What was Christmas like when your kids were young?

Butch

Karen started one Christmas tradition early and it was one of my very favorites. Sometime in November or December she would start getting the kids to draw a picture for each month of the year. The Winter picture might be a snowman. November could feature a Thanksgiving turkey. Karen would buy a small calendar about 2” x 3” with one page for each month. They would glue the calendar pages to the drawing and bind them into a calendar for the whole year. I guess it was quite a challenge for her.

I hadn’t remembered it before I ran into some pictures, but one year we celebrated Christmas with Karen’s Uncle Clint and Aunt Dotie Prior. Their daughter Becky had not married yet but they must have talked her husband-to-be, Mark O’Connell, into playing Santa. Here he is with our kids, Lance and Wendy.

One of my favorite presents when I was a kid was to get what I called a “set”. Usually toy soldiers of some sort. I started Lance out on these early on, but I don’t seem to remember them as as big a part of Lance’s life as they were for me. Here he is with his Uncle Bun getting ready for some heavy play.

I have one bittersweet Christmas memory. We were fairly poor in our early life with our kids. We never had a lot of money for presents. But I was convinced that they should have as good a quality as possible. Lance had wanted some real tools to play with so in the months before Christmas I went around buying one tool here and one tool there. These were the real thing. Saws could really cut. Hammers could pound nails. They were pricey but good. I bought a little tool box to store them in. We wrapped each tool individually and put them in the tool box. On Christmas morning Lance opened them and came over to me. I asked him what he found and he replied, “Not very many toys.” My heart broke into a million pieces for the mistake I had just made.

Karen

Butch and I both grew up in Cedar Rapids and stayed here all through our married life. All of our siblings moved away from Iowa and lived in other places. We had the unique and fortunate situation of our two families living in the same town as us and enjoying each other’s company. From the very first Christmas we had together, our two families celebrated in one big group. Even after we lost both of our dads, our mothers were here and family members came “home” to see them. When we moved to our house on Mansfield Avenue, my sisters and their families all came and stayed with us at Christmas, usually from Christmas Eve to a few days afterward. Our kids were surrounded by their extended family. They both developed close relationships with their loving aunts and uncles.

The days leading up to Christmas included getting the tree, from a local lot, putting it up and decorating it. When the kids were little, the whole family went on that outing together. In the kids’ teen years, Wendy and I took on those duties and had our own adventures. We had lots of hand-made as well as store-bought ornaments to put on the tree. Before our kids were old enough to help, Butch and I had made ornaments from colored paper, foil, popcorn and other materials. We made a set of 20 or 30 paper snowflakes that we still have to this day. Some were destroyed over the years but we just added more to put the finishing touch on the tree. Our topper was a peace symbol made of stiff paper, felt, and glitter until Butch carved me a special one for our 25th anniversary. The kids also made ornaments in school or in Brownies or Cub Scouts that we still have. When our granddaughter Rachel and I decorate our tree these days, there is a story for most of the ornaments that recall long ago students, souvenirs of trips, and old friends and new.

Another part of Christmas was cookies. We made lots of varieties because everyone had a different favorite. We had decorated sugar cookies, roll poly balls, cherry winks, snicker doodles, chocolate covered pretzels and a big batch of Chex mix. The kids picked out a selection of cookies for Santa and a pile of Chex mix for his reindeer and put them close to the fireplace. The stockings were hung up on the mantel for every kid who was sleeping over. My sister Linda’s boys brought theirs from Indiana almost every year.

We always had a large get together at our house on Christmas Eve. We had a meal, played games, talked and laughed, and tried to get the kids to bed at a reasonable hour. We had a rule that the kids could not come downstairs until 6:00 am or so. Then they could wake us up and see what Santa had brought. Lance and Wendy told us stories about the two of them sitting on the stairs and watching the clock so they could wake us up at exactly the earliest time. I have a suspicion that they may have peeked at their Santa gifts before they actually got us up. Santa filled their stockings and brought one nice toy each year that was left unwrapped under the tree. All other gifts were from Mom and Dad because how would it look or feel if they didn’t get any fun presents from their parents? We passed out all gifts when everyone was up and all adults had a cup of coffee in hand. When we were ready, everyone opened their gifts at the same time. It was lovely chaos with lots of happy raptures and thank-you’s around the room. The floor was covered with wrapping paper, toys, and boxes.

I often tried to make some kind of breakfast casserole to pop in the oven and we spent the rest of the day putting toys together, playing, and generally enjoying each other. In the early years, most times we had the big Christmas dinner at Grandma Paddy’s house. She had the most room and the most places to sit. Everyone helped to put the meal on the table by bringing food, cooking, or organizing the kids. This was also time for grandma presents. As our moms got older, we took over the hosting for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Our kids were older than their cousins and as they grew into their teens there was a lot of hero worship, joking around, and teasing for the little ones. I think Lance and Wendy had as much fun as the young cousins.

There were times when I was very busy with my job and ready for a break when Christmas vacation rolled around. Times when I wished for a quieter Christmas with less cooking to do, fewer messes to clean up, fewer towels to wash, and fewer people sleeping in my house on couches, air mattresses, and every bed. Then everyone would arrive, most people helped, and the fun would begin. I am very grateful we have a close family and I hope my kids understand what a treasure they were given when everyone got together

This post is part of the StoryWorth project that I am participating in.
At the ButchieBoy main page click the Storyworth catagory to see all the entries in the series.

Flying in a helicopter

Butch

For a couple of years before I started working for the Department of Planning and Redevelopment at the City of Cedar Rapids in 1972, I had been developing a keen interest in photography. So shortly after I began work there I learned that one of the other employees in the department, Dick Kvach, had just earned his pilot’s license and I asked him to take me up flying with him so I could do some aerial photography. He was trying to build up hours of flight time and one noon hour he said, “Grab you camera, let’s go for a ride.” He had just been promoted to the Zoning division of the department. His idea was that he would fly around the places that were up for rezoning and I would take pictures of the locations so the Zoning Commission would have a better idea of what was in the neighborhood. I would also take pictures of the future land use map, ground level photography and any other pictures that would be helpful in determining whether to grant a zoning change. The pictures were such a success that the commission voted to outfit me, through the department, with a complete camera setup. I continued taking aerial photos for the rest of the time I worked for the City.

Not long after I started taking the zoning pictures there got to be some question about whether the flying that Dick was doing would be considered “commercial” aviation and if he needed a more advanced license to be allowed to continue. Also, I think there was a problem with paying for the flight time. Don Salyer, the Director of Planning, called me into his office one day and asked if it would be ok if I flew in the City’s helicopters instead of with Dick. I said yes in a heartbeat.

Not only was it a lot more fun flying in the helicopters, they could do things that a light plane just could not do. Light planes have to stay at least 1000 feet above ground level, oftentimes requiring telephoto lenses. Taking photos with a telephoto lens in a plane is not the best because of the excess camera jiggle. Helicopters can fly as low as they want. This can make for much more dramatic and detailed images.

Helicopters do have some drawbacks though. The fuselage is often made of bubble shaped perspex. This contributes to distortion in the photos from shooting through curved plastic. The answer to this problem is easy to solve, take the door off. That’s fine till Winter comes and you are flying at an altitude where the temperature is well below 0 degrees Fahrenheit. I had to get a snowmobile outfit and heavy gloves which could be problems themselves. All sorts of people offered to take the pictures for me to get a ride in the helicopters. I told them that would be great but they had to start the next February and I would keep the summer months for myself. Volunteer offers fell of dramatically.

The first flight I did, I had to drive out to the airport to catch my ride. We, John Sadler and I, flew into the city at about 300 feet above ground level. This was an amazing flight. As we flew over the corn fields on the way in, I could see birds perching on the fence wires and mice running down the corn rows. You were close enough to talk to people but the roar of the engine made it impossible to hear anything, and besides you had a headset on anyway. As the city’s cartographer I knew where just about everything in the city was anyway but before we left for the photo shoot I would mark the locations where we were going on a pocket sized map of my own development. This not only helped with finding what we were looking for, but with flying between locations in the most efficient manner.

I started out flying from the airport, but we soon figured out that since most of my work was in town, it made more sense for John just to land on the island, in front of City Hall. That cut out four needless trips to the airport or back. That went very well at first, but before long the Parks Commissioner, Stan Reinis, noticed there was a brown spot beginning to show on the grass where we landed. The exhaust from the engine pointed straight down. A quick fix was building a small paved area and it incorporated a place to set up the City’s Christmas tree in the winter. When we took off, we flew up or down the river over the water so if we ran into any mechanical problem we would have a soft landing in the water. We never had a problem. When we reached sufficient altitude we turned left or right and started taking pictures.

During the early days of the Aviation program lots of things were tried to see what would be most effective. The first picture of me shows one of the helicopters with pontoons which could be used for water landings. I never personally landed on the water though. Before long the pontoons went away and were not used again as far as I know. I flew in three different types of helicopters; Hillers, Hughes, and the gigantic Huey renowned from its Viet Nam War days.

Flying without a door was a scary business at best. The only thing between you and the ground was the seat belt that held you in. Luckily, ours were military models with wide, thick straps and heavy duty hardware. It was a four point system; one strap from the left, one from the right, one over the left shoulder and one over the right shoulder. All the clamps came  together right below your belly button. It was standard procedure to clamp the belt, then double check it to make sure it was fastened. The most frightening flight I ever had was once, right after take off. We were gaining altitude and John was just starting to turn right. That made the helicopter roll to the right (my side). The door was off of course. I looked down and my seat belt was unbuckled. I didn’t want to show any alarm because that could cause John to try and over-correct and maybe make me fall to my death. Trusting to centrifugal force to keep me in the seat, I slowly gathered up the ends of the belts and clipped them back together. There we go, all strapped in again, safe and secure.

After taking many pictures of the downtown, we learned that there was one view that most people liked the best. We called it the “Standard shot”. It centered on Mays Island, where the government buildings were located and was from straight south and at about 500’ altitude. We were directly above Diagonal Drive where Interstate 380 crosses over it. I have taken this shot over 100 times. John would head west, aiming for that intersection. I would be lining my shot up, and when he was in just the right spot, he would say, “Now!” I would take the picture and there would be one more version for the record.

Sadly, after I left working for the City, John was riding down the highway on his motorcycle when a mattress blew out of the back of a pickup truck he was following and killed him.

From time to time I flew by a place that I had lived. I would take a picture if I could.

This post is part of the StoryWorth project that I am participating in.
At the ButchieBoy main page click the Storyworth catagory to see all the entries in the series.

What are your favorite memories of your children growing up?

Butch

I have two memories of my kids that are particular favorites of mine. With Lance it was the time we spent in the Boy Scout movement. With Wendy it was her first day of school.

When I was a kid I was active in Scouting. I started as a Cub Scout, moved on to being a Boy Scout, and ended up as a Sea Scout. I was anxious that Lance would also follow in those foot steps. After participating as a boy I continued as a leader. When Lance joined Cubs, I volunteered to be on the Pack Committee. Later, when he went into Boy Scouts, I volunteered to be the Assistant Scoutmaster and held that position until he received his Eagle rank. I went up and down in my own career in Scouts. Advancing through the ranks was important to me. But at every step something happened to keep me from getting some of the things I wanted.

When I was getting out of Cubs I visited a Boy Scout troop as part of earning my Webelos rank. The Scoutmaster talked me into joining the troop right there on the spot. As a result I never did get the Webelos. In Boy Scouts I earned my way up to Life Scout but I was having difficulty with my Scoutmaster giving me my awards. I quit Boy Scouts to join Sea Scouts. I could have continued earning my Eagle award, but Sea Scouts had its own set of ranks and I decided to give them a try. Unfortunately, there was not enough time left before I turned 18, so I missed out on getting the top award there too. My folks were proud of my accomplishments I’m sure, but they didn’t take an active part in keeping me on track. A little more encouragement might have helped me get more things done. I was determined that I would help keep Lance on task, but hopefully not to run it into the ground for him. I think that approach worked because he earned his Eagle. It was one of the best moments of my life. And, we had great times camping and canoeing with the other scouts.

With Wendy one of my favorite memories was when I took her to her first day of school. Both Karen and I worked and Karen had to leave early because she was a teacher. I started a little later in the morning so I had time to drop her off before I had to be at work. We got her all ready and set off. I had a motorcycle at the time and she would sit in front of me on the front of the seat and hold onto a bar on my handlebars. It worked great. When we arrived, I took a couple of photos of her big day. Unfortunately, she had to face the sun for me to get the picture. This was something that she didn’t care for and from time to time, not only did she squint but it could even make her sneeze. I think she avoided that on this special occasion.

Karen

Lance

We were very young when Lance was born. I was 19 and Butch was 20. I knew nothing about taking care of a baby or about being a mom. Even though it was scary, I felt this amazing rush of love and responsibility for taking care of this little person. We were thrilled with everything he did, every tiny milestone in his life. We were very lucky to live in the basement of Butch’s parents’ house because we had immediate support for every question or doubt that came up. We also had a built-in extended family to lavish love on our baby. Sometimes we would just lay him on a blanket in the middle of the table and everyone would just sit around the table admiring him and delighting in every move he made. The same was true of my family. We could go to my parents’ house any time and have the same love-in over there. Every child should be loved in such a way.

Lance was an adventurous kid growing up. We always lived in neighborhoods that were like the ones we grew up in. By the time a kid was old enough to ride a bike, they had the freedom to explore in a range of distance from the house determined by their age and how busy the nearby streets were. Lance traveled around exploring and making friends. Once, he came home to tell us that a guy down the street had a big alligator in his yard. He was very excited and said the guy wanted us to give him permission to look at it. We were skeptical about the details and actually how big this alligator could be. Butch and I went down the street with him and sure enough, the guy had an alligator that was maybe 5 feet long from nose to tail! He said his son ordered it from a comic book ad years ago and unlike many families they kept it. The thing looked vicious and definitely unfriendly. It hissed at us in a really scary way. The owner told Lance never to come into his yard or near the pen by himself. We firmly reinforced this warning ourselves! Overall, I think that kind of freedom and opportunity for kids to explore and ultimately make decisions and solve problems on their own is a good thing. Today’s kids have more organized play and activities.

We had very little money when we were first married so one thing we could do as a family for fun was camping. Butch had been a Boy Scout and had lots of outdoor camping skills. I had virtually none so camping was an adventure for me too. We got a tent and various camping equipment for ourselves or as gifts from our families. We took the kids camping when they were still babies and continued camping experiences through their teen years. Camping was an opportunity to explore woods, river banks, lakes, campfires, and various Iowa parks. The kids played in the dirt and mud and learned an appreciation of nature’s plants, animals, and vistas. We loved camp cooking and of course s’mores. Lance loved camping and continued to camp throughout his life. I believe a relationship with nature is essential for happiness and mental health, Often, at bedtime when he was a little boy, he would try to delay sleeping by asking us to talk for a little while before lights out. When we would ask what he wanted to talk about, he would often say, “Let’s talk about camping.”

One of the delights of being a parent is the relationships they developed with their friends. These usually reach their peak in the junior high and high school years. Personalities are well developed by then and though teens can be monumentally trying at times, they are also funny, charming, and full of life. Lance had a posse of friends that changed over time but there was a core of good friends that hung out at our house, Doug Beach, Bob Ross, John Abraham, Tim Martinec, Anthony Molden and others who shifted in and out of the group. Often, I was the driver who ferried kids to and from school and scout activities. Once, I was driving a group of guys all crowded into the back seat of the car. At those times it was like I wasn’t there and the guys talked as if no adult was listening…a good way to learn about your kids and their friends. Someone, out of the blue asked, “What’s your favorite torture?” I was amazed that they each had one! Each described his favorite with more gruesome details trying to top the others. Certainly a conversation a carload of girls would never have!

Wendy

When I got pregnant a second time, I really wanted a girl. I wanted a daughter who I could be a girl with. Of course I would have loved another son but having one of each was the ideal. Wendy was our sunny girly-girl from the start. She was a happy baby and was the center of attention just as Lance was. She was also surrounded by a bunch of aunts who loved to spoil her. She loved dolls and played baby. I sewed cute clothes for her and also made doll clothes for her dolls. I loved to be the mother of a girl as much as a boy. Best of all though, Wendy shared my love of books. At first, of course, there were read alouds, good night stories, and just snuggle up stories. But the best was when she learned to read for herself. She loved Little House books just like me! She loved collecting and owning books, talking about books, and rereading favorites. We still have a loaded bookcase in the grandkids’ room from her girlhood. To this day, I share my favorite titles with her and love getting her recommendations. As she was growing up she often said she wanted to be an author when she grew up. And now she is, with two published books, Everyday Bento and Fresh Bento.

One way Wendy was distinctly different from me was her courage in stepping up. I was always very shy but Wendy loved being in plays and performing in front of an audience. In grade school she was a flower and book characters among other parts and in high school performed in a leading role and even sang a solo! I was so in awe of someone who could not only act on stage with a substantial part but actually sing out loud in front of everyone! She also went out for the girl’s track team in High School. She was not particularly athletic as a young child though always actively played outside with friends. I suppose that she chose track because of friends too. She stuck with it and went to every meet.

We loved having Wendy’s friends around just like Lance’s. We had lots of sleep overs and gatherings after games, after plays and other activities. Nancy Beach, Gretchen Hokinson, Jane Peterson, Kim Johnson, Kathy Molitor, and Melissa Sherwood hung around at different times. A favorite memory with friends was Wendy’s sixteenth birthday. We asked her how she would like to celebrate and she said she wanted to have a dinner for a bunch of her friends. I can’t remember exactly how many she invited but It was a mix of boys and girls who all hung out together. By then Butch and I had begun to experiment with ethnic foods and fancy cooking. She decided she wanted to have a Chinese dinner theme. We made egg rolls, crab Rangoon, and several Chinese main dishes that she liked. We made fancy drinks (non-alcoholic of course) with little paper umbrellas in them. We also decorated the table with a Chinese theme. Then Butch and I served while trying to make ourselves a bit scarce to not make everyone nervous. I think it was a big success and fun for us too. Long after high school graduation I ran into her friend, Kathy Molitor who told me that it was the best meal she’d ever had. I’m sure she’s had better since but it was a a nice complement anyway!

Wendy left home to go to college in California. It was very hard to have her so far away and I missed her desperately. She could only come home once during the school year for Christmas because we couldn’t afford the travel expense. There was email at the time but mostly phone calls. It was long before cell phones so even those calls were few and far between. Just writing this makes me feel how much I missed her. Once she graduated she stayed in California to work. On one trip home she and I decided to drive to Minneapolis to go to The Mall of America on a shopping trip. We always had a fun time shopping together though we never bought much. But on this trip, on the way home, we listened to a tape of songs in the car by folk singer Stan Rogers. He sang a song called, “First Christmas Away From Home” about a girl away from home and family for her job. The song brought to mind the possibility that Wendy might have to be away from home at Christmas some time in the future. The thought was overwhelming to both of us. Tears were streaming down both of our faces and I had to pull off the road so we could get ourselves under control. It wasn’t exactly a favorite memory but was a strong one and is a sign of the beautiful bond we have as mother and daughter. We have had many Christmases to celebrate together but it is still hard when we are apart.

This post is part of the StoryWorth project that I am participating in.
At the ButchieBoy main page click the Storyworth catagory to see all the entries in the series.

How did you celebrate your 30th birthday?

Butch

I don’t recall doing anything in particular on my 30th birthday. We may have gone out for dinner or something but I don’t remember doing it. I checked my yearly calendars to see if something out of the ordinary happened around September 12, 1978. Nothing, so it probably didn’t have much of an impact on me.

I do recall two small things, however. According to Jack Weinberg, an activist in the 1960’s, don’t trust anyone over 30. I was a little worried that my younger friends would think just that and somehow I had crossed over to the dark side. Starwars had just come out the year before.
The other thing was the women I worked with had decorated up the print shop with birthday signs. I was less than thrilled with this and may have been a little disagreeable. These 40 years later I can see how nice they were and I feel a little sheepish about how self-centered I was. They have all died now and I don’t have any way I can let them know how nice it was for them to do that for me.

Karen

When you turn 30, it is a true milestone. You must say goodbye to youth and admit to yourself that you are indeed an adult and should resign yourself to it. When I turned 30, I was in my third year of teaching at Prairie View Elementary. I worked with a close knit group of young teachers who were great fun. Our building was an open-space school without real walls between each room. We watched each other teach and helped each other out. We socialized outside of school time and became good friends. I still see a few of these friends from back then when we get together for lunch from time to time in our retirement.

On the year I turned 30 , my friends all chipped in to rent a limo so that we could all celebrate together. At the end of the school day, they called me to the office on the intercom. When I got there, I was met by the limo driver who was dressed in a brown tuxedo. He was wearing a white shirt with brown ruffles. Behind him, I could see a brown limousine parked outside at the curb. My first horrifying thought was that he was some kind of stripper but of course, not even my wild friends would have arranged something like that!

After much laughing and ribbing we all piled into the limo and took off. My friends had brought along Champagne and other drinks to enjoy along the way. The driver wanted to know where he should go and apparently no one had really thought that through, so after some discussion it was determined that we should drive downtown so we could surprise Butch at City Hall. At the time, he was working in the Graphic Services Department whose office was located there. We had a great time riding there and waving and honking at people that we passed along the way.

When we got there, I’m not sure how we let Butch know we were there. That was a time before cell phones so someone had to go down to his floor or something. Anyway, I think he was a bit embarrassed to come out and get his picture taken with us. We were parked in a no parking zone and at one point the mayor came out with someone and gave us some skeptical looks. We determined that it was time to move on. At that point the driver realized that the limo had a flat tire and he didn’t have what he needed to change it. He had to call someone in his company to come and get everything sorted out! It is all a bit fuzzy about how it ended up but he must have eventually driven us back to Prairie View to get our cars. It was a memorable way to celebrate!

This post is part of the StoryWorth project that I am participating in.
At the ButchieBoy main page click the Storyworth catagory to see all the entries in the series.

Describe your personal fashion style.

Butch

I was not going to answer this topic but my daughter Wendy wanted me to write about it and even named one memory that she particularly wanted to hear about, my homemade bell bottom trousers. More on that in a minute.

The earliest thing I remember about wanting to look a certain way came in elementary school when we first went back in the Fall. Trousers in those days didn’t come in many leg lengths. Usually you just got a pair of long legged trousers and your mother hemmed them or you rolled up the cuffs to make them the proper length. More often than not, you rolled them up. Later in the school year you may need the extra length if you had a growth spurt. Since I was always a shorty, I had more pant leg to roll up to make them just right. The cool way to do this was to just roll the cuff once. That left it about six inches long. The picture gives you an idea of what it looked like, but my cuffs were usually much longer.

Another aspect of these times was haircuts. For some reason Mom liked really short hair. There were three ways you could go to make this happen. Despite my nickname being Butch, my mom would never allow this style, too short I suppose. Next up was a crew cut which was just a Butch with a greased up longer bit of hair in the front. The third style was a flat top. This was a longer variation of the crew cut but required a lot more styling by the barber. Usually my hair was somewhere between a crew cut and a flat top.

Around the time we went to England in 1960 Mom’s next big idea was to dress my brother and me in bright red blazer jackets, the kind with a crest on the front pocket. I thought the blazers were a little twinky looking but I didn’t mind them too much. By the time I’d had two of them I liked the idea of wearing them. No one at school had anything like that.

In late 1963 the Beatles hit. I was taking a wait-and-see attitude about whether I liked them. Up to that point I pretty much liked comedy songs; Beep Beep, the Witch Doctor, Purple People Eater, that sort of thing. Then Hard Day’s Night came out and it blew me away. I became a teenager in spirit and not just in age that day. I started combing my hair in a Beatles cut. I got shirts with high, buttoned down collars. This was a mistake of course because I had a short, stubby little neck that didn’t do the high collars justice. The pants I got had some sort of elastic in the material so they were very tight.

The next fashion craze came in college. After the Summer of Love people started wearing hippie style clothes. I did too. Fringed jackets, vests, and bell bottom trousers. The bell bottoms were not particularly easy to come by. A trick to overcome their scarcity was to make them yourself. You would split the seams of the legs from the cuff of your jeans up to the knee and put a triangular piece of material in that would make the bottom of the cuffs much bigger. My friend Mike Shahan’s mother ran a dress shop and gave me a nice piece of material for the purpose. It was bright orange velvet. I asked Mom to sew the triangles in for me but she flat-out refused. I got out the manual to her sewing machine and taught myself to sew. By the end of the day I had the most stylish bells in town.

I asked my cousin Susan who lives near London if she could go up to get me some flash bell bottoms, which she did. She got 4 pairs; a brown wool pair with a fine hound’s tooth pattern to the material, a bright golden velvet pair, and two regular pairs, one green and one blue with vertical pin stripes about every inch or so. The brown and gold ones fit perfectly, but the others were too small for me. It worked out ok because they fit Karen perfectly and they became hers after we were married.

By the time Karen and I got married in 1969 I had made myself a couple of simple, pull-over shirts. One of which was golden paisley that I used for my wedding shirt. I accompanied that with the golden velvet bell bottoms from Carnaby Street and a pair of cowboy boots. No matter how many times I tell my brother Bunny that I wore the gold bell bottoms, he still thinks I wore the ones with the orange inserts.

Later on, when I graduated from college, Mom bought me a nice suit. Though her heart was in the right place, it was a disaster from start to finish. I have a body that is about eight standard deviations away from the mean. I have a large chest and a big stomach but I was substantially shorter than the average guy. This forced me to get a custom made suit that was called a short-portly style. No one stocked anything like that so it had to be hand made, sort of. No matter that they took extensive measurements to make the suit right, it is based almost entirely on the jacket. That is the only part of it that turned out ok. Because I have a large torso, the suit manufacturer assumed a needed large trousers as well. The measurements they took should have told them that the pants that were the standard size for that suit were going to be too big and that they should have made a smaller pair. But when you order one of these suits they send it to you like they want. The standard pants are what you get. Alterations on the suit came with the cost of it so they reasoned it was going to be all right. Well the waist of the trousers was about eight inches too big. In order to make them fit they cut that eight inches out by the back seem, leaving the back pockets wrapped around my butt and only an inch apart. To top it off, the matching vest was so small that I could never button it, making it useless.

In some of the jobs that I held, I had to wear a jacket to work. Luckily, if I bought a sport coat I could get by with only having the sleeves shortened. Being around dangerous manufacturing equipment allowed me to forego a neck tie that could otherwise be pulled into a spinning lathe or printing press. I was never sorry about that small blessing.

The rest of my life the most dangerous thing I had to be around was a drafting table and later, a desktop computer. This has allowed me to wear a pullover shirt and a pair of jeans. Just what I like the best.

Karen

When I was a little girl, my mom made little dresses for me. I remember pictures of me in fabrics like dotted Swiss. When I was school-aged, the style was for girls to wear dresses with full gathered skirts with starched taffeta petticoats underneath. I remember a beautiful 3-tiered gathered skirt I had in 3rd grade that was made with a light cotton print with small orange butterflies all over it. I felt absolutely beautiful in it. We always got new clothes in the fall before school started and of course new shoes. Shopping at J.C. Penney’s for a pair of Buster Brown shoes was very exciting.

When I was in high school, I learned to sew for myself and made pretty much all my own clothes. Girls had to wear skirts and dresses to school so I made many wool skirts, jumpers, dresses, and blouses. I got a job when I turned sixteen so I also bought most of the fabrics I used and also my leisure type clothes. Mostly, I wore jeans to school activities like sports events and such. The coolest jeans were called wheat jeans because of the light creamy buff color of the denim. The style was to wear tight wheat jeans and madras plaid shirts. Madras plaid allegedly came from India and the colors ran and blurred a bit when they were washed. My dad told me once as I was leaving the house, “Those pants are so tight you could crack a louse on them!” He may not have liked them but never said I couldn’t wear them!

At first, when I went off to the University of Iowa, my style was a continuation of high school clothes but soon the influences of the “Hippy” movement began to creep into my wardrobe along with hip hugger bell bottom jeans, psychedelic colors and patterns, and cowboy boots. Also skirts were “mini” during that time and hems only reached to mid-thigh. Butch and I were married in 1969 and my wardrobe continued to be modestly hippie-ish with Indian prints, short skirts, and mod patterns. This was my all-time favorite era of clothing, partly because I liked the style but also because it was the time of my life when I felt most attractive in the clothes I was wearing. At the same time, I grew my hair long and often wore it in long braids or a braid crown.

When I graduated from college and got my first teaching job I transitioned into more teacher-like outfits. They were kind of frumpy and mom-ish and often were chosen because they would stand up well to working with young children. I could sit on small chairs, work with messy art materials, and get on the floor to work with kids without worrying about ruining anything. As I moved to a more administrative role, I started to wear suits and more professional type clothes.

Now that I am retired, comfort is the most important factor in clothing choices. I spend most of my time in jeans, knit shirts, and comfy shoes. Most of my clothes are very casual and I only have one or two outfits that I can wear if I need to dress up a bit.

This post is part of the StoryWorth project that I am participating in.
At the ButchieBoy main page click the Storyworth catagory to see all the entries in the series.

Which astrological sign are you?
Does it suit you?

Butch

 Being born on September 12 makes me a Virgo. I see astrological signs as meaningless drivel. They are a little fun to fool around with however.

Virgos are often looked on as follows:

Positive Virgo Traits:

Hard-Working, Creative, Reliable, Patient, Kind.

Negative Virgo Traits:

Critical, Stubborn, Overthinking, Picky, Uptight.

Virgo Traits in Relationships:

Romantic, Platonic, Professional.

I think most people generally associate a Virgo’s negative traits with what they are like. At least that’s how they apply them to me. My sister-in-law, Jeanne Spicer, shares the same birthday with me. We seem to have totally different outlooks on life, but when I point that out to people, they laugh and say, “Peas in a pod”. So interpretation can go either way.

Karen

 My astrological sign is Scorpio. I rarely read my horoscope and don’t set a lot of store in it but it is fun and interesting to think about these traits from time to time. More fun to think about positive traits than negative for sure!

Positive traits for Scorpio:

Determined-I think I am a determined person and do go after what I want to accomplish. I see this in my career pursuits. I rose in my profession because I wanted to learn and took on many different roles and was convinced that I would succeed.

Brave: I do not see myself as brave. I am physically very timid and worry about dangers.

Loyal: I am loyal to the people I love and stick with them. I was also loyal to people in my profession even when I disagreed with them.

Honest: I do value honesty for myself and can’t bring myself to lie. I may, however hide the truth from others by not saying anything.

Ambitious: I was ambitious in my career. I was eager to learn, try new things, and lead others. I like to be doing things and accomplishing things I am proud of. I like making things like fused glass, embroidery, home improvements/ organization, etc.

Negative traits for Scorpios: These are hard to take

Lay in wait to strike: This seems a little scheming and mean to me. I don’t see this in myself.

Jealous: I can see this in myself as a product of feeling doubtful of my own abilities, talents,etc.

Secretive: I often keep feelings to myself, though, unfortunately not my opinions.

Controlling: I do have a tendency to try to be in control and barrel ahead either discounting others or just assuming they agree with me. I also hate being manipulated and controlled by others, but who doesn’t?

Resentful: It is very hard for me to forgive someone who has deliberately tried to hurt me or those I love.

Stubborn: OK, I admit it!

This post is part of the StoryWorth project that I am participating in.
At the ButchieBoy main page click the Storyworth catagory to see all the entries in that category.