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Family, Humor, Jenny Hansen, Las Vegas, Nostalgia, Sisters, Undie-Venture, Undie-Verse
The Greatest Gift didn’t arrive wrapped — except for a tangled web of memories and gossamer wisps of uncommon frames of reference.
Had someone tried to wrap this gift, it would have been a crazy quilt mish-mash of paper designs; unique snapshots of growing up as one of The Burns Girls.
MEET THE PERPS
I suspect this picture hales from the day M. Viola Stern and Wilmer F. Burns got either engaged or hitched.
It couldn’t have been from much later because Mom has no baby bump. During the early years, they lived on and worked dairy farms. I call those the begetten’ years. Four babies in four years and seven months?
What were they thinking?
Four years passed before baby sister, Sheri, came on scene to complete The Burns Girls.
Coincidence that Dad switched years earlier to long-haul truck-driving?
Color me skeptical. [Purple with hot pink squiggles.]
Mom and Dad are gone from view, but remain alive in memories and hearts — especially for The Sisterhood.
HURRY OR WE’LL BE LATE FOR CHURCH! SAY CHEESE(y hair)!
This has to be a pre-church picture. We have curled hair, and we’re crammed on one chair with no evidence of mayhem.
THE YOUNGEST AMONG US
Not hard to spot her, is it? [And what is up with that top knot?]
She gave me the greatest gift via a save-the-date postcard featuring that long ago picture of Mom and Dad.
She gave me the chance to reconnect with my sisters on a “we shared one bathroom and two bedrooms for crumb’s sake (!)” level.
The Burns Girls Family reunion set the stage for unique and special reconnects.
THE ONE WHO COULD OUT-MOXIE ME
I plan to feature each of my sisters as soon as they do something stupid for me to blog about over the next few months. Today, meet looks-like-trouble Sandy (front row, right).
Some find ‘out-moxie-Gloria’ freaking scary. Me? I was creatively sneaky, and hid behind cover stories. Sandy put it all out there, and to heck with the consequences.
When I left for college, Sandy took over my fake babysitting job. She did not prearrange fake calls from “Kaye” when Mom would overhear. She did not save her lunch money as proof of payment for the gig. She did not make her friends turn off interior car lights or wear a babushka when they Kaye picked her up. Nope! She marched out of the house unprotected by back-up fibs.
I gave her that gig, but had no part in others.
No Friends over Unless Mom was Home
For some reason [*rolls eyes toward ceiling*] Mom once issued an edict banning friends at the house unless she was home. She worked late and didn’t get home until 9:00 three nights a week. Dad? Away hauling freight (if we were lucky). Willie (front left in picture) argued against how unfair (!) it was. Sandy listened.
Willie: We only play badminton. What’s wrong with that? Sandy! Why aren’t you helping me?
Sandy: Why bother? She works late. She won’t know what we’re doing.
Mom’s rule died the same speedy death as the tiny hourglass timer Dad put by the phone so we could self-police his dictated time-limit-per-call.
It’s Just a Stupid Piece of Paper
On the way home from school, a friend on the school bus spotted our family station wagon.
Friend: That’s your car! Who’s driving?
Me: Sandy! What the…?
Sandy was not old enough to drive. In Sandy’s defense, Willie — prone to “my-brain-farted” car accidents — called home for help after yet another one. Sandy was home alone. No stupid permit to drive overrode a rescue mission.
HER MANY HATS
Aside from being a hoot and a half, Sandy is a friend magnet. Over the years, I’ve adopted some as my own. Should I ever relocate to a new locale, I would have Sandy visit to build the new friend network.
Like all my sisters, I know Sandy will be there if I need something. That said, I have a unique bond with each of them. If forced to choose one word to describe my bond with Sandy?
MISCHIEF.
Two words? MISCHIEF AND MISHAPS.
Three words? MISCHIEF, MISHAPS, and MISDEMEANORS Miss Who Me (?) Demeanors
My Sous Chef
This is an all-grown-up picture of Sandy at the lake house we once had. One morning, when we made breakfast for family and friends, Sandy cleaned blueberries at the sink. I mixed pancake batter at the stove.
Me: Stir, stir, stir. Clean lots of berries.
Sandy: What should I do with the stems?
Me: Leave them in the colander. Thought but didn’t say, “Stems? Blueberries?”
Sandy tossed those ‘lots of blueberries’ into the batter. Minutes later, we added beautiful, buttery, blueberry pancakes to the breakfast buffet.
Silverware clinked. Silence otherwise, until…
Nephew: These pancakes are good, but you should have taken the seeds out of the blueberries.
Me: Blueberries don’t have seeds.
Another traitor guest: I found some in mine, too.
Sandy and I slinked to the sink. I spotted the stems. GULP!
Our guests had purple grape pancakes. For a wee bit, Sandy and I debated destroying the evidence and letting small children grow up thinking blueberries had seeds.
We chose the high road. [I know. I can’t believe it either.] To this day, when we discuss this culinary mishap…
Sandy: You BOUGHT them!
Me: You CLEANED them!
My Travel Agent
I never pre-book hotel rooms. I never know how far I’ll want to travel.
For the 1319.3 mile drive from my house to our Burns Girls Family Reunion, Sandy was my travel agent — room bookings, routing advice, Google searches for the closest Starbucks.
I left the house at 9:00 in the morning, and called Sandy at 4:00 p.m. for help with my destination.
Me: I need to know where I should be at about 6:00 tonight.
Sandy: Where are you now?
Me: Ardmore, Oklahoma.
For those unfamiliar with Texas/Oklahoma: Ardmore is precisely 93.1 miles from the house I left 7 hours earlier. I do not drive 13.3 MPH.
Most sane people would have asked silly questions: Are you okay? Did you get sick? Were you in an accident? Did the car break down? How much is your bail?
Not my Sandy.
Sandy: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You stopped at the WinStar.
Me: I had to pee. WinStar has restrooms.
Sandy: So. You gambled for 6 hours?
Me: Three. But, I was tired, so I took a nap in my car.
Sandy: Did you win? [See! The important stuff.]
Me: I’m a grand richer.
Sandy: YAY, you. How far are you going tonight?
Me: Don’t know. What I need is where I could be two hours from now. I want to call The Hubster at 6. I choose to avoid a lecture save him from a blood pressure spike. SO! We need to calculate where I should be two hours from now if I’d only stopped for food and gas. [Gas for the car; not from the food.]
Sandy: At least you won. [See! The important stuff.]
God bless her like-minded conniving little heart. She calculated times and mileage and gave me my pretend destination for the night.
My Undie-Venture Paparazzi
Three weeks after a glorious month in Pennsylvania, Sandy asked if I wanted to take a road trip to Laughlin and then Vegas, Nevada.
[Heck, yes!]
On Freemont Street in Vegas, I finally, finally out-moxied her.
How do I know this? [Aside from echoes of “I don’t care if you do that. Just don’t make me photograph it. Please!”]
Sandy spent the rest of the trip wearing the fashion-forward style of her grandson.
For deets on Sandy as Paparazzi on Freemont Street in Vegas, use the linky-love to Jenny Jo Hansen’s site, where the Undie-verse thrives. Click here…
Or HERE…
QUESTIONS? COMMENTS? Did you come from a multi-sibling family or wish you had? Were you into random acts of criminal behavior as a young-‘un? If yes, spill. Details! We want details. [Unless the statute of limitations doesn’t yet protect you.] Does the post on Jenny’s site make you want your own Undie-Venture? Say something. Anything! I do my best work in comments.
Gloria Richard 
As the “middle sister” of the Sisterhood, I must ask “why is She first?” (only kidding). Good Memories Glo – thank you for sharing.
Thank you! You just added fodder for my feature on you, Willie.
You have been warned. 🙂 <==== said with love, of course
Saw the pics on Jenny’s site, but Gloria, where are the photos of Sandy in her fashion-forward style?
She only gave me permission to use the one of her grandson wearing the gear. Said something that scared the gee-willakers out of me when I tried to get a pic of her wearing them.
Go figure.
First, I don’t believe you need Sandy to make friends. You know no strangers yourself. And when I go back to your lovely abode, I’ll buy the blueberries… 🙂
Well, Sandy and I double teaming are a powerful force. She’s not inclined to befriend the homeless and everyone who stops long enough for me to say “Hi!” either. Helps narrow the friend potential playing field.
LOVE the “when” and not “if” on your return visit. Just say the word.
How wonderful to grow up with a house full of sisters. I only have one sister. We had two brothers who were 9 years older than me and I am the oldest girl. Sounds like you guys are close and have share a lot of wonderful memories.
It was special. Built in friends for those Sunday’s when Dad declared a family day. We all had to stay home and appreciate each other. Then he’d gripe at us because we’d gather in one bedroom for a giggle fest. No clue why he did that to himself.
Thanks so much for being a faithful follower, SHO. I’m back on the social media circuit. I’ll be over to read some of your stellar poetry. Love how you express your emotions.
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Wow, looked at your sisters and my sister Pat and I would have fit right in. My mom loved to give us perms, never mind that my hair was already on the curly side. We also shared a kitchen mishap with lemon pie. We didn’t know that that those little yellow balls amidst the lemon pudding mix were flavor balls. We picked them out! My brother would eat anything and I do mean anything but he pushed that pie away. So funny.
KA-SNORT on the lemon-free lemon pie.
Had you and your sister been our neighbors, I’m sure we would have been great
mischief makersfriends. Ours was the house for sleepovers. Even on weekends when my parents were home. With only two bedrooms for the five of us, we had no spare space, so Dad put a tent up in the backyard that stayed there all summer. We had a permanent bald spot in the grass out back.Your brother and friends might have been a problem. Especially if he and his friends were prone to practical jokes.
So glad you popped by. I must get over and see what you’ve been up to during my hiatus.
WOOT! Your newsletter hit my inbox a few minutes ago. DON’T LET GO won the Best Indie Book Award for Romance in 2014 AND is on Amazon’s top 100 list.
CONGRATULATIONS!
Packing my MasterCard and heading over to The Amazon for my very own copy.
Gloria … we all believe that everyone has at least one story to tell. One that we are compelled to share. I know you have dozens of them crammed in that lovely head of yours … but … and I mean but … this is the ground-breaking event for a wonderful story of love, laughter and your intriguing life.
Oh please, write more about you and your sisters. Sisters? I prayed for them, made them up and played with them in my head. I’d line up “items” not dolls and talk to them. If I had a sister I might have had someone to blame my own mischief and mayhem on … or at least had a kindred spirit to share it all with me.
No way. I was the baby of the family, the only girl and as I was told by my big brothers way too many times … the “accident” baby. Can you imagine my worries that I’d been conceived in a train wreck?
And I don’t think you ever needed help making friends. Even in this virtual world, you are like a people magnet. Thanks for sharing and keep the sister-stories coming 🙂
Florence! I always smile when I see you’ve commented.
I don’t know whether to laugh or sigh (too late to cry) over your early perception that you were conceived in a train wreck. Brothers! By the time I was old enough to think about whether or not I was missing something by not having any, I’d reached the age of reason. Five girls and a brother logistics for sharing two small bedrooms? Nope. That alone killed any brother envy.
I L*O*V*E*D my rep for being a tomboy and mischief maker. With four of us so close together, I think we had to decide on a Stand Out & Be Noticed strategy early on. I’m sure you and I would have been great friends.
Perhaps those “things posing as sisters” were the beginning of your training in creating and vividly describing unique and compelling characters. However you came by that talent, I’m glad you did. They’re a treasure to read about.
Oh! Your comment about using my sister experiences as fodder for stories? Brilliant! You planted the seed for a plethora of story opportunities. Thank you!
Yes Gloria, please so write more about your special sorority of great pals !!
I think there’s enough moxie here you could have gotten two or three blogs out of Sandy for I suspect more tales of daring-do are waiting to be told! And I had to check out the undie chronicles. MY STARS! Good thing you got her to take the picture, I never would have believed it!
My mother dressed me and my three sisters up in the SAME outfits for the annual Christmas pic. After she cut our hair in the SAME pixie cut. I’m glad we weren’t the only ones to be subjected to the hair gestapo and clothes police. Speaking of clothes, or lack there of… Captain underpants (or lack there of) was hilarious. Only in Vegas … or maybe Hollywood. 🙂
P.S. I agree with Carole. I don’t think you need Sandy to make friends. Though, I’m sure the two of you together attract friends at an exponential rate. The sisterhood synergy effect … you know.