Priscilla Wall's Weblog

My first day at school

Mrs. Schilling was my kindergarten teacher. She had gray hair that she braided and wore as a crown on the top of her head. She was loved by everyone and often visited by former students. I remember my first day. My older siblings took me to her room I think. I only remember one thing about kindergarten. Finger-painting! It was wonderful. I would have been quite happy to just finger paint all day every day. I’m sure I did other things, but I don’t remember anything else. In fact, I don’t remember first, second, or third grade, either. I remember recess. I loved to run and climb. I was a born climber. The monkey bars were my favorite thing on the playground. Trees, I loved to climb trees. I passed that down to my sons, encouraging them to go for it. I don't believe I was an overprotective mother. I encouraged them to climb and explore.

Here is a picture of me when I was about Kindergarten age:

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Yet another couple's marriage in trouble. I continue to pray!

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My favorite picture

I was thinking about my first memory of my childhood. It is interesting because I don't have a lot of them. I do remember when my mother had my picture taken when I was 3 years old. I remember the pretty red suit I wore. I felt so pretty until my mom made me wear my brother's socks. Then I wasn't so happy. I remember pouting because of those socks! This picture is one of my favorite ones. The photographer came to the house, and it was taken on our front porch. My expression is kind of . . . I don't know....what do you think?
Did you see the dark stripes on the top of the socks? Uuuuuuugggggggg

My early childhood was a happy and carefree one. Keego Harbor was one mile square with at least four natural lakes within walking distance. Cass Lake is the one we lived closest to, being just at the end of our street. We had a small "road width" sandy beach where we would build huge towns out of sand. Endless hours were spent there in the summer months. I remember many a time when mom would come down with a bar of soap and we would take our bath in the lake. We felt safe and pretty much roamed all over our city. I was usually barefoot. In fact, I, on two occasions, threw my shoes away. On one instance, my mom found my shoe(s) under our bushes the next spring when the Lily of the Valley flowers were blooming. I had thrown them out our window into the bushes. Another time, on a trip to see grandparents, I just tossed them out the car window never to see them again.

My cousins lived on the same street. I remember one of my older cousin riding me on his bike. We also played a lot of flashlight tag, or "eeny, iiny, over" (forgive me if the spelling or even the words are not right. This is a 3 yr. old memory). We would take a ball and yell out, "eeny, iiny, over" and throw the ball over the roof to be caught by the other team in the back of the house. On the back streets to "uptown" we had to walk over this metal foot bridge. It made this loud racket with every step and it was just fun running up and over and back again.

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Today Jeremy is 31 years old. The older he gets the more he looks like his dad. But, he has my dad's full beard with some red highlights which must come from my husband's grandmother. He has much of my dad's body hair. I'm sure this is all very interesting?

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Fifty-seven years ago I was born. I was the first baby in my family born in a hospital. I am number four of six children. Mother went 24 hours after her water broke before I was born. Because of the "dry" birth, she went into shock for several days. She tells me she didn't know anything. My aunt took care of us both.

When my father died in '94, we took a drive down "memory lane" in southern Illinois. We went to see the farm where we lived when I was born. The house belonged to the doctor who delivered me. It had been replaced by a log cabin house, but mother tells me the floor plan is the same. It would be so cool to someday buy that house and live in it.

I was a bald-headed baby! I remember being so relieved when our first son was born with a head full of dark black hair. After having two sons with fine blond hair at birth, I probably wasn't quite bald, but it apparently took me a long time for me to look like I had hair. We didn't have little elastic head bands with bows to put on little baby girls back then. I was probably mistaken for a cute baby boy often. It didn't seem to harm my "self-esteem".

My children tell me that my husband and I didn't talk much about our childhood days. I guess I should remedy that situation. So stay tuned you guys.

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