Tag Archives: The fifties

Get Your Skates On!

“I want anyone who has ever said or felt that women are weak in any way to strap on a pair of skates and play two minutes of roller derby with them.”  — Emily Mills, “Hammer Abby,” Quad Squad, Mad Rollin’ Dolls

As a writer, I’m sometimes invited to participate in a collaborative project or respond to a writing prompt. The day before Mother’s Day, I had the pleasure of joining three writers for what was described as a “writing attack.” Each of us was to interpret the call-to-action in our own way. The assignment was for the blog, True Stories Well Told, managed by my reminiscence-writing coach and mentor, Sarah White, for her summer series, Season of Sports. Continue reading

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Boomer’s Playground

“What can ever equal the memory of being young together?”  ― Michael Stein, In the Age of Love

Perhaps it’s because it’s the day after Halloween and the sight of all those delighted kids in costumes, maybe it’s due to social media and the TBT (Throw Back Thursdays) photos on Facebook. It may also be prompted by friends and family who are amateur historians and family genealogists, or maybe it’s simply because I’m at the age and I’ve become that older person who likes to reminisce about the past. I remember the past as being a simpler time. As a memoir writer I can also edit my stories, edit my past, and remember the glory days. Some days it’s comforting to remember just the good times. Continue reading

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Remember: Childhood July 4th Celebrations

Long ago, far away
Life was clear
Close your eyes*

Holidays are like mile markers on a journey. We are able to look back to see how far we’ve traveled and where we’ve been simply my reflecting on where we were a year ago on this day. If we look further back, we can return to holiday celebrations of our childhood which for some of us are pleasant memories of simpler times. The rituals and traditions associated with holidays can evoke body memories sparked by smells, sounds, sights, tastes, and touch. For the Fourth of July, it’s the smell of sulfur from lighting sparklers, the sounds and sight of fireworks exploding in brilliant color in the night sky, the taste of hot dogs, ice cream and soda pop and the drum beats of marching bands echoing and rumbling in one’s body. Continue reading

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A Gender Journey in Three Vignettes

Preface

This week when beginning to write a piece for my LGBTQ Narratives Activist-Writers group, I was in a fog. The prompt was a broad subject, gender, and in fact I had suggested it. It is a topic that interests me. It’s a dynamic subject, it affects perception, language, challenges assumptions, and forces us to adapt to our changing culture, roles and identities. Continue reading

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The Changing Seasons

Next Sunday is the autumnal equinox, the official beginning of fall, when day and night are nearly equal. One can already see the sun’s position in the sky changing and its effect on daylight. Soon too, the leaves will change from their verdant hues to vibrant shades of carmine, crimson, burnt orange, golden yellows and finally tawny browns before they fall to the ground.  Continue reading

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Third Act

“There’s a moment when people know — whatever their skills are at denial — that they have passed from what they can delude themselves into thinking is middle age to something that you could call the third act.”  Nora Ephron

First, let me say denial is powerful. It can both serve us and hurt us, but in the end it must be faced and addressed. Though I am living the sixth decade of my life, a thirty-something still resides inside, a youthful, progressive-thinking woman trying to figure what she wants to be when she grows up. I am always surprised when I look in the mirror and see my sixty-something self. Continue reading

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The Lone Ranger, Annie Oakley and the Bride Doll

Today, I saw the premiere of “The Lone Ranger.” Critics have been ravaging the film for many reasons, but for this writer it was a nostalgic journey back to a time of childhood heroes and themes of good versus evil, white hats and black hats. Continue reading

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Poop Eggs & Lamb Cakes

Like most holidays I celebrated as a child, Easter was a hybrid of religious traditions, the social culture from the generation in which I grew up, and our own ethnic and family rituals, which we repeated in some familiar fashion every year. Continue reading

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A Pocketful of Gumballs

Growing up in the 1950s, I was a member of the first wave of baby boomers, an elementary school child whose young family moved to the suburbs and learned to thrive in the emerging cold-war culture.  My parents purchased their first home in a new Federal Housing Authority neighborhood of starter homes for returning veterans and their young families. I was the eldest child, six-years-old in 1956 in Racine, Wisconsin, the Belle City, home of Case tractors and Johnson Wax. Continue reading

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