I’ve decided to write a journal of sorts. Mainly a work of fiction as it pertains to anyone but me as it’s my interpretation and recollection of my life.
My blog has become a sort of journal for my kids that they will have long after I’m gone. However, I wanted them to also have something more about me.
I wish so much that I knew more about my Mom and Dad. What were their lives like, did they ever dream of something different? What was their childhood like? I know little to nothing about my Dad’s parents.
Even though we don’t know the answers to many questions about our parents and their parents, we can only guess and imagine, as we carry all of it into our lives because they raised us.
I would love for my kids to have something to look back on and say, oh that’s why I love SweetTarts, and that’s why I’m afraid of heights!
My hope is to share a new short story every Monday but if life throws me a curve ball, I may skip a week or two.
And with that…. I’ll begin!
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Life in Michigan
I was born on August 24, 1957, at 12:30 in the afternoon. It was a Saturday and my Dad was playing golf while my Mom was having me.
My Kingsford Memorial Hospital in Kingsford, Michigan which is a small town right next to Iron Mountain in the Upper Peninsula.
I was the second child of Arthur and June Simonson. When I was born my sister Laurie was almost 6 years old.
20 months after I was born, my brother Scott made an appearance and I became the middle child. I remained the middle child for many years.
I have very few memories of living in Michigan as I wasn’t quite 5 when we moved to Illinois.
One memory that I clearly recall was walking away from home to follow my sister to her friend Barb’s house. I didn’t make it to the corner when my mom, extremely pregnant with my brother found me. Boy, she was mad and she gave me a spanking.
I also have recollections of playing with neighbors and cousins on our swing set in our backyard and I also remember a neighbor getting hurt when something in our garage fell on them. Nothing life-threatening but I did go with my Mom to their house with a gift for that child who was laying on the sofa.
I had a blankie that I held under my nose and sucked my pointer and middle finger. Surely the reason I was the only one in the family that need braces. Which I didn’t get until I was an adult.
But back to the blankie. I liked the smell of it and when my mom would wash it, she would ruin it. I had to sneak up onto the kitchen table and get a little butter on the corner so it would get dirty faster and smell lovely again!
I’ve been told that when the blankie would be on the clothesline outside I would stand underneath it and hold it to my nose and suck on my fingers.
Moving to Illinois
We moved to Illinois in the summer of 1962 and I turned 5 in August right after we moved. I remember my Mom having a birthday party for me with all the little girls on the street, and there were a lot.
At this party, I really didn’t know them but over the next 9 years, we would get to be good friends before my parents had the audacity to move right before my freshman year of high school.
Thanks to social media, I’m still connected with many of those old neighborhood friends.
It was in many ways an idyllic place to grow up. Almost all the Moms were housewives and home with us. Except for a few kids who went to Catholic School, we all came home for lunch every day. In the summer the only rule was to be home by the time it got dark.
I wasn’t much of an adventurer, my good friends were at the most one block away so I pretty much stayed close to home.
My good friends included Lori and Cindy Hart, Brenda Balasa, Ann Marie Jindra, Cindy Rush, Pam Hansen, and Mindy whose last name I can’t remember but her Dad was a cameraman for Bozo Circus and I got to go on many occasions.
Next time, I’m going to talk about my recollection of the adults in my 60s-era life.
Peace and Love,
Tell Them Your Story
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#3 – A Lonely Kid
#5 – The Tornado