Susan Writes

A Surprise Gift

Posted on December 31, 2014 by susanrray

A Griddler. A surprise gift that I’d admired at a friend’s house. A countertop appliance that’s a grill and a griddle and opens with two sides or closes and cooks top and bottom at the same time. “We can cook everything on this!” I said. “Pancakes, hamburgers, quesadillas, grilled cheese sandwiches, steak, fish, grilled veggies. Even bacon and eggs – bacon on the grill side and eggs on the griddle.”

Husband smiled and nodded. “You’re right,” he said. We checked out how the Griddler worked, switched the plates from grill to griddle, and then there was the question. Where will we store it? I don’t like countertops completely covered. Coffee pot, small toaster oven, cookbook stand, knife block, and a bowl for fresh fruit – enough clutter for me. Husband said, “How about in the cabinet over the microwave? Take out that griddle that Grannie Ray gave us?” A wedding gift – a griddle that is also a waffle maker and even though it’s 45 years old it makes perfect waffles. It stays.

I knew what Husband was thinking. The pantry, aka the mudroom*. A walk-through room from the front porch to the kitchen and with shelves on both sides. Filled shelves. Recycling, reusable grocery bags, canned and boxed food, paper products, serving platters and bowls, pots and bowls too big for the kitchen cabinets, baskets to serve chips, and more. Stuff crammed. Stuff falling.

“The best place would be in the mudroom,” I said. Husband raised his eyebrows. “And I know it needs cleaning out.” Husband nodded slowly. It’s my space. An annex to the kitchen.

Standing on a ladder, I started at the top, the shelf I stand on tiptoe to reach, but have avoided since two baskets attacked me when I grabbed for a package of Fourth of July napkins. How many baskets does anyone need? Certainly not one with broken reeds, or one with dried cheese stuck on the bottom, or four the same size.

I culled treasures. A grater, with a turning handle and small metal drums. A stovetop coffee pot. A set of flatware that I took out of my kitchen drawer years ago. A George Forman griddle. The perfect chip and dip dish, so I thought twenty years ago. It’s been used twice. Three bread-baking tubes. What a clever idea! Bake a 2” round loaf of bread. Slice it thin, toast the slices, and top each with cream cheese and green pepper jelly. I never got past the bake it; the dough in the middle didn’t bake.

Gone are plastic cottage cheese lids and more than a few take-out boxes. A can of sauerkraut dated April 2012. Packages of stuff to mix with sour cream for dips. A can of 2010 tomato juice.

I rearranged. I cleaned. I organized. And that brand new Griddler now has a home. On a mudroom shelf, right at waist level. All I have to do is buy a couple of steaks and Husband and I will have supper. Right?

*It’ll always be the mudroom to me. When my children were young, it’s where they sat on a bench and took off their snow boots or muddy shoes. They hung their coats on hooks and put gloves in baskets. Or they left everything on the mudroom floor.

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Filed under: Christmas, Gifts | Tagged: clean out pantry, Griddler, surprise gift | 1 Comment »

Are Ornaments Necessary?

Posted on December 24, 2014 by susanrray

For just a moment, long enough to take a picture, I decided our Christmas tree was beautiful with only lights – no ornaments, no angel, no red ropes -just lights. It was late one night in early December, and I was really tired when I posted that picture on Facebook and wrote “Are ornaments necessary?” And Facebook friends chimed in.

Nell: Real Simple magazine recommended this style of decorating about twelve years ago. I tried it and got zero votes of approval from my grown and gone children.

Kim: If they are special to you.

Janet: Well, you know the hard part is over. Go for it. (I didn’t even do the hard part. Husband did.)

Carolyn: I found out I could do without some ornaments this year. Got tired of finding a place to hang all of them. I looked at them, remembered, and put them back in the box. Does that count? (Yes!)

Jimmie: I’ve made the grievous move from a live tree to an artificial one. I’ll enjoy going through the ornaments, but there will be serious downsizing. Things change, but the tree will be pretty, just different.

Sara: The ornaments tell stories of our life and Christmas past and present. I’ve seen many lovely trees, but for us, the ornaments matter because they connect us to one another, whether present or absent, living or not, family or friends.

Becky: I’ve passed the ornament memories to Staci (daughter), which she loves, and I simplified my tree, just red ornaments and frosted pinecones. Different tree, same Christmas memories! It’s all in the heart anyway.

Carol: (a retired teacher) I still enjoy the ornaments because I have names of students written on many and I say a prayer for each of them as I hang their ornaments. The ornaments bring such fond memories of days gone by and remind me of the love we shared during the school year and beyond.

Tanya: I love personal ornaments. It warms me so when I open my box of decorations and see all those handmade ornaments given to me by my children and special friends.

Daughter: Yes!!!! I’ll send some elves over to help tomorrow. So you only have to do the top third and maybe a little rearranging on the bottom. And don’t forget the train underneath!

My friends encouraged me. The next morning I strung the red bead ropes and hung my fragile ornaments near the top of the tree and my bird ornaments nestled in a flock. My two oldest Grands and I decorated our most beautiful tree ever, and then they helped Husband set up the train.

I didn’t rearrange a single ornament that my Grands hung. Not even the three that touched each other on one branch. A plastic glitter bell from the first Christmas that Husband and I celebrated as man and wife. A glove ornament cut from one of Granny’s quilts. An elegant green and red ball that was gift from a friend.

I knew the real answer to my question. Ornaments aren’t necessary. Neither are lights or angels or electric trains or even a tree. None are necessary to celebrate Christmas. But my tree is beautiful and late on Christmas night, I plan to sip tea and cherish each ornament. Its memory. Its love. Its story.

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: Christmas, Christmas ornaments, Christmas tree, Facebook friends | Leave a comment »

Last Minute Gifts!

Posted on December 19, 2014 by susanrray

All I want for Christmas is my Christmas shopping finished! I’m not a shopper so shopping for gifts can be a chore. But I love to give gifts. Don’t like to shop and love to give. How contradictory! That’s why I search for ways to keep shopping at a minimum, and I steal ideas from friends and family and printed articles. Anyone, anyplace.
Subscriptions. Buy a magazine, keep a subscription card that is tucked among its pages, and give the magazine along with a handwritten note that says, “Merry Christmas all year long! You’ll receive an issue every month.” If your brother opens the gifts and says that he already receives this magazine, ask what other one he’d like and be glad you haven’t sent in the subscription card yet. Magazines are available on all topics – something for every boy and girl, man and woman. Or give a newspaper subscription, even if your aunt gets the local paper, pay for the next three months’ issues.
Buy one for everybody. I hope all my Grands like their blankets with their names embroidered on them. One Grand ask for a soft blanket, so all are getting one. If your Uncle John asked for a flashlight, wouldn’t other relatives like one? If sister needs a water bottle, the kind that holds either hot or cold beverages and made of the safest materials, get a water bottle for everybody. Or how about giving all your neighbors and friends a hunk of good cheddar cheese, a box of fancy crackers, and a jar of olives?
Gift cards. Not the plastic kind, the personal kind. In July, four of my Grands gave me handmade birthday cards that read, “I’m taking you out for a treat at _____.” (They each chose a different place.) The time we spent together, just the two of us, licking ice cream cones or munching cupcakes was worth much more than the cost of the treat. And not just grandmothers would like this gift. Grandfathers, aunts, uncles, parents, neighbors, and even children.
How about a gift card for chores? Clean out the kitchen cabinets, paint a room, make home repairs – you know what your parents or children would like done. Put a cleaning cloth or paintbrush or wrench, whatever fits the task, inside a beautiful gift bag and when the gift is opened, determine a time that the chore will be completed.
And most everyone likes a trip or a special event. One of my all-time favorite Christmas gifts was a promise for a ticket to a Ray Charles concert. Husband and I sat center front, three rows back, while Ray Charles and the Nashville Symphony performed on stage.
Make it personal. It’s probably too late to order and receive a cell phone case with the grandchildren’s picture printed on it, but there’s plenty of time to write, “You get to choose your favorite picture for a new phone case!” And wouldn’t a recent bride or a teenager love this gift?
There are very few shopping days left. Surely, on Christmas Day, I’ll have a gift for one and all.

Filed under: Christmas, Uncategorized | Tagged: Gifts, last minute shopping | Leave a comment »

Granny’s Christmas Gifts

Posted on December 18, 2014 by susanrray

My Grands would never ask me “Will tobacco sell high this year?” but that’s a question I asked my granny when I was a young girl and sat beside her on her couch. In her lap, Granny held a cardboard gift box lid filled with cracked black walnuts, and she held a metal nut picker in her hand.

After Thanksgiving, Granny spent most days fretting about the price of tobacco and picking black walnuts out of their shells. She’d say, “I don’t know how much I can give you for Christmas. It depends on what my tabaccy sells for. At least the walnuts are good this year.” The tobacco had been grown on the family farm and although Granny never came close to it – not to plant or sucker or hoe or cut or stalk or strip or haul it – it was her tobacco because it grew on her parents’ farmland where she grew up.

While Granny, my paternal grandmother, fretted about tobacco prices, her hands stayed busy. She kept a list of people to give a pound of black walnuts and she touched every nut – several times. Two walnut trees stood close to the tobacco field. In October when the nuts, enclosed in green and yellow thick hard hulls, began to fall, Granny picked them up –filling many five-gallon buckets. Not a single nut was left on the ground. She and I searched for nuts that rolled far from the trees or hid under leaves.

Granny was impatient waiting for those green hard hulls to soften and turn black. She laid some nuts on her wooden back porch and used a hammer and chisel to remove the hulls, but most nuts were taken to our house. When the hulls began to turn black, we spread the nuts on our gravel driveway. The mushy hulls fell off under the pressure of the cars’ tires. Then Granny and I wore brown cotton gloves, designated the walnut gloves, and rubbed the remaining scraps of the hull from the thick shell. It was a nasty job.

After that, Granny spread the nuts on flattened brown cardboard boxes to dry and cure inside her house for at least two weeks. Again, she was impatient and because she and I liked the flavor of green walnuts, she’d crack and pick out nutmeats for us to eat. (More than once I had a green walnut stomachache.) Granny used a hand operated lever nutcracker, mounted on a two-foot tall log, to crack the thick, hard shells. She held each nut securely, in perfect position so that the shell practically fell away from the nutmeat.

Granny’s sharp nut picker was a precise tool in her hands, and she didn’t let me or anyone else, use it. She removed half and quarter pieces, and then she’d spread those nutmeats on newspaper to dry out for a few days. Figuring that a quart jar measured a pound, she measured and then filled empty Christmas card boxes with walnuts.

Granny’s Christmas gifts depended on the growing season. Family and friends were always glad when the walnuts were good. And if tobacco sold really high, I got a crisp five-dollar bill stuck inside a Christmas card, but some years I got a one-dollar bill. No wonder I asked about the price of tobacco.

Filed under: Christmas | Tagged: Black walnuts, Christmas gifts, Granny, tobacco | 1 Comment »

Ride Along Partner

Posted on December 10, 2014 by susanrray

“Gran, where we going?” Elaine asked as she settled in her car seat in my van. She’s 3 ½, a busy toddler, and the age when any outing is fun. “We’re going to the bank, the library, and do a little shopping,” I said.

“Do they have suckers?” my Grand asked.

As we drove toward the bank, Elaine and I talked about what her brothers and sisters and parents were doing that day. And then she asked, “Gran, what’s Pop doing?” I answered, “Blowing leaves. All those brown leaves on the trees in our yard have fallen off and covered our driveway so Pop is blowing leaves off the driveway into the woods.”

Elaine shouted, “With his mouth?” When one of my Grands says something that shows a misunderstanding I try not to laugh, but this time I burst out laughing. I explained that Pop uses a leaf blower, a machine like a vacuum cleaner except instead of sucking up dirt on the floor, it blows air and moves the leaves. Elaine stuck her thumb in her mouth and twirled her hair with her other hand – her comfort. I apologized for laughing.

We drove through the drive-through window at the bank, and Elaine chose a red sucker that replaced her thumb in her mouth. At the library, I slid books in the drive-through return and Elaine asked, “Who catches them on the other side?” She was happy with my answer, “I don’t know.”

On to shopping. It was quick stop at one store to look for a new purse for me. Two large racks of purses hung from floor level to high above my head. From the bottom rack, Elaine immediately grabbed the biggest, brightest red purse adorned with silver brads and fringe. “Get this one!” she shouted. It fell to the floor when she put it on her shoulder and she decided it was too heavy. “How about this one?” A tiny, turquoise purse with a long shoulder strap. She wore that purse as I continued looking and when I held up a black and brown shoulder bag for her approval, she wrinkled her nose, shook her head, and said, “That’s dull.” I bought it anyway.

Back to the van, Elaine decided that she’d ride in her big sister’s booster seat, not her car seat, and her strong-willed independence came through. “But Mama always lets me!” she screamed. I knew that one time she buckled herself in a booster seat while the family van was parked in the carport. To distract my Grand, I commented that she and I were dressed almost alike. Blue jeans and denim jackets. “But I don’t have a shirt with a balloon on it,” she said and pointed to my shirt. And I told here that I don’t have a shirt with a dog on it. As Elaine climbed into her car seat, I said, “When you get big, I’ll let you wear my balloon shirt.” Elaine replied, “When you get little, I’ll let you wear my dog shirt.”

I’m thankful that I live close to Elaine’s home. Most times when I say to my daughter, Elaine’s mother, “Would Elaine like to ride along with me this morning?” the answer is yes, and I have a partner. It’s a win, win, win for Daughter, Grand, and me.

Filed under: Grandchildren | Tagged: ride along, running errands, shopping trip | 5 Comments »

Huddleston Knob

Posted on December 4, 2014 by susanrray

If I had the money, I’d buy a small mountain. For purely sentimental reasons. The ad in Sunday’s newspaper states, “The Huddleston Knob. Absolute Auction. December 6. 2:00 p.m.” I grew up seeing that knob everyday.

Huddleston Knob is advertised “as possibly the most nostalgic tract of land in Pickett County. 138.05 acres of woodland providing a backdrop for many of the homes in Byrdstown, TN. It is undoubtedly the most recognizable parcel of land in the community. Sightseers, hikers, and neighbors have all gone up to the summit for the 360-degree breathtaking views.”

I never climbed to the top of The Knob, but I drove Dad’s tractor on our family’s farm at its foothills. Dad taught me to drive the tractor when I was 10 years old so that others who were bigger and stronger could do the heavy work. Like setting plants while riding the tobacco setting machine in the spring. And at harvest time, loading sticks of cut tobacco and throwing hay bales on the wagon behind the tractor. Our family’s farm was passed down to Dad from his mother who was raised there and my great-grandmother was a Huddleston. (Now I wonder if her family ever owned The Knob. Too bad I didn’t ask that question years ago when Dad or Granny could have told me. It may be time for a little research.)

My parents’ home was six miles from the farm, and from the back porch and a picture window, I watched the seasons change on Huddleston Knob. Our family called it The Mountain. It gave an excuse to sit in the back porch rocking chairs and provided calm for conversation. Mom would say, “Let’s get something to drink and watch The Mountain for a bit.” Or Dad would say, “Come on out to the porch. Let’s look at The Mountain and figure out what to do.” Joys and problems were shared as we stared across the miles.

After my children and niece were born, The Mountain took on a new name: Granny’s Mountain. Mom’s rocking chair was beside the picture window where she held her grandchildren and read aloud and told Purple Cow stories and rocked the children to sleep. I’m not sure who first called it Granny’s Mountain, but she made it hers when she talked about how it was turning green in the spring and orange and yellow in the fall and gray in the winter. Among Mom’s treasures was a wooden tray that Son made for her when he was 8 years old. It’s painted yellow and decorated with a child’s simple drawing of a tall green mountain and the words Granny’s Mountain. Mom kept it propped up on her kitchen counter.

As I read the words “The Huddleston Knob” in the newspaper ad, I smell the freshly turned and plowed dirt in the tobacco field and feel the itch from hay on a hot summer day. I see the serene green mountain, taste the lemonade, and feel the contentment of sitting beside Mom and Dad. I hear Mom say to Son, “Oh, I love it! Now no matter what season it is, I’ll always have my green mountain.”

And no matter who owns that 138 acres, Huddleston Knob belongs to all of us who have such memories. Some things can’t be bought.

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Filed under: Nature | Tagged: Granny's Mountain, Huddleston Knob | 5 Comments »

Day After Thanksgiving

Posted on November 27, 2014 by susanrray

Some people shop on Friday after Thanksgiving. It’s their tradition. One year, I thought I should see what the hullabaloo of Black Friday was all about and went shopping. I vowed to never again set my foot inside a store on the biggest shopping day of the year. That day has held other traditions for me.

When I was growing up, that Friday was hog killing day. As a teacher, Dad had the day off and the temperature was right for handling fresh pork. By day’s end, pork chops, sausage, ribs, and roasts filled our freezer, and salted down ham and bacon slabs hung high from the barn rafters. That night’s supper was fried pork tenderloin, Mom’s Martha White biscuits (slathered with butter), and molasses.

In my young adult years, I started projects on Friday. I made Christmas gifts – cross-stitched samplers, jars of jelly, ceramic bowls. I even sewed a housecoat for Granny and a pantsuit for Mom. And I made both my children Christmas outfits: Daughter’s dress, Son’s vest. Seems the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was longer then.

When Husband and I moved our family to this house in the woods, Friday was the final fall cleanup-the-yard day. Husband spent all day and Daughter, Son, and I helped. We picked up sticks. We raked. We blew. We dragged huge mounds of leaves on top of a tarpaulin from our grassy yard to our leaf-covered woods. Yard work was finally finished until spring.

Then came the year when Husband and I hosted a pancake breakfast on the day after Thanksgiving. Daughter and her friends had scattered to colleges and jobs after high school graduation. From Texas to South Carolina, from Kentucky to Florida, these sixteen girlfriends separated, but remained close friends. In twos and threes, some attended the same university, but Daughter went alone to a Berry College and missed her friends.

When I heard that all were coming home for Thanksgiving, I thought of the mornings that these girls had eaten pancakes around our dining room table after slumber parties so I sent out an invitation. “Pancake Breakfast. 10:00 a.m. Friday after Thanksgiving at the Ray’s house.” And they all came! They hugged. They laughed. They cried. They rejoiced to be together again. And they ate every pancake and slice of bacon put on the table. Some stayed an hour, some until mid-afternoon.

A tradition had begun. Once a year for ten years, our entrance hall banister was covered with car keys. Purses slung in corners. Shoes kicked off under the table. These young women giggled like teenagers walking the halls of Cookeville High School. Not all came every year, but at their request, I continued to flip pancakes. They talked about weddings, in-laws, jobs, moves, and babies – all good things that eventually brought this tradition to its end.

I don’t have plans for hog killing or sewing or yard cleanup or pancake breakfast this year. Husband will find the Hefty garbage bags filled with garland and I’ll find the red velvet bows and we’ll hang them across the front porch. I’ll set up the Christmas caroler family and the tabletop Christmas tree that’s decorated with shells. Christmas decorating will begin. But not too vigorously. Friday after Thanksgiving should be a restful day. And surely there’ll be a football game to watch.

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Filed under: Autumn, Thanksgiving, Traditions | Tagged: Day after Thanksgiving, hog killing, pancake breakfast | 2 Comments »

Blowing Leaves

Posted on November 20, 2014 by susanrray

Blowing leaves. It’s a chore I like and that’s a good thing since Husband and I live in the woods. I like the earth smell. I like being outside on crisp, cool, sunny days. And blowing leaves from our driveway and yard gives me thinking time. My mind wanders.

The squirrels’ storehouses must be full. There’s a multitude of acorn caps around the oak trees, and the ground is littered with fragments of shells and hulls under hickory trees. Those furry little critters have really strong jaws and teeth to break hickory nuts for such a meager amount of meat inside.

This would be a good year to make Christmas tree ornaments using the balls from the sweetgum trees. Wonder if my Grands would think it was as much fun as I did when I was a kid? I sprayed gold paint on the spiky balls gold and sprinkled multi-colored glitter on them. Anything with glitter is fun.

Leaf blowing vs. raking. Blowing is much easier and gets the job done faster, but probably doesn’t burn nearly as many calories. (I looked this up. Based on my weight, raking leaves burns about 250 calories per hour and blowing, about 200.) Blowing makes a loud noise; raking, only the rustling sound of the leaves.

My green furry earmuffs, which I wear to muffle the loud noise of the electric leaf blower and to keep my ears warm, are ugly. I’ve had them since I was about ten years old and they still fit.

People have said to me, “Oh, you live in the woods? Then you don’t have yard work.” They’ve never picked up sticks and twigs after a storm. Or removed leaves from their driveway twice a week from mid-September through December. Or done the whole yard at least five times. They’ve never lived in the woods.

How can a sycamore leaf be as big as a platter? All the trees have produced a bumper crop of leaves this year – more and bigger. And the fall leaf colors have never been brighter. Yellow maples, orange-red and brown oaks, red sweet gums and dogwoods, spotted brown sycamores, yellow and brown hickories.

I’m thankful that I can walk and carry a leaf blower. I’m thankful that our two oldest Grands are willing to help rake and blow leaves and pick up sticks. They don’t have to bend far to get the sticks. I love when one says, “When is it my turn to blow leaves?” and I’m glad to pay them for their work.

I hate winding up the 100-foot extension cord on the storage reel. It takes three minutes; I’d rather continue blowing leaves for another half hour. As I begin winding the cord around the slick plastic reel the cord slips and won’t stay put, and then I always scrap my knuckles on something while turning the handle. I tell myself that putting away the tools is part of the job.

Leaves continue to fall during the two hours that I’ve been blowing leaves from under shrubs and to clear the driveway. I look up. From the very top of a huge oak tree, one single leaf drifts over my head and lands at my feet. I’ll get it next time.

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Filed under: Autumn | Tagged: Blowing leaves, Fall Leaves, Leaf blower, life in the woods | Leave a comment »

Another Muddy Pond Trip

Posted on November 12, 2014 by susanrray

A couple of weeks ago, I invited four Grands on our annual Muddy Pond field trip to learn how sorghum is made and see a community different from ours. The two older siblings declined so five-year-old Ruth, who went last year, became her three-year-old sister’s tour guide. “It’s a long way, Elaine, but they have lots of sprinkles at the store. Gran, how many can we get this year?”

As we drove toward Monterey, I pointed out the colors of the leaves. Orange, yellow, red. “Do you see the huckleback brown?” Ruth asked. What color? Surely, I didn’t understand what she said. “Huckleback brown.” I don’t know that color. “There’s lots of huckleback brown. Look.” Little sister Elaine chimed in, “That’s not a real color.” Ruth said, “It is, if I say it is.” End of discussion.

I told my Grands that last year as we drove along a country road we passed a field that had big animals – elk, moose, deer. Ruth said, “I remember! Elaine, they’ll be on my side. Look over here.” We slowed down as we drove past the pasture where we saw the big animals last fall, but we didn’t see anything except a pond. Ruth said to Elaine, “You should’ve seen the big elk.” Elaine asked what they looked like. Ruth said, “Big like deer and they had horns. Antlers! Is that what they’re called, Gran?” I explained that only the males have antlers and when Elaine asked why, I took the easy way out, “Because that’s the way they’re made.” All was quiet in the back seat for a few minutes, and then Ruth said, “That’s not fair. Girls need antlers, too.
Unfortunately, due to wet weather the sorghum mill wasn’t operating. “Too bad, Elaine. There’s a big horse that walks and a dog that barks,” Ruth said. Before we went inside the Muddy Pond General Store, I told my Grands to stay close to me, and that we would buy sprinkles. Ruth shared more information. “Elaine, they have lots of candy and upstairs there’s a rocking horse, but wait for me to show it to you. Okay? And they have long dresses, but no toys. Can we get suckers like last time, Gran?”

We made a quick tour of the store, slowing down to look at the doll-size high chairs and cradles and for both Grands to rock on the wooden hand-made rocking horses. Ruth chose pink and green sprinkles; Elaine, blue and red, and I bought a dozen sorghum suckers, some to eat and some to take home to share. Elaine immediately ripped the cellophane wrapper off her sucker and the candy fell onto the concrete store floor. I offered her another sucker, but Ruth intervened and said, “It’s okay. The floor doesn’t look dirty.” Elaine picked up her sucker and stuck it in her mouth.

After we’d buckled seat belts in the van, Ruth asked, “Gran, did we miss rest time?” I explained that the ride home would be a quiet rest time. “So, Elaine, you can go to sleep, but I won’t,” Ruth said.

I didn’t even ask if anyone noticed how the Muddy Pond community is different from Cookeville. This field trip was about the sisters. Middle child, Ruth, had a chance to be the leader, and her independent toddler sister, Elaine, accepted her role as the follower.

Elaine slept all the way home. Ruth talked.

Filed under: Autumn, Grandchildren | Tagged: field trip, Muddy Pond, sorghum | 2 Comments »

Homecoming Suit, Shoes, and Corsage

Posted on November 6, 2014 by susanrray

If I dressed for TTU’s Homecoming this Saturday as I did as a student, I’d look as out of place as a model wearing white sandals in the September issue of Vogue magazine. Imagine showing up at a football game wearing a matching wool jacket and skirt, nylon hose, and heels. And a corsage pinned to my lapel. But that’s how we co-eds dressed way back when. We dressed up and we wore flowers.

I particularly remember one Homecoming. Mom had made an orange wool tweed suit for me that fall and I saved it to wear for Homecoming. The three-button jacket and an A-line skirt were perfect, but I didn’t have the right shoes. I had black heels and wearing orange required brown shoes. The closest place I could buy shoes to fit my extra long, extra narrow was Nashville, and I didn’t have a car. So a friend drove me to Nashville, I went into one shoe store and bought the perfect taupe-colored, high heel leather shoes, and we came back to Cookeville. It was that important to have exactly the right outfit for Homecoming.

My attire wasn’t complete without flowers, a corsage that showed Tech’s colors, purple and gold. Husband, who was Boyfriend at the time, knew exactly what I wanted. Three yellow roses surrounded by sprigs of feather fern and a bit of baby’s breath. Gold colored ribbon, with just a couple of loops of purple, but mostly gold so the purple wouldn’t clash with my orange suit.

Most Homecoming corsages were yellow chrysanthemums, better known as a mum. Huge, mums, as big as saucers, and heavy. I’d worn one of those the previous year. It was so heavy that not even three long corsage pins held it in place, and the flower petals began to fall out before the final buzzer of the football game.

Most girls wore variations of the basic mum corsage, a plain yellow mum with a purple bow made from ½ inch ribbon. The mum could be surrounded by purple or gold net or a combination of the two colors. The letters TTU could be written in purple glitter on a yellow ribbon streamer or with gold stick-on letters on purple ribbon, but that meant the ribbon was 1½ inches wide. If the mum was exceptionally large, TTU formed with purple pipe cleaners could be placed right in the middle of the flower. Big wide bows made from purple and gold ribbon finished that look.

Homecoming 1967 was a cold, rainy day, but I didn’t give a thought to not wearing my homecoming outfit. I put on my wool suit, my brand new shoes, and Boyfriend pinned on my rose corsage. He held a black umbrella over our heads, we wore our knee-length raincoats, and we walked from the dormitory where I lived to the football stadium. It rained all afternoon, but we didn’t consider leaving. We got wet. So wet that I poured water out of my new shoes, which were ruined forever with water spots.

Did my team, Tennessee Tech, win the game? I don’t remember. Having the perfect homecoming outfit and corsage was much more important than any ballgame.

Filed under: Friends, Games, sports | Tagged: clothes for homeocming, football game, Homecoming, Tennessee Tech Homecoming | Leave a comment »

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