Looking Back…Throwback Thursday!

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.  ~ From The Wonder Years

The right photo sure can stir up sweet memories, memories meant for sharing. We would love to share ours with you. We invite you to join Imperfect Women for Throwback Thursdays. On special Thursdays throughout the year, we will be posting some of our pictures and memories from years past. We hope they will stir some of your own and that you will share them with us too.

Roozerdo Looks Back – 1967

I love looking at this picture of me (holding my niece and trying to get her to look at the camera). My sister, who just recently went thru a health scare, has always been frail. Though she is my big sister, I have always protected her. And my brother, Oh Lord, the memories just flood back with him. He is all “crooked” up on that table with that look on his face that is priceless. I am thankful that my siblings are still with me and we love each other so much. Never have we had a cross word to say to each other even though our lives are all completely different {Religion, Sexuality, Marriage}. I was about 6 years old I think making the year to be about 1967. I remember playing with that stove & refrigerator. It was made of tin, not plastic or cardboard. I remember the refrigerator had a separate freezer/frig sections. And was pretty much life like. NOTHING like you would find today. Thank you for letting me share my story. I hope everyone who reads has similar happy memories of their childhood. ”

Jen Looks Back – 1992

I dedicate this to my sister, Jodie. Her nickname is Rodeo. Don’t ask why. We didn’t always get along. In fact, she was the typical little sister who lived to torment me. To prove my point, let me tell you a little story about her most famous torture. Mind you, I didn’t find out about this until we were much older but it still stings. Jodie wouldn’t stay out of my bedroom so my mom allowed me to have a deadbolt lock on my door. This was intended to keep my naughty little sister out of my stuff. Little did I know, Jodie had super stealthy ninja skills. While I was showering in the early mornings, she would get up and tip-toe into my bedroom and unlock my bedroom window. Who would think I would need to lock the door at 6 am??? Then she would dart back to bed before anyone knew she had been up. When I left to go to school, the little ninja would sneak outside, open my bedroom window, climb into my bedroom and rummage through my closet for something to wear to school. She would get home from school before I did, so she would reverse the process and return the DIRTY clothes to my closet before I came home. DIRTY CLOTHES. IN MY CLOSET. I wore dirty clothes to school and no freaking idea it was happening. This wasn’t just once or twice either. She’s since confessed she did this for YEARS!

We get along great now and she is one of my best friends but I will always remind her for what a naughty little sister she was!

Ann Looks Back – 1972

Ann remembers her dolls.

I never owned a Barbie doll. My parents raised five daughters without ever buying one. Barbies were popular with my school friends when I was in third or fourth grade. The “haves” brought them in to school and played with them at recess, dressing and combing their hair. The “have nots” looked on. This lasted less than two weeks. We had a small class and we all played together. A game that excluded some of us wasn’t fun for the others anyway. We were nice girls.

I don’t think anyone brought in dolls to play with at school after that tense period. Instead, I played dolls with my sisters, the two closest in age to me. An uncle brought the three of us matching dolls one year. He bought them from an old woman who crocheted clothing and sold them. They were inexpensive, and were actually old ladies, not babies, with molded plastic buns for hair, but we treated them like baby dolls. We used towels for blankets, and a two-tiered plant stand on wheels for a carriage. We exchanged outfits for them, and wrapped them up, and took turns pushing them around our yard. I remember a hot summer day under the long-gone cherry tree, my older sister imagining the game for us, assigning parts, even naming the dolls that day. Their names always changed, and they always rhymed! We pretended they were triplets- with 3 mothers- named Mary, Terry, and Kerry one day, or Bridgett, Gidget, and Fidget another. It made sense at the time!

I think my nieces ended up with those strange old lady baby dolls. I’m not sure. I didn’t really think about my dolls after outgrowing them until I had a baby girl of my own. That’s when I went to look for my favorite doll that Santa brought in 1972. Her name is Velvet, and she is still the prettiest doll I have ever seen. She has beautiful violet eyes that open and close, with long lashes. She is a natural platinum blond with hair that grows! That’s right; she has a ponytail that you can pull to waist-length by pushing her belly button in. To make her hair shorter, you just wind the plastic knob on her back. She came dressed in a violet velvet mini-dress which I no longer have. Best of all, she came with her cousins Chrissy, for my older sister, and Cinnamon, for my younger sister. We had three “matching” related dolls that were neither triplets nor old ladies!

I have so many fond memories of playing with my sisters, their dolls, and Velvet. I learned to braid hair on her. I used to get her ready for Easter or my first day of school in September by setting her long hair in curlers. I really loved her. I suppose it is my mom I should thank for picking her out for me, and my dad for keeping her safe until I took an interest in her again. He is the one who keeps and stores the special things from our childhood. Velvet stays in my bedroom now, just like she used to, wearing clothing borrowed from my daughter’s favorite doll.

Anya Looks Back – Early 70’s in the City

I have always considered myself a city girl. I was born and raised in a fairly large city. The times I have visited small towns, I feel a bit out of place. I miss the bustle I’m used to. When I really reflect on my childhood spent in the city, however, I realize that within that city was really a small town. We had a neighborhood pharmacy, library, church, hardware store and grocery store. Most of the stores were situated along one particular avenue – our own version of Main Street. We knew most the proprietors on a first name basis and they knew us. If I bought too much candy at the corner store after school, the store owner would tell my mom about it later!

The kids on the block played together most days until it was dark. On a hilly street with a fair amount of traffic and blind spots for drivers, we roller skated from side walk to street and back again in the dusk with no helmets or knee pads. We survived….Somehow. From the age of seven or so, we were allowed to walk ourselves to school, go to the corner market and even ride the bus alone. We were aware of crime happening in the city and perhaps on the outskirts of our neighborhood, but it didn’t stop us from living our lives pretty free of fear.

In some ways, it was the best of all worlds – as we got older, we ventured farther and farther out of our little neighborhood and explored all that a big city has to offer. We learned early on to appreciate and not be intimidated by diversity.

When I look at this picture, I clearly recall this playground. It was one of two large playgrounds in the neighborhood, but this one had the advantage of being behind the neighborhood library. Yes, for us poor little souls living before cable television, video games and the like, a library next door to a playground equaled heaven! In case you are interested, I’m the brunette and the blond next to me is my sister and partner in crime. Look at the way she looks adoringly up at me! Times have changed…I don’t think our old neighborhood would feel so much like a small town if I were to return today and my sis sure doesn’t look at me like that anymore!

Want to participate? If you’d like us to publish your memories too, send a favorite picture from the past and share the memories it stirs for you. Let us know what year it is from, chances are some of us were around then too!

Email to info@imperfectwomen.com.