Again on July 4, 2006
I loved to visit the old family home out in Mt Washington, a suburb
of Baltmore on the # 25 street car line.
Saturday breakfast was something special as everyone would be home
at the same time. You had to show up Friday night so that my Aunt Helen
would know how much to fix.
We started with homemade Oatmeal. Then there were the rolled
biscuits and sausage gravy. Fresh tomatoes and fried pork chops were
the side dishes to her speciality "Eggs to order". Ice cold Milk and
hot fresh ground coffee completed the meal.
Sometimes the menu changed but one thing remained the same. No one
lifted a fork untill a prayer was offered.
My, how times have changed.
Told on July 30, 2006:
Back in the days of prohabition, cetain members of my family used to
make beer in the basements of their homes. They used the old slanted
concrete wash sinks so my mom didn't get to use them for a couple of
weeks.
On one particular night, we smelled smoke coming up the basement
steps. My Mom called the Fire Department, my sister ran across the
street to get the neighborhood Policeman and we all ran outside to
watch the Fire engines coming down Cold Spring Lane.
The fire was put out in a matter of minutes.
The Policeman was writing down all that had happened. He looked
around to get the Fireman's signature on the report, could not find any
of them, yet the truck was still in front of the house.
When he went to the celler door to look, he heard a bunch of men's
voices singing "Sweet Adaline" . It took a half hour to get the fireman
away from the sinks filled with beer.
When I was a young boy, every neighborhood had a resident Policeman,
Fireman and Mailman.
Told on August 10, 2006:
On a hot day we would put a pepermint stick in a lemon and suck the
juices. Mom would plug a watermelon, drain it, and load it with Kool
Aid. I and my four sisters would take turns on what flavor to add.
We only had the Mustard bread for an after school snack. This was in
Maryland in the late 30's & early 40's.
Told on October 22, 2006
When I first started to trace my Flanagan ancestors, and could
afford a trip to Ireland, I was not sure where to look. I had narrowed
it down to co Fermanagh as that is where several of them are
buried.
I made it a point to kneel and say an "Ava" prayer at any and all
gravesites bearing the family name.
I may have prayed for your ancestors as well as mine.
We are all family
Told on November 4, 2006
Thanksgiving Day was a special time of year in my Flanagan
household. A gathering of the family just for the enjoyment of
conversation and togeatherness. The family has spread and thinned out
but the memory of times past is not forgotten.
It takes a while to prepare the traditional meal. I take this time,
while working in the kitchen, to remember times past, of different
places we celebrated this day. Of the good times when all were healthy
and still with us. Of some of the trying times when we were seperated
like in Korea and Viet Nahm.
You can lose photos, you can lose a book of names and places, we
still have our memories.
I like turkey. I like leftovers. It takes the same anount of time to
fix a large bird as it does for a small one. I am now alone, but I
still got me a 23 lb hen in my freezer. I will cook it, gut it, freeze
it in packages, and enjoy it for a few more months.
Each time I can bring back those precious memories.
Told on November 15, 2006:
I was born and raised in Baltimore, Md. I did not start searching
until I left that area. I went back and found a lot, but still had some
blanks to fill in.
Moved to Spokane, Wa. in 1989. Went to the public Library - found a
book for St Mary's Catholic cemetery in Baltimore, with a list of
everyone buried there who had a marker of some sort. This book is old
and lists by section and grave #.
Almost 3,000 miles away and still found valuable information. GO to
your local Library and USE it.
Told on February 19, 2007:
How my parents met, by Bud Flanagan --
Mom lived in St Ignatius parish and Dad in Sacred Heart Parish in
Baltimore, about 8 miles apart, but in a straight line of the streetcar
tracks, # 25 line up Falls Road.
It was a practice at that time for the churches to have fund raising
activities such as Street Fairs and Bingo.
One of my Dad's friends went to St Ignatius and invited him to one
of their Fairs.
My Mom was working at the 'Spin the Wheel' booth where you put your
money on a number, spin the wheel and if lucky, your number comes up,
you get a prize.
Well, my Dad saw my Mom, wanted to meet her, so he stayed at her
booth. Lo and behold, she ran out of prizes. The parish priest was
walking by and my Mom asked him for more prizes. He didn't have any
more so he picked up my Mom, put her on a number and spun the
wheel.
You all know what happened, and here I am.
Told on January 17, 2008
My Father's generation grew up in a small house on the side of a
hill in Mt Washington, a suburb of Baltimore, Md., There were 4 boys;
William, Frank, Joseph & Edward and two girls; Helen &
Margaret.
Any one who went to the store of the church from up the hill had to
pass by the Flanagan's place. Hence, it was unofficially named Flanagan
Lane.
It was on the city maps up to 1940. After that date, it was given
another name.
I was fortunate to have a legal drawing of the property with the
names in place.
Told on October 16, 2009
I remember growing up and doing a lot of things I would not do
now.
Dropping a piece of candy on the ground, wipe it off and eating
it.
Let my friend lick my lollipop.
Sharing an ice cream cone with my pet dog.
Getting a cut and still go on playing while it bled a little bit.
What all this did was to let my body build up an immunity to germs and
kept getting stonger as I grew up.
The children of today and the last generation do not have this type of
immunity.
Thank our parents for letting us have fun!
Told on January 3, 2010
For a few years, I stayed home, had a hobby, gained some weight and
read a lot of books. I was existing. I was also stagnating.
One day, a notice in the local newspaper got my attention. A senior
group was forming to take day trips and too socialize. We met in a
local restaurant. Over 60 of us showed up. Some were in wheelchairs. A
few fell asleep at the tables. We also found out that a local Assited
Living facility was going to use us as senior sitters for them.
After the third meeting, we dwindled down to less then 20 bodies.
Our first official group activity was to attend the "Happy Hour" at the
local 'hot spot'. The food was good, the beverages cold, the music
too-o-o loud and majority of the the other people were almost old
enough to be our grandchildren.
We were down to eight bodies. six Ladies and me and my friend
Charlie. One of the ladies was a member of the Moose Lodge and
suggested that we try that next week. We did and I have been dancing
ever since.
Told on March 15, 2010
When I retired from Luke AFB in Glendale, Az, I moved to Gilbert,
Az., to be closer to my new job. My three sons still lived with me, so
it was a no brainer to get a swimming pool. We lived on an acre of land
that had to be irrigated from a canal system. To make sure that the
pool did not get irrigation water, we had to raise the deck level 18
inches. Local law requires a fence so we built a block wall fence 6
foot high around it and attached it to the house.
We now have a level acre with a pool with a six foot fence inclosing
18 inches of dirt inside. We put in a diving board, the pool was 10
feet deep. The diving board was 24 inches above the cool deck. Keep
adding these figures up.
So, one night, my wife and I, the kids were gone camping, decided to
turn the light out and go skinny dipping. Naturally I used the diving
board. Ah ! what a breeze.
The very next day, my wife got a phone call from the neighbors,
"They wanted to know when the next show was" ???
It seems that if you add 18 inches of dirt, then another 24 inches
for a diving board above the rest of the surronding acre, that is 3 1/2
feet up the interior wall already -- and when I jumped off the diving
board, In all my glory, I was two foot higher then the surronding wall.
And we lived in a Mormon neighborhood.
The Irish are not a bashful bunch, impetious yes, but not
bashful
Told on July 4, 2010
While stationed in England back in the 1960's at West Ruislip RAF
base, My family and I lived in a second floor apartment over a car
parts store. Our neighbors on both side were also Americans in the Air
Force. We all got togeather, on our back porches, to celebrate the 4th
of July Yes, fireworks were legal in England then. When it got dark we
really started celebrating and were getting a little noisy. The owner
of the store came up and wanted to know what was going on. We gave him
a big hamburger, and a cold beer. It did not take long for him to help
us celebrate. He especially like shooting off the 'Roman Candles'.
To our amusement, he aimed it at a passing train from the
underground, and ended up setting the weeds next to the tracks on fire.
After the small fire was put out by the local Fire Department, we were
visited by an an English 'Bobby'. When the store owner admitted to
starting the fire, the policeman left and the party ended.
Some Englishmen do celebrate the 4th also.
