Dial 1-800-2HE-AVEN: A Memoir

By Sandra Lee Cleary

Join Sandra as she recalls the antics and adventures of growing up as a military brat. The many moves, meeting new friends, and making her way through life. Weep with her when her heart is broken over young loves. Rejoice as she shares stories of her siblings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Lee Cleary
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005073572

Sandra Lee Cleary

Sandra's love of history has led her down the road to new discoveries in her life and about her life. Sandra is a genealogist and has compiled volumes of books about her ancestors. Her records on Nathaniel T. Green can be found in the Allen County Public Library, Ft. Wayne, Indiana. She is the author of White Moccasins: The Story of Katie, The Stranger in the Polka Dot Tie, How I Found My Father, and co-author of the History of Cibolo, Texas.Sandra is married and has six children. She enjoys traveling with her husband, Curtis, who willingly helps her search for long-lost relatives in faraway places.

Book preview

Dial 1-800-2HE-AVEN

A Memoir

Sandra Lee Cleary

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my children Stephen, Angel, Raylene, and Jennifer. You’ve asked me many times what it was like growing up, what did I do, and how many times did I get in trouble. Now is the time to finally get my adventure in print for future offspring to see how their mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother made her way through life. How good my memory is, and will my siblings remember some of the things like I did. I always thought of my life as dull, boring, or even weary. Much like the average person. But it is my life jotted down for my imminent offspring.

Jesus said I tell you the truth, I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel! And I tell you this, that many Gentiles will come from all over the world—from east and west—and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the feast in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Matthew 8:10-11 (New Living Translation)

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

MEMORIES

HOLLYHOCKS AND LIFEBUOY SOAP

PAPER DOLL CHAIN

GET YOUR KICKS ON ROUTE 66

RONNIE AND RONNIE

PAINT, PAINTBRUSHES, AND BIKES

OUR KITCHEN SINK

NOTES FROM HEAVEN

DADDY’S LITTLE HELPERS

MY BROTHER CHUCK

THE PAPER MILL

LITTLE BROTHER DANNY

IN MY EASTER BONNET

VEGETABLE BEEF SOUP

NO LUNCH

WASH DAYS

THE RECORD

DADDY’S GIRL

DREAMS

1-800-2HE-AVEN

SCHOOL DAYS, SCHOOL DAYS, GOOD OLD GOLDEN RULE DAYS

MOUNTAINS, STREAMS AND PICNICS

SISTERS

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

ODDS AND ENDS, BITS AND PIECES

I LOVE YOU, GOOD NIGHT

Other Books by Sandra Cleary

Author Biography

MEMORIES

Memories (noun) mem-o-ries; The capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions of recalling or recognizing previous experiences.

*****

I’ve sat down many times to write my legacy for my children with no avail. The question is, are they interested? These memories are mine, a gift to carry with me always. Could anyone else be interested in them, maybe compare them with their memories? I’m not so different from anyone else and their childhood experiences, just lived in another place, another time, and another family.

Every time I begin writing I can’t help but remember Barbara Streisand’s song "Memories". In my quiet time, my memories light the deep crevices of my mind. I’m old, the crevices are depthless and imbedded! They’re fractured pictures, sometimes smiles, sometimes not.

I’d like to think the years of my maturing were of a simpler time. Black and white television, long skirts with miles and miles of petticoats, saddle shoes, and one phone located in our kitchen with a party line. Living in the country, climbing trees with the boys to see who could climb the highest, and building snow forts during the winter. Ice skating on the neighborhood pond and trying to keep my ankles straight so I wouldn’t fall down. The times I’d get to drive my boyfriend’s car on the back roads through the orange groves. Going to muscle beach with my girlfriend to watch the guys show off their biceps.

I’ve asked myself, if I could live my life over again just the way it was, would I? The answer is without a doubt, yes! This is who I am. I wouldn’t change a thing. I had to go through all the bumps and bruises to get where I am now. I praise God for being there with me throughout it all.

The oldest of six children, I was left in charge because my mother worked and my father, who was in the Army, was usually away at another base and not close to home. From Minnesota to Pennsylvania, New York, on to California. There could have been more states, but Dad chose to retire, I got married, and started my own family.

These memories are not arranged in chronicle order as I’ve chosen to write them as I’ve thought of them. So be prepared to jump around just like it does in my mind.

HOLLYHOCKS AND LIFEBUOY SOAP

One of my earliest memories and one I never want to forget, is Aunt Vi and Uncle Jake. I think these two were always my favorite, but I was only around them for a short time when I was quite small. It’s been a lasting recollection throughout my life, and I smile to myself when I think of them.

At the time, my mother and I lived with them, but I’m not sure of the circumstances that put us in their home. The silliest of things a person remembers but one that sticks out quite vividly is the orange soap in the bathroom. I surmise now, it must have been Lifebuoy.

As I’ve looked back at that time, in many ways the things they did with and for me, have molded my life. You wouldn’t think so, and I’d be the first to say it, but well here goes. These little tidbits will help you see what I’m trying to say.

Hollyhocks, stocks of impressive flowers reaching heights of nine feet tall towered above a garden my Aunt Vi grew. As a small child I stood beneath them, tilted my head back until my neck hurt, to see the beautiful blossoms. I don’t remember much about the smell but oh, those grand blooms shooting their way skyward. I’ve tried to grow these flowers to no avail. The closest I’ve come is the Texas Star hibiscus which grows to seven feet tall. and it sits just outside my kitchen window for me to look at whenever I wish.

My aunt and uncle’s home was much like the other homes lining the street. Small, 1930ish, two-bedroom, bath, kitchen and living area. There was a screened-in front porch, they sat in after dinner each night while watching children playing in front yards. Uncle Jake was the jokester. Many times, Aunt Vi told him to quit teasing me. One occasion I remember even to this day like it was just yesterday. I was playing outside and either I decided to go inside for some reason, or someone called me to come in. Either way I headed to the house and just as I grabbed the screen door to open it Uncle Jake stood on the other side. I looked up just as he took the latch and locked the door, he was smiling. Uncle Jake let me in. I yelled. He said nothing, only smiled.

My mother said I stomped my foot when I wanted my way and this I did. Jake smiled again. My little mind said, ‘go to the back door and get in’. So, I turned, jumped down the two stairs, rounded the corner of the house and made my way to the back door. The door was open and there was Uncle Jake, smiling as he locked it. I turned around and ran as fast as I could to the front. No such luck, he stood at the door again, and now he was laughing. Tears began sliding down my cheeks, I stomped my foot again and from inside the house I heard Aunt