Describe a cherished memory in detail

H

hypochondriac

Senior Member
Location
Australia
I'm rushed right now. But I want to write something good for this. I have so many vivid memories of scenes in houses we lived in. I might go for when I was 10 and my older brother brings home the latest Beatles Album. How absorbed him and his friends were in the LP cover. Was it Sgt. Peppers? With those interesting characters on it.
 

One of my most cherished moments growing up was when I was 5yrs old. My Grandmother passed away at the end of November. My Mom told us that Santa wasn't coming that year and that we wouldn't even be having a Christmas tree. So Christmas morning when My Sister and I woke up we saw 2 dolls in wicker baskets in our living room. My Dad said that Santa wanted us to have something for Christmas. Years later we were told that my Dad's heart was broken thinking we wouldn't get anything for Christmas so against my Mothers wishes he got us the dolls. That was in 1950 and my sister and I still have those dolls. When my Dad passed away in 1993 our new tradition was that we both put our Dolls under the Christmas tree in honor of my Dad's love for us. Here is a picture of a Doll similar to mine.
s-l1600.jpg
 
Describe a cherished memory in detail

I've posted this more than once
But, hey, it's cherished

Christmas 1954
I knew what was coming….really, for once I knew.
The tree, the lights, the bubbling ones, the tinsel, the snow outside, the oil stove warming everyone (that stood smack dab on the stove), the windows adorned with Christmas icing, and….the presents.
I just took it all in, quietly, unassuming, sizing things up.
(‘Hmm, so this happens, say, every year…huh’)

I never said much for, oh, about twenty some years, and at four didn’t say anything, ever.
I cast a rather small shadow, and more than a few times got left at places. Not on purpose, but I just wasn’t much of a bother to anyone…to the point of, to some extent, non-existence.
Mom forgot me at the Montgomery Wards store once.
Huge multi-storied store…fascinating.
She eventually came back and got me even though I wasn’t quite done window shopping.
I wonder how far out of the store she got, or did she get halfway home, or even home and realize, sitting the table, that, hey, the tiny person that normally occupies the booster seat is not here.

I really enjoyed the anonymity.
It gave me time to take in all I could, and remain in my own thoughts.
Kids were pretty much trained to be out of sight when folks came over.
Ever once in a while someone would ask,

‘And what’s your name young man?’

‘Dad, it’s me, Gary.’

My sis would take my hand and guide me over to the tree, pointing out each and every glittery thing.
It was a no shit moment, but knew it made her feel good, so let it happen.

The day came.

I should say the day before came, as we traditionally opened gifts on Christmas eve.

Gramma and Grampa came down the hill to participate.
I’d say it was around 6pm, as it was dark out and everybody had already eaten.
My sis played santy, handing gifts to Gramma and Grampa.
I was busy watching while trying to crack the walnuts and Brazil nuts from my stocking.
I couldn’t help but observe the fake happiness and surprise from everyone as they opened their gifts…everyone but Grampa. He was rather gruff, and had a habit of saying exactly what he thought.

‘I already have a tie.’

I loved him.
Didn’t even give much thought to that emotion back then, but now I know I loved him.

It came to be my turn to open my gifts.
Not a big trick, as my stuff was in a large sack.
It was a sack full of toys…..cars, trucks, a harmonica, and some little bags of hard candy.
The thing is, the toys were all kinda beat up, trucks with missing wheels, and everything was a bit scuffed, dented and rusty in places.
It didn’t bother me a whit. I loved it all.
But I remember the look on my Dad’s face as he watched me haul them outta the bag.
He was ashamed.
I felt like saying something comforting…but didn’t.
My feelings of making the situation even harder on him by saying ‘it’s OK’ won out.
Every Christmas after that was huge.

Funny, not haha funny, but oddly strange, my thoughts on his mental processes.
For years I rather pitied him for toiling to get us what he thought was what we wanted.
Him, the bread winner, the toy winner, the house, food and warmth provider.
How he fell head first into the American dream…the freaking nightmare.
But in my early years of fatherhood I came to understand.
He was from an era that dictated those things….’things’.

Christmas 1972
We were a tad impoverished.
Poverty stricken was a status I was striving for.
We managed a few meager toys from the five and dime, and wrapped them in newspaper, placing them under the tree limb from the neighbor’s backyard that had miraculously blown down from one of their giant firs.
We watched the boys unwrap their tinsel strength early China bobbles.
They lasted almost long enough to get ‘em outta the newspaper, disintegrating in their little ink stained hands.
However, as my lady wiped last Wednesday’s headlines from their fingers so they could drink their mug of hot cinnamon tea and suck one their tiny candy canes, I whipped out to the truck to bring in the toy of toys…the one that would give back.

My eldest named the little puppy from the pound, Felix.
Felix the dog…hey, it was original.
Only he was too young to pronounce the name Felix, so it came out ‘juwix’.
The thing is, a few moments after cleaning up the vomit and diarrhea from the truck seat, floorboard and doors, and myself, it dawned on me that Felix may not have been the best of finds.
The next morning my eldest seemed to have lost track of him, so we both went looking.

‘Juwix….Juuuuwix…heeeere Juwix’

I got a kick out of his determination in locating his new little buddy, trudging around the yard, big cheeks housed upon his tiny neck earnestly calling out with his baby Elmer Fudd like voice…‘Juwix….Juuuuwix…heeeere Juwix’.

Unfortunately we found Juwix.
He was under a gap in the wood pile…rather stiff.
So, as my Dad, twenty some years before, I vowed to provide a better Christmas for the years to come.
Not lavish ones, but ones that bore a couple substantial gifts for each of my little beings.

Christmas now?

Keep yer tie money.
 
I have several but one that comes quickly to my mind is the night my Mom and Dad told me we were going for a ride. I got in the car thinking it was strange going for a ride in the evening but back then kids didn't ask questions. We soon pulled up to a little local pet shop. We went inside and in the middle of the floor was a huge fenced in area with several Beagle puppies. I had been wanting a puppy for so long. My Dad told me to pick one. It didn't take me long to choose. Dad paid $20.00 for him which I'm sure he thought was ridiculous. He came from a farm area and people just acquired pets they didn't buy them. We put him in a box with a blanket next to my bed with a clock ticking next to him so he wouldn't miss his Mom. I kept my hand in the box until I fell asleep. I remember his puppy smell. His first bark when we pushed the mop around the kitchen floor and how he loved vegetables, so much so Dad had to fence in the garden. I named him Toby and he was my best friend for 17 years and also my Dads. If he were here today he would say it was the best $20.00 he ever spent.
 
My granddaughter was in pre-school and taking dancing lessons at the school. One night, there was a recital. In her number, the little girls were to step one-by-one to the front of the stage and drop a curtsey. When the time came for our little scamp to do so, she stepped up, pulled her dress up to her neck and stood there proudly. Thank goodness she was wearing new white panties. Brought the house down.
 
mine was getting out of bed -just before xmas - me and my brother watching my mother and elder sister walking up the lane with this cream dolls pram big one for a 6/7 year old -I was so excited but kept it all a secret
and when I got it =it had the biggest blue eyed doll- with satin pram covers ' it was best thing I ever had as a kid .our home was full them days 7 kids in all mum had ...being the youngest I was very lucky !
 
It was a frigid winter in New York and we lived on Long Island. I was about seven years old and my sister was five. We both received ice skates on Christmas morning. Unbeknownst to us my father had built an ice-skating rink on the side of the house! We had no idea that he was doing this but apparently he had stayed up on Christmas Eve filling and smoothing it so we could use it. We walked out the side door wondering why we were going outside on such a freezing cold day and saw an ice-skating rink! I had been wondering why my mother didn’t allow us to go out the side door to play outside for a good week or so. I couldn’t believe my eyes! My sister and were both in shock and didn’t say much but I’m sure our faces told him how thrilled we were, I don’t think we stopped skating on that thing for hours when mother forced us inside to thaw out! My dad had a lot of issues when we were younger but I’ll tell you one thing when he took care of us he didn’t fool around!
 
One of my happy times, I’ve had a few, was a brand new bicycle I received when I was 10-11 years old. Mom told me, before hand, that the money wasn’t there for a new bike. My real dad, had pitched in and gave mom enough to get the bike for me. Totally unexpected, I might add.
 
Gary O' said:
Describe a cherished memory in detail

I've posted this more than once
But, hey, it's cherished

Christmas 1954
I knew what was coming….really, for once I knew.
The tree, the lights, the bubbling ones, the tinsel, the snow outside, the oil stove warming everyone (that stood smack dab on the stove), the windows adorned with Christmas icing, and….the presents.
I just took it all in, quietly, unassuming, sizing things up.
(‘Hmm, so this happens, say, every year…huh’)

I never said much for, oh, about twenty some years, and at four didn’t say anything, ever.
I cast a rather small shadow, and more than a few times got left at places. Not on purpose, but I just wasn’t much of a bother to anyone…to the point of, to some extent, non-existence.
Mom forgot me at the Montgomery Wards store once.
Huge multi-storied store…fascinating.
She eventually came back and got me even though I wasn’t quite done window shopping.
I wonder how far out of the store she got, or did she get halfway home, or even home and realize, sitting the table, that, hey, the tiny person that normally occupies the booster seat is not here.

I really enjoyed the anonymity.
It gave me time to take in all I could, and remain in my own thoughts.
Kids were pretty much trained to be out of sight when folks came over.
Ever once in a while someone would ask,

‘And what’s your name young man?’

‘Dad, it’s me, Gary.’

My sis would take my hand and guide me over to the tree, pointing out each and every glittery thing.
It was a no shit moment, but knew it made her feel good, so let it happen.

The day came.

I should say the day before came, as we traditionally opened gifts on Christmas eve.

Gramma and Grampa came down the hill to participate.
I’d say it was around 6pm, as it was dark out and everybody had already eaten.
My sis played santy, handing gifts to Gramma and Grampa.
I was busy watching while trying to crack the walnuts and Brazil nuts from my stocking.
I couldn’t help but observe the fake happiness and surprise from everyone as they opened their gifts…everyone but Grampa. He was rather gruff, and had a habit of saying exactly what he thought.

‘I already have a tie.’

I loved him.
Didn’t even give much thought to that emotion back then, but now I know I loved him.

It came to be my turn to open my gifts.
Not a big trick, as my stuff was in a large sack.
It was a sack full of toys…..cars, trucks, a harmonica, and some little bags of hard candy.
The thing is, the toys were all kinda beat up, trucks with missing wheels, and everything was a bit scuffed, dented and rusty in places.
It didn’t bother me a whit. I loved it all.
But I remember the look on my Dad’s face as he watched me haul them outta the bag.
He was ashamed.
I felt like saying something comforting…but didn’t.
My feelings of making the situation even harder on him by saying ‘it’s OK’ won out.
Every Christmas after that was huge.

Funny, not haha funny, but oddly strange, my thoughts on his mental processes.
For years I rather pitied him for toiling to get us what he thought was what we wanted.
Him, the bread winner, the toy winner, the house, food and warmth provider.
How he fell head first into the American dream…the freaking nightmare.
But in my early years of fatherhood I came to understand.
He was from an era that dictated those things….’things’.

Christmas 1972
We were a tad impoverished.
Poverty stricken was a status I was striving for.
We managed a few meager toys from the five and dime, and wrapped them in newspaper, placing them under the tree limb from the neighbor’s backyard that had miraculously blown down from one of their giant firs.
We watched the boys unwrap their tinsel strength early China bobbles.
They lasted almost long enough to get ‘em outta the newspaper, disintegrating in their little ink stained hands.
However, as my lady wiped last Wednesday’s headlines from their fingers so they could drink their mug of hot cinnamon tea and suck one their tiny candy canes, I whipped out to the truck to bring in the toy of toys…the one that would give back.

My eldest named the little puppy from the pound, Felix.
Felix the dog…hey, it was original.
Only he was too young to pronounce the name Felix, so it came out ‘juwix’.
The thing is, a few moments after cleaning up the vomit and diarrhea from the truck seat, floorboard and doors, and myself, it dawned on me that Felix may not have been the best of finds.
The next morning my eldest seemed to have lost track of him, so we both went looking.

‘Juwix….Juuuuwix…heeeere Juwix’

I got a kick out of his determination in locating his new little buddy, trudging around the yard, big cheeks housed upon his tiny neck earnestly calling out with his baby Elmer Fudd like voice…‘Juwix….Juuuuwix…heeeere Juwix’.

Unfortunately we found Juwix.
He was under a gap in the wood pile…rather stiff.
So, as my Dad, twenty some years before, I vowed to provide a better Christmas for the years to come.
Not lavish ones, but ones that bore a couple substantial gifts for each of my little beings.

Christmas now?

Keep yer tie money.
Click to expand...
 
Gary O
It would be difficult to find a more honest and reveling post of the way emotions were 'dangerous items' in certain homes in days gone by...
certainly a heartfelt tale.
I'm searching for a poem that captures our lack of acknowledgment to the labors of our father's. I'll send it when I locate same.
 
Ohh I love this. I was just telling this same son about it a couple of days ago. I refer to it as The Halloween Race.

He was about five. Our town had a Halloween parade at Halloween time. The kids could get fancy and try to win a prize, or just wear their costumes. Since Nathan was little, I was going to walk with him. We started walking, and I couldn't keep up with the boy. I was very pregnant, so I was huffing and puffing when we got to the end of the parade, which was up a big hill. He finally made it to the front of the pack, just whizzing by everyone.

The parade ended at the city park. He was so mad! He had won the race, got in front of everybody, and got no prize. I tried to coax him to eat a hot dog, have a soda, which someone had provided for the kids, but he wasn't having it. He had won the race. He wanted a prize.

I still tease him about winning the Halloween race.
 
My grandparents had 10 acres in the country. Down this dead end road was a friend of theirs with a small pond. My pawpaw taught me to fish there. I remember walking down this dusty road with big trees shadowing the walk with a fishing pole over my shoulder and a can of worms I dug up. The locusts were chirping and the sun warm. That’s one of my favorite memories.
 
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68688014_2635597256491171_7561412941061292032_n.jpg
 
OP is Cherished Memories, your memories, those events that concerned you, wherein you were the primary actor.
That is as it should be.

I have forget, or never knew those that labored silently and unknown to me.
He/she should have been cherished for the way they cared for me: young, ignorant totally oblivious to important
behaviors of those around me.
It is far to late to honor their labor, but it is not to late to cherish them in my memory

This is not the proper thread to post this poem, those from stable home won't grasp it, that too is as it should be;
however, my emotions demand this poem be posted: Here, Now


Those Winter Sundays
BY ROBERT HAYDEN

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices
 
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I have two cherished memories and don't know how much detail I will go into both of them, but they will live on as my two most cherished things in my life along with marrying the love of my life. They are giving both to my Son and my Daughter. My son being my first born I was much more fly by the seat of my pants type of delivery. Although I was preparing to be a doctor myself I was a nervous wreck and was trying to get through this delivery by the book and it wasn't happening that way at all. Nothing terrible was happening, but the labor was taking too long for me. Eventually after all was said and done I had a healthy baby boy and that was cherished memory #1. Two and a half years later a piece of cake cherish memory #2 came a long in my daughter. This was only my 2nd delivery and was to be my last, but I it was old hat to me. I went in and I seemed to be telling the Nurses what to do and the labor was quick and easy and over quick and out came my little princess. My cherished memory #2.
 
I really didn't want a dog, but my daughter, 17 at the time, was a volunteer at the Humane Society and had fallen in love with a six month old puppy. She kept nagging me to go and adopt her and I finally relented. I was sitting down in the waiting area. She brought her out in her arms and put her down near me and Ginger rose up and laid a paw on my knee and looked at me with big brown eyes and long pointy ears. It was love at first sight. She was a long haired Sheltie mutt (stock photo below).
small-dog-in-the-garden-sheltie-planet.jpg
 
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The night I proposed to my wife in the back seat of a 1961 Chevy Biscayne. Married 50 years next July.

Honorable mention:
Garter belts
Stockings with seams
Drive-in movies
Soda fountains
Shooting marbles
Ladies wearing hats
Racing turtles
Dinah Shore
Science Fiction Theater
 

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