Here’s a new post for my GRUMPY OLD WOMAN files. Yeah, you thought only old men were grumps a la Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon?
OK, I’ll be the grumpy woman so that I can feel as young as I can.
I saw a girl featured on local television for collecting and distributing gifts to others in need. I am not giving more details than that because I am not here to diss her. She is doing a good thing, and I hope that the TV coverage will inspire others to do the same.
So what makes me grumpy? OK, just being totally up front here even if it makes me look, well, grumpy.
When I was in third grade, I got the idea that children in the hospital needed something to cheer them up. I enlisted the help of another girl in class and, with my teacher’s permission, asked the other kids to bring in toys for the sick kids. They did! When I had collected all the gifts, I had to somehow get them to the hospital. My school was about a mile from my home, and on the way with a little detour was the hospital. So one day I walked to school (age eight haha as if I would have let my kids do that) with my little red wagon.
After school, I loaded the gifts onto the wagon. I had to use a big box, and my teacher gave me something to use for strapping. Then I hauled that stuff all the way to the hospital over very bumpy, crumbling, weed-edged sidewalk tiles. I remember I was sweating. At the hospital they sent me and the wagon to the children’s floor. A (grumpy) nun met me at the entrance, thanked me, and sent me away.
That was that. No news coverage. After all it was only one classroom’s worth of toys. But I was eight and other than that very little bit of help from my teacher and my classmate, I did it all myself.
So why am I grumpy?
Is it because I didn’t get more of a thank you? Or that kids today get more praise for doing the right thing than when I was a kid? That my parents didn’t fully understand what I did and talk to me in a productive way about helping others? Is it because I’m old and remembering my childhood and feeling empathy for that little girl? Or is it because only a few months after that we moved away, and I had to switch schools in March, a very awkward time to enter a new school system, school, and classroom? And that the new teacher was horrible? I am having a hard time evaluating why seeing that news story brought back this event in my life and made me feel out of sorts.
If you want to read more about my little red wagon, here’s one in MacQueen’s Quarterly. It was published there two years ago so it’s possible you’ve seen it. Neither the following story nor the hospital toys story are in Scrap.
How I loved that red wagon. You can see it parked behind the car in the photo.
My Haunted Childhood
Sometimes an old memory does that to me too. I don’t know why but an event that at the time didn’t bother me much, suddenly does. Like you pointed out, it may not have anything to do with the event exactly. We didn’t recognize birthdays much when I was a child. There was no acknowledgment or cupcakes in school. No parties. My parents gave me a gift and my mom cooked my favorite meal. Today when I see the extremes done for birthdays I roll my eyes. I’m not sure why I care. I wasn’t treated any differently than anyone else at that time but there it is!
Yes, that’s exactly what happens. And talk about over the top: gender reveals on top of baby showers, bachelor and bachelorette parties out of town or out of the country, etc. This all seems like a waste of time, energy, and money to me, but it also is a little irritating. Maybe it makes me think it would have been nice to have a little more of a fuss about some of life’s milestones. I can’t really complain about birthdays though as my dad always made sure there was a party of some kind for my birthdays. I think that things were changing by end of fifties and early sixties. Plus my parents were much younger than yours.
Don’t forget the over the top ritual to ask someone to the prom!
Oh ridiculous!
Things like that happen. Called triggers. No explanation, just whack!
That might be true. Something about it triggered me. And it was a feel good story!
You definitely deserved more than a grumpy thank you.
Kids, especially, need and deserve a lot of praise for doing the right thing as they grow up.
Thank you, Anneli. I do think that’s true, too. It seemed so anticlimactic to have her basically show me the door right away. Maybe I really hoped to give the kids the toys or to see somebody open one of the toys (even if they couldn’t see me).
Maybe you’re grumpy because you didn’t get to see the gifts given to the kids in the hospital?
I started to wonder that when I was responding to Anneli. I think it was a big disappointment. I was invested in the excitement of those toys.
That makes sense.
I just read “My Haunted Childhood.” Your poor little bare bottom!
Hah, I know. It was so embarrassing! That house was pretty cool though. We had a lot of hauntings going through our minds whenever we walked past.
Abandoned houses are irresistible to children (and some adults, myself included).
Yes!!! And maybe especially fascinating when they are abandoned suddenly.
In between other projects, I’m going back to photos of abandoned houses I’ve taken when my husband and I are out and about to gain inspiration for poetry and fiction.
I love that. Years ago there was a blogger on here who posted pix of abandoned homes and other buildings.
As usual, I have too many ideas and too little time, but at least I’ll never be at a loss for what to write about!
Hahaha, you and I are so alike in some ways.
And that’s a good thing!
I think so!
Well, good for that little girl, and good for you, too. It would have been nice if you did get to see the kids receive the gifts.
Can you imagine anyone letting an 8 year old go a mile with a wagon full of gifts for a hospital by themselves now?
Hah, no, I cannot. No way would I let my grandson do that. But the world is different. Not that there weren’t dangers of all kinds in those days, but I was raised with a lot of fear so that kept me alert ;). I might have written about this on this blog before, but even in my mother’s day there was a stranger luring kids with candy! But the neighborhood was pretty safe even though in those days it was still the “wrong side of the tracks.”
I think probably a lot of things happened that people didn’t report (like abuse by clergy), and also news didn’t spread as quickly.
You are right!
Such disappointment can never be forgottenn
I guess that is true!
What a good soul you were (and are) to have been so thoughtful. I am sorry that your good deed wasn’t appreciated. I hope that at least your parents acknowledged and were proud of what you did.
Maybe my parents did acknowledge it, but I don’t remember that. I remember feeling kind of alone. My father probably would have been more appreciative than my mother would have shown (she shows appreciation much more the older she has gotten, but she was only 28 at that time). He might have been busy or not really known what happened though.
Ironic that your father was the parent who would have been more supportive. But I totally can relate. My dad, for all his faults, always was more expressive about all his feelings, good and bad, than my mother. Age softened her also. I can still remember the first time she told me she loved me. I was so uncomfortable! (I always knew she did, but she never had used those words before.)
I can imagine your discomfort, Amy!!! So much like in my family. My father was overly emotional, but that meant that his emotions were the focus in the family.
Exactly! We all walked on egg shells not to poke the bear. (Sorry for the mixed metaphors!) And yet he also was the one who most enjoyed playing games with us and expressing his love for us.
It’s uncanny how similar.
I know your memories of your Dad are complex, but you must have given him more than one scare in your young life, and he has dived in to save you, fear making his reaction harsh. I compare it with me, roaming the district at will. No one and everyone looking out for me, I think. My mum may have been oblivious, but everyone in the street knew who I was. Perhaps they kept an eye on me without me even being aware.
Celebrations have become so excessive these days. I wonder if the children of today will rebel when their turn comes around? My great-grandson’s first birthday was more like something you’d expect for a 21st. I wonder if it drives from a need to receive validation from such external stimulations?
The young ones might have to rebel because they might not be able to afford these excessive celebrations. Our local news channel shows us expensive bars and restaurants overflowing with patrons, and my husband always says, where do they get the money. Well, credit, of course, but that can’t go on forever.
Your memoir is so vivid and unique, Gwen. Not that plenty of kids over the years haven’t had similar upbringings, but most don’t end up so successful in all their endeavors. Your memoir is so inspirational because of the trajectory.
Thank you for your kind words about my memoir, Luanne.
Some years ago, another friend and I were wondering about how we could get into schools to teach financial literacy. I feel so sorry for anyone born after the introduction of bankcards in the 1970s. They have lost sight of income versus expenditure. Credit is so circular. Only the very savvy can understand where the trail begins and ends. It’s not like the days we brought our pay packet home in cash and laid it across the table to work out which bucket needed which budget. If all the cash had gone before the next pay packet, you knew you were in the “Oh Shit!” stage. No more eating out or incidental expenditure – just ensure the electricity doesn’t get cut off! And if you wanted something big, but couldn’t pay cash, then you put it on lay-by, and couldn’t bring it home until it was all paid for. These habits were laid upon even the foolhardiest. Now, with elastic credit, we can hardly blame our grandchildren for their lack of understanding. Every time I show mine a budgeting spreadsheet they freeze in fear. The concept is so foreign to how they live their lives. They could never explain or justify it to their friends and would appear the odd one out.
Not even a thank you. Sheesh!
Yeah, maybe that’s at the root of some of my annoyance. It’s like the nun took an eraser and rubbed out what I was proud of.
Exactly! You should feel annoyed.
Oh thank you!
You are welcome!
That was so awesome of you to take toys to the children in hospital, Luanne.
Carol, hah, thank you 60+ years later! 🙂 Hope all is well with you!