The Adventures of Nellie and Doris: The One on the Fourth of July

 

 

It was such a great day, playing at the lake, eating great food, and mostly, hanging with friends. July 4, 1980 (or so...what's a year or two anyway?).

Scott, Baby Boo, me

Nellie and I thought it would be fun to head up to Salmon Creek for the day, and then watch fireworks at Fort Vancouver that night. So we went all out.  Mary--Nellie's sister--and Doug and family all came. Nellie and Bobby and family all came. And my friend Scott, my sons and April--our little Baby Boo--came.  Scott and I often took Baby Boo (our neighbor's grandgirl) with us to fun places.

Mary and Nellie and hubs

Nellie made the macaroni salad and fried the chicken--this I can swear to because she always did that.  We probably had beans and taco salad and chips. Lots of chips. And a bunch of dessert stuff. Food was one of our great pleasures. Laughing and eating and enjoying ourselves.

 

We spent the day swimming and playing. The kids ran around like crazy, and Baby Boo was the darling of the group. Everyone, even the kids, rolled around with her. 

As the day wore on,  we decided it was time to head down to Vancouver so we could get good seats at the fort. I love fireworks and am the oooher and ahhher in the crowd. We were looking forward to the wonderful show and Scott and I were looking forward to seeing Boo's reaction to the fireworks. Everyone was excited.

We arrived at the fort and found parking. Everyone jumped out of their truck or car and my kids from Scott's van. It was specially made with a ramp so Scott's could escape in his wheelchair. I started to lower the ramp for Scott to exit and the ramp stopped. Just stopped. It wouldn't lower. It just sat there open but up in the air. Bobby and Doug looked over the ramp and couldn't figure out how to lower the ramp. He was stuck! 

The kids were disappointed that we had to leave; so, we decided they chould stay with Nellie and Mary, including Baby Boo, so they could watch the show.  Scott and I decided we would drive over to Bill and Candy's place (owners of our store) and have Bill fix the ramp. Like my dad, Bill could fix anything.

Well, anything except the ramp, that is. No go. Nada. Too bad; so sad. What the heck...we might as well stay on the street and watch the neighborhood firework show that Bill and the neighbors were presenting. Scott stayed on the open ramp and I stood around the van. After a bit we decided to head downtown where Scott lived in hope of figuring out how we could get him out of his van.

The Fort Vancouver fireworks were over around 9:00 and my kids and April Boo and all the Nellie family, headed home.  Boo was returned to her grandmother and my sons were put to bed.

And what were Scott and I doing all this while? Why, we were entertaining the local firefighters. That's who we had to call in order to rescue Scott. After some thinking and trying, he was finally put on the ground. We waved and thanked the firefighters and headed to his apartment. He went to bed and I headed home to my family.

As the years go by, the adventures of Nellie and I were able to continue. The two of us continued to do crazy fun silly things. Sometimes Nellie would end up with all the kids with me following her lead in the world. Sometimes I ended up with the kids and Nellie followed my lead into the world. But always together. We always had the best of times. Always.

And so it goes
peace~~~

The Adventures of Nellie and Doris: The One On Our Way to Seaside

It was a rare Saturday that I had off from the store. Between classes at PSU, working in the Speech Communication office and working at the store, I didn't often have time for playing. I decided we needed a drive to the coast. Nellie was working at the store until 3:00, so I grabbed my sons and her kids (Missy and Robbie), plus our dog Soma, and tossed them all in the car. I packed up some sandwiches and snacks, some drinks, and got the car ready. We brought towels and suits and everything we needed for a day in the sun and sand.

We left early so we could have a great time. It was such a perfect day: a sunny weekend, a day off, and gas in the car. YippeeSkippee! It jes done get no better dan dat. 

As it was early, there was light traffic on the road, even on such a grand day. The old Oregon joke is that summer fell on a weekend; most Oregonians slept late and missed it. But not us! We were heading down Hwy 26, moving past Hillsboro, on past Banks, and passing by Manning.  We were singing and laughing and having a great time.

After we left the farming fields, the forest became our view. First some flat lands and then some forest. Not a soul around. Just a great two-lane highway shaded by the canopy of trees. Such a glorious day. 

Until the tire popped. And we veered off the pavement. And flat-tire rattled to the side of the road.  All safe back there? Yeah. Flat tire! And then I suddenly visualized the newly repaired spare tire sitting on my front porch. Yeah, on the porch, not in the car.

We all sat in the car for a few moments, thinking about what we could do. This is way before car phones--before even those old brick phones. No traffic.  No phones. No spare. No nothing. 

So we piled out of the car and looked around.  Suddenly we see a State Trooper car coming east toward us.  Missy and I run after it as it passe, waving our arms and yelling. STOP! STOP! and the officer eventually saw us and stopped. We asked if he would call Nellie at the store and bring the spare to us.  He agreed and we ran back to the car to spread the news.

We knew we had a wait since Nellie wouldn't get off work until 3:00.  We were a good hour out of town. Thank goodness we had those sandwiches and snacks and drinks and towels! So we spread out those towels along the side of the road and settled in. Except my elder son, who refused to get out of the car.  He didn't want people driving by to think that we thought THIS was a great spot to stop and have a picnic. Hey. No sense of adventure, that kid ;)

Now, if you have to have a flat tire along the side of the road on the way to the coast, this was the best spot. After a bit of exploring, we discovered that there was a bit of a river behind the trees and brush. So while we waited those five hours for Nellie to come to our rescue, we played in the water, ate our sammies, and drank our drinks. At some point my elder son got out of the car and played with us. Perfect day.

The traffic had really picked up during our wait. We found out later that Nellie's oldest daughter had come by with friends and had seen our car on the side of the road. Didn't think anything of it. Kept on driving. We persevered.

And then sometime around 5:00, like Mighty Mouse flying into the scene, Nellie and Bobby showed up carrying our spare tire and dinner.  Yes, Nellie got off work and went home, fried up some chicken, whipped up some macaroni salad, tossed bottles of water into the truck, and came to save us. We continued on to the beach with that silly flat replaced with the good one. We settled on the beach to eat fried chicken and macaroni salad. 

Nellie, Bobby and I sat on the cooling sand, watching the sun begin to set. The kids continued to play on the beach. And then we all gathered our things, packed up the car and the truck, and headed home. 

And the adventures continue~~~
peace

The Adventures of Nellie and Doris: The One At Candy's Kwik Shop

Across the street from my house in SE Portland there was a small market.  Well, it looked small but when you entered it was like Dr. Who's tardis phonebooth. It went on forever.

Anything you needed was in that store. Need a ham for Thanksgiving dinner? Yep, got that.  Need the coldest beer and freshest popcorn in town? Yep, got that. Need eggs, cigarettes, milk, pancake syrup? Oh yeah. Video games and fresh donuts, along with freshly brewed coffee. We even had an ATM machine, hot dogs on a spit, freshly baked cookies. And candy...lots and lots of candy.

The store became a Minit Mart about a year after I moved into the neighborhood. None of us were happy that some corporate store was moving into the space.  After all, it used to be a real market with fresh butchered meat from a meat counter. That was before my time, but yeah it used to be real. And along comes a Minit Mart. The previous owner came over to my house, sat on the front step, and told me about the sale. He apologized but said it was time to move on. But hey! That new Minit Mart turned out to be owned by the greatest couple in the world: Bill and Candy Field.

I got to know the owners quickly. I was working for Portland Public Schools as a Special Education Aide. My first year at college, I continued working for PPS but then summer came along; I was out of work. I had been hanging around the owners of the store in the daytime and the night clerks later on, so the owners gave me a job. I started working nights--3:00-closing. It was the best place to be! I was able to learn all the neighborhood gossip, meet all the kids up and down the area, and could have my kids sleep in their own beds at night.  After all, I was right across the street.

My kids were taken care of by Nellie on the weekends and after school. She would then help them brush their teeth and go to bed at night at our house.  It worked out pretty good.  As school started, they became latchkey kids.  They would come home, come over to see me at the store, and then go over Nellie's for dinner and homework. While they would visit me at least once a day, they were not allowed to hang out at the store while I worked.  As they got older, they would come over and grab something like Reeser's 49cent burrito or a hot dog for an afternoon snack.

After a while, Bill and Candy needed a weekend morning clerk. Nellie asked for the job.  Now the truth was that Candy was unsure of Nellie as a clerk. She thought Nellie was too soft and didn't have the gumption to toss out someone who needed to be tossed out. That was the surprise of Candy's life...Nellie came from strong gumptions.  That woman tossed out more shoplifters than any other clerk, including Bill. She was used to spotting the "untrusted" out there because some of her husband's family were...hmmm...how does one say this...cheaters. Shoplifters. Free-hand shoppers. She could spot one anywhere.

So there the weekends were: Nellie opened the store and I closed it. We were taught to walk around the store and face the products on the shelves when the store was slow. We were so used to doing this that we would go into any store and start facing their cans and goods as we shopped. 

Some years down the line, Bill and Candy bought out Minit Mart and turned the little store into Candy's Kwik Shop. While they had some losers working for them here and there--the one who quit a morning gig by leaving a note on my door...I had to get up and dress, open the store until Bill or Candy could get there.  Or the one who had "hurt his foot" and had so much bandages and gauze around it that it looked like a basketball.  I sent him home and worked. He never came back. Or the woman who worked maybe one weekend and quit to work at a 7-11 across town. No notice; just quit--while they had a few losers, the majority of the workers were loyal and great.  My younger son started there as a bottle boy and began on the till after he turned 18. My friend Stewart started working weekends to my nights before Nellie came on. At one point every neighbor kid worked there, either as a bottle boy, stacking the coolers, or sweeping the lot.

And who was in charge of the neighborhood on all those weekends? Yeah. Nellie and me.

and the beat goes on
peace~~~

 

Nellie and Doris Adventures: Mutt and Jeff

 

My family moved to Portland in February, 1976 and settled into a small two-bedroom house in lower SE. It had a nice-sized front yard and an open lot connected to it. It was a few days after moving in before we could get any heat turned on. There was a small market across the street--Minit Mart--and as I introduced myself, I mentioned our lack of heat to the owners during this February freeze.  The owner of the store rushed home and brought me an electric heater to use until our gas was turned on. Hmmm...so this was the type of neighborhood in which we moved, a neighborhood that cared about and helped one another.

That first spring, I happily started a little garden while the boys were napping. I grew radishes, lettuce, and something else that was easy to grow. I was NOT a gardener; know that right up front. Gardening got me outside in hopes I could meet some of my neighbors.

Now that the weather was nicer, I noticed that there were a bunch of kids about my boys' ages.  Next door from the empty lot were three boys: Steve, Richard, and Tommy. Across the street one house had three kids: Teresa, Arty, and Troy. And next door to this house had three kids: Stephanie, Missy, and Robbie. I had never lived in a neighborhood with lots of kids, not even growing up. This was great!

I decided we needed a little How Do You Do potluck in the neighborhood, so I invited the families over for a neighborhood party. I met and had great friendships with Shirley and Nellie until the day they died. This potluck event turned into something we all did together for many many years. 

As a neighborhood, we had many adventures--store hold ups, neighborhood rival family fights in the store parking lot, cars crashing into the small apartment kitty-corner from my house. The list goes on. But these stories of adventures are with my wonderful beautiful best friend Nellie. We went everywhere together. I might suggest we do something and Nellie would agree. Or she had an idea and I'd jump into the game. And we'd pack up the kids and off we'd go. For example, in the ultra hot of summer, we would decide to walk up to Mt Scott Park for a swim. Great idea! The kids and we could get out of our cranky moods and get cool. Of course! Great Idea! After all, it was only 1.5 miles! The problem was the 1.5 mile walk home.  And there we were, once again hot and cranky.

I knew that Nellie was shorter than me, but then most people in my life were. Since I hit six foot tall in high school, I just stopped paying attention to heights

between people. Yeah, the downside was it did stop me from dating way back then because most the boys hadn't reached their full height yet, but I actually liked being tall. I will admit that one of the problems with being a 6 foot young woman in 1968 was that store-bought dresses were just not long enough to satisfy the "no more than two inches above the knee" dress code we had in high school. Plus these legs were long and I got sent home many times to change my clothes (as a side note, I didn't go home but drove to the beach for the day instead.  Hey! They sent me home!). By the time I was in my 20s, I wore what I wanted and I loved to wear platform shoes. 

As I said, I stopped paying attention to differences in heights...that is until one day we were walking around in the neighborhood and the sun was behind us. And there that height difference jumped in our faces. Nellie came almost to my shoulder.  That was when I started calling us Mutt and Jeff.

With all my heart I wish I could still walk the streets (hey! those quarters add up!) with my beautiful friend Nellie Barney.

and the beat goes on
peace

Perseverance, Laughter and Love

As we move into our 24th year of marriage, I have started paying attention to all the little things that make us work so well together. I remember reading a light mystery series way back then where the star judged her relationships by two aspects: he makes me laugh and makes me “come.” And we thought that was a great start.

We do have things in common.  He plays music and I play the radio.  I make quilts and he uses them. He prefers to stay home and kill monsters on the computer and I make up for his loss of outside world interaction.  I dislike working in the yard and…well let’s just say one of the first questions I ever asked him was, “Do you like yard work?” And when he said yes, I announced, “I want you BAD.”  Perfect.

But it’s less our “things” in common as our outlooks on life, philosophies, our views of the world. We share a love for family, love for animals, for humanity.  We share world views, share a desire for kindness, for honesty. He has a rather dry sense of humor to my more slap-stick out-there funny-bone. But we still find the other hilarious.  He’s goofy to my sheer sophistication.  

Okay that last one wasn’t true.  But he is goofy 🙃 

The trust we have in one another comes from a deep place.  He was the first man who has never tried to change me. Ever. Oh yeah while he might like a few changes, he’s never voiced them nor tried to steer me toward them. He accepts me who I am: free-spirited living life out loud surviving hippie. As I accept him as he is: an introverted computer geek surviving hippie.  

We are now recovering from COVID. Thanks to a bazillion vaccines and Paxlovid, that recovery is going well. Slowly, but well.  The lingering COVID fatigue has reminded me how much we rely on one another day-in and day-out and how much we do for each other.  When my right knee was so bad that I could only crab-crawl up the stairs to bed, Doug took over doing the laundry, which is located in the basement.  Since he is two days behind me in COVID recovery, I pushed myself today and changed our fever-sweated sheets as well as took the towels to the basement. It had been a minute, but I remembered how to work the washer *wink*

We have split the household chores.  I cook because I’m better at it and he cleans up.  As I’ve been cleaning up these past few days I thought about how I simply leave my few dishes in the sink for him, leave the cooking mess for him. But then he leaves the bed unmade for me.  

My mother said he was a real gentleman (and that he had a cute butt…did I want to know my mom was looking at my partner’s butt!?) and he is (and he does lol). My bouts with cancer—he’s right there.  My flair ups—he’s right there. My cranky times—he’s in hiding.  His few illnesses—I’m right there. His autoimmune flair ups—I’m right there.  His few cranky times—I’m right there in his face.  Yes, he is smarter at some things than I am.

Oh yeah, and he is the Trivia King. I used to think between us we knew just about everything.  When I didn’t know something, he could fill-in. Nah. He’s so much smarter than me.  Except for pop culture; there is where I shine. I always knew reading People Magazine would be a useful activity. Each night as we eat dinner—we try to eat dinner together every evening—we pull out a box of Trivial Pursuit cards and ask questions.  We get into conversations over stuff. We laugh at our ignorance. We think we will remember the answer the next time.  We never do. 

What makes a relationship last as a strong unit? I can only speak of ours. Perseverance. Trust. Honesty. Love. Laughter. Plus we really like one another.