‘Hee Haw’ slumber party

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Handwritten page of a diary dated March 24, 1974

… and I still got to have the slumber party, even though Great Grandma was staying at our house.

So it gets to be about 2 a.m. and we’re acting stupider and stupider and we start singing that song from “Hee Haw”  (which we would NEVER have chosen to watch in a trillion billion years, but Barb’s mother likes it and we’ve seen it at her house). The song that goes:

“Where oh where are you tonight? Why did you leave me here all alone?
I searched the world over and I thought I’d found true love, but you met another and *** you was gone.”

The corniest (but funnest) part is that where I wrote the ***, that’s where you stick your tongue out and give the other person the raspberry. And right while we were doing this, Great Grandma comes out and instead of being mad that we woke her up, she thinks it’s hilarious that we’re singing a country song because it reminded her of when she and her two best friends goofed around the same way. She said they went so far as to dress up like they were farm girls, even though they lived near downtown Dubuque. The song they sang from 60 or 70 years ago was by Cal Stewart, and she remembered it:

I went into a meeting house some doughnuts for to git,
From the gal behind the counter,
And dressed up fine you bet.
She wouldn’t take my nickel cause it had a hole that went clar through,
Says I to her that’s nothin’ now, there was a hole in the doughnuts too.
Then I laughed ****
I couldn’t keep from laughin’ cause it really tickled me.”

Where the *** is in her song, she laughed like the guy did on the record. We didn’t really get the joke of the song and she started to explain about plugged nickels, but we just wanted her to sing again, because it was funny to watch her dance in her flannel granny nightgown.

Then Mom comes and says we’re too loud, and about drops her jaw when she sees Great Grandma is partying with us.

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Not like the dream

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Handwritten page of a diary dated December 25, 1970

… can’t afford to go home for Christmas and New Year’s, but I’ve got a whole week off. Ran into Jolene in the laundry room and it turns out she’s stuck here for Christmas too. I saw my big chance with her and said I was cooking a big dinner that day anyway, did she want to come over. Sounds like the best idea on earth EXCEPT I’m not one of those guys who can cook. AT ALL! So I somehow had to learn to cook in the next few days.

I had a few ideas for the meal, but that night I dreamed about strawberry mousse, I mean the kind of fluffy pink thing any girl would love. So I went to the library and searched the card catalog till I found 641.86 — the number for cookbooks. Searched the books, found the one that had a picture that looked closest to the way my dream looked, and copied the recipe.

For the rest, I cheated and ordered some turkey dinners at the restaurant my mom liked when she used to live here. Borrowed a portable mixer, made the mousse and started cleaning the apartment. Picked up the food, took a shower and everything was coming up roses. UNTIL I opened the refrigerator. Not only was the mousse NOT light pink and fluffy like the picture. But I guess I left the bottle opener in the refrigerator because it had fallen right onto the  center of the bubbly tomato soup-colored jello.

Luckily I kept my cool, put on a stack of records to play, and now I’m just waiting for Jolene to knock. Maybe if I cover this with Cool Whip, it will taste OK.

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Original image:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/stark23x/56156062

 

Published in: on May 9, 2016 at 3:48 am  Comments (2)  

Bus stop

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Handwritten page of a diary dated Sept. 22, 1990

… knew if we couldn’t scrounge some quarters off someone, we weren’t going to get Lindsey on the bus in time to make it over to play practice on time. Why didn’t she think of this when she was counting all our money to see if we had enough for her to buy the beaded hat at the thrift store?

There’s a total of exactly one guy within a block of the bus stop, and he’s sitting there sound asleep.

I go “He looks like Death’s daddy.”

She goes “Who is Beth?”

I go “I didn’t say he looks like BETH’S daddy. I said he looks like DEATH’S daddy.”

The sleeping guy heard us and woke up. He looked less scary when he was awake, but still, I was not so happy with Lindsey when she said this: “Sir, if you’ll give me the money for a bus ride, my friend will sit here and have a nice conversation with you for half an hour” Then she looked over and saw that I was mad, so she goes “OK, no 20 minutes. She will talk to you for 20 minutes about anything …  but keep it clean because she took judo lessons.” (I didn’t)

After Lindsey rides away, he smiles. Then he goes “I’m not going to insist that you stay here with Death’s Daddy.”

I kind of mumbled that I was sorry for calling him that, and he goes “Actually, that’s quite an interesting turn of phrase. Are you a poet?”

I go “Most of the poets I know are kind of … gloomy.”

He goes “The Traveling Wilburys aren’t gloomy at all.”

He had to explain to me who they were (except I already knew about everything there is to know about Bob Dylan from my grandma) and somehow “Death’s Daddy” ended up convincing me that I should try my hand as a writer of song lyrics. Which is a good idea, proved by the fact that I got a pretty good start on a song thought up in my head while I walked home.

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Original image:
https://pixabay.com/en/grandfather-old-aged-sleep-resting-14446/
Published in: on May 3, 2016 at 3:54 am  Leave a Comment