My Granddaughter, Tristen

Well, this is one thing I never thought would happen in my Nine Lives Plus One. I am sitting beside Tristen, my amazing 18-year old granddaughter, and while I am trying to find my way around a new Mac computer, she is working on her Mac that we bought her three years ago.  She is doing her best to show me how to sort and store my 5,000 pictures on this amazing machine.  It's the age-old solution, if you can't figure out your telephone, your DVR, your  digital camera, and your new computer, thank goodness you have a grandchild to ask.   The sweet person sitting beside me tonight is that Plus One, and she truly is a plus.  Her name is Tristen, and she is amazing.  She is a Freshman in Community College but is transferring to a state university in the fall.  She is majoring in psychology and plans to go pre-med.  Thank goodness that we are going to have a doctor in our family.  Couldn't happen sooner for me for I am certainly not getting any younger.

Tristen has been a blessing to me from the day she was born.  She loves spending time with her Nana.  In fact, we just got back from a movie, The Woman in Black, with Daniel Radcliffe.  We loved him in the Harry Potter series, which of course we saw every one together.  Naturally, we had to see this movie and it was very good.

And of course, we've seen every Twilight series together--we've seen them all at least three times and then many times more when we bought the DVDs.

I've taken her to every Broadway play that has come to town since she was eight years old.  She says that the Lion King was probably her favorite, not to mention Hairspray, Beauty and the Beast,  Nine to Five, The Pajama Game--so many more too numerous to mention.

We love to go to movies, plays, eating at PeiWei, eating spaghetti, and just hanging out and watching Raymond every night.

I love you, Tristen Kelsey.  Thank you for spending time with me and actually loving to be with your Nana.  I've loved every minute of it and look forward to many more years together.  

I'm Not Just a Secretary Anymore!

I left my first part-time job with the small, independent oil company on the 4th floor of the bank building over on 4th Street in 1960 to accept a fulltime job at the Sinclair Oil Company, on 9th & Boston.  I worked there until 1969.  My salary when I left was around $900 per month, and considered a great salary for a secretary in those days. The company was bought out in 1969 by Atlantic Richfield and most of the workers transferred to Houston.  We were married by that time and Chuck had a good job because the oil business was good in Tulsa so I quit the workforce and stayed home to raise our one-year old daughter, Tiffany.  Two years later Mark, our son, was born.  I didn't return to the workforce until the kids were in middle school.

Working at a big oil company was fun.  Each floor had its own receptionist/mail girl.  I was hired as the receptionist/mail girl for the 4th floor--the executive wing.  The mail boys brought mail from the basement each day to the respective floors, and the mail girls sorted and delivered mail to offices on their assigned floors.  We didn't have to answer phones--there was one of those old-fashioned switchboards downstairs in the basement as in "Ernestine" played by Lily Tomlin.  I trained on one of those switchboard systems in business school and am very glad I didn't become a switchboard operator.  Later on Sinclair moved into the technical era and bought a more advanced telephone system. 

The gigantic "mainframe" came into existence around 1963.  The mainframe took up half of the 2nd floor where the accounting offices were located.  I applied for an opening in the secretarial pool on the 2nd floor and landed a secretary position for the director of accounting.  There was a huge window outside the accountants' area where we could stand and watch (flirt with) computer guys working on the mainframe.  At that time, the accountants kept track of oil-well royalties on huge ledger sheets.  There were no partitions separating the desks, and the only equipment they used was a pencil and a calculator.  I used a  manual typewriter at first until a roller skating accident left me with a broken left wrist.  I was off work for about a week and when I returned happily discovered that my boss had borrowed an electric typewriter from the executive floor.  I remember his words of warning so well--"don't get used to it because it goes back upstairs when your cast comes off".  However, my cast came off six weeks later and I never did return that typewriter.   I remained friends with the boys in the mail room after I became a secretary.  They gave me a birthday card once that read, "Old secretaries never die--they just look that way".  What a bunch of jokers they were! I was only 20 at the time, but I get the point guys, if you could only see me now! 

A typical office from the 60's.

As I previously mentioned, it was fun to work for such a big company, but I can't leave Sinclair behind until I tell you about the "Miss Sinclair" contest in 1961.  Tiffany loves this story and the picture depicting this so-called contest.  I don't remember who nominated me to run but someone went around selecting certain girls in each department to run as "Miss Sinclair".  The winner was named at a Valentine's Party at the Mayo Hotel that year.  I didn't win and I don't know what the voting criteria consisted of, but I didn't try to solicit any votes!  I don't know what happened after the winner was named since I do not recall any big news headlines or whether the person went on to run for Miss Tulsa or what.   I wore a beautiful gown of red velveteen, and was escorted by one of the mail boys.  Unfortunately I do not have a picture of me in that pretty dress, but I found a similar one on the Internet.  Just picture it in velveteen!

All in all, it was a great time in my life.  I always wanted to become a secretary in the type of job where you finished your work each day, went home and forgot it.  In today's fast-paced computer age, you occasionally wake at three in the morning planning the next project your boss has been assigned that you actually do for him, and that's when I realize..... I'm Not Just a Secretary Anymore! 

I am 5th from the bottom.  The blond
2 girls behind me won I think! 

The Boy I Left Behind

This may be a difficult segment to write, and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, especially those who love me, but it is a part of my life that should be included because it meant something to me--to all who were involved.  I have mulled it over and over in my head as to how I should write it, who might read it, who might be hurt by it, but it's for my children and they both know of his family because they have been a part of that family too through visits, cards and letters throughout the years.  My son may not remember because he was very young when we used to visit.  I know it sounds strange, but this family meant so much to me.  His sister was, to coin a modern-day phrase, one of my BFF's in high school, although a year behind me.  She and I had actually dated the same guy at different times, of course.  I sang at her wedding--that's how close we were.  Their parents have both passed away--his mother only last year and his father several years ago.  And, sadly, his sister, my BFF, died from breast cancer a few months before their mother passed away.

His family built a new home in Muldrow and moved in the spring of 1958, I believe.  He was already out of school, and there were two younger sisters still at home.  Our teenage class Sunday School teacher took several of us to meet the new family in town to invite them to church, found out the girls would be attending our school and we became good friends.  Then I discoverd something even better--the girls had an older brother already out of school.  I've always told my children I never liked to date the boys from my senior class because they were so immature.  Truth is, I think I was too shy to try and get a date, so I dated boys from Sallisaw and that one from Fort Smith--remember the one that my Grandfather threw out of the house that day?  If you don't remember, you'll have to go back to the story about my Grandpa. 

Anyway, she got me a date with her gorgeous, 6'1", blond-haired, blue-eyed older brother.  I say that because he was gorgeous to me.  These days you kids would say he was "hot", but we didn't use terminology like that in those days.  Being hot back then was because we didn't have air-conditioning!
I think we probably only went out about three times.  I graduated, moved to Tulsa, started business school, he joined the army and got shipped off to Alaska.  Now you're getting the drift.  He sends me a Christmas card with his picture on it and my Grandma sends it to me in Tulsa, with the address and everything.  I started writing, he started writing back and we fell in love.  I was out of business school by that time and was living in a garage apartment with a girl I worked with.  He had a furlough in 1961 and wanted to come to Tulsa to see me. 

He flew home, visited his family for a while and headed straight to Tulsa where I was working on 9th & Boston, at the Sinclair Oil Company.  He picked me up outside the building and we drove straight to my Aunt's house in Turley.  She insisted we come there--I can't imagine why, but we just wanted to get reaquainted so we  headed to Muldrow the very next day after breakfast.  Boy--was his mother surprised!  She knew I was friends with his sisters but had no idea I had ever dated her son.  Here we are seriously talking about becoming engaged and she's going on like, "Law--I never even knew you guys had dated, didn't know you were writing, etc."  It was really kind of funny and a little embarassing.  I loved his folks, they always treated me like one of their own.  I spent many nights in their home even while he was home on leave, sleeping with the younger sister in her bed.  Those were the good ole' days, kids. 

We were together constantly while he was home those two weeks, and he asked me to marry him, so we went to Fort Smith and bought an engagement ring, a beautiful single solitare diamond.  I think his mother's head had quit spinning by then! 

I went back to Tulsa with an engagement ring on my finger, he went back to Alaska and we continued writing.  My boss at work wasn't too happy about my engagement and gave me some flack--kept saying I shouldn't get married, and others said I wasn't ready to settle down--I don't know, it seemed like eveyone filled my head with these negative thoughts--even from one of my best friends back home.

Truth is, I didn't listen to my heart--I didn't follow my heart and when he came home the next time and we still hadn't made plans for the wedding, I think I just wasn't ready to be a married lady.  I got scared, and I backed out, told him some ridiculous story about not being in love any more.  We've remained friends, and as I said before, I loved his family very much and still do although they are gone now, but never forgotten.  I attended his parents' 50th Wedding Anniversary celebration several years ago, and the kids and I would drop by from time-to-time and spend the night and send cards, pictures, write letters throughout the years.  They meant a lot to me and I believe I meant a lot to them too.

We both married someone else--guess you are glad about that kids, or you might not be here.  Isn't it funny how decisions we make change everything?  Oh, I believe I would still have had a Tiffany and  a Mark, but have you ever thought how different it would be?   Kind of scarey isn't it thinking you might not have been born.  But remember, God had a plan, and he is never quite through with His plan for our lives. 
Mom (posted at 10:00 on July 1, 2011) Because I love you.

Tiffany and Paul 2010

Mark and Family 2011

Business School

On a warm and sunny day in August 1959, I left that small, dusty country town and traveled on a bus to Tulsa with my Grandmother.  We were met by my Aunt, one of my Father's twin sisters, at the bus station where she then took me to the business school downtown to register for my classes to start in a few weeks.
I enrolled in my classes and in exchange for room and board, the school assigned to live with a local family as their nanny and do light housekeeping for $25 a month.  After all, kids, this was 1959 and $25 a month was adequate for bus rides, snacks and things.  My Aunt then drove me over to a beautiful two-story home around 23rd & Lewis Avenue to meet my new family.  They had two school-age girls, but the older girl was away at that time in a hospital undergoing a yearly routine of physical therapy.  I learned that she had been in an automobile accident when she was around two when they lived in New Orleans.  Her mother was driving and she was standing in the front seat.  Very sad, very tragic--I guess seat belts weren't used much, or there were none in that car--it was around 1947 when it happened because she was around 12 when I met her.  The younger sister was seven.  They were sweet girls but the 12-year old could be a little stinker at times, but I felt she was within her rights to be that way I suppose.  I ran into her several years later at the mall being wheeled around by a couple of kids.  I stopped and visited and she told me she had married and the kids were hers.  She looked happy and still beautiful.  I don't know if she is still around because I have not seen her since that time and we lost touch after a while.
I was a little homesick at first but the girls and school kept me pretty busy.  I made some friends at school and would visit my cousins in Turley on the weekends and attended the First Baptist Church on Sundays.  It was turning out to be a pretty good adventure for me so far.  I learned how to get on and "off" the city buses, learned that pay phones didn't give change, and found out you could actually use more than one fork at a table setting. 
The family always drank wine at dinner and I was offered my first glass of wine one night, took a big gulp, and thought I would croak right there.  I was not too anxious to try that again for a very long time.   They never said a word nor laughed at me but I imagine it was difficult for the Mister to keep a straight face because mine was probably lit up like a Christmas tree!

The father had a business in Guatemala and would be gone for six months at a time, and their mom did public speaking at women's clubs.  She was a celebrity of sorts, being from India, and would wear a beautiful sari when she had speaking engagements.   She was a beautiful woman especially when she would dress in her sari.  Her mother came to visit one year from Calcutta and stayed six months.  She introduced me to Indian cuisine, which I dearly loved!  My mouth would start salivating the minute I walked in the door from school and smell the curry, and she would love to see me eat.  I think I put on an extra 15 pounds that year!  Her mother was the most fasinating woman I ever met.  She would talk for hours about her life in Calcutta and I just couldn't believe the kind of life she endured there.  I wish now that I had taken notes when she would talk about her life in Calcutta.
When I wasn't attending school, I was practicing my shorthand strokes, playing with the girls or writing letters to a boy from back home who was stationed in Alaska, and letters my Grandparents.  They didn't seem to be worried about me too much--guess they didn't realize how much I had to learn dealing with a whole new life, children to take care of, maneuvering around town on those slow, smelly city buses, and dreaming about a good life I hoped to have some day.  However, I am certain that Grandmother prayed daily for my safety. 

I finished business school in about nine months, moved in with my Aunt and Uncle and five cousins in Turley, a surburb of Tulsa, and landed my first job with an independent oil company owned by three business men.  It was on the fourth floor of a building on Fourth Street & Cheyenne right over the Coney Island.  Every morning around 11:00 the smell of those coneys would waft through the vents and make me so hungry.  I could  hardly wait until time for lunch.  Coneys became my steady diet for a while.  Two coneys and a coke, for about a $1.  You cannot buy one coney nowadays for less than $2, and I have yet to find any that tasted as great as the ones from the downtown Coney Island!  I think it is still there today.  So at this point, I was beginning to love my new life! 



Ironing outfit for job interview!





I shared a room with Cousin Sharon.

My Senior High School Trip to New Orleans

Before I write any more stories about living in the city, my first car, my first job or my first love, my sweet daughter, Tiffany, wanted me to write about my high school Senior Trip to New Orleans in 1959.  So at this point, I'll regress just a little to my senior year. 

I think about high school trips today and the high school trips in the 50's in comparison and find absolutely no similarities to compare.  If any of my former classmates are reading this, and I think there might be one or two, they will no doubt attest to this story I am about to relate. 

There were probably 40 to 45 of us senior class that spring in 1959 who rode that long overnight train ride to New Orleans for our "Senior Trip". Early that morning we boarded the school bus to take us to Sallisaw to the train depot.  We had worked hard all year selling popcorn and goodies to raise enough money for the trip.  All expenses were paid from what we were able to pool together and we received contributions from many good merchants of Muldrow.  Our food, cost of the train tickets, the tour and the zoo we visited were all paid for in advance, and we had our own spending money.  I baby sat for extra money and probably earned around $25.

 Our sponsors, Ms. Rubye and Mr. Peters, presented us with very strict dress codes.  Boys were required to wear suits and ties, dress shoes, and of all things--hats!  Not ball caps but men's dress hats, probably right off their fathers' coat racks.  Girls wore dresses or skirts, medium size high heels or flats and hats as well.  Now picture that--a bunch of teenage boys and girls in suits and their Sunday best dresses riding on a train all night to New Orleans!  Tiffany still laughs when I relate this story to her but she recommended that I include it in my blogs.  I don't think we were allowed to wear slacks or jeans on the train either because arrangements were not made for us to store our things someplace, so you wore what you had on or you'd be carrying around a suitcase all day--I don't think backpacks had been invented yet.  Can you just picture the boys trying to fix their ties, straighten the hats (I don't think all of the boys wore hats, but a few did), and try to look decent after an overnight train ride?  When Tiffany's senior class flew to Hawaii, they dressed appropriately in shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops!  Times have changed.

My Grandmother made me the cutest brown and white checked shirt dress with a matching belt, and I wore white heels, hose and a pretty white hat I bought down at Ms. Emma's Variety Store.  It was a very cute outfit, but I looked more like I was going on a job interview instead of a high school outing.  The funny thing about it all was that we didn't question why--we just did what we were told, and we had fun, dresses and all.  Some of the girls wore full skirts with those big starched petticoats underneath, and as I recall, it was a pretty hot, muggy day in Louisiana when we arrived the next morning.

When we detrained we were transported by a tour bus to a fancy hotel and served a nice hot breakfast in an elegant dining room.  I loved that, especially those fancy eggs and bacon that you didn't dare eat with your fingers!  How in the world do you cut a crispy piece of bacon with a knife and fork anyway?  But "Miss Manners" was watching.  After breakfast our bus picked us up for a tour of New Orleans.  We stopped on Bourbon Street and wandered around while being closely watched, especially the boys.  Didn't want them wandering off  and getting into trouble as boys always manage to do.  After souvenir shopping, we boarded the bus again and headed to museums, churches and a tour of the French Quarter.  We had a cute little tour guide--she also wore a hat and carried a purse.  We visited an above-ground graveyard which really fascinated me at the time.  The tour guide explained to us that they didn't bury people underground in that part of New Orleans because of the water.  I liked that, as I really do not want my old body buried under ground (remember that kids).  Next stop was the zoo where we ate a late lunch and spent the rest of the day just having fun with our classmates, taking pictures and posing for the monkeys--just silly teenage fun!  I saved those pictures for a long time, but I was cleaning house recently and getting ready to move, I may have thrown them out or packed them away somewhere.  I hope I run across them some day so I can include them in this story.

Around dusk we were taken back to the train station, hot, tired and probably a little smelly, but most of us, except those cuddled with boyfriends (strictly forbidden if caught) slept all the way back to train depot in Sallisaw where our school bus was waiting to take us back to school, and to think we did all of this without a cell phone to call ahead and text back and forth, no electronic games, no iPods or portable DVD players to watch movies on, but we were certainly entertained with at least 500 rounds of "Found a Peanut" or "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall"!  Boys can be so annoying. 

I am glad to have shared this story, because after 50 years you forget the funniest things!  Yes, Mr. Dylan, "Times Have Changed"!

Our Guide Lady
in New Orleans

Published by Mom/Nana at 11:17 p.m., June 14, 2011,  because I want to share the funny parts of my growing up with you!
...I love you

Nine Lives and Counting

It was the year of '59 and it was time for me to leave the little dusty town of Muldrow and head out to the big city to make a new life.  I was an excellent typist in school and loved office work and knew that was just what I wanted to do.  After all, Ann Sothern, Private Secretary (1953-1957), was my inspiration.  I wanted my own typewriter, desk, and to wear those white blouses and full black taffeta skirts.  So I enrolled in business school and headed out to Tulsa on a bus with my grandmother to sign up at the business college.  I don't think Gran would ever have let me leave if it had not been for the fact that one of my Gran's twin daughters lived in Tulsa and she felt I would have a family member there if I needed help.

My Grandfather had suffered a heart attack in my junior or senior year of high school, retired from the County,and no longer drove the big yellow tractor.  He gave up fox hunting and the hound dogs had been sold.  My grandparents were getting older, they were no longer able to keep up the big garden, so they sold the land to a cousin of my Grandpa's who built a nice house on it.  The dog kennels were torn down, the black iron kettle rusting and no longer used, Sheena of the Jungle had long since put away her slingshot, and there were no more kitties or even fullgrown cats anymore since the mama cat finally died.  The dolls had been buried for some time now, and the paper dolls were thrown in the trash and burned.  Ricky Nelson's pictures were removed from the bedroom and replaced with Elvis pictures, but they were also removed after I left.   It was time to go and leave those childhood things behind. 

After I left, my grandparents didn't have me around anymore to keep them young and interested in goings-on, so they seemed to age much faster.  I visited when I could, but I didn't have a car for a couple of years and would ride a bus home to visit them.  I didn't like riding the bus--there were too many stops, I had to go downtown Tulsa  to catch the bus, which was usually at night, and by the time I got to Muldrow, there was no one to meet me because they didn't keep the phone after I left, so I had to walk a mile from the bus stop to the house.  The town didn't have any taxi cabs then and probably still doesn't.   I never encountered any problems, however--it was a little safer back then in the 60's, even in downtown Tulsa after dark.  Department stores and corner drugstores were open late and people were always on the streets going to eat or to the movies downtown. 


Grandma & Grandpa in Nursing Home

After about three or four years after I moved away, my grand-parents moved into a nursing home because they were unable to care for themselves.  They liked it at first, but their health continued to deteriorate.  John Wesley Riddle, my paternal grandfather, died on May 10, 1962. I continued to visit my Grandmother as often as I could over the next couple of years.  My paternal grandmother, Jean Ella Doyle Riddle died on September 15, 1964.  I spent many hours with both of them in the hospital sitting by their bed watching them take their last breath and it was very sad for me.  I had never lost anyone before and it was very difficult to see them die that way.

 It was especially difficult for me when my Grandfather died because I loved him dearly.  He was always a quiet, gentle man, except for the time when he practically threw a boy I was dating out of the house.  Grandpa had been sitting on the porch and suddenly walked inside only to find me sitting on Benny's lap.  Poor Benny!  I never saw him again--at least not for a while!  It was the middle of the day and Grandmother was on one of her treks to the store.  She asked what happened mato Benny but Grandpa never told her anything--he just said he had to leave. They were very protective of me--a little bit too much.  Benny and I did get together later on, and we corresponded after he joined the Army and stationed in Alaska. 

That's another interesting story --I had two boyfriends in Alaska, stationed at the same place and at the same time.  Benny was the "former" boyfriend, and Jerry was the "current" boyfriend, and they met one day.  Of course, they would meet--they were both from the same city, Ft. Smith, Arkansas, and they had something in common besides living in the same town--ME! 

Then there was the time when I was dating Mickey, the football player from Sallisaw.  We had a date one night and because he had football practice, he had to shower and drive 10 miles to Muldrow, so it was after dark, probably 8:00 or later by the time he arrived, and Grandmother sent him away.  She told him that if he couldn't come at a decent time to take her granddaughter on a date, then he had to leave.  He tried to explain but she wouldn't listen.  I was heart-broken over that incident too, and very embarrassed.  Maybe that's why I didn't have many dates in high school--they were afraid of my Grandparents! 

That's okay, Grandma and Grandpa, I know that you only meant well and were always looking out for me.  I know that you are there in Heaven still looking out for me, and I love you and thank you for the sacrifices you made for me.   I'll never forget what you did for me.

Dressed up for Church







My Wonderful Siblings

 

As I am sitting in front of this laptop thinking about my next story,  I realize it is a very difficult one to write because it's about four great sibilings that I really never knew growing up.  My husband had three older brothers and one younger sister.  I also had three brothers and one sister but only  in comparison.  I only say that because he grew up with his siblings, and I didn't.  I loved our visits with the Ware family and the trips we went shared from time to time and how they would relate hilarious stories of their childhood, stories about their many moves, their Cajan father, the reckless things they did growing up and a little sister thrown  in the midst of four older brothers.  I never knew what I had missed growing up without  brothers and sisters until I heard these stories. 

I have only one picture to share of me with three of my siblings.  That is me blowing the bubble gum, of course, Kathy, Eddie holding Cookie, my dog, and Gary.  Ricky was just a baby at the time and was inside.  This picture was taken in the front yard of our Grandma and Grandpa Riddle's house in Muldrow in 1958.  I have no other pictures of me with all of my siblings together.  There was a note on the back of the picture I had written, "We were all trying to blow bubbles before Dad snapped this picture but I was the only one who was successful".  Well, that's one story I can relate.  Other stories might include the one or two trips when I visisted them in Arkansas and the fun times we had that week walking down the road to the little creek, hanging our barefeet over the side of the stream and harmonizing Everly Brothers' songs.  I don't remember much about that week except that Dad took us to a movie, we went shopping over in VanBuren, and Kathy and I played with Mom's makeup and did our hair.  They boys just played Cowboys and Indians as always.  I never got to share birthdays, Christmases, Easter egg hunts, Thanksgiving or Trick-or-Treating on Halloween, or had anyone to fight with over clothes, TV, use of the telephone, or record selection. 

Ricky, Ed, Kathy, Gary in 1985

Ron, Kathy, Jeri, Me & Ricky 2007

As we grew older, my siblings began to get reacquainted with me once everyone married and started families.   I really owe it all to my sister, Kathy, for doing her best to keep in touch and bringing me back in.   After I moved away to Tulsa, finished business school and started working, I kind of "forgot" I had a family.  Dad was still living at the time and as they would travel from Kansas to Arkansas to visit my Stepmom's family, they would drive through Tulsa in hopes of finding me at home, but somehow they always missed me--I was either at work or out with friends, and would come back to find a note on my apartment door that they had been by to see me.  She never gave up though and continued on her quest that I should become a part of them, because we were a family.  I love her and appreciate so much that she never gave up on me!  I told her that at our last sibling get-together in April.