beetlegrass

Flashback Friday (various years): Childhood Bunnies

With Easter a scant two days away, here's a Bunny Flashback...

Above: Perciville is a Steiff rabbit that I got at FAO Schwartz in 1976. I was 11 years old.
We were in New York City to see the Easter show at Radio City Music Hall with the Rockettes and the feature film Robin and Marian, starring Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn.

Perciville quickly became a favorite toy AND a member of Beetle Grass, the town that I kept on my dresser.

Above: Here is one drawing I did in 1976 of Perciville (or Persiville, I ain't fussy) with some other town members.
Miseltoe (forgot that that was his name) was a squirrel a friend had made with a real corn kernel held between his front paws. Periwinkle wasn't really periwinkle, but rather a dark purple. Hey, I kept it in the color family. He was a hard stuffed animal, the kind with little play value cuz you couldn't pose him in any way. Oh well. His ears and tail moved. Sometimes that's all you can expect from a toy.

Above: OK, these pages above were done in 1980, when I was 14 or 15.
While other kids were reading Stephen King novels, I was still drawing my toys.
Whatever.
It kept me (mostly) out of mischief.
(OR DID IT...)
In case you care: the founding members of Beetle Grass were Fribbie and Fibbie, and then their children Fledgling and Furbie.
Dale and Bev the mice were named after a cousin who got married when I was in the sixth grade.
They (the humans, not the mice) are the parents of some kid I know.
Let's see if she's paying attention...
Fiorella the mouse is from my extensive crocheted mice collection. She was named after Fiorello LaGuardia. Guess who had been to the airport around the time she got this? You're good.
I won't make any comments about the bears named Bob and Jane.
Rachel is a wooden rabbit and she's married to a cat named Tee that I made out of paper. Another case of interspecies mingling. Their last name is "Shirt", so of course they named their first child "Sweat".
I wonder what it'd be like to go through life with a name like "Sweat".
Guess I'll never have to find out.
I would like to experience having the name "Edmund Q. Taratoochie, Esq.", however.

I don't remember if this rabbit above had a name. I mean, I can't imagine that she escaped having a name, I just don't recall what it is.
I got her in the second grade, like 1972-ish, around age 7-ish. Don't remember who gave her to me. I think she was a hand-me-down of sorts? Who knows. I just remember that I liked her a lot, and that Barbie P. wanted to trade me a paper balloon that she had made for this rabbit. I really had to think about that proposition, because I didn't want to make Barbie mad by saying "no", but I didn't want to give up my rabbit for what was essentially a piece of folded-up notebook paper.
I stewed about it overnight, and then told Barbie the next day that I didn't want to do the trade.
She had totally forgotten about her offer, and it didn't matter to her one way or the other.
All that worry for nothing.

The basket on her arm is a recent addition, because, while other kids are having kids and grandkids and caring for their aging parents, I'm still playing with my toys.

The above drawing of The Rabbit Family was done when I was in the 3rd grade (1973) and 8 years old.
Click on the image to see it larger.

Above: Details of The Rabbit Family. Since the Mommy Rabbit is sitting and doing naught, I'm guessing she's just given birth to the little rabbits, and that's why Grandma Rabbit is visiting.
I like the stove in the Grandma drawing. That's still my understanding of stoves. They have some dials and a vent. Just grab your plate and fork and pray for the best.

Above: 1976, age 11. Wonder who gave me a nightgown. This have been my scratch copy for the thank you card. The mouse and bunny are exchanging presents ... I know that cuz I read the gift cards.

Above: Two more pictures from 1976 when I was 11. In "The Music Makers", I like that the snake is playing the drum with his tongue. That's cute. I think I'll use that somewhere soon. And of course a ladybug is conducting. Somehow I'm not surprised.
Meg's Art Gallary (sic) features some really messy drawings, but I'll say this for it: these are all things that I'd draw now if left to my own devices.

All images are © Megan E. Jeffery. All Rights Reserved.

Flashback Friday (El-Hi School): Irish Step Dancing

It's March, so you know what that means...
Time to trot out the Gaelic Flashbacks!

I've mentioned this before, but here it is again: I took Irish step dancing lessons and performed while in elementary school/ junior high, and then performed sporadically 'til I was in high school. And usually around St. Patrick's Day, if you can believe that straaaange coincidence.

Didn't know there was any photographic evidence of my "dancing days" 'til someone sent this -- a performance at my then-church -- to me last year .
I look to be in high school -- my guess is junior or senior year -- 1982 or 3 (i.e. 15 or 16 years old).
I'm going by the glasses I'm wearing. They were the kind that were supposed to darken when you went outside, and then lighten up again once you were back inside.

As time went on, it took the glasses longer and longer to lighten up. Since marching band practice took place outside during 5th period, it looked like I was wearing sunglasses for awhile after heading back into school.
Another kid in band had the same issue, so we gave each other the pet nicknames of Stevie (Wonder) and Ray (Charles).

I can't Photoshop this pic any better. Believe me, I've tried.
I look kinda tall here.
I can dream, can't I?

Anyway, the red arrow is pointing to the pin that held up my red sash, which was also tacked at my waist in the back. This pin, shown in the next image, is one that my parents got for me in Scotland.
My Dad, who is Scottish and most! emphatically! NOT!!! Irish, got a big tickle outta my wearing something Scottish with my Irish costume.
It's a beautiful pin with striking sword/shield imagery, and I still wear it. Although, admittedly, not with this dress. I get enough attention without adding fuel to the fire.

Wanted to show the detail of the swan embroidery. My teacher would always start off a performance by telling the story behind the embroidery -- about a father with 7(?) daughters, and somethingsomething about them all turning into swans.
See how well I paid attention?
I probably heard it too much and it left a bare patch in my brain where the story shoulda been.

Flashback Friday (1979-80): Love Notes (Bob)

Well, it's February 29th, which means the MONTH of LOVE is rapidly drawing to a close.
To bid it a fond farewell, here are some love notes from Bob, a boy I dated when I was 14 (in the 9th grade and in the last year of junior high), and he was 15 and in 10th grade at the high school.
I was friends with his sister, which is how Bob & I met.
I have not read these notes in a very very long time, so as you may imagine, there was lotza laughing 'round these parts today.
You can click on these items to see them larger.
If you can't read 'em, what's the point in being nosey?

A boy who takes pains with his letterform.

This card folds out and is enormous; too large to fit on my scanner bed, plus I don't want The United Features Syndicate to come a-knockin' on my door for copying Snoopy.

A note commemorating our "anniversary" (more like "LUNAversary", since we only dated for a total of 3 months and change) now makes me think: "Did he need a mood regulator, or was he just a teenager?"
Something I've learned recently: guys are just as queer as girls about having things like an "our song".
I thought it was just us.

OK, no more hormones for YOU!
Oh, and just so's we're clear here? We were NOT lovers. Don't want my 14-year-old self's reputation to be dragged through the mud umpteen years later.
By way of explanation for this note: I was going on vacation to the Virgin Islands with my family for a week or so.

 

The above poem had me howling today.
He rhymed.
Purity and Security.
Wow.
The cat was a necklace that he gave me, that he had engraved at the Super-X drugstore in the mall.
* Swoon *

Yeah, cuz you know where I really CUT LOOSE?
At Bible Study.
Here's a quick translation of the above: "I am loathe to go, but I want to make it look like I'm being magnanimous & supportive." Saw through it then, too.

The above also had me laughing pretty hard, because... well... I still sing while on the phone.
It happens. What can you do?
One boy in my life actually ENJOYED my doing this.
But that's probably because he genuinely liked me the way I am.
Crazy notion.
Oh, yeah: 11, 24, 33, 44, 54 = first word, one letter (I); second word, four letters (LOVE)... etc.
Crack the code!

Hope you've enjoyed this month's "treasures" from the Love Vault.
Come back next year for more of the same.
Yawn.

Flashback Friday (1978): Hormonal Junior High

Yeah, it's still Friday somewhere in the world, so here's another Flashback for the Month of Love.
This week focuses on Dominick, a boy I liked in 7th grade when I was 12 years old.
Our love began in Spanish class, when he gave me his pencil named Herbie and I gave him a pen named Henrietta.
You think I'm joking.
I'm not.
Here's some journaling during the summer following 7th grade, when we were trying to keep our Luv strong, but like every great romantic couple down thru the ages, were meeting with much resistance.

The first time Dominick called and I wasn't home, one of my brothers answered the phone.
He told me when I returned, "Donna Nick called."
(Dominick's voice hadn't yet "changed".)
I said, "Oh, you mean DOMinick???"
Brother: "NO, MEGAN... DONNA NICK!"
My brother had a hard time believing that a boy might find me alluring.

Mood swings from C- to an A+, all in the course of one 24-hour time period.
And what can account for that?
What ALWAYS accounts for a swift shift to a happier mood.
A call from a boy you like.
THAT never changes.

And, since no obsession is complete without drawing the kid in question, here's:

1. Dominick... nice pig nose...
   
2. Me... and then in the drawing of myself, I realized how much I looked like...
3. Marie, the younger sister of "Googs", a kid that no one liked. Harsh realization, that.

After we entered the 8th grade, having seen each other NO times during the summer (never got the lollipop), Dominick & I no longer liked each other.
One time he saw me in the school's library combing my hair, and he said, in front of his friends,
"Megan, no matter WHAT you do..."

That made our breaking-up-although-we-never-actually-went-out Official.

Flashback Friday ('73/'74): Boys That Draw (Jeff)

It's February, so all the Flashbacks this month will be LOVE-centric!

I've always been partial to boys who can draw.
And to boys who can write.
And, if a boy can both draw AND write???
Well, then, we've got ourselves a good time.

I liked Jeff C. from the 3rd to the 5th grade.
The crush ended because he & his family moved to South Carolina, which was so deflating because:
Didn't they know that together we would have been "Meg - n - Jeff(er)(re)y", MY NAME, which would have been so cool? (At least for me, if not for him?)
I still remember why I liked him. He was nice, kinda quiet, had blackhairblueeyes, and... he could draw!!! And gave me some of his drawings, which you can click on to see larger.
Here are some now, from when we were in the 3rd grade, around 8 years old:

Jeff did well with character development, and had a knack for naming his creatures.
The above little portfolio was where I kept (& keep!) his tiny drawings.

Jeff did these great scenes with lots of stuff going on, highly-detailed and process-oriented.
Aren't they fun?
Love the little bodies that have been stitched up after brain insertion, and the signs saying, "Mouth IN", and "Eye ON". That's really cute.
Here's a closer-upper view:

Jeff's "Flea" drawings were quite the rage in our class, so another boy, John B., out of jealousy I think, started drawing these characters he called "Flings". They kind of resembled Jeff's Fleas, but instead of having Jeff's well-drawn cute faces, John's Flings were basically black dots with legs. Thus eliminating the need to actually, um, draw well.
John even came up with a little ditty to "sell" his Flings.
And for some dumb reason, I still remember it:

Flings are great,
Fleas stink.
When you draw Flings,
You need more ink.

Don't know why excess ink usage would be a selling point, but OK...

In addition to the drawings Jeff gave me, he also gave me a shark's tooth that he got on vacation.
I treasured it so much that I put it in this green mousie purse (also treasured), and NEVER put anything else in it, and there it has remained for lo these past (calculating numbers, please hold...) 34/35 years!

I wonder how Jeff's doing these days and if he's still drawing.
Hope so. He was really good at a young age.

Flashback Friday (1985): Love Wish Lists

It's February! Time for another MONTH of LOVE! This will be the theme for the Flashbacks for the next few weeks.
During a lull in the Wintersession of our Sophomore year at RISD, my roommate and I came up with wish lists for what we wanted/needed in our Future Husbands. (We were 17 years old.)
Here's mine:

(I want the eyes to be blue and unable to see...)
23 years have passed since I jotted these things down, but SURPRISINGLY, not much has changed re: the kinds of looks I dig in a guy, and all the character & personality stuff? Yeah.
Although I DO recognize that the ship may have sailed on Item #16. :-D
Moral of the Story: I'm not married. So draw your own conclusions.

Here's my roommate's list:

I love how hair color was a non-issue for Andrea, but that she ADAMANT that it NOT be parted in the middle.
I won't tell you what the 'b' meant in the 'h.b.' request (red arrow), but I CAN tell you that the 'h' stood for 'healthy'.
Met her husband recently, and while I can't attest to his 'b', 'h'-or-otherwise, I can say with a certainty:
His hair was NOT parted in the center.

OK, spill. Did you ever make a spouse wish list? What was on it? How many characteristics does your honey 'match'? Which 'requirements' turned out to be not-so-important in the long run?
Write your answers in essay form. In cursive. And in pen.

Flashback Friday ('77, '78, '79): Book Report Art

Chose to do a book report on William Steig's Dominic when I was 12 and in the 6th grade.
Think that my decision to do the report as a comic book was kinda last minute, cuz: scribble, scribble, scribble!
Didn't matter though. Still got a "Good Work" from my teacher Mrs. Rosenberg.
The Little Brown Bear (or: LBB) holding the sign was a character that I made a lot in the 6th grade.
It represented "me".
(This is not to be confused with my much-later nickname of "LBP", or Little Baked Potato, so called because of the silver, down-filled jacket I liked to wear.)

Below are the penciled interior pages. Click on them to see them larger in a pop-up window. 

Below is probably where I was going with my original idea for reporting on the book before switching to the comic book format..
It's "more considered", i.e.: less Slobby Bobby.
Was obviously trying to imitate Steig's wonderful drawings.

The above book report was done when I was in the 7th grade and 13 years old.
This is the story of a young Chinese boy named Tien Pao, his pig Glory-of-the-Republic, a sampan, being in enemy territory, Chinese guerrillas, and American soldiers.

Did the above book report when I was in 8th grade and 14 years old.
This book was kinda like the movie Rear Window, but grosser.
So, in effect, it was Disturbia about 30 years early.

Hey! I want a weird, fast-moving book! What would you recommend?

Flashback Friday (1975): New Year; Same Old Me

Did you get a "one-year" diary for Christmas as a kid, then couldn't wait for the end of the year to be over, so you could start writing on that first clean page about your very important life?
Yeah, me too.
Here's the diary that I got for Christmas '74, when I was 9 years old and in the fourth grade.
The addition of ballpoint pen pupils was a good choice.

You can click on these pages to see them in a larger version.

   

By way of explanation:

• January 2nd was not actually the day I started writing in this thing. But since on January 1st everyone was a "jerk", thought I'd spare you that.
• Obviously back to the grind of school on the second day of the year. Cruel.
• Mrs. R., Mrs. S., and Mr. C. were my fourth grade teachers.
• INCIDENTALLY, I don't think I would have known the difference between "incidentally" and "accidentally" if it came up and clobbered me on the head. Plus I couldn't spell worth a good gosh darn back then.
• Love this: "Accidenatly, I think her mother should have wrapped them so the kids wouldn't get to them". Nothing like a moralistic little 9-year-old telling you how to live your life.
• In a lot of my diary entries, I talk about the TV shows I happened to see. This is because we grew up without a TV, and watching the marvelous glowing box was definitely note-worthy.
• I like how I got all indignant about my friend Sue's grade of 4 wrong out of 10 was called an 'F' by the teacher. Uh, that's a 60, which is an 'F', Little Dingleberry...
• I love the "grounding" references to things of that day, like "Kathy Quick Curl", "Barbie's Beach Bus", and "Airport '75".

The plays that I'm referring to on the above pages are the ones I talk about here. Not only did my brother Craig and I put on finger puppet shows, but we also performed a double feature of Cinderella and The Whistle. The Whistle was a scary ghost story wherein the dog in the tale is so frightened that he turns from a black dog into a white one. Ooooooo!
Cinderella and her sisters were just my Barbie and Casey dolls, gripped by their ankles in our meaty little fists.

Here I am in the fourth grade, acting quite the scholar.
I've no idea who took this picture.
On my desk is one of the school projects that to this day remains one of my crowning achievements:
The Digestive System shown through the use of embroidery flosses and yarns of varying weights.
(The large intestine got yarn; the small intestine got floss... naturally...)

I am wearing one of my most favorite outfits of that time, too. It was a dress that had smocking on the front, and had a little bolero-y type jacket that tied at the neck, with rickrack at the edges.
So what if my classmates wore jeans and T-shirts?
Oh, yeah, the girl in the red T-shirt is Karla O., mentioned in the diary pages.

What isn't visible in this photo, but that I KNOW is there:

1. A blue granny square pocketbook (made by my grandmother) slung over the back of my chair. Probably contained at least ONE stuffed animal. Most likely: a mouse.
2. A family of paper rabbits in the front part of my desk. I made them furniture and books and they even had real food: Cheetos from my friends' lunches that acted as carrots. Raisins. Etc. What a pain it was to try to remove a book from my desk without sending RabbitWorld spinning into disarray.

Anyway, hope your New Year is void of jerks but rife with good TV, friends with better toys, lots of self-performed plays, and distracting pastimes.
Happy 2008!

Flashback Friday (1967): Christmas Morning

Me, age 2, with a stockingful of loot...
Merry Christmas, everyone!

Flashback Friday (1981): "The Opossum Burglary Mystery"

I was going to post something Christmas-y today, or something seasonal.
But then I came across this; it made me laugh; so that's what's going up today.
In 1981, when I was 15 years old and a sophomore in high school, our house got robbed twice within a two-week span.
Here, below, is Dad's account of the first of these events, as dictated to me.
Dad's funny.

Some background:

• Craig (my brother), who was a senior in high school at the time, was getting his tuxedo to go to a school dance. Probably the Winter Cotillion.
• "Beetle Grass", was, at that time, a town that lived on my dresser. By high school, the town had long since been banished to the attic, but Dad would still tease me about it. It's a father's right.
• I think we called it the "Opossum Burglary Mystery" because we could never figure out who did it, so we jumped to the natural conclusion that it MUST HAVE been an opossum.
• Actually, we figured it had to be a kid, due to the small amount of money that was taken that week (and even slimmer pickin's the following week), AND because the person had to be pretty slender, slipping into our house in the way that they did. Our chief suspect was a kid down the street, but we could never prove it. But his name has been forever sullied in our family's collective mind.
• I even went so far as to try to procure the "Absentees" list at school for both of the days in question, in a Nancy Drew attempt to see if I could find one name appearing for the two dates, thereby fingering the guilty party. Yeah. No.

Speaking of opossums: The snowplows managed to scoop up a dead one that's been lying in the road in front of my house for weeks now, and conveniently & oh-so-thoughtfully deposit it right IN my driveway.

Imagine my delight when my shovel made contact with that grisly treasure this morning.

Hey, I wrote about snow!
See? I managed to make this a seasonal post!