Record your Yourth - what happened after high school...

So after I got into the college of my dreams, I spent that summer working as many hours as I could and saving as many pennies as I could.  I left for Franklin in the fall with much anticipation and excitement!!!

I met one of my best friends that first week at FC.  Like the first night or two she sat outside of her dorm room SOBBING on the phone to her boyfriend...who was like 20 minutes away.  I know I walked passed her, rolled my eyes and thought not nice thoughts.  Within just days though I got to know her much better and we became very close! 

The rest of the year was filled with friends and classes and working - I worked all the way through college and still left with loan debt!  I worked part-time in the campus bookstore and did some volunteer work with the theater department (and after that year - ended up being the theater house manager for the next three years).

I didn't make it home often - the drive was only about an hour and fifteen minutes but I didn't have a car of my own.  If I wanted to get home, I had to have my parents come get me or hitch a ride with someone else headed that way.  I was lucky that there were a few other people from my area that were at FC and could hitch a ride if needed.

I've often told people (and still do say) that you couldn't have paid me to go to another school.  Purdue University is just 1/2 hour from my house...a nice large state school that probably would have left me with a bit less loan debt at graduation but not my cup of tea!  My graduating class at FC was actually smaller than my graduating class from high school - it was perfect!  I knew most of my classmates and many of the upperclassmen in just a few weeks time.  It was such a "family" to me and I really enjoyed that aspect of school. 

I graduated from FC with a BA in Journalism...  I left FC and didn't go into the field though.  It is something that no one can take away from me and an experience that totally shaped my life and I wouldn't change any of that for any reason. 

This is my fifteenth (and final!) post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out! She will be starting a new session soon!

Click here to read my post from last week, where my twelfth grade finished up my high school years quite nicely.

Record your Life - 12th grade tied it all up nicely.

Last week's post was short and sweet - I didn't want to get to far ahead of myself and sharing more than that would have done so.  My 12th grade year was an awesome year for me.  I had decided in the spring of my junior year to apply to Franklin College so I could major in journalism.  I had never set foot on the campus but knew it was the right spot for me.  And then for my 18th birthday - my acceptance letter from Franklin!  It was absolutely awesome.  It wasn't until that spring that I finally set foot on campus but I knew deep down that I wouldn't want to be at any other school.  Getting into Franklin (and the journalism school) was awesome!

That Christmas break I spent 10 days in Mexico - Mexico City and close areas on a Girl Scout trip.  I've mentioned before that Girl Scouts was a big part of my life (and it still is - even today).  Girl Scouts truly helped shape who I am and this trip did so more than any other trip I had been on.  Not only did I get to meet so many new people, get a sunburn on New Years Day and experience the first snow in Mexico in like 15 years, I also met a little boy who changed the way I looked at everything.

Let me back up some...  I had "senioritis" - bad.  That's when you're a senior in high school and you want nothing more than to get O.U.T.  I seriously considered dropping out of high school after first semester because I was so done with school.  I had my acceptance to Franklin, I had all of the credits I needed (so I wouldn't have technically been quitting...just finishing early) and was ready to be done. 

But part of our trip to Mexico was to go to a small village - think dirt floors and thatch roofs - and just spend some time playing with the kids.  We taught them songs and played games.  We took little trinkets and gifts and this one little boy.  Ohmy...  His eyes when I gave him a small box of crayons was just mind blowing.  Here he was...had never seen a crayon before and I was ready to throw away half of my senior year of high school. 

I graduated with the rest of my class that year.  And I did my senior speech on "senioritis" and how that little boy totally changed it all for me (I got an A+ on that speech too!).  I'm so thankful I was able to experience that trip and will never forget those big brown eyes...

This is my fourteenth post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!  She will be starting a new session soon!

Click here to read my post from last week, where my eleventh grade changed my career path.

Record your Life - 11th grade changed my career path.

When I began 11th grade I wanted to be a librarian.  Still.  And I had wanted to be a librarian since like 1983 - when I was six.  I love to bury my nose in a book and I even love to physically bury my nose in a book and smell the paper, ink and glue that binds the pages into a story that will take me away. 

But 11th grade made me realize that I wanted to be a journalist.  And a photojournalist.  I wanted to write!  I wanted to travel the world behind a camera and share stories of everything I found. 

I had spent the previous two years on our local high school's newspaper staff but that year really grabbed me as the turning point in the "what I wanted to be when I grew up" situation.  I knew I needed to be thinking about my future career because the next year was going to begin the process of thinking about college.

So I spent a lot of time that year writing.  Whatever my newspaper advisor would give me, I'd write.  I'd take the camera with me and go see what I could find.

You'll hear next week about where I decided to go to college and why and I'll even share where I'm at now with it all but this year...this was the year that I wanted to grow up and be a journalist. 

This is my thirteenth post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!



Click here to read my post from last week, where my ninth grade memories are all about a boy.

Record your Life - 10th grade was all about a PARTY!

Ahhhhh...10th grade. That was the year I turned 16 - and I got to have a P.A.R.T.Y! Now, don't get me wrong - I had always had birthday parties but this one...this year stands out.

I had a group of really, really close friends in high school. There were about 20 of us who hung out at school, after school, at work and on the weekends. Our parents all knew each other (well, everyone knew my parents - my dad is a teacher and my mom has worked for the schools for 20+ years) so many times you could come to our house and find a whole gaggle of teenagers hanging around. My parents always preferred us (my brother and I) to hang at home with our friends than be out running around.

So this year in particular, I was able to have an evening party at our house and everyone got to come over. By the end of the night there was a broken picture, blood (but not from the broken picture), trampled plants and newspaper EVERYWHERE. We also had some tears, a fight and a break-up/make-up too (we were 16 - remember!?).

The night started off innocently enough. I don't remember it really. I'm sure we ordered pizzas and had them delivered and ate cake and opened presents. I remember getting a leather jacket that I had been dying for from my parents. I still have many of the birthday cards my friends gave me from that year - a girl only turns 16 once you know! The excitement really began when my two girlfriends B and T showed up.

B has two little brothers. Apparently they had spent the whole week prior to my party tearing the daily newspaper up into tiny, itty-bitty confetti type pieces. There was a whole black trashbag FULL of newspaper confetti. I swear - it took both B and T to carry that bag into the house (and T was no wimp - she was a shot put and discus throwin' mama!). It was FULL. Like - if you moved it just a smidge the bag opened a bit and a little piece would flutter to the floor. FULL.

So these two girls showing up with this big bag of confetti made the party go from laid back and calm to crazy in about 10 minutes. L (a guy friend who I started school with in kingergarten) grabbed a handful of confetti and stuffed it down B's shirt. Then another friend grab another handful and put it down another friend's shirt. Well before too long there were piles of confetti on the blades of the ceiling fan and the fan got turned on. Those pieces landed in the food and drinks and in people's hair and just about everywhere else. At one point D picked up a handful to put down S's shirt and she took off sprinting for my bedroom. Well, my door was shut so she kept running down the hallway. She ended up in my parents room (hiding by the bed...which my dad was sprawled out on watching TV) and D just threw that handful towards S. My parent's bed, their floor and their dresser was covered in confetti. It ended up in the toilet. It ended up IN the floor vents. It ended up in my bedroom and my brother's bedroom (both doors closed). It was outside. It was inside. It was in our clothes, our hair, our mouths. It was a mess!!! It was so much fun though!

Later that night, L and D decided to have a wrestling match. It was all cool until L threw D over the back of the couch (which was a "wall" between the living room and dining room) and D's foot hit the wall as he fell over it and a picture fell off the wall, breaking the glass and causing a bunch of us to just about die laughing because just 10 seconds before everyone was all loud and rambunctious but in that second you could have heard a pin drop.

Also at the end of our street is a creek (the road ended in a cul-de-sac) and there was a pipe that crossed the creek. Several of the guys crossed it and a few of the girls too - one girl fell though on the little path to get there and split her knee open. I was thinking the worst and expecting a trip to the ER but my mom fixed her up with a butterfly Band-Aid and she was good to go.

After we got back to my house from crossing the creek pipe some of the guys were being dumb and kept trying to moon those of us inside the house from outside (through the big picture window). Little did they know they were trampling my dad's hostas under that window. Needless to say - that was probably the thing that upset my dad the most about everything!

And then of course there was the drama that always involved 16-year-olds. A break-up and a make-up. To be honest...I was excited about the break-up 'cause that boy was CUTE. But M and N made up before the night was over and I was happy really because N was a good friend and I hated to see her cry.

For the next ten years, if my parents moved furniture (or when they bought new furniture and moved the old out) there would be itty-bitty pieces of newspaper confetti hidden away somewhere that fluttered to the floor and reminded them of the craziest birthday party I ever had.

This is my twelfth post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!


Click here to read my post from last week, where my ninth grade memories are all about a boy.

Shout out for Mommy's Piggy Tales!

So, if you visit me regularly you've seen my posts on Thursdays recording my life with Mommy's Piggy Tales.  Well, each week she also features some of us who link up to her and this week - I was included!  What a rush. 

So what is this Record your Youth thing that Janna's got going on?  Check out this info here and if you're interested, get started on the next session which begins on October 7th.

For now though, you can keep checking back here to see how the last four weeks of my life unfold as I remember it.  For me it is getting easier and easier to remember things to share!  Remembering things from pre-school and kindergarten was a little difficult! 

Thanks again Janna for the shout out!

Record your life - ninth grade was all about a boy...

Who at the time I thought I was gonna marry.

I know, right!?

Oddly enough - I saw that boy tonight, at a viewing for his aunt who had passed away this past Monday.  I hadn't actually seen him in at least five years.  It's probably even been more - I just know the last time I saw him I was at my previous job and I've been where I'm at now almost five years.

Anyways, this boy in ninth grade actually happened in the summer between eighth and ninth grade.  I was a band nerd (yep!) and started playing trumpet in sixth grade.  Every four years our high school band group went to Disney World at Christmas break to march in the New Years Day Parade (it was amazing!).  In order to save money up for that trip, we worked at our local newspaper stuffing the "guts" of the paper in (the ads and inserts).  We never actually received any money - we just tracked our time and the newspaper paid the money directly to the band director (well, probably a secretary but we never saw the cash).  We did this starting June that summer...because my class was going to get to go that Christmas!  So my freshman year of high school, I was able to go to Disney World with my fellow band mates (mostly my best friends!) and had an absolute blast.

So while working at the newspaper, I got to know some of the upperclassmen (they had to work too - I'm sure there was a certain requirement but then I think you could also go above and beyond to not have to pay any out of pocket).  One of the upperclassmen was a guy - C.  He was going to be a SENIOR.  Yeah, I thought I was hot stuff.

We got to know each other pretty well and by August that year (my freshman year, his senior) he asked me to be his girlfriend and gave me his class ring (which I think I wore more than he ever did!).  My parents weren't SUPER excited about it...he was 2 1/2 years older than me (I was an old one in my class and he was a young one) and he d.r.o.v.e.  A car.  Mmmhmmm.  It wasn't until I turned 15-years-old in November that they would let me ride with him...and then it wasn't to be outside of the town limits (which isn't very far).

We spent a lot of time together that year.  Because we were so involved with band - we spent the whole summer together (band camp you know...like six hours a day - preparing for State Fair competition) and then into the fall was football games and then pep band through the winter for basketball.  Then spring rolled around and it was time for him to graduate. 

I'm sure at the time I was devastated.  I loved him (as much as a 15-year-old can love someone) and didn't want him to go away.  I don't remember now when we broke up for sure...  I know we dated through is first semester at ISU and maybe even that whole year and maybe even after that.  I think I'd have to go find my old diary to remember for sure.

Anyways - he was a great guy and today when I saw him...I didn't say a word to him.  See, he married this girl (sometime in the spring of 1995, which I only remember because when I went to his sister's graduation open house he "wasn't allowed" to talk to me) and well, she doesn't like me.  Not sure why but she doesn't.  So today at the funeral home I gave hugs to his sister (who was like a sister to me!) and his parents (whom I still love to pieces and even told them so) and kinda walked right past him.  It pretty much sucked.  We spent the better part of two years...probably even closer to three together. 

So ninth grade was all about C.  He meant the world to me!

This is my eleventh post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!


Click here to read my post from last week, where my eighth grade memories are about nothing!  Okay, so maybe nothing but it certainly wasn't much in the memory department!

Record your life...eighth grade - must have been boring

because I've got NOTHING exciting.  There are a bunch of small things but nothing that really stands out.  The one memory that does stick actually happened the summer prior to eighth grade.

I was still very involved in Girl Scouts and that summer was able to take my first bus trip.  Juliette Low founded Girl Scouts in 1912 in Savannah, GA so as a Girl Scout the best place to go visit is where it all started.  When you fill a travel bus with a bunch of pre-teen and teen girls...you get a lot of noise and a lot of fun.

On this trip, we actually went to Space Camp in Alabama first (well, a shortened version of Space Camp) and then went over to Savannah. 

We were able to see the home where Juliette Low lived (and is now a museum) and visit places like Tybee Island and all the parks/cemeteries in Savannah that are just beautiful.

I made this trip a few more times and one of those trips sticks in my mind even more than this one does...but for eighth grade (or almost eighth grade) this is my big memory of that time.  Now...I've got some stories of the summer after my eighth grade year but I think I'll save those for next week!

This is my tenth post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!


Click here to read my post from last week, where my seventh grade memories are about becoming a teenager, being asthmatic and losing my grandpa to lung cancer.

Record your life - seventh grade...I was a teenager!

Seventh grade. When I first started thinking about what I was going to share about seventh grade my mind was blank. I couldn't think of anything worth sharing. Then I remembered that was the year I turned 13 and the year I lost my grandpa to lung cancer and the year that I hyperventilated at a church camp outing. What a year!

The year started like any other. I was 12-years-old and liked a boy (which just so happened to be the boy from the prior year...my best friend and the boy I "dated" off and on for the next eight years). I don't remember who asked who but we finally ended up being boyfriend and girlfriend again. And of course...how much can you really be boyfriend and girlfriend in 7th grade? We held hands at football games and smooched behind closed doors (shhhh - don't tell my mom!). When I turned 13 on November 15th I didn't expect anything from my boyfriend. But when I unwrapped a gold bracelet with 13 C's and 13 hearts on it - I was so surprised! I still have that bracelet. It hangs in my jewelry box with the necklace he got me the next year (after we'd broken up and gotten back together).

He is one of those guys that will always have a little special place in my heart...when we went out for dinner last week we even reminisced some about things like meeting at the park between our two houses and going to the waterfall - we'd sit for hours on a stone wall and talk about school and our parents and our siblings (his older sister and my younger brother). The fact that I have known him all of his life (he's a month and four days younger than me) has created a very special bond between us.

In January of that year our youth group went on weekend camping trip. I wanted to go but then again I didn't. My mom and brother and I had been spending every weekend with my grandparents. My grandpa was battling lung cancer and we went every weekend to see him and to stay the night. I didn't want to miss a weekend with my grandpa but then again I didn't want to miss the camping trip either.

So I'm at this camping trip... I don't remember many details really - other than the fact that I thought I was going to die. As an asthmatic, I could come up tight-chested and wheezing just because. I could be watching TV and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I remember the youth group leader (or maybe he was just a parent along for the trip) giving me a paper bag and breathing into it. I'm sure I had my inhaler with me (I still don't leave the house without it) but it just wasn't cutting it that night. I finally was able to get calmed down and breathe again. It was a bit scary there for a while though.

Shortly after that camping trip, we lost my grandpa to lung cancer. It was February 15, 1991 and it is a day I'll never forget. There at the end, my mom wouldn't allow my brother or I to go to the hospital. She wouldn't let us go into the funeral parlor for the family open casket time either. She wanted us to remember him how he was before he got sick. Sometimes now I forget how he looks...I have to find a picture to see him better. I don't remember how he smelled anymore either. He is one of the reasons I'm so involved with Relay for Life.

And the afternoon of the burial service...I just about had a heart attack. My grandpa was one of 14 kids - a huge family and the boys all looked the same. There were no twins, but they could all pass for each other. Actually, one of the stories goes that my grandpa and family went "home" to Kentucky (they moved to northern Indiana when my mom was in elementary school) and one of the brothers had moved and my grandpa didn't know the new address. So he stopped at the old neighbor's house, asking for his brother's new house. The people in the house gave him the information and as he turned to walk away, he could hear through the screen door, "Well that Belt is so drunk he doesn't even know where his new house is." My grandpa said it was the funniest thing ever...he didn't even go back to set them straight either.

Anyways, after the burial service and family dinner, all of the family went back to the house and were just spending time together. I walked into my grandparent's bedroom and there my grandpa sat at the end of the bed. I gasped out loud, turned white as a sheet and slowly turned to walk out (my brain was all fuzzy I couldn't think to even move my feet hardly). He said, "Casie, it's okay...it's me, Alton."

Whoa. Relief. It was my great-uncle Alton, one of my grandpa's "twin" brothers. That was one ghost-like experience I'll never forget.

This is my ninth post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!


Click here to read my post from last week, where my sixth grade memories are about growing up, Girl Scouts and puppy love.

Record your life - sixth grade growing up

So in sixth grade I became a woman. HA! I still consider myself a kid sometimes. But lovely Mother Nature did bless me with monthly visits beginning in October of sixth grade. It was mortifying! I knew it was coming. My parents were very good about the whole birds and the bees thing so it wasn't the shock of it actually happening. It just so happened that my mom never needed feminine type products (she'd had a hysterectomy when I was in second grade) so there was nothing in the house for me to use. And on top of all that - my mom wasn't even home! So I sat crying in the bathroom, waiting for my dad to get me something from the store. Ahhhhh... Nice huh? Oh well. I suppose it could have been worse.

Sixth grade is also the first year that I got to go to the Mall Lock-In for Girl Scouts. I had joined Girl Scouts in first grade and was still going strong in sixth grade. Our troop was very active and our council hosted a lot of events to keep us busy as well. In the last two years we had dreamed about being able to go to the Mall Lock-In! It is exactly what is sounds like...we were locked in the mall - overnight! Several stores stayed open late (or opened very early) and food places like Luca Pizza di Roma and Burger King stayed open all night and Cinnabon opened extra early (mmmmm...cinnamon rolls!).

We did crazy things like a lip syncing contest (which in 80's was awesome!) and had makeovers at the make-up counters. There was music and games and shopping. We ran around all night in our socked feet visiting other troops (this was a council wide event...we're talking 500+ girls!) and meeting new people.

I don't remember any specifics of that first Mall Lock-In. I'm sure we had a great time and slept very little (if at all). I do know that for the next four years we went every October to be locked in the mall and one year I even had the winning design for the t-shirt (which if you were ever a Girl Scout - you know you get a t-shirt for every trip/event you attend). That t-shirt, well the front of it at least, is now on my Girl Scout T-shirt Quilt that my mom made for me when I graduated from high school.

And the best part of sixth grade - I got my first boyfriend. *swoon* Puppy love at its finest. We had been friends for many, many years and thought it sounded like a good idea (and it was). We decided though that we were better off friends...after just a few weeks...and my heart was broken. I think we were boyfriend and girlfriend at least once a year for the next six years though. We still talk today and I've often told people that I think when we're old and grayed and I'm widowed and he's a widower we'll find each other again and finally make it work out.

This is my eighth post with Mommy's Piggy Tales recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!

Click here to read my post from last week, where my fifth grade memories are about some drama.

Record your Life... Fifth grade drama.

Fifth grade memories to me are full of drama!  It was the last year in our elementary school (and the first year that 5th grade was the end...a new middle school had just been built) and we though we were it! 

One stand-out memory for me in fifth grade was learning my BFF had diabetes.  And the incident that started it all (well, not the diabetes but the appointments that led to the diagnosis) was something we all always got in trouble for.  During certain subjects (this day it was reading) we broke into groups and gathered in different spots in the room.  This day S. and myself and four others were around the table discussing a book we had been reading and S. had her chair tipped up on it's back legs.  We were always being told "four on the floor" (meaning all four chair legs on the floor) but she wasn't obeying and suddenly her chair tipped on backwards and she busted her head into the chalk tray as she went all the way down to the floor.  She ended up in the nurse's office and eventually at the doctor's (she had a concussion).  In the midst of her doctor's appointment her mom raised some other concerns and after testing, S. learned she was diabetic.  Her dad is severely diabetic and so I think she wasn't too surprised and I don't remember it ever affecting anything else...I just remember that she was diagnosed.

Another memory that jumps out for me is S. giving me my first diary for Christmas that year.  I still have it.  It has a black cover with lime green hearts on it.  And it had a lock and key and everything.  Every so often (when I'm cleaning or the times I've moved and moved it too) I get it out and read a few pages.  It's amazing how my fifth-grade brain worked.  It's mostly about boys and boys and oh yeah, boys.

One entry in that diary talks about A. and the time she purposely tried to break her leg by wrapping her leg around the desk chair leg.  I do remember that we were incredibly mean to this poor girl (looking back now...we were major bullies) but I do not remember why she tried to break her leg.  And my diary is oh so descriptive (*insert sarcasm here*).  It says, "A. tried to break her leg in class today.  She stuck her foot around the chair leg and fell."  That's it.  Nice huh?  I wish now that I wasn't so mean back then.

And the biggest memory from fifth grade?  Our teacher.  He was the only male teacher in the entire school.  Every morning before school started we said the Pledge of Allegiance (which I think is standard) and said a prayer (one we all had to memorize and said daily).  I don't remember the prayer anymore and while I know he is still teaching, I'm sure he can't teach that anymore (this was at a public school).  Anyways.  One day in class he was upset with us (and I don't remember what we were doing) but he SLAMMED his fist down on his desk top and completely cracked the plastic desk protector that he had over his desk calendar.  It wasn't glass but it cracked right down the middle like glass.  We were all so shocked that no one said a single word.  He grab that desk protector, went out the door, down the hall and came back without it and carried on like nothing had happened.  It was crazy.  I still can remember the sound of his fist hitting and the cracking sound that plastic made. 

This is my seventh posting at Mommy's Piggy TALES recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!

Click here to read my post from last week, where my second grade memories aren't very good memories.

Record your Life - Fourth grade

Fourth grade felt like second grade all over to me!  Our elementary school would often switch teachers around and I had the same teacher that I had in second grade for fourth grade.  So while it really didn't feel the same as second grade, it was kinda strange to have the same teacher!

My stand-out memory from fourth grade was having the lead in our Christmas children's musical at church.  Sadly, I can no longer remember the name of the play, the songs we sang or what it was about really (I mean...it was about the spirit of Christmas but remember very few details) but I do remember that I beat out a girl like six years older than me for the lead!  I felt amazing!  And the male lead was my best friend from church - he and I were very close and spent many a weekend at his aunt's house (who kinda "adopted me" as a niece) sharing the bunk bed and playing with her dolls.

Another vague memory from fourth grade is of playing a game at recess called kiss 'em and ditch 'em.  I'm not sure if anyone else ever played this game but it was basically tag and there was a boy "it" and a girl "it" and when you tagged someone you had to kiss 'em and then ditch 'em.  We had so much fun with that game!  We had to be careful the recess monitor didn't see us though - Jeff would get all over our tails for playing that game!
And while this memory may not be specific to fourth grade, I just remembered the house beside our school had llamas and goats in the pasture that ran along the playground.  I remember spitting at that llama trying to get him to spit back.  And one day the goats got out and ran wild all over the playground, on the equipment - even down the slides!  What a crazy recess that was.  After that the neighbor fixed his fence to be taller so the goats couldn't get out anymore.

What a crazy bunch of random memories!

This is my sixth posting at Mommy's Piggy TALES recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!

Click here to read my post from last week, where my second grade memories aren't very good memories.

Record your Life - Third grade pen-pals

Why is it that last week I struggled so much to remember even a small inkling of second grade but I've known since I first heard about this project that I was going to share about pen-pals and our Tennessee trip when it came to talking about third grade? Isn't it strange what the mind holds and what it doesn't?

Third grade was the year that everyone looked forward to in our school. That was the year you got a pen-pal AND you go to visit them too. I don't remember my pen-pal's name or anything about writing her specifically. The writing part was actually part of our school work, we were graded on the letters and whether we sent one or not and Miss Carter always gathered all the letters and sent one big package of them to the teacher of the students we were writing. And then when we got our letters, we all got letters on the same day.

The BEST part of having a pen-pal was the field trip that we took to Tennessee that spring to visit our pen-pals. When you load up an Imperial Travel bus (a travel bus) with a whole load of third graders and their chaperones for a week long trip to Tennessee, you're bound to have fun (and mishaps) along the way.

I don't remember much of the bus ride really. I do remember the librarian's son being with us (which was strange because he was a year older than us and even went to a different elementary school than us...same town/school corporation, different school) and singing Rocky Top (a song we had to learn in music class about Tennessee).

And I don't even remember meeting my pen-pal. Well, I take that back. I do remember meeting her (we all met each other on their playground) but don't remember anything we talked about. I do remember that we slept in the school gymnasium (girls and boys! - a big deal when your a third grader) and that the bathroom stall doors were SHORT. I could see over the tops of the doors when standing up. It was so strange to me because our stall doors were normal height (like what you'd find at a store or something). Strange, strange, strange.

The most memorable part of the trip - we went to Cades Cove and hiked to the waterfall. On the way back my best friend tripped and broke her ankle. I remember our teacher and another parent (not sure if it was a mom or dad) putting their hands together between them and Shari sitting on top of their hands so they could get her back to the parking lot and then to a hospital for a cast (they had to call for an ambulance so the rest of the class didn't have to leave in the bus as well).

I don't remember the ride home or anything else about the trip - just going and Shari falling and breaking ankle (which means for once it was someone other than me who was a klutz!).

This is my fifth posting at Mommy's Piggy TALES recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!

Click here to read my post from last week, where my second grade memories aren't very good memories.

Record your Life... Was I a second grader?

If I was, I don't remember it!  Is it bad that nothing sticks out from second grade? I mean, I remember little things - like that was the year my brother started kindergarten and the year my mom started working for the school system. That was the year we were introduced to a reading program where we read a book and then took a test and I was the first student to read through every level and pass all the tests. Our Girl Scout troop took a field trip to the Indianapolis Zoo that year - I even have pictures of my and my best friend in our Brownie uniforms and pigtails. And my favorite part of the school day was when I got to go to school early with my mom and brother and was able to visit the other second grade teacher and play with her ticky-tack stuff that she used to put posters on the wall (I was easily amused - what can I say!?).

Why is it I can't remember anything big from that year? Did nothing exciting happen that year? Was second grade really so boring that nothing sticks in my mind?

So, what happened in 1983, the year I would have started 2nd grade?

Pet Sematary and Christine by Stephen King were two of the top five fiction books for the year (and I've read neither!).

The last Delorean (the car from Back to the Future) was produced.

The final episode of M.A.S.H. aired with more than 125 million viewers (which I know I watched!).

Rubik's Cube and Cabbage Patch Kids were popular (although I probably had neither at that time...).

The 1983 Academy Awards for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor and Best Actress are all for the movie "Terms of Endearment" (which I've never heard of).

In 1983, the 26th Grammy Awards granted Michael Jackson four awards (for "Thriller", "Beat It" and "Billie Jean").

The Washington Redskins beat the Miami Dolphins 27 - 17 in the 1983 Super Bowl and the Baltimore Orioles beat the Philadelphia Phillies (4-1) in the World Series Championship.

Of the top 19 shows in 1983, I don't remember really watching any of them. I recognize the names of shows ("Dallas", "60 Minutes" and "Dynasty" top the list). I know I watched others in reruns ("The Jeffersons", "The Love Boat" and "Kate and Allie").

And in 1983 Reagan was President, the unemployment rates was 9.6%, you could buy a new Ford Escort for $6900 and a loaf of bread was $.66 (with coupons I can beat that!).

So maybe second grade didn't happen?  It almost feels that way.  But really, I KNOW I went through second grade.  My teacher was Mrs Borges and we called her Gorgeous Borges (although she wasn't gorgeous...it was just what rhymed!).  And I do remember my mom starting work and walking to school with my brother and reading through that whole reading system.  But nothing big must have happened for me that year.  That's okay though, I have plenty of other memories to reflect on!

This is my fourth posting at Mommy's Piggy TALES recording my memories in just 15 weeks. If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!

Click here to read my post from last week, where in first grade I really (truly) lost a tooth.

Record your Life - How I lost lost a tooth.

Is it strange that I only have one vivid memory of first grade? I know I spent an entire school year in Mrs. Morris's classroom but really there is only one day that sticks in my mind and it wasn't even a full day - it was just one particular recess.

I live in Central Indiana, always have and I'm guessing always will, and this particular memory must have been during the winter because we were having indoor recess (which meant it was too cold to be outside playing even). I don't remember if I was playing a game with someone or if I was just reading by myself (which is highly likely) but I was sitting by the windows on the heat vent.

The heat vent was the best place to sit and read or chat with friends. These vents were right on the floor, raised maybe just an inch above the standard tile school floor. The top of the vent was a shiny silver and there were small square holes that the air came through. These holes were big enough to get our fingers into but not big enough to get a hand into. And I don't know how far down the vent went but it was far enough that if you dropped something in there, you couldn't see it any longer. And when the heat kicked on you were just wrapped in this warm blanket of heat.

So in this memory I'm sitting on this heat vent - alone or with someone, I'm not sure. But I know I had been playing with a loose tooth and the next thing I remember I'm crying because my tooth is down in the vent, I've got some blood on my lips and chin and all the kids in my class are just watching me.

Because recess time was when the teacher's had prep, our teacher wasn't in the classroom. The person who was in charge of recess though roamed the hallways and he came into the room (did someone get him? did he hear my cries?). He took me to the nurse and she helped me clean up and rinse my mouth out. She sent me back to my classroom and the custodian was trying to see my tooth in the vent with a flashlight but he couldn't even see it.

So that recess is forever stuck in my mind as the recess that I lost, really truly lost, my tooth.

This is my third posting at Mommy's Piggy TALES recording my memories in just 15 weeks.  If you're interested in doing the same for yourself, swing by her place to check it out!

Click here to read about my preschool and kindergarten memories.

Record your Life...Posting on Thursdays now have purpose!

I have joined up with Mommy's Piggy Tales to share the stories of my youth - or at least what stands out to me in my memories.  So be watching on Thursdays for the next 13 weeks (the first two weeks are done...you can find them in prior postings) for the story of my life as I remember.

I was thinking earlier today though about my dad (duh, it's Father's Day - of course I'm going to think about him!).  I've been blessed when it comes to my dad and the dad-like figures in my life.  I wanted to record for myself (and for my baby girl when she's older) my first memories of my dad and even my grandpas, both my mom's dad and my dad's dad.

There are two distinct memories of my dad that I keep in my head.  I'm not sure how old I am in either one but I think I'm a bit older in the second memory, maybe five- or six-years-old. 

In my first memory we are out in the yard behind Mrs. Bailey's house and we are just playing around.  I know there were dandelions out, so it must have been spring and probably the weekend as well since he was at home with us and not at school.  I don't remember my brother being there, so I'm thinking I was very young - two-years-old or just older than that and he wasn't outside with us.  In this memory I'm plucking dandelions and he grabs one and swipes it under my chin to make it yellow.  And that's about it to the memory.  I think we even have pictures of this day, so maybe I just remember the pictures but it is in my mind as something I really remember taking part of.

The second memory of my dad isn't such a good one...  My mom babysat for other kids and it involves Tammy, one of the girls who was at our house a lot and the only one I still to this day consider my "sister".  I don't remember exactly what was going on or if it was early morning or late afternoon but I do know that my dad was leaving the house (he walked from our house to the school where he taught if the weather allowed...so it was morning when he was leaving or afternoon when he was going back for a sport practice or game) and I had yelled at my dad that I hated him.  I honestly don't remember why I said it or what had happened to make me say it but I remember Tammy and I both got sent to separate rooms (she to mine and I to my parents) and I cried and cried and cried because I felt so horrible for even saying it. 

To this day it makes me sick to my stomach to think I yelled that at my dad.  And I'm guessing that he probably doesn't even remember this happening (although, as far as I can remember this is the only and only time I ever told my dad that).  The comment also had no truth behind it.  I love my daddy...he'll always be my one and only daddy.

As for my grandpas - for my maternal grandma, my earliest memory is standing between him and my grandma in their big 15-passenger van as we were headed to Kentucky.  I don't remember puking in his pocket but apparently I did!  I've heard the story a hundred times too.  And I remember him playing his guitar too.  Man could he sing!  My earliest memory of my paternal grandpa is when I was older...probably seven- or eight-years-old and he kept calling me Windy because I did such a good job at blowing up the beach toys at the beach!  He actually called me Windy for many, many years - every time we went to the beach!

And now...the daddy that is in my life daily is my husband.  He is an *amazing* daddy to our baby girl.  He is patient and nurturing and has a teaching way about him.  Every little thing they do becomes a learning experience for her.  He is her protector and comforter.  I couldn't ask for a better daddy for her.

Who is your dad to you or your dad-like figures?

Record your Life...My vague memories of being in preschool and kindergarten.

Is it strange that when I think of preschool/kindergarten all I remember are boys? I don't remember a lot of those days but I do remember the boys. I've always had more male friends than female friends and it looks like that started as far back as when I was just five-years-old.

My only memory of preschool is Tom jumping out of the swing during play time and breaking his arms. Yes - that is plural. He broke both of his arms in that one jump. Now I'm sure he had jumped plenty of times from the swings at his house (where I spent some time in kindergarten playing, so I know he had swings) but for some reason when he look that leap on that particular day he landed just right and broke them both. I don't remember if an ambulance came (I'm sure it did) or if he had casts (I'm sure he did) or what happened after that. I just remember that he broke both arms.

And maybe I don't so much remember the actual act of him jumping but just remember hearing the stories...but I always associate preschool and Tom together.

When it comes to kindergarten I remember two boys...Joe and Matt. Joe is still in town, we see him at church every Sunday (at the same church where we all went to preschool together) and the thing I remember from kindergarten is only a memory to Joe as well. Matt though...well, I see his family around town but not Matt.

Joe had to wear leg braces in kindergarten (I don't remember him having them in preschool...although he could have). These leg braces prevented Joe from standing up straight and walking or even bending his knees. When he walked (only short distances) his legs were spread pretty far apart and he had to kind of rotate his hips to move one leg forward and then the other.

Because of these braces and the fact that our classroom was as far away from the playground as you could be (and still be in the school) Joe had to ride in a wagon to recess. Each student was able to take turns pulling Joe to the playground and it was quite the privilege to be able to do so. There is even a picture of a few of us (myself, Joe, Cherish, Tom and maybe Ky?) on the indoor slide and Joe was right in front on the slide with his legs and braces spread out in front of him...a memory forever saved in our kindergarten yearbook.

And why don't I see Matt? He was killed in a freak accident at a pumpkin patch in the fall of our kindergarten year. He was six. Brown eyes, brown hair - just a small kid still. He and his family had gone to a pumpkin patch one weekend and back then the wagons were pulled to the pumpkin fields by horse (they are now pulled by tractor).

No one is 100% sure what happened but the wagon driver recalled seeing some bees and there was a possibility that one of the horses got stung, causing it to bolt and the wagon flipped. Several people in the wagon and a couple standing nearby were hurt but Matt...he didn't make it.

To this day, I can still go to the elementary school and show you which tree we planted in Matt's memory that next spring. This all happened many years ago so that tree is now a huge shade tree that is a great place to sit under and remember and reminisce. I don't think of Matt nearly as much as I used to. I'll pass the school and see the tree and think of him or will see his younger sister (born after he was gone) and will remember. But he does cross my mind every so often and especially when I remember my kindergarten year.

Matt, Joe and Tom are a very delicate part of my early memories...

Click here to read why I love (and hate) my name.

Record your Life...Why I love (and hate) my name.

So...1977 was an interesting year for my parents. They found out they were going to have ME - their first born child...twins and boys at that! Or at least that was the story I've heard. I guess my mom was told by her doctor that she was carrying twins (the doctor thought he heard two heartbeats) and that it was boys (because of the slowness of the beats).

That was early in the pregnancy though and my parents later learned I was a girl...just one of me. By the time I was just about done baking, my parents decided to name me Dora Lynn (after my mom's older sister who had passed away a few years earlier, Doris, and my mom's middle name Lynn). Dora Lynn. They were going to call me Dori. And I would have been called Dorky Dori for all of my life. Or - been an airhead like Dori from Finding Nemo. Although, my dad swears if I had been twin boys he was going to name me Bozo and Zeke. I think Dorky Dori would have been better than that!

My mom went into labor and got to the hospital and had me within just a few hours (I guess women on her side of the family have quick births - even first-borns!). She called her younger sister and was sharing the excitement and all the details...how long I was, how much I weighed and that my parents were going to call me Casie.

Now - I was hours old at this point and couldn't know what my aunt said but I'm sure it went something like this:

Sandy: You're calling her what!?
Peggy: We're going to call her Casie. C-A-S-I-E, pronounced like Casey.
Sandy: Why in the heck are you doing that!?
Peggy: Well, we didn't want to call her Sandy and I don't like Cassie so we picked Casie.
Sandy: How in the world did you shorten Dora to Casie!?
Peggy: We didn't. We named her Cassandra Jean - after you.
Sandy: *sobbing, blubbery mess of tears*

Yep! Instead of being named after my mom's older sister, I was named after her younger one. Sandra Jean became Cassandra Jean, shortened to Casie for ease (and plenty of confusion in pronunciation).

Why do I love my name? It's a family name and while I might make fun of my aunt (she is truly an airhead!) I love her to pieces and there is no one else I'd rather be named after. Why do I hate my name? Most people look at it and immediately think Cassie - there is only ONE 'S' people! That makes it CASIE. Like Casey. Like the boys name. I often wish my mom had spelled it the boys way too... But I love my name. It's unique but not totally off the wall either.

Cassandra Jean - that's me.