Pin Ups and A Little Girls’ Memories

viHi Y’all.

This morning, my old
( and when I say old,
I mean ‘long-time’,
not ‘old’ like Driving
Miss Daisy, ya know….. )
friend Carolyn was
nice enough to send
me a previously unpublished
piece that she wrote
about her childhood memories
of her mechanic father —

— and the vintage calendar
pin-ups that he had apetty
hanging in his garage.

And, I thought it
would be perfect
for sharing with
all our friends
here on the
Muscleheaded Blog.

It brought more than
one sentimental tear
to this old man’s eye,
I can tell you.
And when I say ‘old’billmedcalf
in this case, well,
you know….

Anyhoo…
Here it is,
with a huge mucho gracias
to her for it:

::=====::

When I was a little girl,
I loved helping my dad 
work on cars in the driveway.

He taught me about
changing the oil,
replacing the wiper blades, a1
checking the battery,
checking the tires.

I really loved going to
the garage with him.I loved the smell of 
the gas and the oil,
all of the different tools, 

all of the different vehicles.

The mechanics
laughing
and talking,

while repairinggeorgepetty
and maintaining.

But, my very favorite
part was sitting
on the bench
in the office,
drinking rootbeer
from a bottle,

keeping company with
The Pin Up Girls.

I gave them names. harryekman
I told their stories.

.

Meri was December:
red velvet skirt,

crisp white blouse,
long bare legs,
big smile,
mistletoe sprouting from
her brunette pony-tail,
riding on the back of Santa’s bike,
helping him deliver all the presents
before the sun rose and
Mrs. Claus wondered why rake

he was so late coming home.

.

Julie was July:
bare feet, curly blonde hair,

short blue shorts,
barely-there striped yellow top,
more than a hint of cleavage,
stretched out in the
green grass relaxing,
remembering the cool
of spring, but not fazed,
in the least,
by the summer heat.april

.

Wendy was March:
walking her dog on

a busy city street,
on a blustery day,
not a care in the world,
dress billowing around her hips
revealing her stocking-covered legs
and black satin garter belt,
her grin revealing that she liked
putting on a show for the world.

.

Autumn was October: zenochbolles
surrounded by pumpkins,
hay stalks, and black cats,
silhouetted by the golden
harvest moon, her red hair
shinier than the stars,
her witch costume like
none I’d ever seen before,
she was a good witch,
not a mean one…
okay, well, maybe good,
with a little naughty thrown in.

.

Every year,
twelve different girls,
twelve different stories.goergepetty

Staring at the calendar,
dreaming of the day
I would have the looks
of a Pin Up Girl,
the attitude of a Pin Up Girl,
AND be the owner of the garage.

.

©CarolynS.WhenIWas
ALittleGirl.5.20.2003.

:: =============== ::

VIVE Les Pin Ups —
and my friend C !!!!!!!!

!!!! HOY !!!!!!!!

.

mec

Raising Hellions

aw1My Aunt Sarah recently came for a visit……

And she promptly messed
everything up for me, man.

It had taken twenty some years,
but ….

I had just about convinced my kids
that I had been nominated for
Sainthood as a child–

— that I was a paragon of virtue.

One weekend visit
from my sweet Aunt Sarah,
and all that hard work
dubbleand propagandizing
has gone for naught.

And to add insult to injury,
she brought proof,
in the form of pictures and 8mm movies,
that would prevent me from ever denying:

that she knew the real skinny
about the kid version of Chris —

—– or that I even HAD an Aunt Sarah.

pogoWho was that again?

Oh, yeah…
ahem….
getting back to my
(really wonderful) Aunt Sarah.

She had the
unfortunate pleasure
of knowing me
and being around me as a kidschwinn
…. a lot.

It’s a wonder
she hasn’t gone blind
or crazy by now.

Actually,
she’s only about 7 or 8 years
older than me,
— but that’s enough —

and boy,
does she have a good memory.

Scary good.

I’m sorry to tell you this,a2
but apparently,
I’m already pre-dis-qualified
from sainthood.

Damn it,
I couldn’t have been THAT
much of a hellion, could I ?

According to my Aunt Sarah, yep.

That and two family size bags of chips.

And yes,
sure —
I had a pet chicken.
hotplate
And yes,
sure —
I learned a lot
from the “Manchurian Candidate”
about training him.
(And Parrot Jungle for that matter)

She also regaled my kids
with stories about me:

a3burying her copy of
“The Seven Minutes”
in the back yard ……
(for posterity)

stealing her “Partridge Family”
and “Bobby Sherman” albums ……
(to make fisbees out of them)

— how she remembered me:

hiding behind the French Doors
of her closet to watch her snogg
around with her boyfriend
( I got caught because I was
breathing too loud,
but my Aunt Sarah really
did have a cute figure) …..bears

trying to set all the bears
“free” from their enclosure
at the Philadelphia Zoo….

spitting salted pumpkin seeds at pedestrians
from the back seat window
of my Uncle’s 1964 Buick,
(and convincing her to do it, too) ….

tearing out all the pictures
of nude natives in “National Geographic”a1
and hiding them under my bed….

— not to mention, me :

cutting my brother’s hair (while asleep)
with a pair of pinking shears…..

using my Uncle’s lathe to create a re-usable,
retrievable slug for candy machines….

trading with other kids in the neighborhood
those mini bottles of booze
my dad would bring home from trips
in exchange for dirty playing cards….

digging holes in the local cemetery lawn
looking for ‘lost treasure’ ….beattime

smoking up 4 of my Granddad’s cigars
and then denying it …..
(despite being
a distinctively nauseated shade
of GREEN from the experience)

swiping bottles from the back of the corner store,
and returning them in the front
for the deposit to play pinball …..

telling my Great-Grandmother Ida
how lousy of a cook she was,
kidsizeeven for an Irish one….

taking my Great-Grandfather’s jalopy
out for a spin even though
I couldn’t reach the pedals….
( I hope he had insurance on that thing…. )

getting so sick eating illicit
(and unripe) crab-apples
from my neighbor’s tree
I had to have my stomach pumped….

creating so much acrid smoke
experimenting with my chemistry set,
they had to open every window in the house,
despite it being freezing outside……

breaking my Dad’s watch
hellcatsso I could figure how much
of a lickin’ it could take,
and still keep on tickin’……….
( not much, really )

While I might,
in a rare moment of clarity,
admit that perhaps just maybe
she is remembering these things correctly,
I have to say in my own defense police
that I was a spirited child.

And,
I’d like to point out
that even though my Mom,
my brothers and my sister
had to live through much worse–

— since they had to live with me all of the time —

they have always had the good taste
to keep a lot of this stuff to themselves.

Or maybe it was fear
that kid was still around somewhere, I dunno.

( And he is, I promise. )

HOY!

strap

Edna St Vincent Millay says:

millay“Ah, drink again
This river that is the taker-away of pain,
And the giver-back of beauty!

In these cool waves
What can be lost?–
Only the sorry cost
Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself!

The level flood that laves
The hot brow
And the stiff shoulder
Is at our temples now.

Gone is the fever,
But not into the river;
Melted the frozen pride,
But the tranquil tide
Runs never the warmer for this,
Never the colder.

Immerse the dream.
Drench the kiss.
Dip the song in the stream.”