52 Themes -- Memories (l)
Light on pictures, but hey, it's all about the memories!
Journaling: When we were first married, I was teaching, and Don was going to school on the GI Bill. We had no money, but we did have a fish tank. Every day I would come home from school and count the fish to see if Don had bought any new ones. That led to many a spirited discussion in the Hoenstine household.
In the first grade, I was always so-o-o slow getting my work done that one time I had to stay in during recess to finish copying something from the board. When I finished, I erased the board. When the teacher saw what I had done, I got a spanking. Mama and Daddy had always told us that if we got a spanking at school, we’d get one when we got home, too. So I didn’t tell them until I was in the fifth grade.
Karen gets tickled by most of the family sayings, things like “too thin to spread,” “looks like the wreck of the Hesperus / Tobacco Road,” “ate a hog’s load,” and “don’t notch (long o) the food.” And when we get together, the same family stories get retold: John driving to town with a quarter in his pocket and two flat tires, Don getting seasick on the deep sea fishing trip, and Marc’s and Matthew’s husky pants. Ah, family!
In the summer of 1968, two significant events occurred in my life: my cousin David, who was like a brother to me, was killed in Vietnam, and I met the man I would marry in 1970.
My daddy was a cook in the Army during WWII, and he did a lot of the cooking when we were growing up. I remember that he called the liquid that was in a pot of collard greens or turnip greens pot liquor -- probably more appropriately spelling pot likker. Grits, which I never liked as a kid, he called Georgia ice cream. Somewhere along the line I started liking them. When he was in an indulgent mood, he’d go out and get donuts for breakfast on Saturday; we were delighted to see “junk” for breakfast. He loved his sweet tea -- a love I definitely share -- and I remember making it many a time in the three-part pot. We poured boiling water into the top which dripped through a basket of loose tea and into a pitcher on the bottom. When I got married and didn’t have one of those pots, I realized I didn’t know any other way to make tea -- enter the tea ball which was as close as I could come.
I remember being so excited that I got to miss the last week of second grade to go to Alabama to stay with Aunt Jewell and Uncle Blanton.
These are our dear friends Janice and Steve. We met at church in 1982 and have remained close through more than 30 years. We got to spend an evening with them while we were in the mountains; we caught up, we ate, we laughed -- just what friends do. We talked about our kids and how we used to get together after church on Sunday nights for steak-ums. Now those kids are in their 30s and 40s, and we’re in our 60s. Where has the time gone?
I remember how thrilled I was when FSU won its first national championship in 1993, the same year Charlie Ward won the Heisman trophy, our first ever. Then in 1999, we became the first team to be ranked #1 wire-to-wire. We went on to beat Virginia Tech for the national championship. The next year Chris Weinke won the Heisman, and we played again for the national championship, but with less than stellar results. And that’s the only national championship game I’ve ever attended. I also remember being heartbroken when FSU’s president T.K. Wetherell gave Bobby the boot in January 2010. But Bobby was a class act, and FSU has rebounded nicely under Jimbo Fisher. Love, love, love my ‘Noles!
The day after I graduated from high school, a bunch of my friends and I went to the beach. I fell asleep in the sun and got absolutely cooked. The doctor determined that I had sun poisoning. When I got out of bed the next day, I fainted, and I couldn’t bear even the weight of the sheets on my legs. Daddy had to fashion a box to hold the sheets off my legs, and Aunt Clara put cool clothes on the most badly burned spots. A sun worshipper I am not!
Pocket Pages Layered Templates No. 07
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| Date: Sun October 27, 2013
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Registered: September 2008