Monday, May 13, 2013

Dance Fever

Yesterday was mother's day, and it brought me to reminisce about my childhood and mom. Most of what I remember are only fragments, like being pushed through town in a baby buggy by my mother. I can still smell the canvas of that baby carriage as I sat wedged in there with my sister, the houses and stores of our hometown gliding by. I also remember our old house on Ravinia Drive. On cold winter days mom would stand in the corner of the living room, directly in front of the heating grate. She spent a lot of time doing that. I think it was because my dad was trying to save money on heating oil. He was a master at saving a buck. One of the things that I remember most fondly, is my mom tap dancing in the kitchen. She'd be busy preparing dinner while me and my sister sat at the kitchen table. On the radio would be WGN. You never knew when it would happen. An old song from the forties would come on and suddenly mom would be tap dancing all around the kitchen. We kids loved it. We had our own little floor show right there in our little suburban night club. It's kind of funny, my mom seemed to have a real handle on dancing, something I have never been good at. Which brings back another memory. One that isn't so pleasant. Mr. Hynes, my seventh grade English teacher, laughing at me dancing at an after school dance. I never went to another school dance after that. Not junior high school, or high school. That prick was also the guy who made fun of my writing skills in front of the whole class. I think he was wrong about my writing, but not the dancing. That probably was pretty funny.

3 comments:

  1. That's a nice snapshot of your mom. I mean the writing as well as the photo!

    And as for Mr Hynes...what a bastard. I had a sadistic teacher when I was in 5th grade and I swear he would be fired immediately for some of his methodology...which was constant humiliation and fear.

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  2. I had a sadistic Male teacher in elementary school also. As he was correcting our English papers one after another he would crinkel them up in a ball and throw them on the floor we were told to come and pick them up.

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  3. Sounds like there have been a lot of miserable, mean teachers around 5th grade. That was the worst year for Steve but I don't think he remembers much of it. I do. Mrs Miller was beloved by the "IN" kids and their parents but she rained misery and humilation down on the outcasts, making it even harder for them. I made sure I was a room mother so I could keep an eye on things and possibly soften her up a bit. Not all teachers are selfless & warm & care about all kids!

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