From whence I came...

My mother Loretta and my father George met on their street in the West End. Chartiers Avenue, I believe. My mother had a fun loving family. Pap Pap played the drums and they had friends that played instruments. They all would get together and play music at my Maw and Pap Pap's house. With the three sisters living in the house, there was never a dull moment...lots of action, noise and music...They had a man living with them, for whatever reason!! Whether he was homeless, or a friend of my grandfathers, I don't know...His name was Johnny Lapey. My mother seemed to think he was like a helper and helped to do chores around the house. Especially when my grandfather got sick, Johnny lived out back in a little shed like room. My Pap died of a heart attack right before I was born, January 1946. but before that the house rocked with excitment...They had an ice man, a vegtable/fruit huckster,and a baker all came around and sold goods... plus lots of friends and family. They pulled taffy, and sang songs around the piano until 11:00 and that is when my Pap Pap would come out and wind the clock...This was the sign that anyone who didn't not live there was to depart!!!...Next door to my mother lived my father and his family. One sister, named Alice and a very quiet and calm household. When my father was a bit of a boy, around six, he told me how his father, a coal miner, named Brooks Curry came home every night and beat him with a slipper or belt...He never did anything to be beaten, but his father used to tell him it was for thinking of doing something bad..My father HATED his father...He said, could have killed him, there never was any love!! Looking back to what I was told, I believe both my grandmother and grandfather...were drinkers!! Anyway, my father was enthrolled about the excitement next door and all the action and fun he saw. He watched for my mother to walk past his porch and then he used to "wolf whistle" at her...She was apolled and thought he was queer. He wore riding pants..and had a mustache..My mom went to Langley High School until the 11th grade...then quit. My father was the valadictorian of Oliver and the president of the senior class, so not much more needed to be said about him!! Eventually, after long evenings of music, and waving good night from the bedroom windows, they fell in love and got married..on June 23, 1936. It was my Dad's birthday..and their wedding day. With just a small ceremony in the preachers study and a little dinner shared among the families they now begin a new...a new life, a next generation..My generation!!

My mothers family

My mothers family was closer to us than my Dad's...We went to my Aunt Diddie's or my Aunt Ana's house every Sunday for dinner. We spent the day with them and returned home to get ready for the next weeks school and work. My mother had two sisters and no brothers, both married and both only with one child. My Aunt Diddie had a set of twins she lost at birth. My cousin, Jeri, was no doubt my closest cousin. She was a few years my senior. My Aunt Ana had a son, his name was John. She miscarried a boy early in a pregnancy after him. He was named after my grandfather, John Simpson, but we all call him Jack. We were a very small family, as families go. Every holiday was spent together..and we had so many wonderful gatherings..and swell times!!!...My uncles drank alot, one could say they were acoholics...most of my life, I don't really think they were sober any of the time....After work they stopped at the club and had a few and then the weekends were always...spent in the bottle!! My aunts were the real anchors of the families. Looking back now, I imagine their lives were very sad. They really never took many vacations, they just survived as most families did back in the 40's and 50's....Family was everything, they helped one another. They supported one another...When anyone was in need someone in the family stepped in...My family was very close, I can see now ...I never remember any arguments about anything, or anybody. My grandmother, we called Maw..was most memorable...She was such a joy, she was a little short stout women with a gigantic laugh...Whe she laughed outloud, you could hear it from the corners of the room...She enjoyed life. She wore a corset that tied her in and when I hugged her she was very hard...I remember the nights I stayed over, Maw lived with my Aunt Diddie. Even on nights I didn't stay over, I would ask my Aunt Diddie, if I could get a bath in her bathtub...Living in a trailer park, with no bathroom...made this a real special treat for me...I spend hours soaking until my fingers were wrinkled..singing and enjoying the wonderful feeling of a tub bath. Maw had a bedroom with a double bed. She had a picture of a night sky and a howling wolf ...on her wall. I think about how strange that was, now..But anyway, she had long, white, thin hair. She would brush it every night. It reached down to the middle of her back...and every night she would put one long pigtail down the side and crawl into bed..in the morning she brushed it out and wound it into a long twist and wound it around into a sort of bun...stuck pins in it ...and she was ready to meet the day. She had a clock that glowed in the dark..and ticked very loudly. She called it Big Ben...She was sweet and kind, I never remember her hugging me or telling me she loved me...It was just a known fact that she did, I guess!! We were Irish-English, and from what I understand the English are not a very warm or loving bunch!! But if love was measured in things...other than hugs and kisses...we had alot of it around!!! I loved my Maw..she was so much fun!! She made even the hardest tasks fun!!..Her heart held all that a heart could hold...and I miss her even now. When she was up in years...we had to put her in Torrence State Hospital..she became mentally very unstable..but her humor never escaped her...One day we all went to visit her and and I asked her..."Maw, do you know who I am?" and she answered, "Well if you don't know who you are, how do you expect me to...!!!" Enough said, she was MY MAW!! I pray that God would love her the way I did, and would accept her, for He alone knew what was in her heart!!!

My families pasts...

When I was small...my family didn’t know the Lord, as a matter of fact some of my fathers family were pretty much heavy drinkers...I was raised to think that was the way life was...My parents visited my Uncle Al and my fathers sister, Aunt Alice usually every weekend night, Friday or Saturday nights..They sat around the dining room table playing poker. I remember, my mother drank Slo-gin. I remember that because it was red!! And I thought "How strange it was to drink something so red". My father drank beer and sometimes whiskey with it...They were so loud laughing and yelling. They played poker, smoked cigarettes and drinking and eating into the wee hours of the morning...I remember falling asleep many nights on the couch..the room filled with smoke and the sounds of the card playing...and laughing. Back then is seemed so right...My sweet grandmother, Grandma Davis lived there and she would just stay in her room and not join in. I wonder now about my quiet little Grandma...what was she thinking. I wish I would have sat down and talked to her about her life, when she was young, and the things that she held so close to her heart...But, I was a child and the life I had was not interested in old people...I really don’t remember thinking anything much about my Grandma’s...Both of my grandfathers were dead, and I only heard stories of the things they lived through...But, my Grandmothers were both alive. My fathers mother, Bessie...Her real name was Rebecca, but everyone called her Bessie...My mothers mother, everyone called her Murt...her real name was Murtle...They both died while I was in my teen age years...and I never got to know them the way I should have and the way I would have like to. I never remember either of them being unkind, or truly loving. I just remember, them in person in all their glory..Grandma Davis darned holes in socks, she sewed with a big wooden egg she stuck in the heel and with thick thread, she wove in and out until the sock had a big thick knot like bump... She also used a curling iron...to curl her few hairs that crowned her head...She would stick into the flames of the cooking stove...get the iron hot and then sear her hair...to a curl..The smell was awful...but it made her feel prettier...and she would curl her hair often. She never said, much, smiled and nodded, but I knew she loved me..somehow. But, she never showed it...I don’t remember any hugs, or kisses, nor do I remember anyone expressing with words they loved me!!! I really never missed it because I never had it....knowing that my family never knew the true love of God, nor did they ever experience anything more than repetition of worship in the Methodist Church, they never attended!! I am so thankful that the Holy Spirit saw to it, to find me through a family that never wanted or cared about his grace...I will never be able to praise MY LORD enough, to see to it...that I didn’t go down the same path as my ancestors. As much as I pray for them now and remember them and the wonderful ways, their time is up for salvation, they chose a different path!!! THANK YOU JESUS FOR CHOOSING ME!!

We are all the same!! do you believe that?

The weather changing and fall approaching...the days grow crisp and the nights colder. When you have lived in Pennsylvania all your life, it is hard to believe people in other parts of the world are in completely different climates and circumstances..We are used to the changing leaves, however, many people have never seen a colored leaf or a snowflake..We tend to forget how many people share this world...we live in. We think we are alone in the space that God put us. Until we reach out to other people, places and things we do not realize the difference first hand. All the way through my school years I never knew anyone but people just like me. Until fifth grade, I don’t believe I ever noticed the color of peoples skin...I don’t think most children do...Children are so wonderful...They accept you as you are! You don’t need to perform in anyway, they trust everyone, they believe everyone and they are willing to try to fit into any situation. The real amazing thing, is children are loving, kind, and truthfully honest. Until someone teaches them otherwise!!! Perhaps there were no people in my world that had a different color of skin, or perhaps I just didn’t care. But, I don’t remember seeing anyone different than me!! Most everything in my world was just as I saw it...I had no reason to question anything that didn’t exist in my life!!!...That is until the day, I went to church camp in Erie...I will tell you about that later... This day, a man in a white, long robe, something like a sheet. It wrapped around his body and up on one shoulder. He wore a white turban on his head and he wore strange sandals on his feet. His skin was very dark brown with a reddish tone on it... I had never seen another human being that looked like this. I was completely stunned and very curious about who and what he was....Turned out, he was a missionary from India...and had come to our church camp to teach us..something, or just share his life with us...I never, ever saw anyone dressed like this, nor did I ever figure out exactly what he was doing there, or what he had to say..but being a child I just accepted it and did what I had to do without question...Looking back now, I search my heart and remember the feelings I had toward this man...How different I felt about him...Now I realize we are what’s inside of our skin. The person, that God made abides within....somewhere in our heart...It doesn’t matter, what color we are, or what we wear, or even what we say!!! What really matters is what is inside, like a peach...or plum...Once the fruit is eaten or rotted away, what is left, is the seed inside!! That is the most important part of the fruit...with out the seed inside, the fruit can’t be anything....With the seed inside, it turns into another fruit just like the one that was there in the first place...The skin, doesn’t matter, the fruit inside...is good but, the part that really matters "is the seed." God has done that for us to understand, how we should look at our brothers and sisters in this world...A world where everyone should be the same...and the seed is the part that is the most important !!!!

Dancing days

When I was four, I started to take dancing lessons...I don’t know why my mother thought I would be interested in dancing...Maybe she saw something in me. I love music. I love to dance. Maybe it came from dancing school. Maybe one is born with the rhythm it takes to dance, sing, and love music. Either way, I started taking ballet, tap and acrobat. I could do back bends with ease. Chest rolls and back flips...Acrobatics just seemed easy for me...I could bend every which way...Tap shoes brought clapping and rhythm into my life...and soon, I was tapping all over the place...Next came little pink toe shoes stuffed with lambs wool. I still have my little pink toe shoes and a little tu tu...that I worn when I was 4. My teacher Miss Vera Leaubea had her studio somewhere in down town Pittsburgh. I remember her loveliness. I continued dancing...year after year. One year I rode the float at Kennywood Park and threw peanut butter kisses out to the crowd as we motored along on a Saturday afternoon through the crowd...Miss Vera made arrangements for me to dance on the Boardwalk of Atlantic City. We couldn’t go because my Mom was due to have my sister Georgetta. My mother named her Georgetta because hopes of having a son were gone, and my fathers name was George and my Moms was Loretta...thus Georgetta. It seemed there was nothing good that came from this baby!! Jealously reared it’s ugly head!!! What I didn’t realize is that she would really become my best friend. The person I can confide in, and one who is there for me!!! I love her!!! I remember one weekend, for whatever reason, I was to dance at a Jewish luncheon in Mt. Lebanon. I was very excited and nervous all at the same time...I was probably about 4 or 5 and when the music started..I began to dance..I danced and remember my routine...until all of a sudden stage fright took me over...I stopped, frozen in fear...standing and looking out over the people looking back at me...I exited the stage, never to return...I felt failure and disappointment not only in myself, but I felt it from those around me...I continued to dance even after we moved to the country. I danced until I was a freshman at Mars High School...but I never remember having experienced such a devastating embarrassment as I did that day of that Jewish luncheon....I never forgot!!!...So many times in my life, disappointment has played a major role and embarrassment as well...but I know one thing for sure!!! It all passes, and life goes on!!! Jesus comforts and holds us to make it all right..Perfection isn’t ours!! It is HIS!!!

Everyday teaches lessons

One day during the early summer of my second or third grade. I was walking home from the school bus stop. Our trailer was toward the back of the trailer park. On my way home I saw a huge flower garden blooming along the roadway. The house was owned by an older women with grown children. It was a big two story brick home with a big front porch and large colored windows. I never saw so many flowers blooming and smelling so sweet. I just reached down and started to pick as many flowers as I could hold in my hand. They were beautiful and I wanted to give them to my mother as a surprise. I was so excited to present them to her and knew she would be very happy. Instead, when she saw the flowers, she instantly asked me where I got them. I told her, "I picked them for you!" To my surprise my mother wasn’t happy, she was angry. She scolded me and told me I had to take them back and apologize. I had to say I was sorry for picking flowers that didn’t belong to me!!....I was devastated. I couldn’t believe she could not want these flowers. They were so beautiful...She took me by the arm and marched me right up to the house where the flowers bloomed. By this time, I was crying so hard, I couldn’t speak. My voice turned into sobs of sorrow. My mother rang the doorbell and I just shuddered inside of my body. What was I going to say? Why did I have to do this? Why wasn’t my mother happy?...This was my first lesson on stealing. Until this time I had no idea that taking things that didn’t belong to me was stealing. I didn’t know what stealing was....but I sure knew now!!...It seemed like forever and the lady came to the door. My mother said, " My daughter has something to tell you." With everything inside of me..I tried to find a voice and through the tears and sobs of sorrow, I told her I picked her flowers and I was sorry!!.. She smiled and said, it was okay but my mother made me give them back to the lady...and dragged me away...I never ever forgot the sorrow I felt to have to apologize for my actions. I learned that stealing was something I didn’t want to have to go through again...At least not until I got over this!!! I always will remember how devastated I was when I had to apologize for something I did in love.. I wanted my mother to be happy, and I saw nothing wrong with taking something that belong to some one else and take it for my own...I realize now..this is exactly what Jesus did for me...even though I did things that are wrong, and I thought I might be doing it in love....or I don’t even consider it wrong!! It is!! And Jesus died for that...He forgives, and guides me down the path of correction with His forgiveness and His LOVE!!

Planes and horses...in my life

Our trailer park was right next to the Allegheny County Airport. It was the only airport in Pittsburgh and planes flew in over head, DC3's with huge propellers. They made so much noise flying over head everyone would have to quit speaking, or yell very loud, until the plane flew over head and passed to land. They were so close we could almost reach up and touch them..but it was accepted as face and everyone just made do with the noise. Nobody even thought of the safety or the chance of one of those huge planes coming down to short of the runway. Behind us was the "slag dump"...for as nasty as that sounds..it was beautiful..The entire hill behind our trailer park had a train track on the top of this huge hill..nothing was on this hill. It was barren and black during the day. It laid quiet and had no life ...but as soon as the sun set and the sky turned dark. The show began! We were showered with one of the most thrilling sites...The train would come from the steel mills filled with left over coke from the ovens...every car was filled with hot burning slag....Bright orange embers glowing with fire like spikes shooting from them...all at once the cars would turn over and dump this beautiful display of liquid, glowing, orange slag...it would melt down over the entire hill and slowly come to rest where it cooled and turned dark...All night long the hill glowed and by morning it seemed the light had gone out. The hill returned to the dark barren place it is...The hill once covered in bright, shimmering orange like brilliance was now barren, black and still. A new refreshing of this bright and beautiful light came daily. Like our souls...we lay dormant and still. We await for the brilliant light of Christ to pour his life and blessing on our everyday!! Thank you Lord, for letting me see how beautiful you are...!! and to appreciate the forever presence of your light in our lives!!!
There was an incinerator and we used to burn our garbage. Eggshells, trash anything that would burn. It was a huge brick furnace like place that had a chimney. Everyone would haul their trash there and set it on fire. The rats would come and feast on what didn’t fall victim to the flames and scatter when one walked by. Nobody thought anything of it, it was just a fact of the incinerator. We also had a bath house. None of the trailers had no bathrooms back then. They were just little round gypsy like metal rooms on wheels. There was a steel tongue in the front. That was where I tied my imaginary horse, Blacky. I rode him everywhere and I might add had the sound of horses hoof prints down pat!!...I clicked my tongue and it sounded exactly like a real horses hooves on pavement!! Blacky was my freedom in times of boredom or just wanting to run through the breeze. I would pretend to mount him and gallop away!! I don’t remember when Blacky disappeared out of my life. I guess it was somewhere around fourth grade when we moved to the country. I still see him, his mane dancing in the breeze as we galloped down the rode...His body shined in the sun and he had bright wild eyes...He was my best friend...I could tell my Blacky everything..Now, I know looking back, I could trust him, I could rely on him, and I could tell him my innermost secrets...Now I tell My God, and he hears and answers my every need. Something good ole Blacky couldn't do!!!