by MarianBeaman | Jul 20, 2013 | Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
Here we are, Juliets without our Romeos When Mom says “sca-doo!” at home, we know we can find amusement at Grandma’s house. Aside from the mysteries of the woods behind her house, other attractions include a slope where lilies of the valley...
by MarianBeaman | Jul 17, 2013 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
Thumbnail: Home is on Anchor Road, connecting our house to Grandma’s house and neighbors in between. The story continues . . . . . . . As we drive from Grandma’s past the Hoffers, I notice off to the right the weathered frame house of Mr. Heisey, who...
by MarianBeaman | Jul 3, 2013 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
“Keep your hand upon the throttle and your eye upon the rail,” my Dad sings in his top-of–the-lungs baritone, the volume of his voice amplified by the force of his hands on the keyboard. Every Saturday night Daddy sits down at our mahogany Marshall and Wendell...
by MarianBeaman | Jun 26, 2013 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
“Get out! Get out!” For heaven’s sake, that is my mom’s voice yelling at someone at the door. Why would she scream at a neighbor? But it wasn’t a neighbor. It was Stinky Joe. On a cold winter’s day, he had opened the door to the wash-house and was starting to...
by MarianBeaman | Jun 8, 2013 | Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, Lists, Mennonite Lore, Romance, Uncategorized
The year 1967 was historic: It was the year of the world’s first heart transplant. There were race riots in Detroit. Polaroid cameras were all the rage as was Twiggy. The average annual income was $ 7300.00 while a house cost about twice that much. Gas was a mere 33...
by MarianBeaman | Jun 5, 2013 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite Lore, Uncategorized
The dusty, brown Pennsylvania Railroad train clatters along the tracks behind the woods as we approach Grandma’s house. Mame Goss, Grandma’s cousin, sits close to the bay window with a bag of hats. I notice her merry eyes and smile lines, but Mother comments on her...
