Christmas Memory No. 1

We all have those memories that just stick.

Christmas season 1999. Downtown Grants Pass, Oregon.

My best friend and I convince our moms to take us to the pharmacy and antique store after school. Bing is singing and the greenery is draped over all the awnings of the buildings. At the pharmacy we sit at the wooden counter and order hot chocolate with vanilla cookies. We keep having to get refills of the hot chocolate because they serve it in these tiny brown diner mugs that hardly count. Refills are 25 cents. The vanilla cookies are those little wafers that come in pink, brown and white. The pharmacy only has white. We order these because we think the cast of White Christmas would eat these with their hot chocolate.

There are three antique shops near each other on 6th street and we slowly walk though each one. We all pick out what we would buy if we could. A blue and white set of china, white kid leather gloves, a beaded sweater with golden grape clusters that clink when you walk (we tried it), a plaid riding cape with big green buttons and a bakelite vanity set.

That memory brings such warmth when I think back on it. Is there anything better than antique stores at Christmas? It is like all of those Christmases past are right there contained in one store. You can picture the people who owned those items, wore that sweater and you can feel their anticipation and seasonal merriment. When you see all of the simple vintage ornaments and the silvery tinsel you can immediately picture a time of scaled back, down to earth celebrating. Trying on the white gloves you can picture sixty years ago, the two girls going downtown after school, to try them on.    

pacemakers in the elevator

My Grandpa is the pianist of a senior choir called the Pacemakers. They are the cutest bunch of senior citizens you will ever see. He and his choir came on tour to my town this last September. The group had plans to have lunch at the all you can eat Chinatown Buffet at noon, but they had to be loaded on the tour bus by 11:45 am. There was a big group of them waiting for the elevator on the second floor of their hotel. Most of them were 75+ and knew the stairs weren't a good option.

When the elevator ding-ed open at the second floor, three people walked on. They kept fitting more and more people on the elevator until there were 13 total and the door closed. The elevator got stuck in between floor 1 and floor 2 and the fire department had to be called to help extricate each of them. They all exited in good spirits and were laughing like it was the best part of their day. All of the grandmas's insisted on hugging the firemen several times. The bus only left 20 minutes later than scheduled.  

I hope I have this kind of sense of adventure when I'm older. It was so sweet how the whole group told this story to me with so much excitement. I love picturing how many times this story was told to grandchildren and spouses. Written out in scrawly penmanship to a friend in California. The emphasis always on how funny it was and how kind the the firemen were.

welcome to pound cake!

Welcome to this little space of mine. A place for words and poundcake!

Why poundcake you ask? Well, coming up with a clever, one of a kind blog name was keeping me from starting up a space. So finally, one morning as I ate my breakfast, I said,"enough already, just get on with it" and at that moment there was poundcake* on my plate.

Naturally some of you are thinking about Beyonce's song when you see this blog name. That is ok. It was actually a long time goal of mine...to be associated with Beyonce!

*I did not bake it. It was the Fred Meyer brand of poundcake that costs $3.49. I don't feel bad about not baking it.