I come from a family of serious pop lovers. Even when I was young enough to drink from a baby bottle, I was a pop drinker. One of my sweetest childhood memories is that of my mom filling my baby bottle with coca cola and putting it into the fridge while I was taking an afternoon nap so that when I awakened, I would have an ice cold special treat to refresh me. Mmmm. I LOVED my post-nap bottles of coke. Even more, MUCH more, I love my mom who has always been the sweetest, most thoughtful mom in the entire world. Vintage coke bottles always remind me of her.



We always had pop in our house. If I ever visited a house that DIDN'T have pop available, I was confused because I grew up thinking that pop was a staple grocery item. We never, ever came home from the grocery store without pop. I came to love a lot of flavors over the years but during the first 8 years or so of my life, Coke was the main brand we all drank. It was my mom's favorite and she passed that love onto my brother and me. You could always find one or two (sometimes more) cartons of empty coke bottles on our carport because that's where we kept them in between grocery store trips. Back then, the bottles required a deposit so you had to take the empty ones back to the store if you didn't want to have to pay the deposit multiple times.


Deposit money was also a way for us kids to get some extra candy money. If you were desperate for some candy and your parents weren't around to give you a little change, you could just take the bottles up to the store and they would give you change in return for them. I can't remember for sure how much it was but it seems like it was either 3 or 5 cents per bottle. Candy was cheap back then so a carton of pop bottles could be traded for a good handful of sugary treats. LOL


We also had a real coke bottle opener attached to one of our kitchen counters. You can buy them in several places today as they have become popular vintage items but back then, they were not nearly so easy to get so people who visited our house always thought that bottle opener was something especially cool. We forgot to take it with us when we moved from that house at the end of my 8th grade year and we've always regretted it simply because that one held so much sentimental value for all of us.


Today, the skinny people of the world are attempting to wage war against us overweight folks by trying to remove pop from schools and other public places where vending machines can usually be found. Pop is high in calories so they want kids to drink fruit juices, etc. instead of pop. But let me tell you something. I love pop. I let my kids drink pop in reasonable moderation. I don't care if it has a lot of calories. We drank it when we were kids and it didn't automatically make us fat. People are getting fat because long work days/weeks are leaving everyone too tired to do anything but sink into the couch when they get home. Sugar is not the enemy. A sedentary lifestyle is the enemy. Give us shorter work weeks, less stressful work environments, more paid vacation time, affordable healthcare and affordable gym memberships, and America will get healthy again. That's a fact. But regardless of whether you believe that or not, be sure of one thing: you are not getting my pop away from me. I pity the skinny know-it-all activist who even tries. A glass pop bottle is a horrible thing to have to remove from your intestines. You'll just have to trust me on that.    : )
 


I miss seeing these vintage pop machines around town. I also miss drinking pop from glass bottles. Obviously, cans and plastic bottles are far lighter and more convenient to pack or carry but they don't allow the pop to yield as much taste as it does when bottled in glass. Also, these old machines kept the pop much colder than today's machines do. It was not uncommon to find a little bit of slushy ice inside of your pop bottle when you bought one out of these old machines. They kept it ice cold and that made every pop, no matter which brand or flavor you purchased, taste delicious and refreshing. Man, was it ever good. I haven't had a pop like that in years. People who have grown up drinking out of plastic and aluminum don't know what they're missing.



All but one of the machines in the pics above held glass bottles. The coke machine at the top was one of the very first canned pop machines. I can't be sure, but I'd say it's from the mid to late 70's. Canned pop didn't measure up to bottled pop but it was much colder and tastier than the pop we get today in plastic bottles. I don't know how or why, but plastic tempers the flavor of any liquid it holds. If money were no object, I'd open a 60's era soda/drug store and have one wall lined with vintage glass bottle pop machines. Each bottle of pop would cost only 10 cents just like when I was a kid. I'd have the old style tables, chairs, and counter stools that spin. What a happy, great atmosphere those old places had. I probably miss those more than any other store or business from my youth. There was something magical about having your mom take you by the hand and lead you into one of those places for a refreshing pop or burger while out shopping that brought instant happiness to me. I'd love to recreate that for my kids, and all of the kids of the next generation. I love that technology continues to advance and I would never want to halt that. But there are a few things, such as the corner soda shop, that never should have been modernized. Some things were/are perfect just as they are. You can repaint your house when the colors go out of style but you never want to try repainting the Mona Lisa. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
 
*Pics of the actual bottles to come in a later post.
 


When I was a kid, most medicine was packaged either in glass bottles or tin boxes. Two medicines that you could find in every household in America were these. Before Tylenol and Advil came on the scene, Bayer was everyone's go-to med for aches, pains, and fever. That's why these containers bring back sweet memories for me. Nobody likes taking medicine. I was one of those kids who would literally kick and scream if you tried to force me to take medicine, as a rule. I couldn't swallow a pill until I was in high school and I couldn't get an adult Bayer aspirin down until jr. high. Even THEN, my mom had to smash it, water it down, and give it to me in semi-liquid form. Of course, I wasn't any better at taking liquid meds so anytime I needed heavy-duty meds, it was a tough day in our house. I was not much of a trouper when it came to such things. LOL The one exception to this rule was "baby aspirins". They were actually Bayer Children's Aspirins (the ones in the pink-capped bottles in the pics above) but in my house, they were referred to as "baby aspirins" and that's what I called them well into my high school years. It never really dawned on me (not that I gave it a lot of thought) that that really wasn't their name.



Baby aspirins were a pink-orange color and they contained some sort of sweetner which helped counteract the bitterness of the aspirin tablet, itself. Bayer aspirins are terribly bitter when taken alone so I was very, very grateful for the children's flavoring they added to the baby aspirins. It didn't take all of the bitterness away but it made the taste MUCH more palatable. I couldn't swallow them whole because, as I stated earlier, I couldn't swallow pills without gagging and spitting them out so I had to chew aspirins up before swallowing them. There was just no way in the world I could do that with an adult aspirin so once I got older, I would take a slightly larger dose of the children's aspirins rather than taking the adult tablets. For someone like me, who had such a hard time talking myself into swallowing meds of any kind, baby aspirins were a Godsend. For the first 18 years of my life, I depended on them almost exclusively when I got sick. So I remember that sweet little clear bottle with the pink lid, and pink/blue label quite fondly. Of course, I also remember it fondly because my sweet mama was always there to love on me and take good care of me whenever I didn't feel well. When I see this sweet little bottle, I see her precious face and her gentle hands, handing the tablets to me, her "baby girl" and I am reminded once again, of how blessed and loved I was in spite of all the chaos that inhabited our home, because God chose her to be my mother.
 


I've always loved word games and when I was in elementary school, this was probably my very favorite just because the gimmick of flipping the letters up into the air, etc. was so fun. And because of the shape of the canister and the sound it made when shaken, it also doubled as a fry basket when we played "Braum's". Ah, the imaginations of children who don't live in a Playstation world.
 

the Growing Up Me segments will not be in any specific order. I find new stuff all of the time so I would have to go back and start over every other day if I tried keeping everything in order. I'm way too OCD to start in order and then let it get jumbled. So don't be confused if you see something from my high school years posted right after something from preschool. Everything from here on out will go up randomly.



This message brought to you by our sponsor, Mr. Bubble. When I was a small child, he did indeed make getting clean as much fun as getting dirty. Finding this beautiful pink box setting inside of the bathroom cabinet was just as exciting to me as finding a toy. My mom didn't buy it very often. It was considered a bit of a "luxury" item in those days so when we did get some, it was a real treat. The sight of this box still makes me feel good inside. Expect to hear me say that a lot in this series of posts. It is precisely because all of these things I am including in my reminiscent journey have always inspired feelings of unspeakable happiness and innocense, that I am taking the time to share them with you in the first place. Sometimes we can only see the abundant grace and lavish love of our Creator in big, dramatic, lifechanging events. But sometimes, the reminders come in something as simple as a box of powdered bubbles.
 


This is a pic of the main downtown shopping area in our town. It is supposed to have been taken around the time I was born but the style of the cars here leads me to believe that it was actually taken a little before I was born. The stores, etc. look the way I remember them back when I was a preschooler though so I love the pic. Today, I hate this town more than I can thoroughly articulate but when I was still young and innocent, I loved it here and I cherish the memories I keep inside of my heart, of all the warm, wonderful times that my mom and I had shopping down on Choc*** Avenue.





Favorite Stores:


(younger years) - Ben Franklin, Woolworth, Ray's Discount Shoes, Dollar Store, all of the drug stores, Kress's


(later childhood years) - Ben Franklin, Brown's Shoe Store, Hunt's Department Store, Penney's, A****re Music, Di****d S****s, Hallmark, Anthony's, (just because my *** worked there)


(teen years) - all of the above that were still in business except for Ray's and the $ Store, plus Gibson's, Howard's, Walmart


Downtown place I probably miss the most: Star Drug Store, where we often ate or just stopped in for a cold pop. Just thinking about the atmosphere of that place makes me wish I could take my beautiful family and go back in time to show them what a fun, friendly, innocent place it once was. Evil existed in this town even back then, but it wasn't as blatantly prevalent in those days and fortunately, I was also much too young to be aware of a lot of it. But of course, I learned all of the cold, hard truths soon enough. I miss my innocense. It was sweet while it lasted.
 


The hospital where I was born. You'd think I would have nothing but sweet memories of the place given the fact that such a monumentous thing happened there. I mean, next to the birth of Christ, the day I was born was definitely the best day ever recorded in the annals of time, for sure, lol, but unfortunately they didn't listen to my parents when they suggested the board just close the hospital down, put up the little velvet ropes and ticket booth, and charge visitors $20 a head to see the place where I, the prized princess of Youngsland made her much-anticipated entry into this previously colorless world. I guess ya live, ya learn.



General West was one of the most depressing places on the planet. In defense of those who ran it, it must have been incredibly hard to follow up an act as brilliant as the one my mom and I put on that cold January night back in 19**. Really, it could only have gone downhill from that point, no matter what they did. LOL


When I was about 4, my dad and brother had a near-fatal motorcycle accident. My dad's skull was severely cracked and initially, he wasn't expected to live. Because of that, he and Bernie were in the hospital for several weeks and I was forced to stay with my grandparents. I loved my grandparents dearly but staying with them was much like a prison stay. That, however, is another story for another time. I had been to the hospital with my parents to visit friends a couple of times before the accident and hated the atmosphere there even under happier familial circumstances. Visiting my mom there (and ONLY seeing her there for several weeks), knowing that my dad and brother were lying upstairs seriously hurt was just more than I could stand. GW was old, dark, and void of anything resembling hope or happiness. I came to hate that place with a passion.


Thankfully, our family received the miracle for which we prayed. Both my dad and my brother got well and were eventually discharged giving me a much-needed reprieve from the hospital and farm life.


When I was about 6, we had to return, but only for a few hours because Prince Bernie broke his nose playing football. While he was receiving treatment, I wandered down the hall to find my grandma who worked in the kitchen there. I'll never forget it because when I walked up to say hello to her, she asked, "Now which one are you?". Even after I told her, it took her a couple of minutes to put it together. Yeah. My Granny Mom and I were tight.


There were a few other late-night ER visits over the years relating to my asthma, and a few basketball injuries but none as traumatic as the visit I made there when I was 10. Long story short, I stepped on a footstool that my brilliant and thoughtful brother (hi, Bernie!) placed by the porch in the dark one night. (I tried to talk them out of setting his broken hip after the motorcyle wreck but no, they had to be all parental and help him heal which cost me big, as we all knew it would, lol) In attempt to catch myself while also carrying a glass of strawberry pop and a sugar donut, I somehow swung around and straddled the sharp corner of said cement porch, slicing a deep and painful gash into my private parts that caused shreiking that was heard around the world. My parents rushed me to the ER, where I was stuck, poked, scraped, and prodded in places that were supposed to be off-limits to everyone for at least another 8-10 years. Some burning cleanser, a few injections in my vagina, and a pee pee full of stitches? Yes. I'd say losing my virginity to a porch was a tad unpleasant.


Our city got a new hospital a few years after that and the old one became a part of the prison system. I think that's fitting since, as far as I'm concerned, the people who gave me shots in my vagina belong behind bars awaiting execution. Still, to this very day, I experience some sort of phantom pain in my tingly little naughty parts every time I pass by the place where a doctor, a team of nurses, and both of my parents struggled for hours to hold me down on a gurney while I screamed for Jesus to save me from a most traumatic deflowering.




: )
 

me outside of our house in Midwest City with my beloved doll "Pebbles" (I named her that because she had hair on top of her head like Pebbles Flintstone) and my doll stroller, which I loved!

Welcome to my new blog where I will be posting pics (and anecdotes) of people, places, and things from my youth. I think everyone has a list of childhood things that still spark a familiar warmth inside of their hearts every time they see or think of them. There are many things that effect me in that way. Some of them were not all that magical back when they were a regular part of my world, but have become so now because of the memories attached to them. A lot of things that seemed mundane back when I was a kid are now priceless heirlooms to my sentimental heart. Still other things that I will list, are things that are so special that even 30 or 40 years ago, they made my eyes dance and my heart pound with joy. Rarely do parents realize, when purchasing a toy at Christmas, a new pair of shoes at Easter, or some school supplies each August, that those things will be remembered as rare treasures for a lifetime by their children. My mom doesn't even remember buying or doing a lot of the things I reminisce about today but it warms her heart to realize that every effort, big and small has been recorded by my heart and brain, creating a wealth of memories that constantly remind me that in spite of some very, very dark family times resulting from my dad's alcoholic years, I had a good childhood. Yes, I carry a lot of scars upon my heart. It was definitely not a perfect life that we lived over on Madison Street but overall, it was a good life, just the same because of my mom and all of the incredible things she did on a daily basis to let me know that I was dearly loved. Even amidst a lot of sorrow and fear, there was always a deep and abiding love that kept me safe and warm. The tangible reminders I intend to post here on my blog were/are important to me because like the song, each of them remembers "when".