The Bon Bon Club 1985 to 1987 ~ part 2

       How can I describe the comradery  the women of this neighborhood had?  Our neighborhood was a throw back to life on a "Ozzie and Harriet" or "Leave it to Beaver" sitcom.  I fell into welcoming arms of women, like me,  these stay at home moms, with two plus kids in our postage stamp size homes and yards.

     Within days of settling in our home our two daughters had friends.  Girl friends, boy friends, friends younger and friends older, they all played together.  The street was their street and we were outnumbered multiple times by all the children in that neighborhood.  The first day of school soon would start and my daughter K. would have friends in Kindergarten.  Every child on the street talked with the adults as though we were just an extension of children their own age.  This was the first time that I was referred to as Mrs. F. and I have to say it made me feel a bit old, as well as it sounded odd and yet was very respectful.

      This was a neighborhood where we could leave our doors unlocked during the day without any concern.  Open to children who knocked on your door or called out through the screen door "Can K. and E. play?".   Little Aja and Praire, who lived two doors down didn't even bother to knock, they just walked in to see what we were up to.  That day they walked into my bathroom while E. and I bathed in the tub together (much easier to bath a two year old together when your pregnant instead of leaning over a tub with a big belly) where I was surprised and shocked but they didn't skip a beat of chatting away to me.  I thought in the future I might lock the bathroom door when I am in there instead of being caught off guard.


     The day our daughter M. was born was a school day and I managed to give birth before school was let out.  The Indian summer day was so hot our french doors were wide open in an attempt to cool me down.  I am sure amongst my new found friends that they were able to keep up with my labor progress by all the sounds I was making that drifted outside.  By the time the kids had walked down the street past our house and begun playing outside, our new family of five was getting to know our new daughter with glasses of wine, apple juice, and cheese and crackers.

     With any neighborhood the children came up with their own stories of who lives in what house.   Next door to us lived a widow who very rarely came outside.  Even I began to wonder about her via the stories the kids would tell.  She seemed to be in the "scary house" on our street even though the house was tidy and neat.   The week after M. was born a lovely baby gift came and I met this very sweet lady for the first time.  Thereafter my girls never thought of her in any other way but a sweet old lady and would wave to her and smile.

    On the other side of our house lived a family with one teenage daughter.  They kept to themselves with their windows always covered.  I am in question of homes with windows covered all day and night  Reminds me a bit of "Boo Radley" in "To Kill a Mockingbird".  My Love had met them and reported back to me that the husband was a photographer.   We didn't see or hear from them much but the wife had plastic surgery on her nose and she wouldn't come out till it was healed.   This seemed to go on for a long time so either she wasn't happy with the surgery or she was self conscious.  We kind of felt they were oddballs only because they didn't seem to enjoy hanging outside like the rest of us but they were harmless.  We even had their daughter babysit on occasion.


     Aja and Praire lived on the other side of the Photographer's one house up.  They went to a private school and were the smartest two girls.  They talked about such intelligent subjects and knew much more than I did.  Or maybe it was just the way they spoke. 

     Across the street lived Linda and her family.  She had three kids, Kenny being the oldest, Lisa who was K.'s age and Julie who was E.'s age.  They were a busy family with Kenney playing basketball and baseball.  I can still be reminded of hearing his basketball bouncing to this day on their driveway.  His friends would ride over on their bikes, tossing them on the lawn while they played outside.  Their children all when to the Catholic school in town while K. went to the public school nearby.   

     Around the corner lived a little boy Arin who was K.'s age.  He was a sweet little guy and had a younger sister.  His grandmother from Iran had come to live with the family and spoke not a word of English.  She insisted on making them soup that at first they refused to eat but like all good children they started to enjoy the home cooked Persian food she made and voila, life with a Grandmother they had not known became quite normal.  I know their mom was secretly delighted to have help on cooking and watching the kids as well.  

      Up the street lived a boy near Kenny's age named Ross.  He always wore shorts whether it was cold or hot.  Quite the friendly guy who often would knock on the door and ask if he could take M. for a stroll in her stroller.  We would let him as long as he stayed near our house.

     I had a girl friend Debbie, who was the opposite direction down our street who had been neighbors with us years before.  I was really excited to be near her again though she seemed to have moved on with a different group of friends, and while she was nice she didn't seem to want to get chummy like the other moms.  So though I did see her on occasion we never really renewed our friendship like I had hoped.  Sometimes that just happens.

     Another family with two boys lived a few homes up  from Debbie.  I had meet her through Debbie once, but saw more of her through the new girl friends I met.  Their block of kids seemed to stick more to themselves than come up our way or our kids go their way.  Kids seem to have their own set of unspoken rules and I wonder if that was one of them.

     Janice who I had met at the garage sale we had, lived on the street directly behind Linda.  They shared a gate that could be opened to go back and forth and often I wish I could live on their side of the street and have a pass through gate too.  Janice had a daughter Julia that was K.'s age and two boys Michael and Matthew who were younger.  K. and her Julia loved to play Barbies at our house and Julia seemed to really like our dogs Tess and Heidi.


    A couple of houses down from Janice lived Paula.  She had a daughter Becky who was K.'s age and twin daughter's that were older than our daughter E.   Becky had the longest, most amazing blonde hair that came easily past her tush.  I wondered how long it took to wash and dry and how hard it was to comb out.  I was wishing my hair could grow that long as my style was a longer version of Princess Diana.

     There were only five ways into our neighborhood of four streets that ran parallel with each other and four short side streets.  It wasn't a large neighborhood which is why it was ideal for families.  We were close to a shopping center that had a grocery store, a bakery, a donut shop, and beauty salon which was important for us moms.  At the end of the street there at first was a meat market that turned into a produce market that was a real treat in comparison to the grocery store.  I could take our little red wagon and go farther to the local garden center.  


     Once my busy days of taking care of a newborn, and taking E. to preschool two mornings a week, and getting K. to and from Kindergarten I was at last able to get to know the neighbor women and find that to my hearts relief, I had many I could talk to for advice and support than I had ever had before.  


     With that the beginning of the Bon Bon Club for me began.....

     

The Bon Bon Club 1985 to 1987 ~ part 1

     My body was swollen with child when we moved into the house on Bridge Road.  I was almost seven months pregnant and useless when it came to moving unless you call pointing to where a box was to be put.   My ankles were swollen and if I laughed I potentially would pee in my pants.  I cried easily and often before, during and after our move and wondered what kind of personality my unborn child would have with such an emotional mommy.

     We had bought this wreck of a house that needed much work, just the type of house my Love and I could buy to fix up and eventually sell with a profit.  I however, was wanting a home and was willing to settle for this sad house knowing that my Love would make it a place that would become a home.  Because a house is just a place that you can see in any neighborhood but a home is where we can nest and fall in love all over again.

     When we brought the families over to see our new home I saw the look on my mom's face that fell like a souffle.  My father believed in my husband and his family always believed in him  knowing his construction abilities.  Of course my mom was already bothered with me for being pregnant with my third child.  I had upset the "apple cart" by having one more child.  How would three fit into her Mercedes Coupe, I projected of her thoughts.

     The house was tri-leveled, old and neglected.  I believe the previous owner had died and I hoped that he or she did not die in the house owing to my belief in the supernatural.  Upstairs in the future nursery and our master bedroom were wide cracks starting from the middle corners of some of the walls reaching towards the ceiling.  Our bedroom had french doors with a faux balcony and his and her walk in closets.  The kitchen had no disposal let alone a dishwasher with dingy painted cabinets, but on the bright side it was large and had a breakfast nook.  The living room had a charming fireplace that at last I could place Arleen and Clark's andirons they had given to us several years before.  There was a bonus room on the lower part that would be perfect as a playroom for our daughters multitude of toys.  The backyard was tiny but the swing set my Love had built would fit.

     Prior to our moving in we painted, scoured and scrapped wallpaper, and did deep cleaning of the bathrooms and kitchen, leaving our two girls at their Grandma's home since it was close by.  It was especially appreciated of her always having a hot meal for my Love and I when we were done working.   My Love had rented a steamer for us to attempt to get the horrendous wallpaper off the walls.  Yes, there I was on a step stool, holding the steamer plugged into the wall with an extension cord while it emited hot humid steam,  with my huge belly having Braxton Hicks contractions  and trying to be as careful as I could not to fall.   I was mad at the former owner for putting this paper on only to find another layer underneath.  Some days I would go alone and  I would cry in this house while I went up and down, over and over to attempt to peel off the wall paper, wondering if this was the best we could have found for us to live in.  I was overwhelmed by a move while this far into my pregnancy and feeling bereft of my mom and her attentions.

     I don't know what the neighbors must have thought of our comings and goings.  We took our time fixing and cleaning and the day of our move felt like a tornado had dropped our belongings there.  Since I couldn't pack like I would have the organization of what were in boxes was not done.  My brother by marriage and father by marriage assisted with the move and toys were throw into boxes like we were running out of town on a fast escape.  Once again I sat on the floor crying in our new home, trying to find the doll that my little E. wanted and was afraid didn't get moved.   Moving is hard on children who just want to see their belongings and feel secure.  I prayed my dishes didn't get broken with every box that was dumped on the floor.  

     To welcome ourselves to the neighborhood my Love and I had a garage sale.  What better way for the neighbors to get to know us than by seeing what we were getting rid of!  My Love and I sat on our camping folding chairs while kids rode by on their bikes, back and forth, their curiosity finally driving them down our deep driveway to check us out.  And really, that is how we all got to know each other.  It was the kids who met us first, followed by my first new neighbor girlfriend- to- be  Janice.  She had three kids, one our oldest daughters age and two boys.  And with that our house became a home.

 

Gifts from the box

Those cleaned hankies and my Nan's nurse's cap...yes, I said I was able to get all the spots off.  I did, but some have come back...oh well.  I am just as happy to have them at all.   

To you my Nan....just because.  I love you.

B is for "Bebe" my Nan's nick name

Hearts for someone who was so full of love

Dainty....

G is for "Gilmer" her married name

 

Nan's Hankies and Nurse's Cap

     The boxes are emptied, the photos in piles.  I've gone through the newspapers and clipped what I felt I would keep and tossed the rest.  My dining room table is still in a disarray but what a treasure hunt!


     That box that said "Bebe" on the side, the one that had the oddest collection of my Grandmother's, my Nan's belongings is the one I hoped to find and I did.  It didn't contain all that I wanted but I found the photo I was looking for in another box and that put a smile on my face and heart.  My Nan in her nurse's uniform.  You see my Nan was a public nurse.  I had heard she would go to folk's homes to tend to them when they were ill, driving her car to where they lived.  All by herself with no doctor, on quiet country roads.   Perhaps she even did a bit of midwifery for the country ladies.  Later she worked in hospitals as a Surgical Nurse.  I would love to have heard her stories of those times.  I think she tended folks too poor to see a doctor as a Public Nurse.  My Nan had such a good bedside manner.  I never really minded being sick as she would bring me my meals on an aluminum tray as I was propped up in my bed with pillows.  She took my temperature and kept me comfortable with all the love a Grandmother could give as well.  

     What I didn't expect to find was her Nurse's cap.  Still stiff with heavy starch.  It was spotted with a rusty color all over it and smelled of that musty odor that my nose wrinkled up too.  My Nan's cap.  Those were the days of the white cap, white uniform dress, white hose and white shoes.  She was a registered nurse that was given much respect by her peers.  She had years of experience.  


     I took that cap and brushed it with my special mix of hydrogen peroxide mixed with powdered Oxy Clean to make a thin paste.  I let it sit all day and then soaked it all night in a bowl of cold water and Woolite.   The next day nary a spot was in sight.  My Nan's cap pure white.  Tomorrow I will press it stiff just as she would have.  She would have put in on her head with hair pins to hold it in place for her hours of work.


     I found a pile of hankies, equally spotted and stained.  I did the same with them as the cap.  No spots to mar them.  Each different and dainty.   I can't say that I saw her use them all the time but I know she used tissue that she would tuck in the sleeve of her sweater to dab her nose.  I wonder if I gave her one of these hankies that I have in the pile?   The one with tiny red hearts around the edge?  The one with little flowers of blue?   Just the kind of gift a little Granddaughter would give her Grandmother.


     That box contained an old bra, a girdle, two pair of hose, two slips with one of white and one black, and a pair of her glasses in a gold cardboard box with a pink paper flower on top.  Why my mom saved her under garments I do not know and I never will.  My daughters were intrigued by these relics.


     As I attempted to make order in my dining room by separating the stuff I had trashed into recycle and garbage boxes, I came upon some wad of paper stuck to the bottom.   I don't know what made me try to get this out but I did.   It was unrecognizable of what it was, a foot long and a smashed roll of stiff paper with some rot on the bottom that was black.  Not good.  I tried to open it without success as I could see that it was more than just one paper.  I don't really know why I even kept trying but I gently rolled it between my palms and low and behold a seam opened.  I was able to unroll it and what I found was my Grandmother's Nursing credentials.  Two of them from 1925 from the school she went to in Tennessee!   How did they wind up so smashed up?   Why weren't they in a frame or rolled in a tube?  All those years buried at the bottom of a rotting box and I just happened to give that box one more look before I took it out to the garbage.  


     I don't know why I have become the custodian of the family treasures.  I do think I was destined for this though.  I am the keeper.  The older I become the more protective I become of what was "special" long ago.  I don't know what will become of what I so eagerly try to archive but I will take all the care in the world to help it find a safe spot of honor while I breath in this world. 

A family in mourning

She left her home on Monday with a bright red sweatshirt on, riding her bike and went to school.  She didn't stay but got on a Bart train heading to San Francisco.  A photo of her exiting the station shows her with her bike, wearing earphones for an iPod.  The last image of a beautiful young woman.

What happened to Allison?  What triggered her to leave with the intent to end her life?  I am torn up inside with the questions.  She was 15 years young the same age as my son.  She felt she had no friends is what my son heard.  They went to different high schools in our town, he didn't know her.  My son tells me this as we drive home from school today.

I want to hug my son but I am driving the car in the crazy school traffic outside the campus.  I tell him what he already knows, that he can talk to his dad and I anytime about anything.  That we love him so very much.  That he is loved by all his family.  


Allison left a trail.  I want to believe she wanted to be found and did not want to end her life, for why ever else would she have done this?  On her computer it showed directions from the Dublin Bart station to the Golden Gate Bridge.  Her bike was found, locked, in the Presidio area in San Francisco near the Golden Gate Bridge.  She left a suicide note at home and was considered "at risk".  Was she "at risk" before or because of the note?


They know she went onto that bridge because they have found footage of this on the two cameras at either end of the bridge.  She never walked off.


So now her family waits for the discovery of her body.  The pain they all must be feeling.  The pain Allison must have felt to plan her last day, her last moments.  


I have never been so sad or depressed to feel that I can not live in this world any longer.  I can't know that pain.  I only know that I wish that she could have been helped to know she was loved.  That she had a full life ahead of her.  She was in sports and will be missed by her teammates.  She will never get to go to Junior Prom or the Senior Ball.  She will never graduate from High School or go to college.  Never travel, never explore.  She will never find the love of a soul mate or have children of her own to love.


I hope that in the sweet hereafter Allison is being held in loving arms.  Surrounded by those who will let her know how loved she is.  I hope that her family are surrounded by loving arms as well because their deepest pain has only just begun.


Today started off rainy and grey and they gave way to blue skies and puffy clouds flying by.  The green leaves on the trees dancing and swaying in the gusty wind.  How can life be so beautiful but not beautiful enough?  Oh Allison I am holding you in my arms and wanting to sooth your troubled brow.  I want to rock you and let you know life is more than precious.  It is more than words can say. 





 

Clearing the head

My doggies and I had a lovely gentle hike yesterday.  Blue skies with a gentle breeze.  There is nothing like a walk in nature to clear ones head!  Just some photos so share and a short video of  what we saw.

The birds were singing, the once green grass is slowing drying out into the golden brown grass of a California summer.  We saw a lot of cows.  Young ones I would say, all lazy and not eating the grass that is so bountiful.  Maybe they have had there fill for that time of day.

Annie and Stewie doing the "doggie pant".  Oh do they love a walkie!

Me too needing some sun on my pale winter skin.  I love where I live!






Walking with the poochies from Ellen F. on Vimeo.

Mmmmm comfort food...

Comfort food....oh today I need comfort food.  I have no idea why curry gives me comfort.  I am not Indian or Thai yet the aroma of curry and coconut has this way of making me feel hugged.  I love to wake up the next morning still with the aroma of these two scents in my home.

I am sharing a wonderful soup that spells comfort out so well.  C-o-m-f-o-r-t...try it and tell me if you feel the same way.....

Curried Carrot Coconut Soup

2 T butter
1 small onion (I like a sweet one)
2 garlic cloves, pressed or minced
4 tsp curry powder or paste
1 tsp kosher salt, (not table salt!)
2 lb. organic carrots, chopped
4 C good chicken broth
2 cans (15 oz each) coconut milk
1/2 C plain yogurt, homemade preferably


1.  Melt butter in a large soup pot over medium high heat.  Cook onion, garlic, curry powder, and salt until fragrant, stirring often, about 2 minutes.  Add carrots and broth and cook, covered, until very tender, about 12 minutes.

2.  Puree soup until very smooth, using a blender and working in batches.  Stir in coconut milk and heat until hot.  Serve in bowls of soup with a dollop of the yogurt on top.

Breathe in the lovely smell of curry and coconut and r-e-l-a-x.......