The Journey of the Traveling Jean....

Rich and I got married in 1972.  We were 19 years old, in love and ready to start our lives.  What we didn't have in material things, we made up for in love.  Rich was very smart and a very hard worker, so I never doubted that our dreams would come true.  The smartest thing we ever did, was wait to have children.  Over the next five years, we grew up and saved our money.  Rich's plan was to build our home himself.  We found a lot we loved in Plymouth and just as we were breaking ground, we also broke other unchartered territory.  I unexpectantly became pregnant.  We were so happy, but the timing was a little off.  I kept working at the bank and every night after work and on weekends, Rich would be at the lot building our home.  I helped as much as I could, but obviously, that wasn't much.  All our extra money was going into the house, so baby things were not bought in abundance.  I was quite a seamstress back then and I made almost all Regan's clothes.  I was so proud of her name.  I would embroider her name on the little jumpsuits I would make her.  Everyone loved her name.  I did splurge on one thing when she was a baby...a real pair of blue jeans.  I bought them right there in Bourbon at a little store there in town.  It wasn't in business very long, but I saw those little jeans and I had to have them.  I never dreamed when I put them on my little girl, that I would also put them on my grandchildren.  When Seth came along three years later, I put them on him and he wore them alot too.  After he outgrew them, I put them away.  I gave away alot of their clothes, but I also saved alot of their favorite outfit.  I wish I would have saved more of my clothes and Rich's clothes back then.  I would love to have my bell bottoms that I wore and I would love to have those plaid polyester bell bottoms that Rich had.  They were a brown plaid and I remember he had chunky heel platform shoes.  Oh yes, as hideous as that sounds, he looked hot in them....lol  I probably had my brown granny dress on too. 

   As much as times change, its good to know that somethings don't change.  A little pair of Maverick blue jeans, bought 34 years ago...stood the test of time and still have alot more traveling to do.l

Its that time of year...go buy yourself a pretty pair of panties.

This is the first day of fall...the beginning of a change of seasons.  Our beloved Facebook is changing and being the humans that we are, we aren't accepting it very easily.  Like the changing of the seasons, after awhile, we realize we can't do anything about it, so we put on a sweater and shoes and socks.  My blog is about growing old gracefully...or at least I tell myself that.  My latest ailment is my feet.  Good lord, of all the things on my body that I thought I would NOT have to worry about, my feet were the last thing.  I always took pride in my feet.  My toes were always so pretty and they took me any place I wanted, without complaining.  In the last year, they have begun to let me know that they too are aging.  I now have a bunion.  What a pain in the foot that is.  Recently we went to NYC and walked a million miles.  I had tennis shoes on, but believe me, it did NOT make a difference.  Not sure how I am gonna get around this.  I recently went to a shoe repair place and bought a shoe stretcher.  Oh lordy, how did it come to this?  I'd rather be buying a pair of heels.
   All of us have children and grandchildren.  Through them, we are seeing ourselves age.  As they grow up, we have to accept that we are growing old too.  I remember when I was younger and saw my older family members...it just never registered, that I would one day take their place. I remember being young and feeling young and sexy.  They say you are as young as you feel...well somedays...I feel pretty old.  The problem with that is that if you let that feeling take over, you won't stay active and staying active is the only way to stay young.  Vicious circle and a constant battle to overcome.
   So with the changing of the seasons...I went to Victoria Secrets yesterday and picked up my free panty from them.  I chose the brightest color I could find.  Its not much, but it makes me feel young and pretty again...not wearing the bikinis anymore, but the hi-leg is still kinda sexy.  If you are a lady, go buy yourself a pretty pair of panties and if you are a guy...well, go commando!  What the heck!

You can go home.....but its not the same.

Rich and I went back home this past weekend for our 40th class reunion.  Renewing old friendships with common pasts.  Our class has been having reunions every 5 years.  Not too many new faces.  I have concluded that, if you didn't have a great experience in high school, you won't come back to the reunions.  I have heard it said lots of times, "if they didn't talk to me when I was in high school, why would I want to see them now".  I was always somewhere in the middle...not in the popular club....but I socialized there.  I was most comfortable, somewhere in the middle.  Those of us that do come, always have a great time.  Aging is a funny thing, it creeps up on us, stealing our identity.  We are all finally on the same playing field, sharing our reality.
    On Sunday, Rich and I went back to Bourbon.  Its been over 30 yrs. since we walked the streets of our hometown.  The town that I loved has changed so much, it was barely recognizable.  I remember how vibrant it used to be.  Small towns were so vital to everybody back then.  It was where you shopped for everything.  Bourbon had a wonderful grocery store called Dillingham's and above it a clothing store.  We also had a dime store and a furniture store, a hardware, jewelry, Cumberland pharmacy and Sharpe shoe store.  We had a news stand that always bustled with the most colorful of our townies.  At the heart of Bourbon was our bank, First State Bank, where I worked for 6 years.  I started working there right out of high school.  I started at minimum wage which was $1.35 an hour.  First State was a family owned one of a kind bank.  We were self contained and posted every check right there at the bank.  The things I learned and did, I can't believe I did for $1.35 an hour.  After a year, I was promoted to  bank teller, where again, the wage was the same.  I was responsible for so much money and I was only 20 years old.  After 6 years, I finally broke $3.00 an hour, but by then, I was pregnant with Regan and that ended my working career.  I loved every minute of it and the comradery of the women I worked with and the Mason's, will always be a cherished memory.  As we visited places in Bourbon, I went back to my bank.  It was as if time had stood still.  I looked in the window and everything was exactly the way it had always been.  The little town of Bourbon had changed, but the bank stood the test of time.  We went back to where our A&W Root Beer stand once stood.  For me, the ground is hallowed and holds the best times of my life.  I went to work there the summer I turned 16.  You had to be 16 before Harold would hire you.  I started out in the kitchen frying french fries, but soon became a car hop.  My first year there, the bypass had not been built yet, so all traffic on 30 came through Bourbon.  It was standing room only.  Lots of times every space would be parked 3-4 deep.  Again, I was only 16 yrs. old with a huge responsibility, working for 50 cents an hour plus tips.  An average tip back then was 25 cents, but then a spanish hot dog cost 25 cents and a mug of root beer was 10 cents, so in comparison, a 25 cent tip was good.  Once in awhile I would get a $1.00 tip, which was some guy wanting to get lucky with me.  Rich worked there too, he was inside manning the drinks and expediting the food.  My best friend India worked there too, so life was good...very good.
   Rich and I ate at the Bourbon Street Pizza place, which is in the old Dillingham building.  It was filled with old pictures of Bourbon.  I'm sure this must be popular with the kids, but it isn't even close to our Jim & Jeans.  That was truly Happy Days, with juke box and cherry cokes.  After every game, it was standing room only and the place to be.  After we ate our pizza, we drove around town visiting the places we used to live.  There was our very first little apartment on Thompson Street.  It was brand new when we moved in, then we moved to the red house on Center St. right next to the laundromat.  We lived in the upstairs apartment.  We only lived in apartments for our first year of marriage.  We then bought our first house at 304 Harris St. for $15,000.  It was the beginning for us...it fed our ability to build our first home in Plymouth and fulfil our dreams.

   So, yes you can go home and no it was not exactly the way I remembered it.  People change and our way of life has changed.  Not all change is for the better, but it made us the people we are today.