A few photos of Christmases past. The left one is 1967 and the right 1966. The tree was always magical to me, even though it took up a chunk of the living room. I loved the soft glow of lights at night and the sparkling metal tinsel. I remember Thom or Lou loved to throw the tinsel on and I liked it to be placed on so it fell straight down and glittered. I loved putting on each ornament with memories of where it came from.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

The first snowfall in Flat Rock used to be around the evening of the first high school basketball game; then for 2-3 weeks, we might not see any more. We would pray for snow on Christmas, but not too much. It was now a few days after Christmas, 1970 something. The family was gathered at Walnut Street for a traditional Christmas gathering, when someone commented that it was snowing. I grabbed my camera and went out in front, staying on the driveway, because snow was already accumulating on the grass. Because of the overcast skies, I couldn't get enough depth-of-field to focus on the house as well as the large snowflakes gently falling. The result was a poor photograph and a great memory.

I cannot that I have all the facts right. Our brains have a way of re-writing our little "memory movies", poetic license, I guess. But this one picture encapsules all the gatherings, like the sound of tearing paper and laughter, the smell of a hundred things to eat, and the taste of Mom's eggnog (with or without rum).

Irving Berlin, a Jew, wrote "White Christmas" because of his memories of his childhood best friend, a Catholic neighbor boy who always invited Irving over to share their Christmas. Irving had moved from New York to Los Angeles as his songwriting career had blossomed.

But Jimmie Van Heusen's lyrics to another song of the season say: "It's not the things you do at Christmas time, but the Christmas things you do all year long."

I likewise believe that it wasn't the snow gathering outstide on the cold ground, but the family gathering inside of warm 29566 Walnut St. that made it Christmas.

To all the descendants of Dick and Billy Calkins. . .Merry Christmas!

Dad-ism #4: Rustoleum, for serious outdoor painting

As I thought about this Dad-ism, I suppose it should have been the very first one. I think Dad's policy was this: if a piece of metal was to be outside, and it was not naturally immune to heavy corrosion (e.g. copper, aluminum or stainless steel), it would be painted with Rustoleum. That even went for some indoor things too like the sump pump pipe and the sewer clean-out pipe that came up out of the basement floor by the clothes chute. I picked the picture on the left because I think Dad used more silver metallic Rustoleum than any other color. I would like to say I took this picture of a can from Dad's collection of Rustoleum paints, but I have to confess, this is my own can of paint! Yes, that's right, this is one Dad-ism I have definitely carried the torch on.

You will probably have to click on the pictures to see my arrows that point to what I call "Rustoleum targets". In the picture on the far left, there is a red arrow pointing to a column that was eventually covered with aluminum, but was originally painted with Rustoleum. The arrow at the bottom of that same picture is pointing to the manhole cover, not shown. (Come to think of it, that is the only thing at the house I did not take a picture of!) Notice in these pictures that many of the things that were painted need painting again. But if you think about it, they probably were painted almost 20 years ago!

OK, in this next picture, can you spot the potential Rustoleum target? It is the stove hood vent cover, exactly in the middle of the picture. The really cool thing about Rustoleum was that it could be applied directly over existing rust as long as it was not loose rust. (Can you sense how much I like the stuff, too?)




And in this final picture, can you spot the Rustoleum targets? For me it was obvious: the two bird feeder poles in front of the bay window. The outer front door, although it looks like it was painted with metallic silver Rustoleum was actually just an aluminum door. The lower panel was oxidized and pitted so badly that Dad eventually painted it the solid color shown. But who really knows, maybe the paint he used on the door was indeed Rustoleum.

Windows forty-something

The original windows shown here to the left of the skinny kid with the tom cat tie, had removable wood storm windows which could be propped open to allow a little air in. Three holes were drilled in the bottom to relieve moisture build-up, but bugs always built nests in there. To cool the house in summer, we had to remove the storm windows and put up screens, which were stored in the basement. I didn't take Dad long to have aluminum combo storm/screen windows installed.

The basement windows could be opened from the basement by releasing a latch and pulling the top of the window toward you. Because the basement was built too deep, you had to find something to stand on. At one time I developed a pole with a hook on it to open them from the floor. Guess that was Thom-ism #1. One of my jobs one summer was to paint metal frame which had a tendency to rust, in aluminum Rust-Oleum, of course. Another Dad-ism (which number are we on?) was making screened frames for the basement windows which were wedged into place with insulation strips.

I enjoyed the fact that house had windows facing in all directions. I have three distinct widow memories. During the upstairs renovation, a hole had been cut in the north peak to install a window. Looking out at that tremendous view, I was, for the only time in my life, jealous of Grandma and Grampa Calkins. Memory #2 was running to the small bedroom in the dormer after the old air raid siren had sounded that 4th of July reunion evening, and seeing the funnel cloud heading right for our house from about a mile and a half away.

Memory #3: I didn't think of Dad as an artist. When he created artwork, I though he was a wizard. But the most wonderful wizardry was the cellophane and tape "stained glass" nativity scene he created for the middle kitchen window. That was my favorite window of all.

Dad-ism #3: Push-button Lighting

Another thing we had, that absolutely nobody else in Flat Rock had was low-voltage push-button wiring. This was definitely a Dad-ism and something I think he was always proud of. I am sure all of us remember having to push one side of the button to turn a light on and the other side to turn it off. Remember pushing the button and having to wait a little bit for the light to come on? Remember sometimes turning the light off and it would come back on? And at one point, some of the push-buttons used to have lights in them so you could see when a light was on. I say "at one point" because I am pretty sure they all burned out and I think they were hard to replace.

In fact, the relays for the light (Dad always called them Remcon relays) were hard to get after a while. The switch panels also soon became hard to get and today the panel at the back door (bottom photo) is replaced by individual doorbell switches. The switch panel shown in the top photo is in the back hallway; notice the wiring harness that went through the closet. I am not sure Dad actually did this wiring - I think he contracted it out to a place that came in and did the whole thing. But I could be wrong on that. It think Dad would have at least done his usual neat job of tacking the wires down along the edges. The worst "rats nest" of wires was on the switch panel on the side of the garage where a mass of wires could be seen from inside the tool shed.

This was low-voltage wiring, meaning you could not get hurt in any way touching these switches - even if you were standing in a puddle of water. Maybe Dad was thinking of family safety when he had this switch system installed. Nah - it was our Dad - it had to be the high-tech factor.

Dad-ism #2: The Fireplace

The fireplace in the backyard has been mentioned before in other posts here, but I wanted to highlight some Dad-isms with it. My idea of a Dad-ism is something that only our Dad, through his bent toward high technology, well-engineered designs, and an obsession for perfection would do. Dad always seemed to want to be on the cutting edge of technology, yet be different from others. And he didn't just read about it or fantasize about it, he actually did it. There were many times I would have friends over and they would marvel at some of Dad's creations: push-button lighting, a miniature golf course in the backyard, and ... even a manhole! In this case, it was the fireplace. Who else in Flat Rock had a fireplace? Well, in fact Jay Jones had one right next door. But there were not many others to be found anywhere. I don't know which fireplace was built first, or if there was literally any "keeping up with the Jones's" going on, but at least OURS WAS BIGGER! And lasted longer!

In the end, nature always wins over any of man's creations and the picture shows how the vegetation is slowly swallowing the fireplace. Below the dense ivy at the bottom are stone tiles that formed a front floor for the fireplace. The back of the fireplace was also unique in that it had sort of a storage area that had a drain out the bottom. Never knew what that was to be used for. But I do remember the back of the fireplace being my secret hideaway place where I did such things as smoke my first cigarette (don't ask where I got it) and make several of my incendiary and explosive creations. Anyway, back to the Dad-ism.

You will likely have to click on the photo to enlarge it for the following description. In the photo, "A" is where Dad intended to put an electrical outlet. I am not sure why except that he was an electrical engineer and they usually find comfort in having a nearby electrical outlet. The outlet was never actually wired up and I am not sure why. Maybe it was when Dad saw how much it would cost to run wire 100 feet from the house that he felt it wasn't worth it. Or maybe he finally determined there might be a safety issue.

At locations "B" is shown genuine "fire brick". Dad got this from Pennwalt (Pennsalt back then) probably from some boiler or something. I mean it's one thing to have a unique looking fireplace in the backyard, but it is quite another to have it lined with fire brick. I am quite sure absolutely nobody else within many, many miles, or in all of Michigan, or even the country had a fire brick lined fireplace! Looking up on Wiki (see here for a short description), it says fire brick can withstand temperatures to 3000 degrees F! That's some pretty hot papers we would have to burn to get to that temperature! The article also says, "a material with the same composition, is used to make the insulating tiles of the space shuttle." Whoa, now that's high tech!!

So was it being one-up on the Jones's? I don't think so, it was just our Dad being himself.

Old Fridge

Raise your hand if you remember the old Kelvinator refrigerator in the basement!!! As I recall, Lou had added some "artwork" to the knight with a black permanent marker. What did we keep in that fridge anyway? Fresca?

The Hot Rock Caper

Tracee's mention of the rock garden stirred several memories, and it's driving me crazy; I've gotta confess. The story you are about to read is true; only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. It's about 1952, and I would often walk home from school east along Gibraltar, turning right onto Evergreen at Van Riper's house, crossing the street to look at the rock embedded in the tree that everyone said was a meteorite, then a left turn at old Doc Proud's house onto Hill St., which had a new coat of gravel. I'd stop to look through the gravel, and I'd find some quartz crystals and fossilized sea creatures every time. I'd stuff'em into my pants pocket and go on home.
They caused no problem unless I left them in my pockets and they ended up in the washer. Mom yelled a few times, and that was all, until I was called into conference with. . .we'll call him "Big Daddy." I thought I was in big trouble, but he handed me a Junior Geology Set, with dozens of samples of all kinds of rock.
Yup, Big Daddy was aiding and abetting, but that was just the start of it.
We began taking trips in the summer time, supposedly to see and do things, when Big Daddy would suddenly stop along a mountain road where chunks of rock had broken loose. Then he picked one up and put it in the trunk of the car! What if the cops catch us? We'll all go to jail, and I'll never become an international spy with a record! Worse yet, he did it several times! They're gonna break a hole in our trunk, the the copswillcomeandyouknowwhat!!
The cops never caught him, and he was bold enough to put the evidence on display in the flowers in the backyard! He would even remember where he stole each when, telling anyone who pretended to be interested. Thankfully the flowers ended up swallowing most of the evidence. But at least I no longer felt guilty about my fossils and quartz.

Part 4 The final Goodbye

I resisted the temptation to climb out onto the carport roof. I descended the stairs…one last time. As I headed for the basement, I remembered mom making dad’s lunches , putting them on the steps to the landing and how dad would grab his lunch as he was leaving and say “Ralph!” For you younger generation, Grandpa had morphed “We’re off” over the years to one word “Ralph”. I headed into the basement remembering the strings that used to assure that we wouldn’t fall into the sump pump that were later replaced with paneling. I walked into the laundry room remembering the tornado of July 4, 1969 when I had taken Pub by the chain with a pillow and was crouched over by the concrete laundry tub. That’s what they taught us in school, remember? Find the south east corner of the lowest level and “assume the position”. I was over there crying, everyone else had come down to the basement, except for Lou who went outside. I think dad’s words were “Oh, for crying out loud!”
I then went into the paneled part of the basement in what used to be Thom’s bedroom. I remembered the bamboo curtains that separated his “room” from the rest of the basement. I remember his animal print corduroy bedspread. I remember jumping on him to wake him up for school. Sorry I was such a pain of a little sister…
Then I went into the workbench area and around again to the laundry room. Didn’t that used to be closed with a door on it? I seem to remember having a club house in there. I noticed that the paneling now covers the “trap door” where after a bird came flying out of there was forever after the sound that would make Pub come running. I climbed those basement stairs. Through my tears I locked the back door and said goodbye to the house of 51 years of memories…. for the last time.

Good-bye 3

Remembering my “dusting days, I ran my finger across the partition ..one last time. I walked into the family room, again, half expecting to see mom sitting on the couch snoozing with her knitting on her lap. Just to hear the old familiar sounds, I went into the bathroom open and closed the accordion door, clothes chute, the door where the toilet paper was kept and the medicine cabinet…one last time. I can still picture the day that mom told me grandma had died. I was sitting on the steps to the upstairs and dad was in the bathroom shaving. I remember that I thought dad would be more upset. A feeling of absolute dread came over me as my 8 year old mind interpreted his lack of emotion to mean that he didn’t know yet, and surely I was going to be the one to have to tell him. I can see this in my mind’s eye as if it happened yesterday.
I looked in the “office” remembering the days that Lou and I shared that room and then, in later years, when we finally convinced mom to move her bed down there..2005 as I recall. I remembered how she loved to play solitaire on the computer and how she wouldn’t let her checking account go unless she balanced it to the penny. I am grateful now of all the times that she told me where the financial information was kept and how she wanted things handled. I hope and pray that I have met her expectations.

Dad-ism #1 - The Hidden Wiring

Linda, I don't mean to break up your picture installments, but I just had to get the Dad-isms going. Dad-isms are the little things that Dad did to the house that absolutely nobody else in Flat Rock would do. Nobody else would have the flare and finesse Dad had. Here is a picture of one. This is a wall socket on the door side of the partition with a power wire running through the partition to probably a light on the other side. Actually, I think it went to a 3-way receptacle so several things could be plugged in: a light, the answering machine, the caller-ID box, the creche at Christmas time - whoa, that's more than 3, time to double-up the 3-ways! Dad would do this all the time - everywhere. It was particularly evident upstairs in their bedroom where wire could be found neatly tucked in along the floor and up and down the sides of doorways. Telephone wire, 110-volt wiring, it didn't matter. If Dad could tuck it in and make it look neat he would do it. Upstairs, Dad wired things so he was able to control the speed of a fan in their bathroom from his bed! Talk about convenient living! Maybe he got some of the ideas from watching The Jetsons with us on TV. Dad always tried to make our home a modern home technologically. Remember the Philco television with the plunger remote control?!

Saying good-bye part two

As I ascended the stairs I remembered that I used to scale this mountain quite a bit faster than I do now. I remembered that I used to have it memorized exactly which steps to skip or which side to step on so they wouldn’t squeak and wake mom and dad when I got home...late. Then I went into my old bedroom, open and closed the closet doors and looked out the window ...one last time. I remembered the old windows and how they had those little holes at the bottom of the storms. Even on the coldest winter days, dad would open those at night so that we might have “fresh air”. I stood over the upstairs heating grate and let it billow my pant legs, remembering cold winter mornings when I would stand over it and let the heat do the same to my nightgown. Or the mornings when I was in high school when I would stumble into the bathroom in my night shirt to hear dad say, “They'll never let you in!” I walked into mom and dad’s room remembering even back to when it was grandma’s room. Did anyone other than me ever stop to realize that both dad and his mother died in the exact room? I know dad’s official place of death is the hospital, but I was there that morning and I can tell you that both mom and I knew as we left the house that he was already gone. I opened and closed the attic doors to hear that unique sound and walked down the hallway snapping pictures the entire way.

The last Goodbye (first of 4 installments)

This is so long that I will be posting it in 4 installments.

October 13, 2009 7:20pm The Last Goodbye I turned the key in the back door...one last time. A rush of memories came flooding back…Mostly of mom sitting in her office chair at the kitchen table where I saw her every day of August 2007, her last full month. The house was eerily quiet…no sounds of clocks ticking, voices, the dog, or mom. I picked up the phone and started to cry when I saw her blush still staining the phone where her cheek had touched it. I miss our daily phone conversations. I turned the heat up and looked at the register in the living room, remembering crouching there on cold winter mornings until dad would catch me and grumble “Stop blocking the heat!” I remembered the day when I tried to convince mom that I was sick and touched the end of the old mercury thermometer to that register only to have it read like 108…yep, mom caught on and I went to school that day.

House of secrets

As a little boy, often playing by myself in the house, I appreciated the things built into the house which would prepare me for my life's work...as an international spy. The clothes chute has already been mentioned, but I used it to spy on Mom and/or Dad while they were in the basement. You had to open the metal door in the bathroom verrrrry slowly, or the rusty old spring would make a horrible screeching noise and give you away. Then you could listen to even the slightest noise with ease, except when the washer was discharging water into the laudry tub during a spin cycle. There were a lot of hiding places for a spy; the closets in the main hall and side door hall, and of course the two bedrooms. But the best place was one where you could observe your environment: The space under the basement stairs. Because of the sump pump, the only easy way to gain acess was to enter the workbench area, pass between the water heater and furnace, duck into opening, and wait to see if anyone came downstairs. In later years I also liked going into attic under the pretense of finding something in an old National Geographic, when I really just wanted to hang out.

Babysitting

This photo brings back memories of babysitting Lou and looking after him while Mom was busy. Here Cynthia M. and I practice being responsible. He was so cute. When he was a little older he loved to sing and we loved listening to the made-up lyrics. We couldn't let him know we were listening, though, or he would stop singing.

This was taken before the garage was built. That spot behind me was where we used to play in the round blowup swimming pool on hot days. What a nice addition the garage was for our whole family--extending our living space in summer.

29566 Walnut

This is a scan of the stationary that mom used for her Christmas letters. Someone (maybe you Thom?) bought it for her years ago and she became rather stingy on using it since she didn't want to run out. I scanned it and assured that she could have stationary for years to come. Betty Tabor reports that the new family have been working over there nonstop. She sees lights on all the time. She is so excited which makes me believe that mom and dad would have been also.

Another backyard photo, ca. 1988

The swing in the backyard of Grandma and Grandpa's house was always something fun. I remember the backyard as being a magical place, with lots to see and explore, but also being a bit nervous about what was in all that ground cover. Most of all, I was always amazed on how the garage was transformed into this wonderful indoor/outdoor space where we'd eat and play board games when we visited during the summer.

Fireplace

Over-grown with weeds and the mortar gently crumbling...there stands the old fireplace. I remember burning bags of garbage in that old thing...watching the styrofoam meat trays melt. I probably shouldn't have been inhaling those fumes but I loved to see the cool colors and the way the flames danced off the styrofoam. If I remember right, dad told me that Thom and Marie's names or handprints or something are in there? Hope the new people keep it and find some use for it again. Closing tomorrow...sigh....

Porch

Well here I am inside the house being observed like a fish in an aquarium by...who are those kids anyway? I remember mom saying we always lost a couple of kids off that porch every year on Halloween night. I almost fell off of it one last time myself today as I took out the old Magnovox stereo...don't worry it went to a very loving home. Haven't heard any more about closing but it should be soon.

Having left the planet of Wyandotte, never to return, we arrived in the New World of Flat Rock, and the first thing I noticed was structure rising into the sky, apparently built by the civilization that had previously inhabited this part of Walnut. I could hear the strains of Richard Strauss' "Also Sprach Zarathustra" as I approached it. . . wait a minute, "2001-A Space Odyssey" hadn't been made yet. . . anyway, it was built of rigid pipe, over 2" in diameter, and sunk deep into the ground. One end had an angled pipe bracing it, but the brace was never installed on the end showing.

The monolith had two ejection seats originally, later converted to only one in the center. You can see that there wasn't much else to play with, so I spent a lot of time learning about this mysterious structure. The open end where the brace should be was for English sparrows to nest in. The seats were to swing in, ever higher and higher, and attempt to break the world distance record in the frontal bail-out. The rear bail-out was to prove one's courage as a warrior, and to demonstrate how quickly one could duck one's head before being clobbered by the seat coming forward.

It took be several years to accomplish the feat, but once I could shinny up a vertical pole to the top, I could see enemies coming for miles.

Dad taught me to love Rust-Oleum, and the original silvery color was later replaced with his favorite; green.

Another pastime was twisting the seats until the chain was coiled and riding them as they untwisted, until one was too dizzy to walk.

It was a gathering place, too, much like the front porch, and the seats later became a measuring stick to register the growth of my siblings, and later, of our own families.

The swing has survived a tornado that removed the 25 ft. walnut tree that grew just a few feet away, and I have no doubt that it will still be there for future civilizations to ponder unless someone purchases the land who has no respect for the Sacred Swing.

Streetlight

Here is the what the streetlight looked like...I actually would be ready to go in but be down the street by the firehydrant, just sitting on the easement waiting for the light to go on...you wouldn't want to come in too early!! Thanks to Lou for the picture..google images perhaps?

Play on Walnut St.

Memories of play on Walnut---

Going to Mittlestat's to make chocolate chip cookies with Cynthia and eating most of the cookie dough! UGH!

Spending hot overnights in Cynthia's bedroom on the 2nd floor with the fan blowing out the window to try to circulate air. Stifling!

Making blanket tents over the clothesline in the back yard, weighting it down with bricks, and using maple "helicopters" as pretend food.

Playing pool tag in a square swimming pool that had metal seats in each corner. Most of the water ended up outside the pool.

Making forts of snow in the winter after a big snow.

Playing Capture the Flag with Thom's friends.

This photo was before the "sub" was there, and located in Cynthia's backyard.

A 1992 letter from Mom to Dad

Here is a letter from mom to dad that I found with their 50th wedding anniversary stuff. I would have scanned it if it had been handwritten...but, you know mom, it was typed.

Sweetheart,
Going way, way, way back in my memories--I remember telling my friend, Rosemary once that I thought Dick Calkins and I could really get along. Then when Ken Bond asked me if I'd go out with you, I remember saying "I'll try anything once"--knowing full well that I'd hoped for that time to come quite some time before. And then you did ask me if I'd go for a ride with Ken and (was it Jean?) to go to see the Christmas tree decorations. We had a great time though I tried to keep you from knowing I'd been out to Palmer Woods to see the Christmas trees a few nights before with ? --maybe it was Don Huffman. Little did I know you guys would get together and exchange information about your holiday dates and you would all find out. Then that winter when the Y leaders club had a party at Ted Krause's cottage at the lake planned and you and Bruce decided to flip a coin to determine who was to take me to that party (rather than make a dash to the phone). Bruce thought the coin flip was best as when you proposed the idea, he was nude, getting ready to take a shower after working out at the Y. Anyway, the coin was flipped and whether you won or lost I never was sure but you took me to the fun day at the lake. It was really the beginning of many happy years. Remember that day at the lake when we carried lanterns when it got dark and walked across the frozen lake?
And then on April Fool's day in 1942 you gave me an engagement ring and we set the date for June 26. We had a great week at Glen Eden Hotel at Glen Arbor, Michigan. I remember when I posed over a beautiful look-out spot so you could take a picture--only to find out I was sitting on an ant hill. Remember the dessert we were served in the dining room--Sailor's duff? Remember the canoe trip we took down the winding stream, taking home movies all along the way and then at the end of the day as we put up on shore and waited for the Hotel to come for us, we unloaded the camera, dropping it on the ground and watching it roll? What a bummer!
Our family began in December of 1942. After experiencing a miscarriage early in the year of 1943, we were excited to have Tom arrive at Wyandotte Hospital. A flu epidemic at the time kept me from all visitors--and I didn't get to see you for five days. If they hadn't brought Tommy to me every four hours, I would really have been lonesome. I guess you were busy trying to keep warm, having to reheat the house when you got home from work--not easy when you had to keep a fire going in the furnace. You were so helpful after I got home from the hospital because Tom was a colicky little one and we had to take turns sleeping so one of us could be on duty in the wee hours.
And then 3 1/2 years later, we were blessed with a little girl. Not only did we have a pretty little girl, we were blessed with another smart child. Marie was just a year old when we moved to Flat Rock. I remember your mother came to help out when we were bouncing back and forth with the moving between Flat Rock and Wyandotte, she kept Marie happy. Tom started Kindergarten that Fall and that was our beginning of 27 years with student in the Flat Rock School system. I was proud of you when you served for 12 of those years on the school board.
Then in 1952, when we learned your dad would be retiring, we felt the only answer was to provide a home for you Mom and Dad with us. I remember that summer when we raised the roof and built two rooms and bath up in what was the attic. The roof had been torn off and we had the most awful downpour. You were up on the roof untwisting the tarp from the chimney to pull down to keep our walls dry. What a traumatic moment. I was pregnant for Lou and despite the running from the basement to attic all went well--our little nest didn't wash away and I didn't suffer any ill effects. That summer your parents moved in with us thought their rooms weren't quite finished. Plastering in that little linen closet in the bathroom was a bit difficult for me since my tummy took up much of the room in that closet.
When Marie was just 3 years old and Tom was nearly 7 we experienced the first real worry when Tom was diagnosed as having Polio. He was hospitalized for 8 weeks Your support to me during those weeks kept me from going off the deep end. And then while he was in the hospital, your calm and cool caring carried me through when Marie fell out of the car while we were driving at 60 miles an hour. I remember what a relief it was to see her running to catch up to us as we turned around and our headlights shown on her. One of the many thing we have to thank God for.
The January of 1953, after your parents had moved in with us, Lou came into our life. Lou was not a colicky baby so the adjustment to your parents moving in and a new baby, wasn't too traumatic. Your parents never interfered so the merger of the two families went quite smoothly. I know you must have had mixed emotions about the outcome and I will admit I felt that perhaps since life had been rather quiet for your folks, especially after you left, the noise and especially a crying baby might be really disturbing to them. If it was, they never complained.
Your mother had been very helpful after Lou was born. I remember hiding the ironing from her as she would iron and I'd see her holding her back with the pain from standing over the ironing board. So, when I told her in 1957 that I was pregnant, she had a frown come over her face. I said I thought she'd be happy and her reply was "But I won't be able to help you like I did when Lou was born". I assured her that we'd manage somehow. We did manage very well. Linda was a joy to all of us. We felt real fortunate to have a "millionaire's family" (boy, girl, boy, girl). We enjoyed watching Linda grow and she was a happy child. Not only did we enjoy watching her, we enjoyed watching the older ones enjoy her.
God certainly was good to us--providing 4 very healthy children who were also blessed with plenty of "smarts". And then as they each married and had children, to be blessed with 8 grandchildren was an added bonus. Fifty years hasn't really seemed that long. The saying "Time goes fast when you're having fun" is fitting for our marriage.

Cramped Quarters

Mealtime must have interesting at our house.  Funny, I don't recall that we ate in shifts but this photo suggests that we might have, at times.  Here we were eating dessert after Thanksgiving or Christmas.  I had forgotten the can opener on the wall and the Laurel and Hardy salt and pepper shakers on the window sill.  I remember there were a few years when someone would knock over their milk almost once a day.  Probably because the metal rectangular table was "tight" with all of us.  Can't believe Mom still made room for candle holders and a centerpiece.  Great picture of Thom and Lou!  This picture was obviously before the kitchen was remodeled.  Don't know what year that was.  Remember the vine curtains?  

Grump Family

Couldn't figure out if this was just a day when NONE of us wanted our picture taken or if it was taken the day of Grandpa Waelde's funeral. I was rather young at the time so I will defer to my elders...The photographer obviously thought that our knees were more important than dad's head!!

The Ice crusher

Here is the old ice crusher. No, I don't still have it, it had a big break in the side away from the camera. Besides, I have learned that it's the memories you want, not the object, so I took a picture of it! This will always remind me of how kind mom was to me when I was sick. When I had the stomach flu, mom would crush ice for me and have me suck on it. Later in life, much to my dentist's dismay, I became a rather ravenous ice chewer. I am proud to say that I no longer chew ice. Dental Insurance only covers so much :-) I should have taken a picture of the inside also. Those sharp steel "teeth" used to kind of freak me out.

One of my favorite places in the old house was the front porch. I guess it isn't really big enough to be a porch; maybe it's a stoop. . . whatever. Well before the Backyard Picnic Table Breakfast Club there was the Front Porch Frosted Flakes Club. It was a great place to eat breakfast on a cool summer morning because our Maple tree in front blocked a good deal of the morning sun. But it was very exclusive, seating only about two. Mom liked it because it was also a place were kids would hang out, and she didn't have to learn a special yell or whistle to summon us into the house. Sometimes the entire Walnut St. mothers' conspiracy called everyone at once; Mr. Sworden whistling, Mr. Jones yelling out "Barrrry". Pictured above is Cindy Sworden, Trip Beynon, Donny Sworden and Marie. Cindy is sporting a jump rope and her brother has a squirt gun. He was also one of the creators of the "white tape on your broken glasses" fashion statement.

Lost in the 50's

This is an ancient photograph, in the early winter or early spring, soon after the Calkins family first moved to Flat Rock. The three munchkins are (l. to r.) Tommy Calkins, Ralph Case, and Jack Drowns. The picture was taken facing west, pointing toward the lot where the Jones brothers would later build a house. The photographer slanted the picture to look like the street travels downhill to the right, but the opposite was true. The house on the right, across the street was the Baumia house, and the Calkins house is in the upper left hand corner. One of the two evergreens that would soon be moved to the front yard is shown on the side of the house, and the white picket fence that only covered the upper back yard can be seen, along with the swings (there were originally two) which were also painted white. The lot where the picture was taken, between the Case house and what would someday be the Elias house, was also vacant. You can also see that all of Evergreen St. behind the house was vacant. The road was curbless, only paved with an occasional coating of gravel and oil. I'm going to continue to focus my blogs on the house and Walnut St., being aware that most of you have no knowlege of some of the things I remember.

Home movies

   We used to beg Mom and Dad for viewing of "home movies".  I especially recall the collapse of the bridge, the old Christmas movies when Thom and I were young and the cartoons. Wow!  I was really scared of that Pincushion Man in Balloonland who popped everyone!

    Here are a sampling of still photos from some of the films I've reviewed lately.  Luckily, my neighbor had a n 8mm projector.  Hope to copy some of the footage for those of you that want it.

    

More Bitely Lake

These pictures were also taken at the cabin at Bitely Lake. This one of Megan and Dad has always been one of my favorites because 1) Megan absolutely LOVES watermelon and 2) Dad is taking great care, as he always did, to remove the seeds with a spoon prior to enjoying his piece of watermelon. Looks like we also had corn, chips, salad and of course "bug juice".

In this picture Jessica, Megan, and Mom are floating by the dock. Can't tell weather Jess was immitating Grandma, Grandma was immitating Jess or it is simply a genetic pose...maybe related to the fact that they both have webbed toes!

Young, Rich, and Handsome

This is a memory I have of Dad and Mom. When I had just entered into the teen years, I developed an interest in radio communications and I always wanted a walkie-talkie or a CB radio. Dad knew that CB was not for me and thought a "real" radio was what I should have. Maybe it was because Grandpa Waelde had an amateur radio, or maybe it was because of the kind of people Dad knew on CB, but Dad would never buy me a CB no matter how much I prodded. Finally, he talked to Ray McDonald about helping me get into the hobby. Ray introduced me to Harry Tuttle and soon I was on my way to pursuing a "ham" radio license.

I studied and finally took the exam for my license in the summer of '67 when I was 14 years old. I remember Dad driving me to the Federal Building in downtown Detroit on a Saturday to take my test. Then after that came the waiting. Back in those days, an applicant did not know if they passed or failed the test until something arrived in the mail, sort of a thumbs up or thumbs down kind of thing. Literally every day after I took the test I would anxiously check the mail box to see if anything had come from the FCC. If Mom was first to check the mail, she would always look for my license.

Sure enough, the day it finally came, Mom found it in the mail. I nervously opened it to find that I had passed the test and got my new callsign: WN8YRH. Mom took one look at it and with no hesitation said, "Hmm, Y-R-H, Young, Rich, and Handsome". I liked the slogan so much I had it printed on my QSL cards. It is shown just below the letters YRH in the picture above. And forever after that until the day he died, Harry Tuttle would greet me with, "So how is Mr. Young, Rich, and Handsome?". Thanks to Mom for the slogan, I never would have thought of it myself.

Jarts and Playboy

As Marie and I were going through things in the parent's basement, imagine our surprise to find this box labeled "Jarts and Playboy"! As you can tell by mom's picture, she meant PlayBuoy..the outdoor game meant to increase your chest size I think...Anyway, I was tickled that mom left us with one last chuckle. I so appreciate growing up in a family with a sense of humor...I'm thinking she may have done this on purpose.

Ford Anglia

I don't know who took this picture or where; it was dated Sept. 1960. The "Alley Cats" band was playing in the rec hall at the Catholic Church in Rockwood on a Saturday. We had set up our equipment early. I was driving out to the hall just after dusk, and Doug Carter was riding with me. I decided to turn on to Woodruff road from Huron River Drive, because it would take almost directly to the church, and I would avoid all the potholes in Huron River drive. A light fog had settled in, but I was comfortable on the gravel road from the many bicycle day trips to Rockwood and back with other kids in the neighborhood. A rather sharp left turn in the road was partially obscured by fog, and not well lit, and as I turned, I was startled to see a mailbox sticking out over the edge of the road. I turned too sharply, and the car slid slightly. The car's wing window (remember those?) on the passenger side hit the mailbox and shattered. Before I could regain control, the car had careened across the left side of the road and into the side of a car parked in a driveway. It turned out the car belonged to the parents of one of Doug's school mates, who invited us in to call the police and our parents. Doug had bumped his head on the window (no seat belts then) and when he removed his hand from his forhead, it was a mess of blood. I turned out to be a small piece of glass in his hand, not his head. We took care of business with the police, checked the cars out, a drove on to the dance.

I tried to justify my mishap to Dad by explaining that there was no curve sign, no light over the corner, and I thought the mailbox hung over the road. We went out there together, and he agreed. I don't know who he told about it, but months later new signage was posted, the mailbox was moved (it wasn't even damaged by the accident!) and a new light had been installed on the curve.

I loved driving that car, and I used it for a date one night, when the floor shift lever "broke." I crawled underneath and found that a cotter pin that fastened the shift lever to the transmission had broken. I borrowed a bobby pin from my date and reconnected the lever. As far as I know, it was never replaced.

Summer Vacations

A few summers we would spent a week going to different places:  Belle Isle, Boblo and the Detroit Zoo.  The lunch keeper would hold different things in each section-- sandwiches, veggies, and I especially remember the cupcakes or cookies in the bottom layer.  I mainly recall sitting in the grass near the water on Boblo and breaking out the lunch.  I think this is where Mom found that old coin one year.  The boat ride to Boblo was always a treat but so was the lunch.  I give Mom a lot of credit for doing this day after day during that week of excursions.  She must have been exhausted at the end of the week.  

   On Belle Isle we rented canoes one time and paddled around the small "river".  That boat rental building was there for a while after the boat rentals stopped but I think it's gone now.

    Thinking back on this now I imagine Dad and Mom wanted to share these places they enjoyed when they were younger.  This vacation idea was pretty special.

Dad's snack

Dad enjoyed having  late night snack every night around 10:30 p.m.  He always had tea or Postum (probably something decaf) and a sweet something.  To signal it was his snack time, he'd smack his lips together very fast making a kissing sound and say "What's for snack?"   I remember when I was home from college I looked forward to these snack times as a moment to touch base with Dad and Mom. We'd sit around the round table and discuss our day.  I wonder if this was a Calkins family tradition with Grandma and Grandpa C. when he was a teen.

Summer Time

Not sure if I posted this one before, but this is another one of the best pictures I have of Mom. This was taken in July 1994 when all of us (Marie, and Linda's and Lou's families) were visiting Mom and Dad at Bitely Lake.

I can still remember Camp Ohiyesa when I used to hold onto Mom as she went into what I thought was real was deep water. To me, she was like this inner tube, keeping me afloat.

Roses

You might remember the rose bush that lived by the side door...the one with the chives as its ground cover friend? Well, in April I transplanted that bush to my back yard, praying it would adapt. As you can see from the photos, it not only adapted but is blooming profusely! It's right next to the pond and doesn't have time to miss the chives because it has found new friends in the hostas. (Miracle Grow doesn't hurt either!) The morning of mom's funeral before they closed the casket, I put a few of these roses in with her. I know she always loved this bush so I didn't want it to go with the house. The house has had several more showings lately....Please pray that we get some kind of offer soon......

Food Memories

I remember Mom's meatless meal ( a concept way ahead of its time)--- French fried eggplant. I could only eat it with ketchup and avoided the pieces that had a lot of seeds. Yuk! I secretly thought it was pretty cool that our family had this unusual meal. None of my friends ever had eggplant for dinner.
I learned to eat fish by eating those "wonderful" fish sticks. I thought they were great. Now I love fish--but not fish sticks.
I remember Grandma Calkins standing at the kitchen table, stirring up a double batch of cookies for us in one of those crock type bowls. She was astounded a few days later that they were gone! She couldn't believe that we could eat so many cookies. Mom often wrapped up some in packages for Dad's lunches and hid them so he'd have some for himself. Otherwise he didn't get any.
I wonder if Mom had any experience cooking with her mom. I thought maybe she didn't have to cook because she was the "baby" and her mom cooked for her, especially because her siblings were older and out on their own earlier. She liked to try new recipes but stuck to the ones we loved--like Corned Beef Casserole.  On Saturdays when we'd empty out the fridge of the week's leftovers and have them for lunch. We would fight over the Corned Beef Casserole leftover, as well as the Corn Flake-covered mashed potato balls with cheese in the center!  Yum!!

Remembering Mom

What I remember the most about mom was that growing up, she was always one of the coolest moms. While she never let us get away with anything or have something just because a friend did, she was cool. One of my fondest memories was when she chaperoned a field trip when I was in fourth grade. She assigned us each a number and when she would yell "Sound Off!" we had to each shout our number in order. That way she made sure she accounted for each of us. The other kids in my group thought she was the greatest mom. Then after I started teaching she chaperoned one of my field trips again...only now I was the teacher. Again, my students thought I had the coolest mom in the world. Looking back, I guess I did!! Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I miss you bunches!

Breakfast Outdoors

Remember when Mom would have breakfast outside on the picnic table in the summer?  I'm not sure how often we did this, but I remember it being often.  She'd have an extension cord reaching out the back bedroom window for the electric fry pan.  She'd make pancakes, eggs or whatever and we'd eat outside.   I remember carrying all the dishes, food and utensils out on trays and then back in later during clean up.  I didn't really appreciate this extra "work" then but I really do now.  I think Mom and Dad really loved the out of doors and it really rubbed off on me.

     Whenever Bill and I would go camping , eating breakfast outside reminded me of those 

early breakfasts.   What a special time! 

Monday Night Reading

One of my favorite memories of dad is when he would stop over on Monday nights. Mom had Sweet Adeline practice and dad really didn't like being home alone, so he would take Mac for a walk. The walk always took him by our house where he would stop for a visit. He always took the time to read a story to the girls and fortunately, one night I grabbed my camera. We have video of him reading on a different night (The Hungry Thing). He continued "Story Mondays" for quite awhile.

This is another one of those photos that I really, really like. It is Mom with, I believe, Laurel, but maybe it is Emily. Now that I look at it more, it does look more like Emily. I always liked that expression on Mom's face as she interacted with our kids. Marie or Linda, you will have to help me out with the date of the picture. It is obvious that it is Christmas and they are in the basement opening a present for her. Man, I remember that globe from when I was in junior high!

More Pottery

Here are some more of Great Great Grandpa Waelde's pots.