Snapshots of Wes and Vennie (Watson) Wicker

Grandma and Grandpa Wicker lived next door

“Grandma, what are you having for supper. . .Fried Chicken?”

“Mom what’s for supper?. . . . um, I think I’ll eat at Grandma’s”

Sitting in their tiny kitchen at enameled table

Grandpa in his undershirt—

Round and jolly, there’s a lot of him to love. 

If he grew a beard, he could be Santa.

Standing at the sink watching Grandpa shave

“Wishy- Washy Grandpa”

The shaving brush swirls the soap into a foam

Shared with my 3 year-old face

Giving me a Santa-foam beard.

Dad worked nights, slept days.

I can’t be quiet, so I went next-door:

Sorted buttons while Grandma sewed.

By shape, by color, by size

Watched daytime TV; Arthur Godfrey, Art Linkletter

Playing solitaire while Dad slept and Grandma sewed.

Next door had four apartments filled with “old people”,

Frieda, the land-lady and grandparents on first floor.

Frieda Backoff: personified Scrubby Dutch.

Cleaning. . .always cleaning on her hands and knees with thick brown cotton stockings rolled below her knees

Bucket on wheels, scrub brush and cleanser, mop waiting for active duty.

Hair in a hairnet or a scarf, bossy but smiling with no teeth.

Speaking English with an accent and calling me “Strublekopf”

Siidewalks, porch are a blinding white from being scrubbed and so much sun!

Trees made a mess?---She cut them down.

Only place south of Tower Grove Park with sunshine all day.

Grass is thick—perfect for cartwheels and picnics on a sheet

No ants, no flies! 'Verboten"

Freshly painted garage with Grandpa’s garden at the side.

But, I felt unprotected with no trees to hide in, play around, 

Shielding me from the sun, the wind, the rain—and prying eyes

In a neighborhood of apartments and flats.

Sitting outside in their city back yard

Barbecuing pork chops, pork steaks

Smelling the vinegar marinade called

“Wicker’s Barbecue sauce” made by Grandpa’s cousin.

Laughing, telling stores while we enjoyed a breeze on a 

Summer’s day.  Listening to a Cards game or the traffic on Arsenal

Squeal of brakes, rumble of street cars,

"It might be, it could be, it is a HOMERUN!"

Watching Grandpa drink his Schlitz, loving his full-body laugh

Sometimes fishing with Grandpa. . . .

“Come on, Jack, let’s go fishing’”

“Grandpa, when are we going to catch a fish”

“Stop talking, you’ll scare them away”

Friday night dinners at Grandma’s 

Eating Grandpa’s fish—fried so crispy with cornmeal, but. . .

“Watch out for the bones”

Fried potatoes and fresh tomatoes and onions sliced on the side.

Iced tea—too sweet—poured from a icy glass pitcher

Into brightly colored aluminum tumblers, sweating from the cold.

Sometimes a lemon meringue pie or a Lady Baltimore cake---yum!

Helping with laundry in a bright, glossy, Frieda-painted basement

Swish of the machine and then the WRINGER!

“Please can I put them through the wringer”

“Watch your fingers!”

Rollers smashing the clothes with water tumbling out

Clothes flattened but then shook out, brought to life before hanging out back

On a clothes line dancing in a breeze,

Shirts with arms pinned up singing hallelujah,

Curtains and pants on stretchers, drying wrinkle-free: stiff at attention.

I run weaving in and out of the sheets playfully flapping in my face.

Shopping for school clothes we never bought. . .

Looking at the styles, feeling the fabric, the smell of something new.

Quick, to the fabric department while we can recall the look, the feel.

Waiting for the bus to take us home to await the new clothes,

The whirr of Grandma’s sewing machine:

A new, but not store-bought dress

Doesn’t smell the same, everyone will know Grandma made it.

“Made better than store bought and  

made with love,” said Mom.

Snapshots of Roy and Vivian (Maupin)Long

 My Long grandparents lived clear across Tower Grove Park—so close but not next door.

Always people, people, people—

Not just aunts, uncles, cousins but “family” from 

De Soto, Festus, Crystal City—

Some for the day, some for the week—sleeping on a couch, in the spare room.

Anybody who was distantly related and needed a room. . .

Grandma always had a place for them.

I didn’t like sharing my grandparents with country kin.

Grandpa smoking cigarettes, ashes hangin on,  while sitting in a family-crowded front room

Ashtray on a heavy iron stand, amber glass bowl held by a metal alligator or dragon

Filled with  the butts

Perpetually blowing smoke. 

Me, sitting on sofa  embossed with nubby silky leaves- fingers tracing the design

Soft on top, scratchy below.  

Trying to listen, trying to behave “like a lady”

Wanting them to go home.

Always too many people talking, laughing all at once—

Willingly sharing these grandparents with cousins Steve and Bob.

Our favorite activity was CHASE!

Sliding off the sofa, the chase is ON!

Running round and round: hallway with skylight , butler’s pantry, kitchen, dining room and back to hallway.

“Stop running, someone is going to get hurt”

Sliding under the table, hiding from cousins

Being the smallest, I fit under the table shielded by the table cloth.

The boys try to follow me. .. . 

Bang! Taller, they slam into the table—knots, scrapes, bruises—tears.

It’s not a family party unless someone gets hurt.

Playing Uncle Ron’s old-fashioned board games 

Washing and drying dishes with Grandma and aunts

Listening to them laugh and talk.

St. Margaret’s of Scotland across the street chiming in.

Laughter and talking stop—chimes dominate

Can’t compete.

I just join in with the tune and count the hour strikes.

Life on pause until the final chime.

“Mama had bad teeth and didn’t smile in pictures”

Bad teeth?  Didn’t smile?

I don’t remember—only saw “love.”

Squatting to my level to talk, making eye contact

Crazy cousins running around, but she is talking to ME.

Warm loving smiling eyes.

Never noticed  teeth when embraced by love.

Sorry my younger cousins and siblings never knew or don’t remember. . .. .

Grandma Love.

Playing in the hallway at home—six years old.

Mom ironing under the sky-light.

Phone rings.

Mom gasps. Sits down in play room.

Talks in short, quiet tones.

Grandma Long has died. . . .one of my love-lines had broken.

No memories of visitation or funeral

Protected?. . . . but not shielded from grief.

Seventy years later. . ..still tears. . . .from memories or memories not made?

A List about Me that is way too long and a little political toward the end, but I couldn't stop

 1. I'm ENTP---I don't know why they don't include "teacher" in career possibilities.

http://www.personalitypage.com/ENTP_car.html

2. I have a blog about my parents and ancestors--it's my homage to them. It keeps them alive.
http://longmorgan.blogspot.com/

3. I have a blog about me and my life.
http://jaclynmrgn.blogspot.com/

4. I love poetry---especially Langston Hughes and other Harlem Renaissance Poets.

5. On aptitude tests, I score high in math and mechanics despite dyscalculia (dyslexia with numbers).

6. I majored in English and German---language is more my thing.

7. I started 3 Master's degrees---English at SIUE; English as Second Language at SEMO and Reading at UMSL (that one I finished)

8. I get bored easily. I love learning. I enjoy problem-solving and challenges.

9.. My daughters have Biblical names---Rebecca, Rachel and Leah (but I loved the names before I knew they were part of the same Biblical story which included my namesake Jacob)

10.I have a collection of books on King Arthur and yet I also love science fiction.

11. I originally wanted to be a Bible Scholar or an Archaeologist---my mother said, "You'll be an English teacher---you can always get a job."

12. I met my husband at church (but he didn't remember me), at a party (but he didn't remember me), on a double-date (but he didn't remember me), at Collegiate Club----he didn't forget me after that.

13. My husband remembers my car in high school---a Studebaker coupe---but not me. What does that say about him and me?

14. I had a hard time being called "Mrs. Morgan" because Dave's mother was my high school librarian---she was "Mrs. Morgan."

15. I'm an Anglophile.

16. When it came time for me to choose a language---I didn't like the Spanish teacher (and thought Spanish was too easy), my mother wouldn't let me take Latin ("it's a dead language"), I didn't want to learn French from someone who was from Alabama (I thought I'd speak French with an Alabama accent), the Russian teacher got pregnant, so I took German (I had had the teacher and loved her).

17. I enjoyed teaching students with problems more than teaching German and Shakespeare.

18. I love water---drinking it, swimming in it, watching it, feeling it, listening to it.

19. Crafts, sewing, handwork give me anxiety.

20. Gardening, a walk outside, sitting on a balcony at the beach (or on a cruise ship) relax me.

21. I have a green Beetle.

22. Middle school kids energize me.

23. I don't like large crowds or traffic---NYC is the antithesis of Heaven.

24. I used to be afraid of palm trees---I think it had to do with another life :)

25. I don't just love my family---I love being with them!

26. If I can't dance to it, music serves no purpose---as a child I'd leave my seat at the St. Louis Symphony, go to the back aisle and dance.

27. I love musicals but if they have sing-a-longs, why can't they have dance-a-longs?

28. I was a gymnast until my mid-20's---I loved the uneven bars but not the balance beam.

29. I love salty-sweet-crunchy: chocolate chip cookies, chocolate covered pretzels, Reese's peanut butter cups, s'mores.

30. There's a lot I don't get about people. How can people be for Capital Punishment and against abortion---isn't a life a life?

31. How can people allow divorce, but be against homosexual marriage because they believe in the sanctity of marriage?

32. How can people be for "Law and Order" and for concealed weapons---if only the "good guys" carry weapons, then aren't they vigilantes?

33. How can people say they don't believe in sex outside of marriage, but won't let homosexuals marry?

34. How can Christians be against Socialism? "Love thy neighbor. . ." Loaves and fishes. "Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor."

35.I am for life, for helping people, for marriage, for the "outcasts" and underdogs and for peace; I'm OK with people who don't believe in those things---I just can't tolerate hypocrites.

Watch out world---here we come (until mid December)!

I now have the Covid Booster #3.  Because of medicines I take for auto-immune disease, I never felt like I was fully immunized.  My sister-in-law (Debbie), a liver transplant, is part of a Johns Hopkin's study of people taking immune suppressing drugs.  She got her third shot in August and further testing showed that she was fully immunized, at last.  So, I patiently waited for my turn to get the booster, confident that I, too, will be fully immunized.

Debbie and my brother Jim are so confident of her immunization they are now on a cruise.  After almost two weeks of having the booster, I am feeling more confident that I can  get out, too, but I'm not quite ready for a cruise.  I am ready to get out of the house, though, and explore some places that I haven't seen in more than 3 years:  Missouri Botanical Garden, St. Louis Art Museum, the Butterfly House, Kohl's Department Store, Costco.

Our self-imposed isolation began in December 2018.  Since my diagnosis with auto-immune disease, I traditionally isolate from mid December until mid March.  But, in January 2019, my husband was diagnosed with lymphoma.  So, we never emerged in mid March 2019. . . .  Just as I was beginning to feel confident I could leave him at home alone to have lunch with my sister and cousin in late February 2020, Covid reared its ugly head. 

I took some baby steps in May and June 2021:  I had a pedicure, a hair cut, went to 2 thrift stores, CVS,  Dierberg's and Schnuck's.  We also went to the Doubletree to celebrate our 50th anniversary with our children and their families.  We watched our grandchildren play in the pool, had lunch in a cabana, had a catered dinner in our own hospitality room with some video entertainment put together by our daughters and spent the night at the hotel.  Did I feel safe?  NO!  The hotel was packed with two huge parties none of which wore masks.  I refused to get on an elevator with anyone other than family members.  We only spent one night at the hotel despite paying for two.  We were luckier than many of our friends, though, whose anniversary plans were totally destroyed by Covid.

So, I am ready to step out again for the next two months.  We are not ready to travel or eat in a restaurant.  But, we are ready to visit some much loved places and people.  So, while Jim and Deb are dining on fine cruise cuisine, we will still be eating at home, eating out-doors, getting take out.  While they are seeing the tropical sights in the Bahamas, we will be  enjoying the tropical Butterfly House.  While they are playing socially distanced Bingo, we will be attending socially distanced church one Saturday night.

Baby steps. . . .

Teddy Bears' Picnic

 The Presbyterian Women’s Teddy Bear Picnic brought back several memories of stories from my childhood.

I was the only granddaughter for 3 years on both sides of my family.  I was showered with dolls and dresses and all things pink from not just my grandparents but my great aunts and uncles.  One of the great aunts bought me a giant black and white panda which I slept with. I loved the texture of its fur— so soft and, well, furry.  I didn’t have much use for dolls, and couldn’t understand why other little girls liked dolls that were hard, plastic and so needy, wanting clothes and shoes to be changed, wanting a bottle, needing diaper changes.  My mother later confessed she was concerned that I wasn’t very “motherly”.. .

So, when I was in Kindergarten and chosen to be in the musical performance of “Teddy Bears Picnic” I was super excited—it’s all I could talk about.  I can still hum the tune.  My mother and grandmother hopped on board, made me a new dress and the day of the performance my mother spent a lot of time getting my hair in banana curls:  after sleeping in rag curls Mom had to  section my hair,  wrapping each section around a finger, brushing each hair to smooth the curl, then slowly removed her finger.  After she applied my rouge and lip stick, I was ready to go.

The time for my performance arrived.  Grandma and Mom were in the audience—they couldn’t wait to see the star with the banana curls and new dress.  When they saw me, they were so disappointed: I heard this story repeatedly from them.  I had been crammed into a teddy bear costume with only my eyes showing—no makeup, no curls, no new dress.  But I was so happy to become a teddy bear for a few minutes!

When I had children of my own, my mother even bought me the book Teddy Bears Picnic with a record of Bing Crosby singing the tune! I still wonder why some prefer dolls to the warm fuzziness of a teddy bear.