Tuesday, August 18, 2015

CONFUSION IN THE CEMETERY

When I posted my "Stories from the Cemetery, I confused some of you as I saw from the comments.  The stories from the cemetery were not with my sister but with my lifelong friend Kris who lived across the street.  we met before either of us had started school.  I've added her picture below.


One of the things I wanted to do on this trip was go by and visit my parents grave.  I don't go often, but wasn't sure when I'd be near there again, so Donna and I took a trip over and reminisced about mom and dad.  My dad passed away at 57 with cancer and knew he didn't have much time, so planned his own burial place.  The cemetery was across the street where we lived, and my dad chose this spot because it was shady and he said when mom came to visit his grave he wanted to her have some shade.  How thoughtful.  That was 1968 and the tree is much bigger now, and a lot more shade.

Our sweet mother passed away in 1991 at 79 also with cancer and is buried next to daddy.  Donna and I had the privilege to care for our mother until she died, so she never had to live in a nursing home.


This brings me to the "Stories".  Because we lived across the street from the cemetery, it became a playground for my best friend Kris and me to spend hours and hours of our childhood pretending and playing out all kinds of stories.




One of our stories centered around this old tombstone in the shape of a pulpit with a Bible laying on top.  

Kris and I both had been in church since before we could remember.  It was part of our life.  So during the late 40's and early 50's we heard about Billy Graham and his Crusades.  Since we were both very knowledgeable in "Bible Stories" we played "Crusade."  Kris was Billy Graham, and I was Cliff Barrows and led the singing.  Kris would stand at this pulpit and preach her little heart out, and I would go around to the tombstones and invite the people (by name of course) to our meeting.  (No one ever showed up  HaHa )



Who would have guessed, 10 or so years later these to little girls would go off to Bible College together and one end up a Pastor's wife, and one a Missionary with Wycliffe Bible Translators.   God had His Almighty Hand on us even then.



Another one that I love was our "Miss America" Pageant.  Back in those days, it was just an old cemetery ~ unlike today when they are Memorial Parks, with fences and gates.  So back then all the old flowers, ribbons and holders were placed in a pile until the gardeners came once a week to haul them away.  

In that pile were ribbons that looks like Miss American Banners to us, so over our little heads we would wear our banners.  Some might say Beloved Mother, or Sister but to us...They said Miss California or Miss America.  A dried up flower in our hair...a ribbon on our chest and we were on the stage and the applause was wonderful!!!!


Some people may think we were disrespectful and but in our little minds....we were transported to another world, a place where children made up their own stories and games, and didn't sit in front of a TV or even know what a video game was.   I wouldn't trade my childhood for anything.....it shaped the woman I am today.

13 comments:

  1. What wonderful special times you and your sister shared!!
    There is nothing as wonderful as a child's imagination!

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    1. I think I confused some of you, so I updated this blog with a picture of Kris my best friend. She is the one we shared childhood game with. My sister was 6 years older and was already a teenager when we played these games.

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  2. Oh, Wanda, I love your cemetery stories. I have a bit of a passion for cemeteries and always visit some when I am in a new place. I think of the varied tales - sad and joyous- that those lives represented and I love the peace and quiet.
    I am smiling at your pageant playing... the wonder and innocence of childhood. I can just picture you. Well they say, "All the world's a stage" and surely that must include cemeteries!

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    1. I added a picture of my dear and life long friend Kris. She's the one the stories were made up with and played out.
      Had the best childhood a girl could have.

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  3. Cemeteries can always tell a story and its good to have your sister there to share those memories. Now that families are often dispersed looking after the elderly is not like it was with nuclear families.

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    1. Dave, I added a picture of my best friend Kris who shared those cemetery stories. My sis is six years older than me and was a teenager when Kris and I made up our melodrama's in the cemetery.

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  4. enjoyed your young girl memories - ...yes you were definitely guided to be who you are today. great post Wanda I enjoyed it.

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    1. Thanks Sandy....childhood truly does shape many of our adult features and ambitions. Sometimes for the good, sorry to say sometimes things end up bad. Sending hugs.

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  5. Wanda, I love the story of your parents love for one another. You are right about a child's mind. My daughter and her family lived near the cemetery before they built their new home. Some times the winds would carry an occasional flower or two into their yard and their daughter Sierra would bring it to her mommy. It was then a give of love, so Angie would act like it was so special. Blessings to you and your loved ones, xoxo,Susie

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    1. I love that my dad did that for my mom, and since she was widowed at 54 she never remarried and visited his grave in the shade many times. Sending love and hugs. Thanks for sharing about Sierra. So sweet.

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  6. Aww, I think these are absolutely delightful stories. VERY precious indeed, as is the fact your mother was able to be cared for until her death and your dad was so thoughtful in his dying months. Wonderful. you are very blessed to be close enough to go see their graves too every now and then.how lovely.

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    1. Thanks Michael. I love to share the stories of my childhood...unlike so many children who didn't have that kind of upbringing. I'm glad I lived in an era without all the technology we have today...A kid could really exercise their God given imagination. Sending Hugs and love.

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  7. Wanda, I absolutely love your stories about your friend and you as children and your great imaginations. God did indeed have His hand on you both. I was always the Sunday school teacher or one of the Boxcar Children.

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