging for a morsel.  Some times Mom would take us to the ocean and we loved building sand castles, running in the waves, and running away from pesky jelly fish. I loved feeling the salty spray on my face and the gritty sand in my toes and in my suit.


Well, the babies have arrived and I need to feed them and start on school with the boys.  I'm glad you stopped by for a visit and look forward to seeing you next week when I talk about POWs and more. 

I hope that I have jarred some memories in your heart. If you have the chance, write them down while they are fresh.  If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, hope on Over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

 

Young Adult Years: Inner-city, The Pit, and Irreversible impressions

This is week two of “My Young Adult Years,” guest hosted by Ginny Marie over at Lemon Drop Pie. Each Monday or Tuesday, I will be posting on my Young Adult Life edition of Mommy's Piggy Tales. 

 Today I'm sharing a huge part of my heart and what has tremendously influenced who I am.  I hope you'll bear with me through this. I have so many memories ricocheting around my brain right now, that it will really be hard to choose just a few.

 Mont and I had planned to return to Haiti to work at an orphanage, but the 1986 Haitian revolt against the government and Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier, made it unsafe to return and the missionaries we were to work with, withdrew their offer.  We had already begun raising our support and didn't want to but had to look at another option for the summer. 

Me and Mont - ready to go!

EAPE:  We were presented with several options, but the one that really stood out was EAPE.  Our parents were dubious because this meant inner-city - filled with gangs, dangers, and drugs.  Let's face it, two Kansas girls, in the heart of Bible Belt had no idea what they were getting into.  The closest thing we'd ever seen to inner-city was an abandoned building downtown Coffeyville. We requested to be placed in the same group after our acceptance, and before we knew it, we were on a plane heading East for a place called Philadelphia.  I really think it was a good thing that we didn't have the internet at time because if our parents had researched it, they probably wouldn't have let us go. Just sitting here thinking about those two summers there, I will definitely have to break this up and write about it some other time.

We were a rag-tag group of 18-23 yr. old kids, about 75-100 of us from all over the US and some from Canada, meshed together in a program founded by Tony Compolo - EAPE. It would take me a very long time to explain everything and what we did, but basically we were counselors/summer interns living in the midst of youth were economically and spiritually disadvantaged. Mont & I soon learned we were not to stay in Philly but would be part of a satellite group of 12 starting up in Camden, NJ. We were guinea pigs of a sort and how we did would determine if it would continue there. No pressure! 

Hope Memorial

Driving through the dismal streets, Bruce Main, our director told us what we would be experiencing, and it just didn't sink in.  When we drove up to our site, on that one-way street, that big two story yellow building didn't look like much, but it became our home and those other counselors became our family. Hope Memorial Baptist Church, our sponsor church, was right in the heart of where we were working . I'm sure we seemed a little unconventional, but they welcomed us and treated us like family.  The building in the background was where we lived and held many of our summer activities.  The first week we were there, the bank on the corner (1/4 a block away) was robbed, a woman and her child were shot in the park because they were "worth more points", and a body was found less than 1/4 of a mile from us under a pile of rubble (Camden suffered along with Philly with the garbage worker's strike). In 2003-2005, 2009 Camden was been named the nation's most-dangerous city, USA Today. Yes, it was home.

A slice of life of Camden

Each morning we opened the doors to a throng of children from 5-12 years and ushered them up the stairs to the 2nd floor for opening skits that focused on the day's lesson, songs, and announcements.  It was there that Queena Gina, Captain Bruce, and more were "born" as we introduced many of them to Jesus, Moses, Esther, Ruth, Joseph, and more, weaving the stories into Bible lessons, crafts (that was my department), games, and music. The names have long escaped my memory, but the faces are there. I can hear them singing, each verse getting louder until the divided room was shouting:

"There ain't no flies on us. There ain't no flies on us!
There might be flies on some of you guys, but ain't no flies on us!"  

Our task:  There were two counselors per age group (there were 3 or 4 groups), one counselor per area (art, music, Bible, music, PE) and we had our work cut out for us. Montica was with an age group both summers, Karen (who now works for the GMA and Dove Awards) did a Psalty musical, and I did crafts. My job was to plan and teach a craft each day of camp and it was stretch for me.  When I first arrived and walked into the basement that would become my Art Pit for 2 summers, I was overwhelmed.  The stage area was PILED with supplies the congregation had been collecting just for us.  I was supposed to do something with ALL that stuff and this was before the internet.  I had a very small budget and it was difficult to stick with it. Let me tell you, there was not a WalMart just around the corner, it was all K Mart, but it was sparse. 

 The bad parts of Camden make the bad parts of Philly look like a playground

Teaching in the Pit

If I said it was all about just telling them about Jesus, I would be lying.  It was really about showing those kids who He was and building relationships with them.  Most of the kids we worked with had no hope of graduating from HS, making it out without a child to support, staying off drugs, or a staying out of gangs.  They sometimes walked 2-5 miles just to be there, sometimes through the worst drug area imaginable. Bruce  encouraged us to form close relationship with a few of the kids and in the process, they invited us into their lives, their homes, their hearts.  The kids who were there were desperate for hope and it still brings me to tears thinking about them. Many times after camp, we would walk them home, and sit outside on the porch or sidewalk waiting for their door to be unlocked because their parents were busy (prostitution, drugs, sleeping... you make a guess).  Many of those kids thought McDonald's was a FANCY restaurant, had never seen the ocean, or realized that KS and OK were not the Wild West that they believed.  They thought Mont and I rode around in covered wagons!  But in all of that, those kids were not the only ones who had misconceptions, and God took us to the most dangerous city in the nation to open our hearts.


Oh, this has been so tough, because once I started the memories came flooding back.  If you'll come back next week, I'll try my hardest to tell some lighter, memorable moments, but I'm not making any promises.

If you'd like to check out Camp Hope, it has since grown, and is now called UrbanPromise.  Last year they were featured on Extreme Makeover, Home Edition. Where it started from and where it is now amazes me and I'm thrilled that God has taken this ministry from a meager 12 to an organization of mega proportions it is today. 

 

If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, hope on Over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.

Piggy Tales: 1st perm, Thanksgiving, and family

Welcome back to the 2nd session Piggy Tales.  In the Session 1of PT, I wrote about PreSchool and Kindergarten.  Sit back, grab a muffin and join me in some memories I have of some early years. I'm having a little hot chocolate that would go great with your muffin, want to share some memories? 

1st Perm - 4 months old

Life in Okinawa and after must have been interesting.  Mom said I was a good baby and toddler.  My brother and I played extremely well together and were great best buddies. While there we got to visit many places and see many things (Great Wall of China and Hong Kong), but I remember none of them.  Mom said once she was downstairs and I was up taking a nap in our room and she heard whistling.  Thought it was the maid (no we were not rich, but it was expected), but when the maid appeared downstairs and the whistling was still going on, they investigated.  Yes, it was me whistling at less than 2 yrs. old.  I was a little more than 1 yr. old.  I've not been able to whistle ever since, no matter how hard I try.   

On the move:  We were transferred to the States, Boston for 2 yrs. before heading back to KS, where both my parents grew up and most of our extended family lived.  I loved living in KS - it is what I considered home growing up. It was a time to get acquainted with not only my grandparents, lived right across the street, but my cousins as well.

1st Thanksgiving in Okinawa

Thanksgivings were an especially a wonderful time. Mom and her 5 sisters would gather with their families at Grandma and Grandpa's house and it must have mass chaos with all those kids! There was always a flurry of activity as pies, 3-bean casseroles, mashed tators, the turkey, and more were baked.  The smells would waft through the window and it would be torture to smell because we knew we couldn't have any yet. Many times I got my hand slapped at because I was trying to sneak some yummy goody before it was time. There was a huge tractor tire right outside the breakfast window, under this wonderfully huge tree (just right for climbing),  filled with sand and Tonka Trucks and rolly pollies (pill bugs). it was wonderful to get spend Sometimes we would wander out to the chicken pen, or play games they taught us, like  Hide-n-Seek, Red Light-Green Light, or Freeze Tag in the yard. We would play in the cool of the day until we were called in to wash up for dinner. When we had all gathered around the large black dinner table, hold hands and pray over the food.  It was sure hard to stand still during that. I don't really remember where we all sat to eat - probably some of us went outside to sit on the swing, or on the porch, but it was always the best times.

Bryan and I: 2-3 yrs. old

School:  Kindergarten must have been something of an anticipation.  I had watched my brother get on the bus every morning and come home talking about what he had done and how he was learning how to read.  I was glad to not get the teacher he had, Mrs. Sirculomb.  She was a well-endowed lady with horned rimmed glasses perched on a perky nose.  Though her smile seemed genuine, her red flamming hair, piled like a bee-hive scared me.  Each morning, when Mom was getting me ready, she would use Dippity-Do on my hair to keep it in place.  I only remember that because a girl in my class, Kimberly Dewey and her last name had "Do" like in Dippity-Do.  Hope she never reads this!  Kindergarten was the place I met Dick and Jane with their dog Spot, learned my ABCs, and learned about recess rules. 

Do you have a particular memory when you were little or maybe a special book or lesson from Kindergarten?  I'd love to hear about it! 

 
If you would like to read more Piggy Tales from other ladies, hope on Over to Mommy's Piggy Tales.   If you would like to join in and start recording your own Piggy Tales, contact Jana at Mommy's Piggy Tales to find out how  (jannajoy25 (at) hotmail.com). If for some reason you missed any of my previous posts, you can find them here.