Wistful Wednesday: 1958

I found an old Easter photograph.  My Mom must have taken this photo in the old farm house.  We are standing in the kitchen, the door to upstairs is behind us and the door to the living room is off to the left of the photograph.

Easter 1958 Connie and Carey

Me and my baby brother in 1958.

My Easter basket was marked on the handle with a crayon.  I am not sure what color my brothers was marked with..I think mine was orange.  We usually had some green grass and some hard boiled eggs that we had colored and some chocolate and jelly beans in our basket.  The oval baskets were our first baskets and the round ones got added later.  Can you remember those hard boiled eggs that used to sit in those baskets for days..not refrigerated..and then finally they became a table decoration..until someone ate them. Uffda..it is a wonder that we didn’t get a foodborne illness.

April 6 was Easter Sunday that year when I was 7 and my baby brother was 4.

See those chairs?  The ones with the rubber thingys on their legs so the metal wouldn’t poke through the linoleum?  Those were the “chairs” the ones that we had to sit in after church if we goofed off in church..or giggled..or squirmed too much.  I hated sitting still in those chairs..sometimes we sat side by side but most of the time we sat back to back so we couldn’t agitate each other…and giggle..it was serious business you know.

I would much rather sit still for one hour instead of two.  It was about this time that I learned to play games in church..God knew..I figured I would be struck dead..but wasn’t so my games continued.

What can you do in church to occupy an hour?  What do you see?  I saw THE LUTHERAN HYMNAL…so I would form words in my head every Sunday.  Most of the time it worked..it kept me out of that second hour where there was no THE LUTHERAN HYMNAL to occupy my mind.  Sometimes I just couldn’t control my giggles..and once I started it was really hard to stop.  The second hour became my time to daydream..making up stories in my head..ones where I was always the heroine..and famous..with beautiful sparkly dresses.

My parents were good church goers..they went every Sunday just like clockwork.  No one was ever excused.. I am not sure that was a good thing.  God is everywhere..in the flowers and in the trees and even in the snow covered countryside.  I can talk to him anytime..night or day…not just on Sundays:)

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