What are some vivid memories growing up?

Bretrick

Bretrick

Well-known Member
Location
Perth Western Australia
Wagging school was something I never done often, maybe 6 times in one year, only one year,
Grade 9?
Me and a friend would venture up into the hills surrounding Queenstown and simply enjoy not being at school.
We would seek out Tiger Snakes and catch them by the tail.(The Idiocy of youth)
Echidnas were plentiful and we would play with them for a while, until one of us got spiked. We had a home made raft hidden and we would go out on the lake of the town water supply dam.
Echidna(Spiny Anteater)

My Grandmother raised me after my Mother left.
She would often send me to the Butchers to get a Shillings worth(10 cents) of Mince. This was several years after Australia changed currency from the English Pound to our own Australian Monetary system.
The Butchers always laughed when I asked for a Shillings worth.
The Shilling would buy about half a kilo, 1 Pound of Mince.
Hanging up in the Butchers was a variety of meat cuts, So different from todays Butchers where everything is in the cool room.

School days were not so bad.
I only ever won 1 race at the school sports carnival, 100 meters Skipping Race. Everyone else fell over.
Steve Bradbury? Bretrick done it first:ROFLMAO:
I was in the School Orchestra and was a marvel at the Triangle and the Xylophone.🎶

Home Economics was a compulsory class back in the 60's, and 70's.
Predominately about learning to cook. Seems obvious that this is where I obtained my love of cooking.
Vividly remember the first thing we learnt to cook was Scones.
All school children were given a Small bottle of milk, not chilled. Was not very nice really, warm milk.
This stopped in 1975 when I was 13.

In the 70's I was a Cub Scout and then a Boy Scout and my Group were called the Devils.
We had a great time camping out in the Tassie bush, learning all sorts of campcraft.
Learning to tie a multitude of knots, going Kayaking, Orienteering.
Bob a Job week where we would go visit people and do odd jobs for a bob.(10 cents)
Though most people paid us much more than that. As Much as $2😲
Bottle Week was another fund raising activity. Going from home to home collecting peoples empty bottles. We would collect many thousands of Bottles over that week.
 

Last edited:
Bretrick said:
Wagging school was something I never done often, maybe 6 times in one year, only one year,
Grade 9?
Me and a friend would venture up into the hills surrounding Queenstown and simply enjoy not being at school.
We would seek out Tiger Snakes and catch them by the tail.(The Idiocy of youth)
Echidnas were plentiful and we would play with them for a while, until one of us got spiked. We had a home made raft hidden and we would go out on the lake of the town water supply dam.
Echidna(Spiny Anteater)

My Grandmother raised me after my Mother left.
She would often send me to the Butchers to get a Shillings worth(10 cents) of Mince. This was several years after Australia changed currency from the English Pound to our own Australian Monetary system.
The Butchers always laughed when I asked for a Shillings worth.
The Shilling would buy about half a kilo, 1 Pound of Mince.
Hanging up in the Butchers was a variety of meat cuts, So different from todays Butchers where everything is in the cool room.
[image deleted]
School days were not so bad.
I only ever won 1 race at the school sports carnival, 100 meters Skipping Race. Everyone else fell over.
Steve Bradbury? Bretrick done it first:ROFLMAO:
I was in the School Orchestra and was a marvel at the Triangle and the Xylophone.🎶
[image deleted]
Home Economics was a compulsory class back in the 60's, and 70's.
Predominately about learning to cook. Seems obvious that this is where I obtained my love of cooking.
Vividly remember the first thing we learnt to cook was Scones.
All school children were given a Small bottle of milk, not chilled. Was not very nice really, warm milk.
This stopped in 1975 when I was 13.

In the 70's I was a Cub Scout and then a Boy Scout and my Group were called the Devils.
We had a great time camping out in the Tassie bush, learning all sorts of campcraft.
Learning to tie a multitude of knots, going Kayaking, Orienteering.
Bob a Job week where we would go visit people and do odd jobs for a bob.(10 cents)
Though most people paid us much more than that. As Much as $2😲
Bottle Week was another fund raising activity. Going from home to home collecting peoples empty bottles. Were would collect many thousands of Bottles over that week.
Click to expand...
Pretty much a carbon copy of school life in the UK ..even down to the scones.. and occasional apple Pie...

I played Cello in the school orchestra... ..and we didn't have camping.... ..but everything in your list is pretty much the same at our school in the 60's
 
hollydolly said:
Pretty much a carbon copy of school life in the UK ..even down to the scones.. and occasional apple Pie...

I played Cello in the school orchestra... ..and we didn't have camping.... ..but everything in your list is pretty much the same at our school in the 60's
Click to expand...
I remember one year I was loaned a guitar to take home to learn. Never had the patience for it.
I really wish I had learnt to play.
Even today, I would love to play the guitar.
Maybe I will learn when I retire
 

I vividly remember being awakened by my father in the middle of the night. He also woke my sisters. He told us to quickly dress and piled us into his car.

He drove to the downtown area of Baltimore where there was a huge fire. I will never forget seeing it. It was frightening. We stayed and watched the firefighters trying to put out the fire. It was an awesome sight .
When my father brought us home, it was daylight and my mother was there with breakfast for all of us. We were allowed to stay home from school that day.
 
MaidMarian said:
I vividly remember being awakened by my father in the middle of the night. He also woke my sisters. He told us to quickly dress and piled us into his car.

He drove to the downtown area of Baltimore where there was a huge fire. I will never forget seeing it. It was frightening. We stayed and watched the firefighters trying to put out the fire. It was an awesome sight .
When my father brought us home, it was daylight and my mother was there with breakfast for all of us. We were allowed to stay home from school that day.
Click to expand...
what ?... your father got you out of bed to go and watch a fire ? ..why ?:oops::unsure:
 
Likewise, I recall my father coming home from work in the morning, mom was still sleeping. He said the whole city was flooded and he made it home over the last standing bridge before it collapsed.

My mother said "Yeah and I'm Cleopatra". Thank goodness we lived up on one of the many hills in that city.

He told me to get up, get dressed and go with him. We went to a place high up behind some people's houses and saw the flood waters coursing by, over what was a street. Cars and other debris floated by.

In the short distance were a few apartment houses almost covered by water. On the roof of one were two women waving scarves to a helicopter that was approaching. I saw one of the ladies get on a ladder hanging from the chopper and go up into it.

I remember driving home. I was very, very thirsty. Into the kitchen, Mom had the radio on and now knew all about the flood. I begged for a glass of water ( couldn't reach the sink, then)

Just after I drained the glass, the man on the radio said "don't drink the water. It's contaminated"!
Well, my mother went nuts, started crying and called my pediatrician. Verdict was, it was just the water already in the pipes and not to worry.
 
More than 25 helicopters—from the U.S. Navy and local companies like Sikorsky—were used to rescue hundreds of people from rooftops and tree branches where they clung to life. The flood hit the Naugatuck river with such fury that as many as 500 people in the Waterbury area had to be rescued by helicopter.

In New England, more than 200 dams suffered partial or total failure. More than 50 coffins floated away from a cemetery in Seymour. The state shipped in 300 temporary housing units from Groton, to help provide shelter for the newly homeless.

The floods prompted the United States Army Corps of Engineers to build $70 million worth of dams and flood walls along several Connecticut rivers.

I began kindergarten at age 4. This flood was in August, before I was to enter 1st grade, but I'll never forget it nor the aftermath.
 
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MaidMarian said:
I vividly remember being awakened by my father in the middle of the night. He also woke my sisters. He told us to quickly dress and piled us into his car.

He drove to the downtown area of Baltimore where there was a huge fire. I will never forget seeing it. It was frightening. We stayed and watched the firefighters trying to put out the fire. It was an awesome sight .
When my father brought us home, it was daylight and my mother was there with breakfast for all of us. We were allowed to stay home from school that day.
Click to expand...
A memory that will never fade. Tragic, but awesome at the same time.
 

What are some vivid memories growing up?​


I used to write about some vivid memories

From an old thread of mine;

Recollections

this became rather lengthy....

Ever so often, I'd drive up to the ol' place for, well, old time's sake.
I always enjoyed the rush of memories, driving the old lane, and around the corner, up the hill onto the flat where most the kid population was, and where gramma's house, my 2nd home, crowned the hill.
Our place and gramma's place was one property, adjoined by five or so acres of strawberry patch, making the patch a short cut between houses.

Not long ago I hired a new engineer, he was a whip.
Ate up everything I could hand him.
Became our I.T.
Made tedious, complex projects his fun little game.
Interfaced quite well with our clients.
We became friends, even though he was in his late 20's, and I in my mid 50's.
Come to find out, his dad lived at and owned the property out there in the hills of Scappoose.
I had to make the trip one more time.

Our little house was ready for razing. The doors were off, the garage my dad and grandpa built (with a hand saw and hammer) were gone.
We stopped. I boosted myself thru the doorless, and stepless porch entry, the closed in porch was our laundry room.
Wringer washer, clothesline, wicker baskets, sweet smells of Fels-Naptha, my place to take off my day's clothes and grab the tub off the wall.
Rooms, once huge, were now so tiny.

DSC_0206.JPG



The kitchen, remodeled with the rest of the house, still had the red fire alarm above the sink.
Dad would proudly demonstrate to friends how loud it was, putting a glass of hot water up near it.
The wood cook stove was gone, but the pipe coming outa the ceiling, with the ornate metal ring, bore testament of many a meal.
Meals I learned to prepare, taking a few times to learn how to not break an egg yolk, how to get pancakes to turn out like mom's and gramma's, snacks dad showed how he ate when young, tater slices scorched on the cook top, then lightly salted. Tasted horrible, but really good.... cookin' with Dad, good.
The table was gone of course. The curvy steel legged one that replaced the solid wood one, well not so solid, as we lost a meal or two due to the one wobbly leg. But that steel one with the gray Formica (?) top was up town.
There I'd sit, waiting out the meal, spreadin' my peas around to make it look like I ate some.
'If you don't at least take a bite of your peas you won't get any cake!'
Eventually, I'd be sittin' at the table alone, studying the gray swirly pattern of the tabletop, malnourished head propped up on my arm.
Dad, Mom, and sis would be in the living room watchin' Howdy Doody on the Hoffman, or something just as wonderful.
Eventually, I ate cake...then did the dishes.

One Sunday morning I sat at an empty table, but for a glass of milk and the One-a-Day pill bottle. Dad and Mom were exasperated... 'Your throat is this big, the pill is this big'. Minutes-hours passed, shadows on the table shortened...'OK, just drink your milk'
I drained the glass between pursed lips.
The little brown pill remained at the bottom.
Nice try, parents from satan.

We had a lot of beans, navy, pinto, brown.
Beans on bread was quite regular. Got to like'n it. Not much choice really.
Had chocolate cake with white icing for dessert. No dessert plates. Cake just plopped on the bean juice.
To this day, I still have a craving for cake soaked in bean juice.

The house was designed so's I could ride my trike around and around, kitchen, living, bed, bath, bedrooms.
They were my Daytona, straight away was the bed, bath and bedrooms.
We had large windows in the front corners of the house from the remodel, 'so we can look out, for godsake'.
Now we could watch log trucks barrelin' down Pisgah Home Rd, and my sis and I could have a bird's eye vantage from the kitchen when Dad backed the Bel Air outta the garage over three of the four kittens puss had had weeks earlier under the porch.
Took my sis quite awhile to get over that, as she'd just named 'em a few hours earlier. I was just enamored with the scene; romp-play-mew-look up-smat.
Dad didn't know until he got home.
Actually, it saved him an' I a trip, as when he thought we had too many cats around, we'd toss a bunch into a gunny sack and once down the road, hurl 'em out the window of our speeding chevy.
I haven't maintained the sack-o-cats legacy, but there have been times....

The living room still had the oil stove that warmed us...in the living room.
A flash of memory recalled the two end tables and lamps, aerodynamic, tables sharp, cutcha, lamps with flying saucer shapes, one had butterfly like images formed into its material, and when lit, enhanced their appearance.
A sectional couch, we were up town.
Before the sectional, we had one that kinda placed you in the middle, no matter where you started. It was my favorite, as sis and I spent many a day on it when sick.
Mom would lay out the sheets and blankets, administering doses of tea, crackers, and toast, peaches if we felt up to it.
Waste basket stationed at the tail end of that couch, since we were in such a weakened state we could never make it to the bathroom.
Mom loved it, our own personal Mother Teresa.
Yeah, we milked it for days...school work piling up.
Recovery would finally occur once bed sores emerged.
When we were actually sick, Doctor Day would visit. Fascinating, black bag, weird tools, gauzes, pill bottles, the smell of disinfectant and tobacco. Then the shot.
It was all almost worth it.

Asian flu was a bit serious, but chicken pox was horrific for me.
It was Christmas, fever, pox forming.
Presents! Guns! Six shooters!...only there was this pock right on my trigger finger.


Dad, always the entrepreneur, would use the living room as the media center, inviting salesmen with projectors and actual reel to reel set ups, showing us how to become a thousandaire overnight.
Nutri-bio was one, to take the place of one-a-days I guess.
The Chinchilla movie was fascinating, and we even took a trip to a guy's garage to see how they were raised. Turns out they need an even controlled temp to get a good coat, and actually keep 'em alive.
The Geiger counter became something to show company, and become an antique.
Dad and Mom's bedroom held few memories for me except for the time Mom found a nest of baby mice in the bottom dresser drawer...and a hammer.
There was that other brief time, but seems we were all pretty shocked.
My bedroom was actually our bedroom, sis and me.
After the remodel, we got twin beds, new ones.
Recall my first migraine in my new bed, pressing my head into the pillow. Teddy no consolation, but then I didn't really give it an honest try to fix his dented plastic nose either.
Dad was the bedtime story teller, Goldie/bears, red/the wolf, pigs/wolf.....pretty standard stuff....but did the job.
Had a framed picture of a collie baying over a lamb in a snowstorm hanging over my bed. It hangs over my light stand table today, found in some of my mother's stuff.

dxgyuEK.jpg



The yard was not spectacular, but when sequestered from the woods, was plenty for me. I'd play in the dirt.

FTiWAqO.jpg




Mom, in her no-remote-thought-of-divorce-happiest-I'll-ever-be-but-don't-know-it days, would be cleaning the house, wiping something on the windows that would become a swirly fog, then wiping that off. Cleaning the floor was sweep, mop, wax. Linoleum was the rage.
Lunch would be a great, but simple sandwich, with lettuce, and soup.

The icebox held short stemmed dessert glasses of homemade chocolate pudding, each centered with a half maraschino cherry. For the longest time I thought cherries came that way straight from the tree.
Cross over the Bridge, or Sunny Side of the Street played on the radio. Then it was a Paul Harvey segment.



Nobody close died, there were no wars I was aware of, and folks were generally at ease during that eight year era of fond memories, just fragrant recollections.


This aging cynic, years of crust giving way to a soft spot, down deep, had a hard moment of holding back visual emotion, as we drove away from the last tangible vision ever to be seen of the house of a sweet early life.
 
One more, plucked from the archives;
When I was about four or five, we lived out in the country.
A sparsely populated neighborhood tucked back in the Chapman hills about twenty miles outta Scappoose.
Our place, and gramma’s place, atop the hill, was separated by five acres of strawberries carved out of a thicket of fir trees.
Ever so often I’d stay at gramma’s on a summer evening.
She made good pancakes….and the folks were going out.

One time I waited too long at home. There was just too much cowboy’n to do, and I’d lost track of time.
It was already twilight, and I had several hundred yards up the hill thru a couple clumps of trees to negotiate.

As I trudged thru the first glade of trees, I thought about eyes staring at me.
I’d seen lots of bear sign in my tiny travels, and some bobcat and cougar scat here and there. So, plenty to consider.
(Actually, years later, coming from town one evening, we pulled into the garage, and a big cat jumped down from the rafters and fled into the night. We just saw body and tail, but it was, without a doubt, a full grown cougar.)

Whistling seemed to rid the noises of the stillness in the dark regions of my petrified mind.
A generous moon lengthened shadows, turning stumps into animals of prey, licking their lips, fixated on my dashing form, like Tag would when I showed him the stick I was about to throw.
Ever so often I'd give a quick glance back, but the glaring, glowing eyes that were obviously there would mysteriously disappear.

The clearing, the path, the 300 yard dash.

Breathing came in gasps and pants…or was that the breath of the galloping cougar that was about to sink his teeth into my neck any minute, and tear my puny body to shreds.

The folks will wonder in the morning, ‘Where’s Gary?’

Then, days later, they’ll find bits of Oshkosh b’goshes, right at gramma’s door, and shreds of poop stained fruit of the looms, and the brim of my straw cowboy hat, the hat part that once housed my furrowed little noggin now several miles away in a steaming mound of mountain lion poopoo.

The clump of trees loomed ahead, separating me and gramma, good ol’ pillowy armed gramma…..even good ol’ grumpy grampa.

I heard something shriek, or was it a howl…I don’t recall my feet touching the ground over the last few yards thru their back yard thicket.
I do recall gramma, and her audible laughter, her high pitched teehee, as I hung my coat in the utility wash room of the back porch.
Apparently my countenance that morphed from bug eyed terror to smiling relief in the time space of flipping a light switch sorta tickled her.

The pancakes were extra good that next morning.
 
Gary O' said:
Asian flu was a bit serious
Click to expand...
Two years in a row, both on the first day of school! Neighbor mom came to get me with paper bags.

Threw up every few hours. Headache so bad, moving my eyes hurt, Same wastebasket bedside, but with some soapy liquid in the bottom.

Doctor comes, swallowed 2 tiny green pills and hurled them immediately. Then the shot.

Got the radio in my room!
Later, Mom read stories to me. Better than the radio.
 
Gary O' said:
One more, plucked from the archives;
When I was about four or five, we lived out in the country.
A sparsely populated neighborhood tucked back in the Chapman hills about twenty miles outta Scappoose.
Our place, and gramma’s place, atop the hill, was separated by five acres of strawberries carved out of a thicket of fir trees.
Ever so often I’d stay at gramma’s on a summer evening.
She made good pancakes….and the folks were going out.

One time I waited too long at home. There was just too much cowboy’n to do, and I’d lost track of time.
It was already twilight, and I had several hundred yards up the hill thru a couple clumps of trees to negotiate.

As I trudged thru the first glade of trees, I thought about eyes staring at me.
I’d seen lots of bear sign in my tiny travels, and some bobcat and cougar scat here and there. So, plenty to consider.
(Actually, years later, coming from town one evening, we pulled into the garage, and a big cat jumped down from the rafters and fled into the night. We just saw body and tail, but it was, without a doubt, a full grown cougar.)

Whistling seemed to rid the noises of the stillness in the dark regions of my petrified mind.
A generous moon lengthened shadows, turning stumps into animals of prey, licking their lips, fixated on my dashing form, like Tag would when I showed him the stick I was about to throw.
Ever so often I'd give a quick glance back, but the glaring, glowing eyes that were obviously there would mysteriously disappear.

The clearing, the path, the 300 yard dash.

Breathing came in gasps and pants…or was that the breath of the galloping cougar that was about to sink his teeth into my neck any minute, and tear my puny body to shreds.

The folks will wonder in the morning, ‘Where’s Gary?’

Then, days later, they’ll find bits of Oshkosh b’goshes, right at gramma’s door, and shreds of poop stained fruit of the looms, and the brim of my straw cowboy hat, the hat part that once housed my furrowed little noggin now several miles away in a steaming mound of mountain lion poopoo.

The clump of trees loomed ahead, separating me and gramma, good ol’ pillowy armed gramma…..even good ol’ grumpy grampa.

I heard something shriek, or was it a howl…I don’t recall my feet touching the ground over the last few yards thru their back yard thicket.
I do recall gramma, and her audible laughter, her high pitched teehee, as I hung my coat in the utility wash room of the back porch.
Apparently my countenance that morphed from bug eyed terror to smiling relief in the time space of flipping a light switch sorta tickled her.

The pancakes were extra good that next morning.
Click to expand...
I remember some of this.... :)
 
RadishRose said:
More than 25 helicopters—from the U.S. Navy and local companies like Sikorsky—were used to rescue hundreds of people from rooftops and tree branches where they clung to life. The flood hit the Naugatuck river with such fury that as many as 500 people in the Waterbury area had to be rescued by helicopter.

In New England, more than 200 dams suffered partial or total failure. More than 50 coffins floated away from a cemetery in Seymour. The state shipped in 300 temporary housing units from Groton, to help provide shelter for the newly homeless.

The floods prompted the United States Army Corps of Engineers to build $70 million worth of dams and flood walls along several Connecticut rivers.

I began kindergarten at age 4. This flood was in August, before I was to enter 1st grade, but I'll never forget it nor the aftermath.
Click to expand...

Very descriptive account of a huge and tragic flood. I enjoyed hearing the names of the towns. Thank you. I once did a mural of historic buildings of Stratford and I put a Sikorsky helicopter in the sky. Didn't mean to change the subject but CT holds so many good memories.
 
hollydolly said:
Pretty much a carbon copy of school life in the UK ..even down to the scones.. and occasional apple Pie...

I played Cello in the school orchestra... ..and we didn't have camping.... ..but everything in your list is pretty much the same at our school in the 60's
Click to expand...
The girl who played cello in our HS orchestra had to haul it on the bus. Did you have that problem? I love the cello.
 
Alizerine said:
Very descriptive account of a huge and tragic flood. I enjoyed hearing the names of the towns. Thank you. I once did a mural of historic buildings of Stratford and I put a Sikorsky helicopter in the sky. Didn't mean to change the subject but CT holds so many good memories.
Click to expand...
Oh my, @Alizerine I'm SO glad you commented. I almost forgot you lived here at one time. You did a mural of Stratford with a Sikorsky helicopter? Where, oh where can I see this?

I didn't know you were an artist! 🌹
 
First year of school after moving from Texas to British Columbia. I had to walk to and from. Some young boys on bikes liked to waylay me on the way home. They were always waiting at the railroad tracks and would pull their bikes in front of me when I tried to cross.

One day I just had enough and picked up a big rock and threw it at them hitting one in the head. His mom called my mom. They didn't bother me again. I don't know if it was the rock or the phone call that put an end to it, but I was glad it came to a stop.
 
DebraMae said:
First year of school after moving from Texas to British Columbia. I had to walk to and from. Some young boys on bikes liked to waylay me on the way home. They were always waiting at the railroad tracks and would pull their bikes in front of me when I tried to cross.

One day I just had enough and picked up a big rock and threw it at them hitting one in the head. His mom called my mom. They didn't bother me again. I don't know if it was the rock or the phone call that put an end to it, but I was glad it came to a stop.
Click to expand...
How terrible for you @DebraMae ! I had been harassed by some boys as a girl a few times myself. It's an awful feeling. I'm glad you fought back! I did slap one across the face as I recall.
 
1961 was a banner year for an angry Mother Nature where I grew up

The river flooded and we had to take a flat bottomed boat to my grandparents house
Thankfully water didn't come up into the house but some neighbors weren't so fortunate
Everybody anywhere near the flood had to get tetanus diphtheria or something shots
Virtually the whole town was lined up at the school gym where the county health department was sticking everybody

Then that winter it snowed good and thick and stuck. It never did that where I grew up, but did in 1961
Mom was making us kids snow ice cream ... with cream and sugar I think
But then news on the radio said DO NOT eat the snow !!! Something about air quality and possible pollutants
 
Bretrick said:
Wagging school was something I never done often, maybe 6 times in one year, only one year,
Grade 9?
Me and a friend would venture up into the hills surrounding Queenstown and simply enjoy not being at school.
We would seek out Tiger Snakes and catch them by the tail.(The Idiocy of youth)
Echidnas were plentiful and we would play with them for a while, until one of us got spiked. We had a home made raft hidden and we would go out on the lake of the town water supply dam.
Echidna(Spiny Anteater)

My Grandmother raised me after my Mother left.
She would often send me to the Butchers to get a Shillings worth(10 cents) of Mince. This was several years after Australia changed currency from the English Pound to our own Australian Monetary system.
The Butchers always laughed when I asked for a Shillings worth.
The Shilling would buy about half a kilo, 1 Pound of Mince.
Hanging up in the Butchers was a variety of meat cuts, So different from todays Butchers where everything is in the cool room.
[image deleted]
School days were not so bad.
I only ever won 1 race at the school sports carnival, 100 meters Skipping Race. Everyone else fell over.
Steve Bradbury? Bretrick done it first:ROFLMAO:
I was in the School Orchestra and was a marvel at the Triangle and the Xylophone.🎶
[image deleted]
Home Economics was a compulsory class back in the 60's, and 70's.
Predominately about learning to cook. Seems obvious that this is where I obtained my love of cooking.
Vividly remember the first thing we learnt to cook was Scones.
All school children were given a Small bottle of milk, not chilled. Was not very nice really, warm milk.
This stopped in 1975 when I was 13.

In the 70's I was a Cub Scout and then a Boy Scout and my Group were called the Devils.
We had a great time camping out in the Tassie bush, learning all sorts of campcraft.
Learning to tie a multitude of knots, going Kayaking, Orienteering.
Bob a Job week where we would go visit people and do odd jobs for a bob.(10 cents)
Though most people paid us much more than that. As Much as $2😲
Bottle Week was another fund raising activity. Going from home to home collecting peoples empty bottles. Were would collect many thousands of Bottles over that week.
Click to expand...
I too was raised by my grandparents. One time grandma sent me to the store for a pound of hamburger (you folks call it mince) any way I was 8 or 9 perhaps and got my tongue twisted around the words and asked for a "hand of pound burger". was just old enough to be embarrassed.
 
The heated arguments of my aunt with her husband because he kept bringing home buckets of black, slithering, slimy , NY Hudson River eels to eat, is one vivid memory.

​
 
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What are some vivid memories growing up?​


It had to be that huge big pimple I got at the end of my nose when I was about 12/13.

It was like a big red igloo perched on the tip of my conk, it glowed too like a lighthouse.
I used to get cross-eyed looking at the beggar, that is until that morning, when I plucked up the courage and gave it a really hard squeeze.
I'm sure I could have filled an eggcup with the muck that came out of it, and it left a crater that I could of sat a cup in. 😊
 

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