Not talking about the Israeli Palestinian conflict here. Actually they could take a page over how to agree to disagree and move on, even share the same space from my religious house divided growing up.
Nothing as dramatic as a Christian and a Jew etc. More a churchgoer vs a non-goer. Mom the churchy one, Dad, um, not so much. you can read more about my mom aka Pollyanna in other blogs on my site.
My mother settled into the First Christian Church of Pecos TX in 1962 as a newlywed. My father had grown up in First Methodist but as a less than regular attendee she did what she want and how she was raised in the Christian Chuch, Disciples of Christ, This always presented a bit of confusion in explanation for me as a kid when someone asked “what are you” churchwise. you know, baptist, methodist, presbyterian, catholic etc. I would answer Christian and would get well yea me too, no what church group. Not Church of Christ people. The Christian Church. So the answer would always be some flimsy, “you know the Christian church, like First Christian downtown”.
Anyway, my dad does not go. We were that Norman Rockwell picture of the prim mother with hat and glove and children dressed just so following behind like ducklings passing behind dad in his chair and pajamas with the newspapers. that would be the Collie house on Sunday. I am not sure they had much of a discussion. She said she was going he said he wasn’t and that was that. We would be going regardless.
This goes to the problem of a not unified parental front on an issue. When we got older it was like well why do we have to go if Daddy doesn’t? there is no good answer and your mother will just be irritated by the question because for her he should be going. Instead she is doing her best to pray for his mortal soul that is sitting at home reading the paper.
My dad’s reasons for not going have root in that his mother was the daughter of a Methodist minister and she didn’t miss church. Ever. The doors are open the preacher’s family is there. Period. When she grew up and married my grandfather I think they went to the Methodist church but apparently my grandfather was the only electrician for all of West Texas, like the nation of. To El Paso and all points in between. So he did work on Sundays some. There came a point that my grandmother chose not to go, but my dad, she took him up to the church and dropped him off. He had to she didn’t and guess what? he resented it and did the same damn thing when he got old enough to make a choice.
There isn’t an option with my mother. If you can’t go to church that day you can’t do anything else that day. Lucky for us she didn’t push Sunday nights and Wednesdays at church, too. (Listen to me, lucky for us she wasn’t pushing more church, now really isn’t that sad in some way? maybe could have used more churching….naa)
When we moved to Austin in 1974 when I was in the middle of 5th grade, first order of business was visiting churches all over Austin to find the right one. We started with Christian churches, but Austin in the 70s was definitely a hotbed of non-denominational churches, the precursors to the mega churches we all enjoy today. My personal favorite was the one that until they had a permanent building used the imported luxury car showroom of a dealership. Yes, Mercedes were the reflected stain glass of this particular church which is now Grace Covenant and does have a building these years later, for those Austinites reading. Always thought it was quite an interesting juxtaposition of preaching among luxury cars.
After many unsatisfactory attempts by mother to find THE church home for our continued quest in eternal salvation, she settled on another non-denominational church, also without a permanent home. However, this location’s weekly use was a child care center called Rabbit Hill. I don’t think I have to say this but my dad didn’t do the visiting with us to find THE church.
I have always called this church with my brothers, “The Color Cat Church”. In the large room used for a sanctuary and main church services, there are these color cats. cut out cats to teach children colors. There is a yellow cat and a blue cat with a green one in the middle. Get it? yellow and blue make green. these were all over. Welcome to my-colored-cat-stained-wall-instead-of-glass church world.
I’m sorry but there is something about church that is supposed to be stained glass and pew for me. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that my first church was just that. Baptismal font for the dunking up behind the preacher sort of a mysterious tall tank (we are dunkers, not sprinklers in Disciples of Christ, and furthermore we are debts and debtors in the Lord’s Prayer, none of this trespasses/trespassers business which always sounds like we are letting them off the hook too easily).
My brothers were baptized in the swimming pool behind the center where they teach little kids to swim. I am sorry this just isn’t right. Although I am pretty sure my dad showed up for that.
Daddy did show up sometimes under duress and christian threat of death for holiday services or if we were doing something, like the baptism.
The only time I remember getting out of church in Austin was when my dad made the executive decision to take the boat to Lake Travis that day. Thankfully my mother deferred and wasn’t an ironclad churchgoer so we got a reprieve.
So here is a question, what is the best way to impart a sense of religion to children. My brothers and I take our families to varying degrees of church life and membership. We all have or do have what we consider church homes, whether we are involved or only on holidays attendees. Which I guess is more than my dad was with us, we all do it as families. So I guess my mother got something she wanted out of it for us. My dad has gone more for my mother on occasion. there was a flurry of attending activity on his part after I nearly died drowning in the shower (another story for another time). Not sure if it was one of those hastily promises to God we make in a crisis like if I was ok he would show up for awhile or just an impulsive maybe there is a “God” kind of moment for him.
I do know that unlike religious wars all over the world the religious divide with my parents never led to harsh words or yelling. (There was muttering under breaths of my brothers and I walking out the door sometimes) No swords drawn, no bloody skirmishes, death count still stands at 0.
They agreed to disagree on his attendance. She didn’t like it I am sure but tolerated it. I am sure he would have liked to do something on nights when she has choir practice. They live in the same house or share the same plot of land but do so in some kind of religious tolerance and harmony. She has grave concerns for Mormons (it is a cult) and various other groups. Strong opinions of where they might end up. But she has yet to use suicide bombers to get her point across. My dad would like to just be left alone on this. Suicide bombers, mormons on bicycles, etc are not going to make a point with him.
The religious zealots of all sides could take a lesson from my childhood home. These are pick your battles kind of issues. My biggest “religious” wish for anyone is that each of us have a faith to anchor us. We did get that. We will pray for you and go on our way, and hope you do the same.
There is a story to tell about my parents, more than one really but the one that needs to set precedent for any future mention of my parental units is how they met. there are people who have been subjected to me telling this story before but important to set down in a record. This is my re-telling of what I have been told and remember. And frankly I like my version pretty well and don’t think it is too far off the mark. So forgive me Charolette and Bill with any liberties. I think we all know where I get my storytelling from.
My parents have been married 47 years as of my last birthday when I was 45. their anniversary is 7 days before my birthday and I love to harass my mother that they got hitched just in time to make me legitimate. This does not amuse her as the church-going-choir-singing-non-cussing-non-drinking-Pollyana of our lives. They actually were married two years and that week before I was born but again my harassing version is funnier at least to me and pretty sure my dad thinks so too.
My dad is from Pecos, my mother Odessa. Those of you readers not familiar with these garden spots of west Texas, they are separated by 72 miles of the ugliest barren landscape that you will ever hope to hurtle through at hopefully a speed so fast it will be but a brown flat blur. Pecos is the west point and is the home of the world’s first rodeo I will have you know, and I was born there so limit your boos and hisses due to those key points of interest alone.
In Jan/Feb of 1962 my mother was 22 and my father was 25. This is old for haven’t been married yet in 1962. Seriously, their friends were hitched up in many cases with babies on the hips. One of my dad’s closest friends though was a quite eligible bachelor that my mother knew of somehow through, what else, a church camp friend. He had asked my mother on a date and my dad wanted her to find him one, too. Again, the eligible fair maidens of Odessa was slim and Charolette couldn’t turn anyone up. A reasonable person would have gone about their business but not my dad. Nope he went on their date with them. Danced with my mother even, stepped on her feet, and apparently tried to get cozy with her, a kiss I think. Seriously! the gall! she is on a date with his friend! This was not done and certainly not in my mom’s world. She really thought he was an ass but she wouldn’t use that word. Important to know that he wasn’t raised to be like this in social settings, wasn’t raised in a barn. Important to picture that my dad was about 6′10″ at the time and my mother is 5′5″ which really kind of adds to the whole this really isn’t a match thing.
One would think that would be the end of it. My mother lived at home in Odessa, worked for Shell Oil in Midland, paid rent to her parents, had a nice car, was quite the self-sufficient, and I will say beautiful woman who didn’t have to put up with Bill Collie’s uncivilized behavior. I am not sure how long after their delightful first meeting, I am going to say about a month later, my dad called my mother presumably wanting to get together to apologize. He told my mother he was on his way to China (!) didn’t have much time but wanted to see her. She said she had the flu and have a nice trip. A short while later he called again. She remarked that she thought he was in China, he said no and he still wanted to see her and asked her out. For some wacky or fevered reason she said yes.
He came to Odessa. When she answered the door, he remarked that he thought she was a blonde. In my version of the story my mother gives him that squinty look she gives us when she is not amused as I can’t remember what she said in response. But she had been to the beauty shop and her color was more red that day. Then my grandmother -to -be came to the door, asked if he knew about air conditioners and dragged him through the house to look at theirs. He did have a family electrical supply business so this wasn’t completely crazy, although with my grandmother, really, it could have been something he would have no knowledge about and she would have done same.
They went to see Pinocchio, the Disney animated film, I am sure in first run? in Midland and then kissed in public and held hands (scandalous!) in Luigis in Mildand (which is still there btw). And as my mother tells it that kiss sealed the deal. STARS, the woman saw STARS. just like in a Disney fairytale.
Daddy was apparently smitten before the kiss hence all his going to China cover story etc to try to get to Odessa to see her.
And they married TWO WEEKS LATER. You read that right. TWO WEEKS LATER these two crazy kids got married in Odessa TX and honeymooned in Fort Worth, then settled in Pecos. I think it’s funny that people stared at my mother’s stomach for months to see if she was pregnant since they didn’t know Bill was even dating anyone. And clearly he wasnt’ as he was meeting and marrying in short order. Which is even funnier if you know my mother, she of the Christian Women’s Fellowship. And she was quite glamorous in Pecos TX, believe me. She was from Odessa after all and Pecos had 14,000 people to probably Odessa’s 30,000? She worked had great clothes with matching handbags and shoes. They did have to get rid of her sporty car as it leaned on the side my dad was in.
They had two pronouncements going in, Charolette was not going to buy beer and Bill was not going to buy Kotex. She had to learn how to make enchiladas (which she did and I have great memories of those enchiladas in the metal “enchilada” plates that are actually steak plates with the wood bases to set in). And she did tell me once that they both had to be flexible eventually on those first two conditions.
You don’t live together for 47 years and 3 children without a sense of humor and a sense of self because Bill Collie is literally larger than life. Fortunately at 5′5″ Charolette Collie is no pushover.
And I will be forever blessed and lucky that my dad, the uncivilized uncouth jerk he was in early 1962 didn’t give up. My mother definitely gave his reputation a boost. I definitely got the sense of humor required for this life. But I also got a lot of other really good stuff due to this combination that couldn’t have been predicted.
It apparently was written in the stars.
I have posted some funny stories about my son but I haven’t about my daughter. And I guess that is because the only funny story is that people think she is funny. I have really is that each school year growing up she would get these end of year autograph type books or pages and then a yearbook in middle school that someone, usually more than one person writes how funny she is. This is funny to me because Kate doesn’t “do” funny things like her brother’s idiosyncrasies or act clownish or very often go for a laugh. Not with us anyway. Apparently though she is a scream with her friends. Which is funny to me, maybe not haha funny, considering this is my shy child who hid behind my legs going into kindergarten and didn’t look people in the eye for a long time. But I like getting a perspective from the people who spend all day with her. Somehow it is comforting to know that she does make people laugh and smile and I worry a little less.
None of this is written to poke fun at her or embarass her, she just has always been my more quiet, sit back and observe child. She does come up with some zingers sometimes that we all just look at her and die laughing but she doesn’t do physical comedy or have bumbling moments really. She is a sponge though and absorbs it all and doesn’t forget much and in that she is much like her father. He was the king of an outrageous out of the blue one line that would break up the group, but you had to really know him well before he was comfortable. He was not attention seeking with that and neither is Kate. She has something funny to add she will otherwise will not waste energy on it.
She has a great capacity for laughter especially laughing at her brother and is good humored. Even as I write I am trying to come up with a funny story but as is the case with many twins much of their stories sometimes are intertwined with the other. And she is often the straight man to his goofiness.
I can say this with certainty she is my more selfless and generous child in terms of material possessions. As babies I would try to color code who had what cup or items and Garrett always had a preference and Kate gladly handed it over. This concerned me that he would be able to push her around but she truly didn’t care if she had the purple cup or the blue one. She isn’t too particular about who gets what item and was always willing to trade seats, be content where she was and go with the flow. Also like her father. And therefore my son gets manic behavior from me clearly!
A recent example of how Kate views things was when we went to Wicked back in June. I had bought three tickets but they weren’t together. One was on the 26th row or so, one was on the 5th row and one was about 15th row. I told the kids i would take the 26th row, and they could decide who got the other two and they could switch at intermission. Garrett immediately shouted for 5th row and Kate said she was fine with taking the 26th row. Which I said no take 15th and you and Garrett switch at intermission. So intermission comes, they find me in the lobby and Garrett says that Kate doesn’t want to switch and off her runs back to 5th. She said her seat was fine and was happy to switch with me all while I wanted to snap my son back and have him at least offered to move with me! not that I would have done that but the offer would have been nice! Kate did offer again with the mention that I had paid so I should be able to sit where I wanted. She was truly fine just being there.
If there is money to be earned Garrett is on top of it and keeping track and Kate will have to ask a few times now what was that for or did I get it or whatever while Garrett knows to the penny.
They are just so funny, a minute apart but light years in so many other ways.
So no funny stories about Kate at this point. When there is one going to right it down immediately for press. What she is though is lovely, sweet, considerate and more beautiful in every way than I was at 13, or maybe for that matter ever will be.
My son is the more cautious of my twins at attempting new things. As little children he didn’t like the water or swimming pools while his sister loved the water and would have been a mermaid if that could have worked out. He did like being in charge of water with the hose for the baby pool and then if you turned the hose on him he ran and squealed. It took years for him to get where he would sit on the step of a pool and then scoot down another one. He wasn’t too sure about being in the water with his dad or I holding him either. But he is a kid, a person that I learned early on would know his own mind and really not be given to peer pressure to change. Admirable as an adult and a teenager for that matter but in trying to get swimming lessons in, for water safety alone, it was frustrating.
Similar experience with learning to ride a bicycle. My daughter was ready to jump on something and GO! So when it came to learning to ride, about the age of 5 or so she was game. Garrett was hesitant. Kate after several tries in a park, not even on concrete sidewalk to start out, got it going. Did she eventually fall as we all do, on a sidewalk or asphalt? yes, but she cried, did Bactine and got back on it. Garrett had several attempts and one last fall and that was it for him and the bike. Done trying by the age of 6.
As the kids got older and we live in an older university neighborhood with parks and trees, ice cream shop, their elementary school six blocks away and their middle school one block away, many school friends, it stood to reason that bike riding would be great. They could get around. Lots of bike riding by kids and families. Still my son was having none of this.
One day my husband then came across a three wheel bike he had in a storeroom and brought it home. You have seen this bike, older ladies and people with balance issues ride these bikes. It has a basket between the rear wheels. For lack of a better description I call it a granny bike for in fact my mother has one. Garrett was all about it. Now bless his heart, my son is not a small person. Heading into 8th grade TOMORROW as I write this, he is 6′2 and 1/2″ and has been over 90% or higher on height since kindergarten. So here is this older-than-he-looks child on the three wheel bike. (We eventually took it to my mother who then used it and it fell apart and got another one, the one she has now.) He was not nearly as concerned about appearances as I was, but not just that but he couldn’t get anywhere very fast either. As a family we like riding over to the ice cream shop in the summer but before the 3 wheeler and after it was gone this was impossible and even with it we were there and eating ice cream and on the way home before he got even close. There were several times we tried to get him to try a standard bicycle but nothing doing. We even left him at home because we wouldn’t drive to get it, thinking he would be sorry he missed out. He was but wasn’t budging on learning. that falling off injury of old was not letting him go.
As a parent I really wanted him to learn for multiple reasons, transportation, thinking college campus too, neighborhood, going to the tennis courts with his sister, exercise and really it was just getting exasperating that at 12 he didn’t know how to ride a bike. Just not getting it and no amount of cajoling was going to do it. I didn’t realize my motivational speeches and pleading and shaming were the wrong tactic. It was going to take a gun.
At my parents house in Burnet County, the kids ride bikes, Garrett on the granny bike of course and the other grandkids on assorted others. My parents also have over the years allowed BB guns and pop guns at their house. targets set up in the back. My dad and brothers hunt on occasion and we grew up with guns. I am not keen on having them and didn’t buy my kids toy ones as children. I knew that my son on his own would fashion a sock or stick or something into a gun because well, they just often do. However I didn’t buy toy ones even though we had them growing up because guns are NOT toys and we were taught this very seriously. There is a muddy pond area by their home that the kids walk or ride down too and shoot at cans and frogs with the BB guns.
One day last summer when the twins were 12 they were at my parents for one of their week long visits and I was coming in that weekend to pick them up. When I got in, my daughter piped up immediately and told my husband and I that she taught Garrett to ride a bike. Well this was big news as one can imagine after years of trying to get him to even TRY to learn how after the bike incident of 2001. I asked her ” How did you do it Kate? how did you get Garrett to try again after all this time?” She looked at me calmly and said “He wanted the BB gun, I had it and told him I wouldn’t give it to him unless he got on the bike and rode it. So he did”. We just were all dumbstruck. Apparently the want of a BB gun overcomes falling off a bike that held him back for years. He got on, was a bit wobbly but got it going and so she gave him the gun. She did give him some instruction prior to getting on but he did and he is riding to this day. And I am much relieved that he is no longer trying to ride a 3 wheel bike with knees up to his head. And now they are off in the ‘Hood, riding to tennis, the ice cream shop, the coffee shop etc in our little neighborhood world.
True story, my son got on a bike and rode successfully because my daughter wouldn’t give him a BB gun until he did. I really hope I don’t have to use a gun as a carrot for future attempts of basic childhood experiences. That is just sad but really funny.
It is an amazing thing when you get to the point that you can travel with one of your children, or all or both, whatever the case may be, and it is not the exhausting experience it was when they were little, in need of changing, strollers, naps (although could have used one today myself) etc. Traveling on this trip to California with my daughter has been a real special delight. I don’t know if or when we will have such an opportunity for traveling together again just the two of us, there will be family trips or with her brother along too. all those will be swell but this, this week was special. At 13, she is conversational, game for anything, funny, honest, lovely.
As the reason for the trip was a camp for her, which she did do and loved and wants to do again, and being that at 13 she really couldn’t do the flying by herself, camp check in and all that, I had to come. then I would have to get her back home of course so there was the reason to stay. Then we come all this way might as well check out the sights around the area. And I did really need a vacation. The fantastic day I spent at the Sense Spa at the Rosewood Sandhill. The gorgeous campus of Stanford University made me wish I was starting college all again with its trees and buildings and sense of community that felt like “college” should feel.
We got all of that this trip and the opportunity to go on the fly and decide what we wanted to do even on the spur of the moment.
Tickets to a WNBA game found online when it occurred to us that there was this team so close by, easy drive and the chance to meet up with a childhood friend. Tickets to a Broadway show that we had seen this summer but even better seats, thanks to a phone call and the now way too hot Amex card. Walking through Chinatown in San Francisco, clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl in Fisherman’s Wharf, an eager friendly cab driver taking us down Lombard, the crooked street in the world. We will be in someone’s photographs with all the people snapping pictures all along the very short but picturesque avenue. The terrace at Cheesecake Factory on top of Macy’s at Union Square, for what else? cheesecake. Her amazement at the 4 floored Niketown. and following cheesecake, then a hot dog from a street vendor. Walking what felt almost completely vertical sidewalks, trying to catch way too busy cable cars. The many different languages heard, the many different colors of people. Golden Gate bridge, barely visible in the famous fog.
More than all of that I got to see all these wonderful things but I got to see it all through Kate’s experience too. I am sure it will all cost me so much more than I planned but there will not be a moment of regret. It is like those mastercard commercials, the price of tickets, the events and in the end the time spent is priceless and worth every cent and second.
Hi my name is Molly (Hi Molly) and I have a problem with tiny travel trailers…
I don’t know what it is but I want a teeny tiny house on wheels. what in the h is wrong with me??? I am 5′10″ for gosh sakes. but I want a Casita, those little travel trailers with room for about 2 oompa loompas. maybe.
they are so cute! you can just link it and go! and I want to go to a Sisters on the Fly event! (see links) it is just too cute. I would also manage a small Airstream too (of course I would you say). I really dig that silver bullet going down a highway.
They just seem so devil-may-care, let’s up and go anywhere! And I want to decorate it too, I have been looking for a project for all the tear off a day calendar of Wild Words for Wild Women that I have saved for years on days that have too good of a smart ass remark to not keep. Imagine wall papered in amusing bon mots by all kinds of sassy females. you could pick up a new quote for the day just by eating cereal in my little home on the road.
sigh. want one. seriously. bad. want to go. zoom zoom.
and have to give a shout out to Lori who told me about the Sisters on the Fly, we will earn our merit badges including the coveted Martini badge AND to my husband Chuck who without me knowing it or even saying a word about it stopped to look at a Casita someone had for sale to check it out knowing my obsession. One I had called Lori about and told her to go check out for her travel trailer obsession (I have liked the casitas long time but she is a travel trailer/camper/rv gal from way back).
I think it is a sign from the travel gods that I need one. zoom zoom.
Meant to add this about airplane travel when I was discussing what not to wear recently but had to get on the plane! interrupted my ranting about the planes! hmmph.
anyway, I wish I wasn’t but I am an airplane monitor. If i could raise my hand and tell on a fellow traveler I would. Seriously you don’t know how close I am to doing this on a weekly basis. I can’t help myself. I expect full compliance from my seat mates. When they say seat backs and tray tables in upright and locked position, do it dammit! And yes I love Ellen DeGeneres’ bit about “live, die” where she moves an inch forward or back to demonstrate the safety of that seat back rule. BUT STILL IT IS THE RULE PEOPLE! makes me crazy. and the people who recline on a plane without even looking to see who they are smooshing behind them, well it’s just rude. I am not here to shampoo your hair on this flight so get outta my lap.
Worse though is the not turning off phones. I don’t like it either. I don’t know that it is anything BUT a power trip to the airlines because they can say so but just do it. OK? seriously. I want to get a whistle and blow and point fingers when someone’s cell phone goes off.
I know this nuts, I know. But I have to so you do it too and I don’t care if you don’t like it do it! Trust me I drag my feet in turning off my iPod/Kindle/computer etc before landing, I really do. I don’t see why I can’t keep listening because I am doing them a huge favor, especially in bad weather, since I hate flying and music soothes the savage beast in me that wants to start shrieking over every bump. BUT IT IS THE RULE.
One day I am going to be arrested I just know it pulling a Barney Fife on a plane and wanting to have someone taken into custody for not turning off the damn phone, returning the seat and tray table to their upright positions. When it happens you can nod and say, yep we saw it coming.
Since Garrett has had a thing for Victoria’s Secret models since the age of 7, it is not surprising that he has shared this information with his friends. What was a little surprising was how I find out about this.
First though, all moms everywhere have to have at least one other woman/mom who is sane in the universe of crazy moms everywhere. I am waiting for a truly horrifying slasher film that the heroines are moms who end up defeating a land of zombie moms, not unlike Stepford wives but this time the sane ones win. I am very fortunate to have more than one other sane mom to run to screaming in the night with if needed, vino in hand, and it is really nice when they have children who are friends of your children.
My kids have been lucky to be friends with Elliot and his parents couldn’t have been more of a blessing when Ray died. They swooped in and my kids are like one of the family to them. both spending the night and hanging with them and their house was a place of refuge in many ways so a big shout out to the Abrahams on that alone. and Elliot and his sister Katherine know they got a spot at ours too.
Elliot’s mom Elizabeth is a keep it real gal and God loves her for it. We joke about taking a village to raise the kids so she is part of my village. In the village you want sane parents who let you know when their are issues and not the alarming-finger-pointing-snooty-my-kid-is-precious-and-does-nothing-wrong-it’s-the-other-kids kind but the heads up, fyi kind. we all know those moms and we dream of running them over in our suburbans.
So one day she calls me to tell me a story of walking down the hall by Elliot’s room and seeing him quickly throw something under the bed. She walks back in asks what was it, he says nothing, she asks again, he gets it out and it is a VS catalogue. But not just any. Oh no. One with my name and address on it. Elliot lets her know that Garrett brought it over when he spent the night last. Being a sane mom, she told Elliot not to take it to anyone else’s house and the issues of bringing things like that to houses where (not that she put it this way) other moms would not be so understanding, to put it mildly. So she calls me laughing suggesting I might want to make sure G doesn’t travel with his stash anymore.
SO when I finish laughing I do go and find Garrett and let him know MY catalogues don’t leave the house again, other moms will go crazy and some boys spending the night don’t need to know that he swipes them from the mag pile and keeps them because there are the boys who go and tell even though they spent the whole night with the catalogue in their sleeping bag. there will be those that act as though Garrett corrupted them with filth ont he order of Penthouse, Hustler and the Playboy channel and they are scarred for life. (which sane people know is not true but then they are all not so sane are they??) And Elizabeth is a sane one but some boys could be at her house and the cycle continues until Garrett is the purveyor of middle school filth and debauchery. And if you knew Garrett you would know he would be absolutely mortified by any portrayal like that.
With that understanding in place with my son I did add, and in the future please remove my name and address from all future swiped VS catalogues because even if he doesn’t take them to someone’s house that doesn’t mean some boy won’t decide he can’t live without it after spending the night at mine! At least my name won’t be the first one a crazed mom calls if it is not on the back!
I like the VS catalog, I have ordered for years, and get your mind out of bustiers and thigh stockings. Just the updated versions of Sears catalogues lingerie is my shopping list. And like every other catalogue on the planet, you don’t get one each quarter or season, OH NO. you have to get about 20 a month. When are they going green is my question? the trees plastered with bras and panties is just sad.
Anyway, I noticed I was missing one of the many. Short on time I would throw all mags and catalogues on a pile to peruse in 2025 when I no longer have children at home and nothing else to do. But in looking for several particular things noticed I didn’t have the catalogues I had dog-eared for later ordering purposes. This went on for about 3 weeks. Finally one day I was in my son Garrett’s closet. Garrett who would be about 7 at this time.
I came across VS catalogues. Picked them up to find pages missing but not just the page. There were clearly women cut out of the pages. Now I am really puzzled and then suddenly frightened. Where are these women? Is my son Ted Bundy in the making? will I find these half naked, high heeled, long haired come hither hussies with stab marks through them and eyes cut out?
Well I found them, in their original glossy state, glued into a spiral bound notebook. Apparently his own personal collection of favorite girls of VS, precursor to buying a girls of the Big 12 calendar I guess.
I found Garrett later watching Nickelodeon (and the irony of my crazed 7 year old with VS model addictions watching “Doug” is not lost on me either) and asked him about it. He looked a little surprised, then said he just liked those girls best and went back to TV. I asked him to not remove them from their places in the catalogues without telling me as one was wearing a bra I planned to order and without tearing away from the TV he said he would check first before cutting them out next time.
Molly Collie, is that your real name?
Leave a Comment
Yes Virginia, it is my real name. I have been asked this before and so thought it would be good to set the record straight. In the post about my parents Charolette and Bill, you will find the history of how my parents met. My dad is not conventional. He is kind of a wild card but the kind you like to have on your side or draw in Uno.
As first born to be of Charolette and Bill Collie in Pecos TX, I was originally supposed to arrive on March 1, 1964. My mother now likes to say that Dr. Hay, really the only GP in town and who did it all back then, had the dates wrong and I was really due on my actual arrival of March 31. My dad supposedly wanted to have 6 children. He is abou 11 years older than his younger brother and felt like an only child. His father died before my parents even met. His mother lived in town as did his paternal grandparents, and maternal grandmother, so this pregnancy was quite heralded.
My dad I think was hoping or thinking of a boy. My mother kept telling him she just knew it was a girl. He is quite obstinate when he wishes and really flat refused to come up with girl’s names. My mother was becoming quite pregnancy hormone challenged and this was upsetting. (Apparently she and another pregnant friend consoled one another over banana splits almost daily at the Rexall drug soda fountain counter and I swear this is why I can’t tolerate bananas to this day).
A week or so before I was born my mother was insistent they come up with a girl’s name. My dad relented with the comment that maybe I would be a girl as only a girl would be this (a month) late. My dad knew one little girl and her name was Molly. By this point I think my mother would have settled on “Williamena” after my dad just to have one. She was fine with Molly and came up with Alline as my middle name, which is the name of one of her dad’s sisters (thank heavens I didn’t get Thira the other sister) and somehow they didn’t say them all together, or if so Molly Alline Collie which throws the rhyme off.
When I was born, which is the sweetest story that my dad says and gets all misty-eyed, the doctor came out and asked him “how does a girl suit you?” and I was Molly Collie. And it took other people saying Molly Collie with glee. And my dad really thought it was genius. Frankly, no one forgets Molly Collie.
Precedent was set because my dad got all the first names to follow with my brothers and my mom got family names for the middles. Morris Watson (Daddy’s grandfather and Mother’s maiden) Lance Cole (Daddy liked the name and Mother’s mother’s maiden name).
Mother got her wish for NOT 6 children because after 2 my dad said he was done. (But I love that there are 3 of us because my mother told my dad she wanted another baby, he said 2 was fine and she said too late!)
So thanks Daddy for the last minute moniker decision and Mother for surviving the pregnancy without birthing banana splits, having me at the Rexall drug soda counter, or killing my father during it all.