Learning to Read

Hannah started kindergarten this year, and that means that she is learning to read.  This really means that she is just really picking up on reading; she has known all her letter sounds since she was 2 and can pretty much sound out anything, but now she has the motivation to do it more and better.  It's so exciting to see her increasing in her confidence and ability to read more complicated things, breaking the words into sections, etc.  (Yes, that was just a shameless brag-on-my-daughter moment!)

Anyway, this just got me thinking about when I was learning to read, and honestly, I can't remember learning to read!  How crazy is that?  I can remember so many other things, like when my big sister, Casey, was in preschool and I got to go join them one day for a special show and tell.  I was so excited, and took this car I had made out of Tinkertoys.  This little boy decided to take it apart and put the wheels on the bottom to make it into a hovercraft.  I couldn't have been more than 2 1/2 or 3 at the time.  I also remember learning my numbers when I was around 4 years old with A-Beka flash cards.  But I can't remember learning my letter sounds, or sounding out words.

The only thing I remember about learning to read was when I first learned to read "inside my head" instead of out loud or while whispering.  Casey and I would always go to the library and fill a laundry basket each with books of all kinds.  This continued until we were 13 and 14 years old.  This particular instance, and I must've been 6 or 7 years old, was when I had gotten a copy of Buffalo Bill.  It had a green cover, and it was a chapter book from the 60's or 70's, and I remember laying in the foyer trying so hard to read without actually reading out loud.  I finally succeeded and was very excited!  Then I ran to my parents and wanted them to watch me and listen to me reading in my head. Which on second thought makes no sense at all.

While we're on the subject, I should also mention that Casey would always get the really cool "Choose Your Own Adventure" books.

For whatever reason there was a long period of time when I wasn't allowed to get them.  It probably only seemed like a long period of time.  One time, I was sick with a really, really bad cold (the kind where I woke up and couldn't open my eyes because they were stuck together...yes...disgusting) and had to sleep in her room with her.  (I am sure she was just thrilled.)  That was when I got to finally read some of them.  Maybe because of those circumstances she was forced to share.  Most of the time though, I had to resort to sneaking into her room and reading them without her knowledge or consent.  (Sorry, Casey.)

Grandma Boll

My Grandma (Betty Jane Boll) was born on August 13, 1930 in Waupaca, Wisconsin.  I don't yet have pictures of her of a child - hopefully I will get some soon to share and I can update this post.  This is her as a teenager.

Grandma was the daughter of Onie (what a name!) and Wanda Prindle.  I only have a few pictures of Great-Grandpa & Great-Grandma Prindle.  At some point in their lives they divorced, and the feelings between them were so bitter, that my mom referred to this picture as the closest she ever saw them to one another.


(Pictured above, left to right: Great-Grandpa Prindle, my Aunt Sally, my mom Sam, Aunt Barb, Aunt Diane, and Great-Grandma Prindle).

Great-Grandpa Prindle (February 16, 1903-January 10, 1998, he lived to be 94 years old!) worked as a farmhand.  As time passed, he worked on tractors, then as a self-employed carpenter, and at one point he raised chinchillas.  Great-Grandpa Prindle was remembered for his special gift in carpentry, and was said to be able to build or fix almost anything.  He lived on his own until he was 93 years old.  Great-Grandma Prindle was a housewife when she was younger, then worked during the war (World War I) in a tomato canning factory in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

(Grandpa Boll, during this interview, decided to take that time to tell me this fantastic story about what the ladies there would do in that factory when they got bored - he said they wound chuck tomatoes at one another across the factory floor. Grandma corrected him quickly, however...and Grandpa said that he was just trying to make it more interesting. I was pretty disappointed that the story wasn't true.)

Great-Grandma Prindle later worked in a number of other places, including a grocery store when Grandma Boll was a teenager, then at the Roosevelt Hotel in Cedar Rapids as a waitress, and Woolworth.

I only got to meet my Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma Prindle once. We had gone to Iowa for a family reunion, and took the time to visit them at each of their homes.

Pictured right: me, Great-Grandpa Prindle, my sister Casey, and my mom, Sam.

One of the only things about my Grandpa Prindle's house (and sadly, him) was his peacock feathers, as seen in the lower left of this picture.  And no, I don't know what it is that my sister is holding.

Pictured left: Casey, Great-Grandma Prindle, me.  (Casey hated having her picture taken.  I have spared us the picture with her sticking out her tongue.  haha!)

My mom always mentioned when we grew up that Great-Grandma Prindle had the softest skin of anyone she ever knew.

The Prindles had 5 children in all - Darline (Dolly), Shirley (Sue), Grandma Boll (Betty), Roy, and Carol.

 As a child, the sisters all had a tree house in the backyard, right above the chicken coop.  They spent a lot of time in the tree house - they loved it up there!  One time, when their mom was working, they went in the house and made homemade potato chips (something they were forbidden to do!).  They took them up to the tree house and ate them all so they wouldn't leave any evidence and get in trouble.  They got very sick from those potato chips, but kept the secret, telling their mom that, "It must've been something we ate!"

The girls would also steal eggs from the chicken coop and use them to make mud pies that would, understandably, get very fragrant.

Growing up, Grandma babysat a lot for her family, but also hired out to other families.  Grandma went to Cedar Rapids on the bus for a couple of summers and joined her mom with a job in a bakery.  During those summers, Grandma provided the primary care for her younger siblings, Roy and Carol - she would drop them off at the daycare on the way to work and then pick them up afterward.  The four of them stayed in a room where Grandma had the task of keeping the little ones quiet because they weren't supposed to have children in the room.  They also weren't supposed to eat in the room, but they had made a makeshift kitchen in their one closet, and would sit on the floor in the evenings and make sandwiches, etc. because they had no money to eat out.  These summers were a temporary separation for the Prindles, but were a necessary source of income for the family's survival.

Grandma Boll attended Lamont High School from kindergarten to 11th and 3/4 grade, when Grandpa interrupted by marrying her.  Stay tuned for more on that story, which promises absolutely to be very entertaining...

[I apologize for not being able to include more pictures of Grandma Boll in her younger years in this post.  I don't have many of her, but these are isolated to those after her marriage.  As soon as I can get my hands on the pictures that do exist, I will scan them and add them.]

Adventures with Hannah 9-1-10

Every now and then, we will have a brief interlude of stories concerning my daughter, Hannah. She is 5 and has just started kindergarten. Having attended a private school for 2 years for preschool, public school is an interesting adjustment...she is doing well, but she tells me some things now that never happened at her private school.

For instance, one of her classmates, J, punched another classmate (apparently one of Hannah's friends) in the nose today. She was horrified. Apparently J is involved in a lot of fights.

It was not this story that amused me, however. She got in the car today when I picked her up, rubbing her eye profusely. I asked her what was wrong. She replied, "I got poked in the eye!" I went through the normal sympathies, telling her I was so sorry that happened, etc. Then I asked her if it was an accident or if someone did it on purpose. She replied that it was an accident, both times. "Both times?!" I exclaimed.

This is where it got interesting. The aforementioned J had been involved in another altercation with a little boy, and it is beyond me why Hannah was so close in proximity to the situation, but somehow J ended up poking her in the eye accidentally. Then she said later, at lunch, the assistant teacher Mrs. C turned around and accidentally poked her in the eye again! I got tickled that one of her teachers did it the second time. How sad that she got poked at all, let alone twice, and once by her teacher! She was fine after we got home and completely forgot about it. Maybe she needs to wear some swimming goggles for protection tomorrow.

Later on this evening, after Hannah had been asleep quite some time, her two adorable hamsters (of which you will hear more, I'm sure) Squishy and Sniffles [pictures to be added later] got involved in some sort of hamster spinning wheel race (simultaneously and in opposite directions, best I can tell). Neither won, but it did wake Hannah up. She immediately called for us, excited that they were both on the wheel at the same time.

Then she went back to sleep.

Grandma & Grandpa

I hope to be able to tell more stories about Grandma and Grandpa's (my mom's parents) childhoods and lives as time goes on, but as an introduction to them and a partial introduction to my life, let me begin by sharing a few memories from my childhood and from when my grandparents lived on Lovin Road out towards Barnardsville.


It is beautiful, isn't it? Rolling hills, pastures - I have so many memories at this house. It is so sad that they don't live there anymore.  My grandparents lived in this house until maybe 8 years ago. I'm not sure about the year they moved, but my aunt decided that it was her turn to take care of them so they moved to Kentucky. After that I've only gotten to see them a handful of times, when they've been healthy enough to travel down here for a few weeks or when we've been able to make it up there for a family reunion.




This is my Grandpa - Bob Boll. He is 83 now...and if you can't tell from his ever-present overalls and trucker hat, he's a lifelong farmer. When my mom was growing up, they had a mink farm in Iowa, then later a dairy farm. Eventually they lost the farm and moved to the mountains of North Carolina. This was when my mom was about 12 years old. Grandpa is a World War II vet - he served on a clean-up crew in the Philippines.





 My Grandpa has had his long beard as long as I've known him - I wouldn't recognize him if he shaved it! He usually plays "Santa" around Christmastime, dressing up and everything. I must mention here that Grandpa prides himself on giving the new babies in the family (including me and mine) their first taste of his favorite food - vanilla ice cream!


(Pictured above: family friend, Rachel, Grandpa & me)

My Grandma, Betty, just turned 80. She raised her 7 children and has spent her lifetime caring for my Grandpa. I'll always remember spending the night at their house and waking up to breakfast - there was always a full breakfast with eggs, fried potatoes, and sausage, served on pastel pink and blue melamine plates.

After they came to North Carolina, they ended up eventually in the house I am mentioning here in this post. Most of my aunts lived near us when I was younger, so we spent so much time as cousins playing in the yard - climbing the trees (our favorite being the dark tree shown here - what I think might be a Crimson King Maple, but I could be entirely wrong about that...it is my favorite kind of tree), running around in the fields (shown in the picture at the top of this post), and playing in the creek (seen below).




The creek has grown over a lot. I remember one time we were catching little snails that lived in the creek, and I stood up into that bridge - and got tar in my hair! I have no idea how they ended up getting it out.

Then, there was the front yard.

That hill was certainly the BEST hill to roll down, something we all did repeatedly.

And the front porch was one of the best hiding locations for Kick the Can, a game which most everyone considered me and I'm sure a few others too young to play. We used an old Clabber Girl baking powder can filled with rocks.


While taking the trip out down Barnardsville Highway to go visit the old home, I noticed the fence all the way up the road leading to it. What used to be a beautiful white fence is now worn and dilapidated. I suppose it is a testimony to how old my memories are. Obviously, I miss the times when Grandma and Grandpa were only minutes away.