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Wednesday, March 30, 2016

What I Wanted But Didn't Get

By Celia Yeary
ME IN THOSE DREADED GIRL'S JEANS AT AGE TEN--
AT LEAST I GOT SADDLE OXFORDS
     The first thing I remember wanting but didn't get was a bicycle. My little sister and I hoped and prayed we’d get bicycles for Christmas in 1950. I was ten and she was eight, and we lived in a very tiny three-room stucco house in Levelland, Texas. It was our first year in that small West Texas town, and little did we know, we'd settle there after following oil fields for six years--moving at least once a year. We sneaked out of bed on Christmas morning and tip-toed to the Christmas tree. No bicycles. We peeked through the curtains at the front yard. No bicycles. Instead, Santa brought us identical dolls, identical packages of panties, identical lockets, and identical white New Testaments.
     In seventh grade, I got glasses, probably six years too late, because I could not see anything at a distance. I wanted to be like the other girls without glasses, but no, I was shy, wore glasses and cardigan sweaters, and skirts. So, I muddled through junior high, being the smart girl, the sweet one, the nice girl--not exactly what I wanted.
     During my ninth grade year, I had all four wisdom teeth pulled because they were pushing my teeth forward. This made a few a little crooked, but no one ever in my life mentioned my crooked teeth, so I figured they weren't that bad. However, I asked for braces. I begged for braces, crying my eyes out. No, we could not afford them. In fact, I think only one girl in the entire school had braces, but she was the rich girl. That made me mad because I never knew she had crooked teeth, and believed she only got them to show off.
      The Cold War was raging, and I became very fearful of an atomic bomb dropping on our town. It could happen, I told my daddy. Please, I begged him, build us a bomb shelter in the back yard. I'd read about them, so I knew how they were built, and the supplies we were to put down there. No, he said, we can't afford a bomb shelter, but he wouldn't build one even if we could. I loved my daddy with all my heart, but at that time, I hated him. He seemed unreasonable and stubborn about the request, so I decided he didn't love me.
     Later in high school, I asked Mother for boys' jeans. It was the beginning era of rock'n'roll, Elvis, and Bill Haley and the Comets. Some girls began to wear boys' jeans rolled up in wide cuffs, saddle oxfords, and their daddy's white shirts hanging out. I wanted that, too, but no, Mother said. You will not wear boy's jeans. You can wear girls' jeans that zip on the side....but no, that was not the point. I wore dresses to school every single day, until the day I graduated.
~~*~~
     But what happened concerning those things I wanted?
    In the end, I didn't care if I had a bike or not. After that year, a bicycle did not interest me because few others rode bikes, and those few were boys.
     Yes, in seventh grade I had glasses and was shy and wore cardigans. but in eighth grade? With the same glasses, and a pink sweater outfit, I was chosen Most Popular. Wow.
     As a wise and smarter adult, I realized one day I'd gotten every important thing I wanted with glasses and not so perfect teeth-a handsome, smart husband, a daughter and son, both brilliant, of course, three unique grandsons who are very big now but who still hug me and say, "I love you, Grandmother," and nice homes everywhere we moved.
      I'm pretty sure I forgot about that bomb shelter by the next week..or maybe the next day. Mother always told me that I woke up in a new world every morning. I was never sure what she meant by that, except now in my senior years, I think it means I don't hold grudges from the day before, I forget about arguments very quickly, and I'm most often happy.
     On the other hand, it might mean that I could never remember what happened the day before.
     The boys' jeans? Probably that was a good call on my mother's part. Some girls looked very cute and sexy in their outfits, but I have a feeling I wouldn't have looked so good. I didn't exactly have a straight up and down body like a boy's.
~~*~~
     I wonder what kind of a person I'd be now if I had been given everything I wanted. Some parents do indulge their children to such an extent that there's little left for the child to want. "Wanting" and "yearning" are character builders. This is my interpretation and conclusion. 
     What is left in this world if we have nothing to work for? To yearn for? To hope for?
     Writing romance novels has given me a chance to use my well-earned knowledge of the human heart. Our heroine must yearn for her hero, and our hero must work to earn her love. And together, they hope for a happily-ever-after life, even though the road might be a little bumpy along the way.
     In my newest release—All My Hopes and Dreams—with PRP, Cynthia Harrington is the beautiful daughter of the banker, the richest man in Nacogdoches, Texas. She has seen Ricardo Romero in town and wondered about him, but she had her sights set on the town’s “favorite son,” Jeffrey ‘Buck’ Cameron, one of the prestigious Camerons of Texas.
      But what she wanted…she did not get. Buck chose someone else. So, Cynthia tries a very amateurish run-away plan. In doing so, she encounters..who else? Ricardo Romero.
     He follows her and they meet on the dusty road she takes out of town.
      Excerpt:
     “May I ask how is it that you speak in a precise aristocratic tone one time, and at the other, you drawl as if you’re a Texan?”
     Ricardo chuckled as he shifted to lay on his side and prop himself up on his elbow. He looked up into her pretty face. “The way I was reared, I suppose. Formal speech for polite occasions; regular drawl for casual ones. Something like that.”
     “Excuse me, but you’re Mexican. No Mexican I know speaks nor dresses as you do.”
     Patiently he answered. “I am not Mexican. I’m a United States citizen, born in Texas where I’ve lived my entire life. I’ve never lived in Mexico and only traveled there once.”
     She cocked her head in bemusement. “I don’t understand.”
     Now, he sat up to talk earnestly to her. It was important to make her understand. “I am Spanish, descended from the early Spaniards, two hundred years back. My father traces his ancestry all the way back to Spanish royalty. My mother is half-Spanish. Her father was a Comanche warrior.”
     “What!” She placed her hand to her breast. “Your mother is half-Indian?”
     “Yes, and proud of it. She loved her father very much and grew up on a huge ranch and hacienda in far South Texas. He gave up his native ways and lived as the Spanish did, running cattle and sheep, and farming.”
     “My,” she breathed.
     “Yes, you see, a Mexican is a citizen of Mexico, just as an American is a citizen of the United States of America. Either might be of various ancestries, though, such as Spanish or Indian from Mexico or the U. S.”
     “So, you’re an American?”
     “Yes, of course. Most of the Spanish migrated to California a hundred years ago. They didn’t do well under their own rule in Texas, but they’ve been highly successful on the West Coast.”
     “But your family stayed.”
     He nodded. “My father’s family had some land, so they toughed it out, as they say.”
     Ricardo saw her open her mouth to speak, so he spoke first. “So, Miss Harrington, I answered your questions; now you must answer mine.”
     “What about?” she asked.
      “Just why are you running away? You have a perfectly good home, a father who obviously loves you, and you want for nothing.”
     FIND "ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS" ON AMAZON--
A FULL-LENGTH NOVEL



Thank you!!!!
Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas


30 comments:

  1. Celia, I love the 'what might have been' questions. Like you, I didn't get all I asked for, although I didn't ask for much. (I was too self contained even back then.)
    On another note, I really enjoyed this story. Finished it up just before everything got super busy. Readers can't go wrong with this one. Doris

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    1. Doris..I don't know how to thanks you. I appreciate your comment so much.

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  2. Hi Celia, what a wonderful thoughtful post! I cracked up at the bomb shelter and remembered hunkering in the school hallways to practice air raid drills while the principal intoned Psalm 46 in a dreadful voice. In those days , I so wanted a name different from my long Russian one because everyone teased me about being a Commie. Oh, the horror! Great excerpt...can't wait to make time to read.

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    1. I'm glad you enjoyed my tales. Yes, the bomb shelter made perfect sense to my young teenage mind. I don't think anyone in our far West Texas town had one, but I know some US citizens built them. Interesting that you had a Russian name...I can only imagine what you might have gone through--and we knew nothing about being Politically Correct, did we? Thanks for your comment. and I can identify with not having enough time to read everything.

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  3. Celia, I so enjoyed your romp back in time and how us as youngsters were maybe not necessarily shallow, but at least self-consuming and so eager to fit in that we thought we were deprived or mistreated because we didn't get the many things we thought mattered. You had me chuckling with all your fond memories--so thanks. I easily related to those jeans and the braces. I didn't need braces, but I sure did want certain clothes, hip hugger pants that flared at the ankles and a kilt when they were the rage. Oh and some spike high heels. I did get some things I asked for, but ya know, you're so right. They weren't so great after all. I learned very quickly as I ended my teenage years what really was and is important in this wonderful world. Thanks for a delightful post and thanks for writing All My Hopes and Dreams. I so enjoyed that story. I always know when I read one of your books I'll be left with my heart deeply touched and very satisfied with a enjoyable read.

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    1. Yes, Beverly, it was the idea of wanting to fit in. I was in a six-girl clique, just like most girls in school. I was grown before I realized my group was one of those most admired--not me, exactly but half of us..which made the other half look good.
      A kilt? On, I remember, you're from the UK. Wow,so teenage girls were the same worldwide.
      You're very generous with your praise, but your words are music to my ears and heart. Thanks!

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  4. Oh yes, you're definitely right about wanting things and not getting them--and then, with some maturity, realizing you got what you truly needed.
    The only reason I had a bicycle was because my oldest sister was an only child for a long time until my other sister and I came along. Because she was the only grandchild, she received all kinds of great things like a bicycle. By the time my sister and I came along, we also had 3 cousins about our age, so luxurious presents just weren't going to happen. I rode that old bicycle until the wheels should have fallen off. I never got that pony.I didn't get my own room until I was thirteen. My boyfriend dumped me and I was broken hearted--but he ended up in jail years later, so missed a bullet there.
    I remember girls wearing their fathers' shirts and ties, too--no boy jeans though. We had to wear dresses or skirts to school. Since Pop worked in a federal office, he had to wear suits with white shirts and ties, so he had plenty of old ones I could use. In fact, I still have a couple of his 1950's ties in the cedar clost.
    I loved this story--and I loved Romero. Goodness!
    You always have such interesting articles that the rest of us can relate to. You're like a blog queen. I always look forward to reading them. When it comes to empathy, you have it in abundance. It's what makes your stories so deeply touching and relatable to readers.

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    1. I like being the blog queen. Haha. So, you missed out on a lot of things, too, and look at you...a brilliant beautiful woman and author who didn't need those things either. But...I did stop and think about that 1st grandchild getting everything, and then the next two plus the cousns got so little. If grandparents knew that would happen, maybe they wouldn't do it. Or maybe they would. At least I understand it. Thanks for your entertaining comment! I love those.

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  5. Celia, I wonder if your father quietly laughed at your insistence on the bomb shelter. By the time I was in elementary school, the duck and cover drills were a thing of the past. I remember reading about them in a social studies book and asking the teacher what good being under a desk would have done. She said sometimes it's important to make people feel safe. I think about that every time I go through a TSA screening. LOL! Great blog, and your story sounds fabulous.

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    1. I wonder, too. Daddy was such a practical person, and he probably forgot about my request by the time we all went to bed. One thing he did give me...a sense that I was beautiful and rich. I can assure you, we were neither, but he told me every day I was pretty (a little overdone), and I really and truly never wanted for anything important.

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  6. I related to your wants, yearnings, and memories as I experienced many of your same stories. I wore dresses/skirts all through school until semester of my sophomore year when the weather turned so cold that girls were allowed to wear 'pants' from then on (northeastern Colorado--90 miles from Denver). Our schools had nuclear bomb drills. We all crouched under our desks. 0_o

    As far as getting what I wanted... I grew up in a middle to upper middle class home. I can never remember doing without anything I wanted or needed, but looking back, I realize I didn't get those "things" in an instant gratification manner. I either worked and earned my own money or it went on my Christmas or birthday list. I'm grateful that my parents didn't hand me everything just because I wanted it. I didn't have my own car. I drove the family car or pickup, and more often than not, a little Ford tractor. *grin* I was a country girl, so I rode the bus to and from school.

    My own three children (boy-girl-boy) are grown with children of their own. I, like you, are proud of how they "turned out". I was a divorced mom when they were young, and I raised them to work for what they wanted and to appreciate and to be satisfied with what they had, which was a roof over their heads, food on the table, friends, and loving family. They are in turn, raising their children with much the same philosophy.

    It's all good.

    Count me among those who have read, and thoroughly enjoyed, "All My Hopes and Dreams". Regardless of the reader's age, I think we can recognize something from our own growing up years in this story.

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    1. First, Kaye, thanks for reading AMHAD....and liking it. You sound like a very wise mother and grandmother, as I think I am. Our own two children certainly did not get everything, but truly, I don't recall either one asking for much. Daughter, then son, and they always seemed rather complacent about what they had or didn't have. I'm slightly appalled these days about parents loading their kids up with toys and goodies. Easter? I was amazed that it was more like Christmas. My goodness, I know little kids who got as many as a dozen "Easter gifts." It boggles the mind.
      I think you and I share the more sane way of living by not showering kids...grandkids..with too much stuff. Thanks so much for your interesting and insightful comment.

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  7. Celia, Only you would think to make a list of all the things you didn't get as a kid. Your parents sound like they were fair and frugal and loving. The frugal part was a sign of the times. Parents couldn't go in debt for their children back then because there were no charge cards. If you didn't have the money in the bank or under the mattress, you didn't have the money. I've read your "All My Hopes and Dreams" and enjoyed it very much. Wishing you all the best, Maggie

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    1. Maggie..as usual, you hit the nail on the proverbial head. My parents were rather frugal because we had one income and there were three of us girls without a working mom. The life and times of the fifties. I would not take anything for those years. I was never mistreated in my life, and I loved my parents and was very proud when my mother dressed up...she was stunning with her very black hair and eyes, voluptuous body, and very pretty face. Thanks.

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  8. After reading your posts I couldn't help but wonder...what if we did get everything we ever wanted? Not by working for it, that's how I raised my kids..if they wanted Nikes, they got jobs to buy them or any other name brand they just had to have, but by momma and daddy just handing things over to them. I do believe that is what is missing in our culture now...My grandchildren have so much...so many new clothes, so many new toys. So much stuff...parents work second and third jobs to make sure their kids have the latest outfit or computer gadget. Its so silly...with kids...even though they don't realize it...when they get older it will be time spent with loved ones spending time together doing some menial thing is what they will remember. The one thing I wished for and never got was to have a prom dress. I got asked to prom my sophomore and junior year and both times my mother said no to the new dress and to prom. To this day I have never worn a beautiful gown. Congratulations on the new release. Here's wishing huge success.

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    1. Mmmmn, interesting. Sure, we could only buy what we could afford, and my mother did not splurge. I am so sorry you did not get a prom dress. Mother made a beautiful one for me that was almost strapless and looked much like a wedding dress. I adored that dress with the taffeta and lace. The night of the prom? My boyfriend picked me up, and a storm was approaching. This was in far West Texas on the plains, around Lubbock. By the time the prom was over, the rain was pounding down, and the town was under a tornado alert. He got me home, and in getting into and then out of the car, my beautiful dress dragged in the muddy water, and at home I stepped on the sagging hem and ripped half the skirt off. He and I ran to the front door and mother jerked open the door. When she saw we were okay...just very wet and bedraggled and laughing, she asked, "Well, did you have fun?" My answer? "It was the most fun I ever had."

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    2. Celia, I love the story of your prom night. It would make a really cute addition to a 1960's contemporary romance. I could almost envision you in your lovely gown and your date, only he would be dressed in a white sports coat and a pink carnation. I loved it!

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  9. Celia, I know how you felt as a kid. My parents couldn't afford much. One Thanksgiving, when my Dad lost his job, we were the recipients of a charity food basket. It was kind of embarrassing, but I was still happy we got it.

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    1. Oh, geez, Morgan. We weren't in that condition. My mother was one who would give our supper to someone who needed it. What we did have, I loved. As a Freshman, Mother managed to buy a new Baldwin spinet piano for us three girls. But I was the only one who played, and my lands, I "banged" that piano to death during my school years. I always wondered how she managed to save enough money for the brand new piano.

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  10. Hi Celia: Great post -- certainly an idea I have considered on occasion, especially when I see so many kids getting so much without muscle or strain...My parents were both modest in their giving, but both (as for so many of us) went through the Depression.

    My mother's family had to move in with grandparents after Grandpa lost his business. Interestingly, he was a master painter and one job he did hold onto was painting "Old Lady Winchester's" house in San Jose. He once said if he'd had a nickel for every stroke he ever painted, he'd have been a rich man. Said she was always wanting something else painted or built. Any time I pass that place now I think of him.

    And my dad grew up in the Italian neighborhoods of Newark, first generation, and had to struggle, too. He was the only one of his siblings to even graduate high school -- but then he went on to graduate from Rutgers, Harvard, and attended Stanford during the War while in Officers' Training before going overseas. That's where he met Mom!

    So our childhood was one where we basically got what was necessary and Christmas giving was pretty simple. Grandma always shopped at Woolworth's and we ususally got new pajamas and maybe a few other small gifts. I do remember one year when we were small when we got a big bag of blocks. We played with those for years! And one year we each got a Muffy doll. Those were special gifts!

    Thanks for taking us down memory lane :-)

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    1. Thanks to YOU for reading and commenting--I loved it. No matter where we grew up back then, I'm sure it was the same for middle class families. Now, probably we might be considered poor...but we weren't. And did every little girl always get new pajamas...or new panties...for Christmas?
      My husband is next to youngest of 12--born in 1935. Talk about poor. I love his stories. If he had a penny or a nickel he saved it. Today, well, he's "saved" quite a bit of money and he is awed by this.
      Easter this year shocked me...it's become Christmas, with little children getting Easter presents. I've actually been appalled to learn just how much these children are being given.
      I enjoyed your comment.

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  11. Celia, I'm a day late but better late... I loved this blog and it got me remembering my "want list." I wanted a bicycle, a bedroom suite of my own, a piano, and a baby brother. I got a second-hand bike when I was 12 and rode it many miles; I bought my bedroom suite when I got a job, I met a piano player who moved his piano into my home when we became engaged so he could play for me when we were courting, and I had to wait for a baby boy until a couple of years after I became his wife.
    All My Hopes and Dreams was the first book of yours that I ever read and I became an instant fan. I've read every book you've published since and you have not disappointed me. I wish you continued success.

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    1. There you are! Late is better than never. I see you did get everything you wanted..just in different decades and in different ways. Good for you.
      You know how much I appreciate you and your constant support and friendship. What would I do without you?

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  12. Great post and I greatly enjoyed your novel. As for getting all we want, sometimes it is a great blessing when we don't. But, it hard explaining that to a child.

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  13. Great post and I greatly enjoyed your novel. As for getting all we want, sometimes it is a great blessing when we don't. But, it hard explaining that to a child.

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    1. Zina..you are so right. But children forget easily..about most things. However some things do stick in our minds. I wanted a Shirley Temple doll, and instead I got a Margaret O'Brian doll..very pretty, but she was not Shirley Temple. Many decades later I asked mother why..she said the ST doll was too expensive, but they could afford the MO doll. Now I understand.

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  14. I'm a day late, but great post Celia. All those things we wanted and didn't get...LOL.

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    1. I'm sure you have a list, too, Kristy. Thanks for taking time to stop by.

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  15. Why am I not surprised you were chosen Most Popular? Your post brought back many wonderful memories. We lived out in the country and there were no girls around, so I wanted what my older brothers had. So at eight, I wanted a BB gun. I got a Betsey Wetsy and underwear. My brothers got bow and arrows. I learned a valuable lesson. If you bug older brothers enough, they let you use their toys.

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  16. Livia--I wanted a brother,but I got two sisters. And I'm in the middle. There's a special place in heaven for Middle Sisters. We all suffered the same way. Here in town, I began a little club of Middle Sisters..no brothers, just 3 girls and you are the middle one.
    But growing up in the early fifties, my little sister and I most often played with boys. If I played without her, I played with a boy. I have lots of stories about that, too..including one about a BB gun and how I Got Shot.Oh, sure, I and my little sister got Betsy Wetsys..one of my most despised dolls. I never like that doll. Thanks for your comment.

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