LAST MONDAY I SHARED ABOUT MY TRIP TO THE LOCAL MALL and my
enjoyment in watching the little ones playing in the Tyler
Galleria Mall Tot Lot. The next day as I was looking at
the old photo of my girls in 1957 that I used in that post, I
was reminded that even though all our children are equally
precious to us, they each have individual personalities.
Studying that photo, I remembered how Deborah, the oldest by one year, was the thinker, a beautifully sweet child who loved to read. Deborah was a responsible young lady we could depend upon. When I was stationed at Bergstrom AFB in Austin, Texas, in 1957 she began school in the first grade. We walked her to school the first few days - and then she had no trouble walking alone. Today that would cause great concern, a young girl in the first grade walking to school alone. But in 1957 that was not really a problem.
Leslie, the youngest, was the cute cuddly little doll who was a wee bit mischievous but so lovable I could not get mad at her. In 1956 before I went to Korea, she was 18 months old and I loved dressing her, and combing her hair so that a pony tail stuck up in the middle of her head. She was adorable. See the photo below.
And equally sweet and lovable was our middle daughter, Cynthia, called Cindo. She had the most distinct character of all three - and the photo in the middle of the collage seems to capture that perfectly. We see Leslie, sweet and cuddly. We see Deborah, alert, wondering, and sitting forward, not shrinking back. And then we see Cindo in the middle with the look on her face telling us, "Maybe I will and maybe I won't!" And that was her sweet adorable personality. Cindo had that stubborn, yet inquisitive nature.
In 1958, after I left the Air Force we moved to Southern California where I went to work in the computer industry with Burroughs Corporation. In late 1959, Burroughs transferred me to the Norfolk Naval Supply Depot in Virginia for nine months and then to the Washington DC office. We lived in Alexandria, Virginia, for several years and then transferred back to Southern California.
As we were driving from Virginia to Southern California, somewhere in the Midwest Cindo's inquisitive nature showed itself. Driving across country both ways, first in 1959 and then returning in early 1963, we had stations wagons - perfect for a family with three young girls.
This was before the awareness of seat belts - so we could put the rear seat down, lay blankets and quilts across the back and the girls had a playroom during the day - and could put on their jammies and fall asleep when we drove later in the evening. Since we were not in a big rush on either trip, we could relax in our motel rooms, have a late breakfast, get on the road a bit later and continue driving into the evening, which we all enjoyed.
As we were driving one evening, the girls put on their jammies and the other two girls fell asleep. But Cindo wanted to come up front and sit between us (those were the days of sofa-like bench seats instead of bucket seats in cars). That evening driving through the open Midwestern countryside, the moon was full and bright - and it was hanging just in front of us to the left of the highway.
Cindo must have looked away for a moment and then back again - for the moon was now on the right of the highway. She was amazed. "How did the moon move?" And, of course, I had fun with her telling her that I had moved it. Isn't it wonderful when our children believe us without question? But then I did tell her the moon did not move - we did, by changing direction. That can remind us of our relationship to God. God does not move, it is us. We either move closer to Him or we drift further away.
Once, living in Southern California before moving to Virginia, I was driving with the girls sitting in the front seat with me. And I convinced them that I could change the traffic light from red to green, just by snapping my fingers. You see, I knew that by looking at the yellow light on the intersecting street, it turning yellow meant that in a couple of seconds my light would change to green. So, snap the fingers - and voila!, the light becomes green. To three young girls, I was making magic.
After living in Virginia for a few years, we arrived back in Southern California and moved into a home in North Hollywood. One evening as we sat for dinner, I put on my serious face and told the girls, "Since I am from Alabama, before we have dinner we have to sing Dixie." Sweet Deborah and Leslie sang Dixie. Cindo crossed her arms in front of her chest and said firmly, "No!"
I told her, still looking very serious, "If you don't sing Dixie you will have to go to bed without dinner." She looked at me with that determined look, got up, and started to her bedroom. I had to run after telling her that I was only kidding. But that was my girl, my Cindo - beautifully stubborn and I loved her for it.
God gave us children to love and protect - but He never said we could not have fun doing it!
I pray that you have enjoyed my walk down memory lane. I know that I have always enjoyed reliving all those wonderful moments.
God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
Studying that photo, I remembered how Deborah, the oldest by one year, was the thinker, a beautifully sweet child who loved to read. Deborah was a responsible young lady we could depend upon. When I was stationed at Bergstrom AFB in Austin, Texas, in 1957 she began school in the first grade. We walked her to school the first few days - and then she had no trouble walking alone. Today that would cause great concern, a young girl in the first grade walking to school alone. But in 1957 that was not really a problem.
Leslie, the youngest, was the cute cuddly little doll who was a wee bit mischievous but so lovable I could not get mad at her. In 1956 before I went to Korea, she was 18 months old and I loved dressing her, and combing her hair so that a pony tail stuck up in the middle of her head. She was adorable. See the photo below.
And equally sweet and lovable was our middle daughter, Cynthia, called Cindo. She had the most distinct character of all three - and the photo in the middle of the collage seems to capture that perfectly. We see Leslie, sweet and cuddly. We see Deborah, alert, wondering, and sitting forward, not shrinking back. And then we see Cindo in the middle with the look on her face telling us, "Maybe I will and maybe I won't!" And that was her sweet adorable personality. Cindo had that stubborn, yet inquisitive nature.
In 1958, after I left the Air Force we moved to Southern California where I went to work in the computer industry with Burroughs Corporation. In late 1959, Burroughs transferred me to the Norfolk Naval Supply Depot in Virginia for nine months and then to the Washington DC office. We lived in Alexandria, Virginia, for several years and then transferred back to Southern California.
As we were driving from Virginia to Southern California, somewhere in the Midwest Cindo's inquisitive nature showed itself. Driving across country both ways, first in 1959 and then returning in early 1963, we had stations wagons - perfect for a family with three young girls.
This was before the awareness of seat belts - so we could put the rear seat down, lay blankets and quilts across the back and the girls had a playroom during the day - and could put on their jammies and fall asleep when we drove later in the evening. Since we were not in a big rush on either trip, we could relax in our motel rooms, have a late breakfast, get on the road a bit later and continue driving into the evening, which we all enjoyed.
As we were driving one evening, the girls put on their jammies and the other two girls fell asleep. But Cindo wanted to come up front and sit between us (those were the days of sofa-like bench seats instead of bucket seats in cars). That evening driving through the open Midwestern countryside, the moon was full and bright - and it was hanging just in front of us to the left of the highway.
Cindo must have looked away for a moment and then back again - for the moon was now on the right of the highway. She was amazed. "How did the moon move?" And, of course, I had fun with her telling her that I had moved it. Isn't it wonderful when our children believe us without question? But then I did tell her the moon did not move - we did, by changing direction. That can remind us of our relationship to God. God does not move, it is us. We either move closer to Him or we drift further away.
Once, living in Southern California before moving to Virginia, I was driving with the girls sitting in the front seat with me. And I convinced them that I could change the traffic light from red to green, just by snapping my fingers. You see, I knew that by looking at the yellow light on the intersecting street, it turning yellow meant that in a couple of seconds my light would change to green. So, snap the fingers - and voila!, the light becomes green. To three young girls, I was making magic.
After living in Virginia for a few years, we arrived back in Southern California and moved into a home in North Hollywood. One evening as we sat for dinner, I put on my serious face and told the girls, "Since I am from Alabama, before we have dinner we have to sing Dixie." Sweet Deborah and Leslie sang Dixie. Cindo crossed her arms in front of her chest and said firmly, "No!"
I told her, still looking very serious, "If you don't sing Dixie you will have to go to bed without dinner." She looked at me with that determined look, got up, and started to her bedroom. I had to run after telling her that I was only kidding. But that was my girl, my Cindo - beautifully stubborn and I loved her for it.
God gave us children to love and protect - but He never said we could not have fun doing it!
I pray that you have enjoyed my walk down memory lane. I know that I have always enjoyed reliving all those wonderful moments.
God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
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