|
Post by mich64 on May 16, 2012 14:37:29 GMT
As a child and young adult, I would not even consider eating cheesecake. It took a lot of convincing for me to try it. I was quite surprised by the taste and the differences between baked ones and ones that require no baking.
My sister-in-law brought an apple caramel cheesecake for dessert at this past Sunday's family dinner. It was quite delicious.
Cheers
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 18, 2012 8:32:46 GMT
At this time of year, I remember how hot it would be in our un air conditioned school, which was one of the reasons that the school year would end at the end of May in Mississippi. When we moved to Calfornia, I was totally shocked that school dragged on until mid-June. However, I was a bit consoled by the fact that the school day ended at 2:50 pm in California instead of 3:15 pm.
|
|
|
Post by rikita on May 18, 2012 19:55:09 GMT
i have vague memories of having school on saturdays when i was very little...
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on May 18, 2012 20:32:56 GMT
That was normal in France for a long time. At the moment, elementary schools only go to school 4 days a week (Wednesday is off), but the new government just announced that it was probably going to go to 5-day weeks in 2013 but with shorter hours.
|
|
|
Post by mich64 on May 19, 2012 0:39:19 GMT
I remember my elementary being 9:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Monday to Friday. There was a 15 minute recess in the morning and afternoon and 1 hour for lunch. We would go home for lunch then as my mom did not start to work full time until the last of us were done elementary. The school year would start the first Monday in September and finish at the end of the third weekend in June.
Our High school began at 9:00 a.m. to 3:15 p.m. with a 45 minute lunch break and we would begin the first Monday of September and go to the beginning of June with one week of final exams. Also Monday to Friday.
Those final weeks of May into June were uncomfortable but the teachers would schedule outdoor activities/lessons on the really warm days.
|
|
|
Post by rikita on May 19, 2012 18:09:14 GMT
all schools i went to started around 8 a.m. though sometimes you got the first period off (good days) and sometimes you had "hour zero" at 7:15 a.m. (bad days) in the higher schools... i don't think in any of my schools it was common to go home for lunch. you either had the school lunch, or brought some food...
start of the school year might have been regular when i was little, but later (and until now) it varies every year, because they give different regions different times for their holidays each year so the whole country doesn't go on vacation at the same time...
as our summer breaks here are only six weeks, there is bound to be some warm time in there (like school might go into july, or it might start already in august) - if it is over 30 degrees by 10 a.m. then you get either the last hour or two off, or you have shortened hours (30 minutes intead of 45).
|
|
|
Post by Kimby on Jun 7, 2012 18:19:11 GMT
A memory just popped into my head of the mass foot inspections at the start of the school year.
Because we went into the showers barefooted after PE (gym) class, a "nurse" inspected everyone's feet for plantars warts and athlete's foot. Though I could have been embarrassed, I was thrilled when I was diagnosed with a plantar's wart one year, because it meant I did not have to strip for showers for months while it was being treated with an ointment that slowly dissolved it, and could make do with a discreet sponge bath instead.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2012 20:07:29 GMT
I don't have the slightest idea about now, but when I was a young boy, long before the age of really understanding anything about sex, one of the sacred artefacts of being of the male gender was a condom package. It was understood that this was some sort of magic item that would open a world of possibilities when we were older.
However, the package did not offer much information about what on earth it was for, but there is one element that I never forgot in the weird instructions about it. It was (in the United States) marked in large letters "FOR PREVENTION OF DISEASE ONLY."
Later in life, I learned that this was because the religious lobbies had succeeded in removing any reference to contraception on the packages.
It is rather ironic that so many years later, for just about everybody, a condom is now indeed "for prevention of disease only."
|
|
|
Post by bixaorellana on Aug 7, 2012 16:40:39 GMT
Does anyone have the experience of suddenly, in the middle of the day, unprompted as far as you can tell, having a completely forgotten dream of the night before float up into full consciousness?
I'm always fascinated by this. When it happens, I know I'm remembering a dream of the previous night, but how I know this, & why I suddenly remember it, I can't say.
|
|
|
Post by htmb on Aug 7, 2012 17:26:59 GMT
That happens to me all the time. Often, some obvious association will trigger the memory.
I always say I'm going to write dreams down so I will remember them, but I never do. It's partly because I'm just not disciplined about those things, but also because my handwriting is so awful I need to type everything.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 7, 2012 17:31:22 GMT
I went through a brief period of writing down dreams -- notebook next to the bed -- but I quickly found it necessary to stop. That's because I discovered that if you really do write things down, you remember incredible quantities of important details. And each day passing, you remember more and more as you train your brain to hold onto it. Before the week was out, I discovered that there was no way that I had time to write 4 or 5 full pages of detail every time I woke up.
|
|
|
Post by htmb on Aug 7, 2012 17:43:59 GMT
Oh, now I don't feel so bad about not doing it. Besides, there are so many of my dreams that I would hate to remember over and over again.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 27, 2012 18:36:21 GMT
I remember an early trip to France with my parents driving around to see new things with my grandparents and my brother. I don't remember exactly where, but we crossed the border into Germany and went to a café there somethere. My grandmother had an urgent need to go to the restroom, and she came back very much relieved with a big smile on her face. "All my life, I've wanted to shit on Germany!" she announced.
|
|
|
Post by fumobici on Sept 28, 2012 2:42:10 GMT
Even after having seen one of those bizarre coprophile German toilets?!?!?
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2012 5:12:15 GMT
They use the same ones in a lot of eastern France.
|
|
|
Post by rikita on Sept 28, 2012 14:47:19 GMT
what does coprophile mean?
|
|
|
Post by onlymark on Sept 28, 2012 14:52:54 GMT
I don't really think you want to know.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2013 17:57:38 GMT
I sometimes wonder if my biological father's name was part of his doom.
His name was Cuthbert, while his brothers and sister all had normal names: William, Richard, Robert and Patricia. It can't have been easy growing up with such a name. As an adult, he was called 'Cut' and most people probably had no idea of his full name.
|
|
|
Post by htmb on Feb 9, 2013 20:23:10 GMT
Cuthbert? Here's assuming neither you nor your brother inherited the name. Do you know how your father's parents selected the name? Perhaps he was named after an earlier relative.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Feb 10, 2013 6:42:27 GMT
His family was completely Wisconsin Swiss. In fact my grandfather's name was Wilhelm even though he passed himself all as Bill. I think that probably they just didn't know what "normal" names were supposed to be or else it was the sort of situation where the priest tells you what you should call your kids.
|
|
|
Post by htmb on Feb 11, 2013 4:34:50 GMT
Some of those names were normal for the time. My father in law was named after a famous person of his time. He hated his name, but still named his son "Jr."
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2013 8:02:03 GMT
My brother was often teased in school for his middle name, which came from our maternal grandfather: Emile. Being half-French, I don't think that either of us thought there was anything at all strange about the name. I don't know if he suffered at all from the teasing (usually just a guffaw when somebody would see his full name), but he is the sort of person who might have, because he always craved to fit in much more than I did.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2013 12:13:44 GMT
50 years ago yesterday, my father died. He had been hospitalized a few days prior with a heart attack, massive coronary of sorts. I was 9 and a half years old. I was not able to visit him in the hospital because they had a rule that you had to be ten years old to visit. So, my last vision of him was waving to him from a ten story window in the hospital the evening before he died during the night. I remember my aunt, my mother's sister, Aunt Rose, coming into my bedroom that morning after to tell me that he had died. I had to have been in massive denial or totally oblivious to what what was going on at the time. My Aunt Rose told me I couldn't go to school that day. I was insistent. I remember on desperately wanting to go as it was the ONE day that the nuns allowed the students wear anything other than the standard uniform and I had a dress all picked out in anticipation of the prospect. I remember walking down the long winding staircase that led into the living room. I heard crying, and, inquired, "Why is everyone crying?". Later, at the farm after the funeral, I remember playing with my cousins (one of 60 or so of us, I was one of the youngest). I then recall my father's sister, Aunt Bertha, chastising me for playing as though I had to be sitting there crying, stoic and still .I then remember my mother telling my aunt to leave me alone. Of course, over the ensuing days and weeks it all set in.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2013 12:53:18 GMT
The first death in my life was that of my paternal grandfather when I was six years old. My brother and I were brought home from school early. I remember that I was totally indifferent about the event, because I didn't much like him even though my grandparents lived next door. He was a grumpy old man with not an ounce of tenderness that I ever saw. The next day we went to see him at the funeral home -- another first for me. I thought it was kind of weird and the only impression it made on me was to see my grandfather's corpse dressed better than I had ever seen him dressed alive. Then there was the funeral service, which was boring, but it was kind of cool to go to the cemetery and see all of the tombs and stuff. I think I remember my grandmother crying, but I have absolutely no recollection of anybody else being all that affected. I'm guessing that he would not have won any popularity contest.
|
|
|
Post by bixaorellana on Mar 18, 2013 15:13:26 GMT
Wow, Casimira -- even though that is immensely sad, what strikes me is the mental health aspect of it. Even though your child's mind held the truth at bay for a while, the whole memory of the event was preserved in vivid detail.
My dad told me once he had no memory of his mother's death, even though he was in his mid-twenties when she died. He said that although obviously he knew she was dead & that he'd attended her funeral, his memory was completely blank on the subject.
The first "real" i.e., non picture book I ever read was Heidi, when I was seven. I sobbed and sobbed when the grandfather died, thinking how tragic it would be to lose my own grandfather.
|
|
|
Post by htmb on Mar 18, 2013 19:46:06 GMT
Losing a parent at any age is difficult, but particularly sad for a child. You miss out on so much. I hope you have some good memories to treasure, casimira. It's too bad one of the adults just didn't take you up to see your father in the hospital. To heck with that rule.
|
|
|
Post by rikita on Mar 19, 2013 21:15:19 GMT
(sorry for the off-topic - but where in heidi does the grandfather die? i don't remember that part...)
the first close person that i remember dying is my maternal grandfather. i was already 15 or so. i didn't cry when i was told, and felt bad, because i thought i was expected to cry. i only cried at the funeral, which was a long time later, like a month...
the rule about not going to the hospital before age ten is quite cruel, when it is someone's parent in there...
|
|
|
Post by bixaorellana on Mar 19, 2013 22:34:30 GMT
I don't think they have that rule anymore in the US. Actually, I think some hospitals demanded that visitors had to be over 12. As far as I can tell, anyone is allowed now, even in the delivery room.
Re: Heidi ~~ the book I had was (obviously) a translation & may have been a combination of more than one of the Heidi books (aren't there two?). I'm sure the old fellow croaked in it, though.
(even further off topic, but certainly random, as memories go ~~ the book made me want to drink milk out of a wooden bowl, just like Heidi. There were none of those around our house, so I made do with ceramic ones.)
|
|
|
Post by rikita on Mar 20, 2013 22:24:09 GMT
strange, i just re-read both books about a year ago and don't remember anything about the grandfather dying... maybe there is a third book?
|
|
|
Post by bixaorellana on Mar 21, 2013 6:58:21 GMT
Rikita, it's been well over fifty years since I last read it, so I don't doubt what you're saying. I wish I knew where I got the idea, though, as it's a strong & definite memory. Does he get sick, maybe?
|
|