The Year I Got a Hairpiece

My excuse- it's the early '80's, everybody was doing it.  The problem- my hair.  I have a lot of hair.  I have a lot of really fine straight hair that refuses to hold a style.  As a child my hair was always in the way.  It took forever to wash and dry.  And the worst part was I think my mom dreamed of a little curly haired daughter so I would have to sleep on the dreaded pink sponge rollers.  I hated the sponge rollers more than anything in the entire world.  I don't know what was worse, waking up with a sore head or waking up and everything was slightly damp because the hair didn't dry all the way.  Slightly damp hair meant sitting under the hair dryer.  Yes the one like you see in beauty shops.  I devised a plan to get rid of sponge rollers forever.  The Dorothy Hamill.  It was the answer to all my problems.  I was like 8 or 9 so I really didn't care that I looked like a boy.  NO MORE SPONGE ROLLERS!!!  Unfortunately my new found freedom presented a new problem.  A very big problem.  The Nutcracker.

I was a student at Nan Klinger's School of Ballet.  Nan Klinger wasn't just a dance instructor.  She was completely hardcore.  She founded the Cuyahoga Valley Youth Ballet and some of its dancers even went on to the NYC Ballet.  We knew this because she told us this every class.  Ballet was not something to be taken lightly.  It was a lifestyle, not an after school activity.  If Nan saw you out in public she would pat you on the butt to make sure you were holding those cheeks in tight.  Clench those cheeks, shoulders back, head held high.  ALWAYS.  Your hands should always be in position, slightly bent cupped inward.  I don't know if this is why, but my fingers are permanently bent in this position.  It always seemed odd to me that our ballet school that was so great was in the basement of some building.  It also seemed odd to me that Nan could teach an entire class without having to ash her cigarette.  Smoking kept her thin I suppose.  Anyway, I had been in ballet long enough and I had mastered my basic techniques so I was going to get to be a Party Girl in the Nutcracker at the Akron Civic Theatre.  Every little girl's dream.  I was so excited.  And then I went to class with my new haircut.  Nan was not impressed.  She took one look at me and I was out.  She probably would have kicked me out of the class, but I am sure we were prompt payers.  I was devastated.  Nan Klinger may have owned the ballet world in Summit County but she was no match for Kate (Kathy then) Little.  My mom is not someone who lets things stand in the way for what she (or her daughter) wants.  You can say the words Kate Little in some circles and things just happen.  Even if she isn't there.  Anyway, mom was not going to let a bad adorable, trendy haircut get in the way of my stage debut.  She took some of the hair that had been ripped off by the sponge rollers that were now not being used and had a wigmaker match a hairpiece.  I had the most beautiful ringlets and I didn't have to be tortured all night to get them.  My dream came true.  I danced in the Nutcracker for about 30 seconds and got to come out for the bows.  Next step if I kept up the hard work would be an angel.  But alas, I grew weary of ballet and moved on to other activities. Nan Klinger survived without me.  

Thanks mom for not letting anything stand in my way.

Preparing for the big night with help from Graham and Ness

Soccer

I am really not an athletic person. I am a competitive person, but I am not really good at sports.  I am not sure why.  Maybe it is genetic.  My great-grandfather was a professional runner in England, like the Chariot's of Fire guy, but it didn't get passed down to me.  Maybe it is because I didn't start sports early enough.  I did gymnastics for a year when I was 4 and ballet for a few years.  My first introduction to group sports was softball.  We practiced at Oak Park on 12th Street in Cuyahoga Falls.  I don't remember much except that we were really bad.  I am sure it had nothing to do with our coach who came to practice in her bedroom slippers and pretty much just stood there with a whistle and clipboard.  In 4th grade I joined the soccer team.  I was actually halfway decent. Who knew? The thing about girls soccer in the early 80's was if you weren't afraid of the ball and were even slightly aggressive you were already heads above the others.  I played through the 7th grade and then decided my calling was to be a cheerleader.  Not sure who I was kidding.  While I had the loud part down, my acrobatic skills were less than desirable   And even more detrimental to my career was my hair.  No matter how many perms I got my straight slick hair would not achieve the height that was needed to look like one of the team.  No offense to my cheerleader friends but ya'll have to admit the cheer squad did have the biggest hair in the school.  But, being at the small Christian school they didn't have too many options so I made the squad for one season.  Didn't last long though.  A girl who could actually do a cartwheel knocked me out the next year.  I had a decision to make.  Should I go back to soccer, or give up my athletic career.  I made my decision based on a very important thing.  Boys.  Soccer definitely had the boys that I found hot.  Soccer players had "Bono' mullets not "The Boz' mullets that the football players had.  In the 80's you really didn't have a no mullet option you know. So soccer it was.  And it was a good decision.  I had quite a few more years in me and when I moved to Tennessee soccer helped me develop some really good friendships. A couple of us girls even made a statement by trying out for the boys team at Tennessee High because they didn't have a girls team. Didn't make the team, but they did get another girls sport the next year.  Unfortunately it was softball. Thank goodness the coach actually wore shoes.

I don't think kids today get the same experience out of sports that most of us did.  Kids can join a sports team at age 4.  They can move to competitive "traveling" teams when they are like 6.  They practice 5 or 6 times a week.  Some kids love this and I think that is fine, but I think a lot of kids get left behind and by the time middle school comes around the competition is just too great so they don't get to play.  I am pretty sure I wouldn't make the team if I was a kid now.  I just wasn't that committed.

 I cherish my soccer memories and my soccer friends.  Some of these players were actually really good and I think some still play today.  The rest of us were just in it for the fun, and fun it definitely was.


And here is the gymnastics picture.  I love that my white underpants are hanging out of my leotard.  What do you bet they make thongs for 4 year olds now so that doesn't happen.

Emma

My mother is a wonderful decorator.  Her house rivals anything you would see in Southern Living or House Beautiful.  She considers every detail and is incredibly creative.  She sees things that other people miss.  She can walk into a thrift shop and turn $15 into something that you would find for sale in Pottery Barn for $150.  Her gardens are amazing too.  It doesn't hurt that my dad is an perfectionist in his renovations either.  My parents have always been able to buy a house that most people would pass on and turn it into a showcase in a few short years.  They always sell their houses in an amazingly short amount of time.  I think the average is about 3 days.  Why am I telling you all this? Two reasons.  One is that I just want to brag.  The other is because I think it is really cool that my mother is one of the few people that I know that can take something incredibly tacky and make it seem like it is completely normal.  Take Emma the Goose.  Emma was my mother's concrete goose that she picked up at some garden shop.  I don't know that whoever cast the concrete goose ever intended it to be dressed up, but somebody decided that these statues needed clothes.  It was actually quite popular in Ohio to have a dressed up goose, but that trend didn't quite make it down to Tennessee so it seemed just a little weird to my high school friends.  Emma had all sorts of outfits for every holiday and occasion.  You can see the bee above.  Here is the Valentine outfit.

She had a Santa outfit of course and a St. Patrick's outfit.  Most of the outfit's were made by Grandma Gallagher.  I think it became a game on how ridiculous the outfit could be.  Unfortunately for Emma she did not have a winter coat.

(yes this is Tennessee, not Ohio)

I am a little surprised that she didn't get to come inside when it got too cold outside.  A friend of mine from high school, John, was in love with Emma.  We all thought it was a little weird, but John was like that.  When Mom and Dad moved from the Bellebrook house my mom decided that Emma did not have a good place to live at the new condo so she gave Emma and all her outfits to John.  John was delighted.  I am pretty sure Rebecca did not have as much love for Emma and might have said a few choice words under her breath when she had to go and change the goose's outfit.  Not really sure what happened to Emma.  She may have gotten "lost" when the Byers moved to Texas.  They never speak of it and we don't ask.  

Not sure why my mom loved Emma so much.  Maybe it was because Emma is a reminder to not take things so seriously and to do what you like even if it seems a little tacky. 

Now what lesson do you think the sheep taught us?

My Brother from Another Mother

No my dad didn't have an illegitimate child, but imagine my surprise when my parents called me at UT and said "Meghan, we have some news for you.  You have a new brother".  The first thought through my head was wow that must have been some party last night because I woke up in bizzaro world.  Then I thought how in the world did this happen.  First of all my parents could not possibly have had sex.  That was just too much to imagine and I just now even had a hard time writing it. Second, we all knew my mom had ensured that she would have no more children after Graham was born.  Not saying Graham was what made her make that decision but...  ahem.  Luckily before my mind could wander anymore they clarified.  They were taking in an exchange student from Norway.  His name was Christer Jenssen and he was the same age as Graham.  I of course went into princess mode screaming he better not get my room!!!!  They assured me that he would be sharing a room with Graham and we made plans for me to meet my new brother.  When I first met him I was amazed how well he spoke English.  I could read a little Spanish and French, but my verbal skills were very lacking in foreign language department.  He seemed like a really nice guy and he fit in really well with the family.  Because I was at college I didn't get to spend that much time with him, but the nice thing about having someone from far away come live with you for a while is that you get to show them all the things that you love to do and it makes you appreciate your own life.  One of my favorite memories of Christer is the time when we went to Ohio for Christmas.  We decided to take him to downtown Cleveland to Public Square and Tower City.  Tower City had just opened and was much nicer than it is now.  There was an ice skating rink in Public Square and I loved to skate.  I thought I was a pretty good skater too.  We paid our admission fee and skated up.  I glided out onto the ice thinking I would impress Christer with my skating skills.  He didn't notice because he zoomed past me and I think he did a double axel with a twist.  He maneuvered around the rink like a pro.  I think he had me figured out because he just laughed at me as he spun around.  I screamed- "This is not fair, you probably ice skate to school in Norway".  

The thing I admired most about Christer was how he would listen.  I know this may come as a surprise to many of you but sometimes, not often, I open my mouth and speak before I think. Christer was quiet, but when he spoke it meant something.  

Thank goodness for Facebook.  I get to see pictures of him and his perfectly adorable children. I can't read most of what he writes because my Norwegian is even worse than my French, but I can still see his personality in the pictures and all the smiley faces in the comments on his posts.  I am glad I got an extra brother for a year and I hope we get to meet in person again.  

Kevin and Deanna's Wedding

19 years ago I was honored to be a part of one of the best weddings I have ever been to.  Kevin is my cousin on my mom's side- the Gallagher's.  He is about 7 months older than me and his whole life I was forced upon him.  He wanted nothing more than for me to just leave him alone, but I would have none of it.  I would nag him to play with me until he finally just gave in.  At family weddings he would be forced to dance with me so our families could get the "oh they're such cute little kids" wedding picture.  I think he eventually just gave up and decided to like me.  It was just easier.  His high school sweetheart was DeAnna Barrella, some really cute Italian girl from the other side of town.  I loved (love) DeAnna.  Mostly because she is just a great person but partly because she made Kevin be nice to me.  When they broke up I was just devastated, but alas they reunited and Kevin made the best decision of his life and asked her to marry him.  I was asked to be a bridesmaid.  It was my first time.  Kevin of course had to remind me that I wasn't really a "maid" but more of a "matron".  Thanks cuz.  The wedding was beautiful and DeAnna was stunning.  I think I miss the over the top styles of the '80's and early '90's.  I have always thought that big hair and big poofy shoulders make your butt look smaller, and as a classic "pear" this is always a goal of mine.  The priest at the wedding might have hit the vino a little early because nobody could really understand what he was saying, but his personality just added to the whole scene.  Wedding finishes, pictures at the church, pictures at Oberlin College and then off to the reception!!!  Woo Hoo!!!  For my friends in the south, you have never lived until you go to a northern wedding.  Southern weddings are very pretty, very gentile, and can be very fun but the North has you beat on most counts.  Our family is Irish.  Very, Very Irish.  DeAnna's family is Italian.  Very, Very Italian.  The spirits were flowing the minute you walked in the door (except Father ???, he had started earlier remember)  I have no idea what we ate, I just know that it was not cabbage rolls.  Kevin forbid cabbage rolls because we had them at every single family function and he hated them.  We ate and we drank,  And we drank and we ate.  Kevin considered me one of the groomsmen so he expected me to do the shots when they did.  Wow. We danced and danced.  The Chicken Dance, The Electric Slide, Brickhouse and of course polkas.  Cleveland is the home of Frankie Yankovic- the King of Polka and dad of Weird Al. If you are from Cleveland you know how to polka.  Then the Italian's came out in their really nice suits and danced the tarantella (?).  This Irish girl couldn't do that, but unfortunately I think I tried (yikes).   Then it came time for the bridal dance.  The Bride and Groom go to the dance floor and people stand in line to dance with them.  You pay to dance so the couple will have some cash on their honeymoon, but you get a shot of liquor for your cash.  My last real memory of the wedding is one of the uncles holding the money bag asking if I would like a shot of schnapps or of whiskey.  I thought he said to have both, so I did.  I am told we stayed for a few more hours, but who knows.  I paid for that wedding for days.  I couldn't even eat my chicken paprikash the next day but it was totally worth it.  Their wedding was one of those events that people use as a marker in family history- Before/After Kevin and Deanna's wedding.  They really are a good match and I am very happy for them.

Weddings now are so pinterest perfect with every detail planned.  I long for the days when it was ok to have your reception at the Knights of Columbus so long as there was a keg and a good DJ.  Put some flowers on the table to dress the place up.  It isn't what matters anyway.  There are whole businesses devoted to the perfect wedding.  It starts with the perfect proposal, then the perfect announcement, then the perfect save the date card.  Tens of thousands of dollars are spent to ensure that the toothpicks are just the correct shade of rose to coordinate with the flowers flown in from the Netherlands.  I have even heard of weddings where the couple request that the guests wear certain colors so the pictures will look better.  Really????  I wish these people could have been at Kevin and Deanna's wedding and experienced a truly exceptional day.

Pimp Granddaddy

Like most people who grew up in the depression my grandparents were frugal.  They lived for the first years of their marriage in a duplex with my great-grandparents.  Now don't get me wrong, when I say frugal I do not mean cheap.  They definitely enjoyed having "things", but they knew that fun things came after everything else was paid for and there was money in the bank, or hidden under the stairs, for a rainy day.  My grandmother loved to tell the story of her Dodge Charger and her Corvette with the airbrushed butterfly on the hood. The Corvette got them involved with the Corvette club which I probably can't write about because I am trying to keep this blog rating PG-13 or under.  I will just post this picture of a Corvette club party.  Yep, that is my grandparents.

Need I say more

But this story isn't about those cars, this story is about the Cadillac.  I have mentioned before that my grandfather had poor health and was an early patient of open heart surgery.  People generally didn't live long after they had their chests cracked open in those days and I truly believe that knowing that he may not have long to live changed the way my grandfather lived the last 15 years or so of his life. Posted on his bathroom mirror was a note that said 3 things I want to do before I die.  I am not sure if this is exact, but it was something like this.

1. A few years of good living

2. See all the grandkids graduate from high school (when he wrote this Ashleigh hadn't been born yet)

3. One more nice car

He got the few years.  Graham was close to graduation.  Only one more thing to go, so he showed up one day with a pimped out white Cadillac with red velvet interior.  We were all kind of shocked. It was so white.  It was so red inside.  It was so "un-Grandpa", but you could tell that he really loved it.  We teased him and asked if he had practiced his "South Lorain Lean". (A common driving position in which the driver holds the wheel with his left hand while leaning to his right toward the passenger seat, usually bobbing his head or bumpin' with the beat. It's a pretty badass way to drive. Copied from Urban Dictionary- known in many places as the gangsta lean.  Snoop Dog never made it to South Lorain or he would have given it the correct name the "South Lorain Lean")  He was so proud driving it and would take the long way to get everywhere.  (oh wait, nevermind, he did that in all his cars).  My grandmother loved it too.  She didn't drive it until after he died.  He probably wouldn't have made it as long if she did.  I couldn't find a picture of Grandpa with it, but found this one of Grandma and me.

I know some people would say my grandfather's wish of this car was materialistic and that the money could have been spent better elsewhere, but that is what he wanted and if his desire for this car kept him around a little longer I think it was a really good thing to want.  

The Perm

Many of you have heard of the legend, but few have actually seen it.  Greg Little's perm circa 1977 or 1978.  I had memories of it from childhood, but I wasn't sure if it was real or if I was just mixing up my life with an episode of Welcome Back Kotter.  Alas, while rummaging through the family pictures I found the proof and here it is.  Legend has it that he had so much hair and it was so curl resistant that it had to be permed twice.  While he was/is always very nicely dressed and has a nice classic style we aren't quite sure what made him go to the trendy "jewfro" around this time.  I am glad that I can finally validate this memory, but Dad all I can say is what were you thinking?   Oh wait... looks like I followed in his footsteps not once, but twice in my life.