by MarianBeaman | Mar 12, 2014 | Family / Nostalgia, Lists, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Reflection, Uncategorized
10 ways I’m like (or unlike) my Grandma Longenecker 1. She started fancy and turned plain. I reversed the cycle, plain to fancy. 2. She always wore black laced-up shoes with heels to do housework. For me, it’s tennis shoes in winter and sandals in the summer. No...
by MarianBeaman | Mar 8, 2014 | Amish, Conflict, Education, Mennonite History, Uncategorized
When I bring 5-pound bags of Wenger’s famous ham-loaf frozen from Pennsylvania to Florida, the plastic-coated tubs of meat are wrapped in newspaper and then shrink-wrapped in plastic. The wrapping on one of the packages (we need two to feed the clan now!)...
by MarianBeaman | Mar 5, 2014 | Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Reflection, Uncategorized
Looking at indistinct footage from 16 millimeter home movies of the 1950s has invited me to examine from a distance the much younger, and in many ways different, version of myself. Not surprisingly, I appear in the “mothering” mode in many of the shots. I...
by MarianBeaman | Mar 1, 2014 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite Lore, Neighborhood / Environment, Nostalgia, Reflection, Uncategorized
The wild, permissive Rentzels with a red porch light live next door to our family, the Mennonite Longeneckers, one of several plain families that live on Anchor Road. In their parlor, the Rentzel’s old Emerson black & white TV has introduced me to the...
by MarianBeaman | Feb 22, 2014 | Coming of Age, Family / Nostalgia, Memory, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Uncategorized
Red hats, purple dresses, feather boas — all signatures of the Red Hat Society. There is even a Queen Mother, Sue Ellen Cooper of Orange County, California, who founded the Society in 1998 after she hosted a fancy tea party for ladies decked out in purple and...
by MarianBeaman | Feb 19, 2014 | Coming of Age, Conflict, Family / Nostalgia, Mennonite Lore, Nostalgia, Uncategorized
Yes, I have flunked my driver’s test—again. Is it the bullet-nosed, grey Studebaker I am learning to drive on, or is it just me? Anyway, the patrolman’s decision is final. I cannot drive alone. At least not yet. I have practiced driving with eight people stuffed into...
