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Almost 70 years ago Clyda and Veon were married. That union is why we are all here. This blog is created to capture our thoughts and help us get to know each other better. There will be a new question posted each Sunday until December. Please use contributors first names only. If you are posting anonymously please add your first name to the text. Enjoy!
Please read...
Attention everyone...Marilyn has a WEB PAGE !! You can check it out at www.marilynsmithartist.com!
Nicole, please publish the following disclaimer in a prominent place:
I hesitated to make long narratives with these posts, but Nicole said she might put the whole blog thing into a book form someday, and I could use this as a forum for writing for my kids and grandkids. I can’t pass up an opportunity like that. So rather than bore you, feel free to skip anything you’re not interested in or don’t want to be bothered to read. Sonja
Note from Nicole:
I am happy to do this for anybody that is interested. I am enjoying hearing from each of you and would love to hear from more. Thanks Sonja for taking the time to work on this and giving us an opportunity to get to know you better.
Kids from Lt to Rt:Marilyn, Barbara, Veon Jr., Gladys, Gerald, Evan. Clyda and Veon in the Middle.
Sonja
Ve's Wife
Nicole
Glady's Youngest
Marilyn
The Youngest Daughter
Evan
"The Baby"
Daphne
Glady's Oldest
Clyda
4 comments:
I never had to do much when I was little. Sometimes I would wash my own dishes if we had made cookies or something. When I moved in with Clyda my job was always vacuuming and cleaning my bedroom. I also did the laundry when we moved to Oregon. When I would get lazy about my bedroom Grandma used church dances as the carrot to get me to have it clean by Saturday night before the dance or 'No Dance for You!'
When I was really young, my housework rotated from different areas of the house. As I got a little older, my main job was my bedroom and the main bathroom...with three brothers! I hated it. So, my parents decided to rotate that work as well, but I soon decided that they didn't clean it right and since I had to sit on the toilet, I would just clean the bathroom from then on. I think it was a disservice to my brothers, but it was cleaned to my standards! My bedroom would get really messy when I was a teenager. I think my mom used the expression "It looks like your closet threw up." I would get so busy working and going to school that my mom would surprise me with cleaning it on occassion....usually when she was so sick of looking at it herself. I really appreciated it, though.
Mindy
When I was really young, it was my job to clean the bathroom sink, which made me feel very important. As a teenager at Byron's house, I usually had to clean anything that I wanted to be clean. Later, when I lived with Clyda, I was responsible for vacuuming and keeping my room clean. I was sure glad when Nicole took over that old canister vacuum!
My favorite chores (isn't that an oxymoron?) were probably laundry and dishes. My least favorite were cleaning the tub and mopping.
Daphne
I don't think I ever had any assigned chores. I gathered eggs and pulled weeds in the garden but don't remember being compelled to do so. As a teenager I kept my room clean or I lived in it messy - my choice. I dusted, vacuumed, washed dishes, mowed the lawn, pulled weeds, and washed the car regularly, but it was never a "have to." I was practically an "only child" and didn't have siblings in the house as a teenager. But it was a small house, and I knew Mother did everything in her power to respond to my wants and needs, so I was eager to respond to hers as well. I washed, curled and styled her hair (with bobbie pins) and when I was older I sewed for her. I did a lot of ironing too, mostly Daddy's shirts. My mother was starting to get old by the time I was a teenager. (Now I know how she felt!).
Once, when we lived on Creek Road, there was a pesky little girl who came by a lot, whom I didn't really want around but didn't want to hurt her feelings. We had maybe six bushels of pears in a bin in a shed. Daddy would put us to work "sorting" the good pears from the bad ones, knowing that she wouldn't stick around long. Every time she came over, he put us to "work." It worked. She stopped coming.
-Sonja
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