Betty Birney’s Blog

  As my family knows all too well, holiday music is a big deal with me, both listening to it and playing it on the piano.  It’s a key element in the enjoyment of the holiday, going back to my childhood. I’ve amassed quite a collection of holiday music for the CD player, including my beloved and obscure novelty songs, “I Yust Go Nuts at Christms” and “Yingle Bells” by Yogi Yogerson and “Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey” by Lou Monte.

Then there’s my tattered Christmas sheet music from the 50s. They’re all in pretty bad shape. “White Christmas” disintegrated completely but I managed to copy it and “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” (one of my favorites) is partially gone. There are so many carol books but I far prefer one from my childhood. It’s in shreds but still playable.

Playing piano always makes me nostalgic, though, and last night I thought so much of Mr. Ehrhardt, my wonderful, patient, intuitive piano teacher who taught me theory at age 7 and taught me to improvise. He died in his 40s, a real loss, but his memory is always with me when I play and see his pencil scribbled shorthand on my music. I can still hear him chuckle and say, “That was great! Now let’s play it the way it’s written.” He saw early on that I had a knack for improvisation and he led me that way, while always insisting I also had pieces that had to be played the way they were written, too.

So, humming as I write, I say “Happy holidays” to one and all. Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you have a song in your heart this year.

 Dad at 20

One year ago today, October 16, I lost my father. He was 89 but still had so much life in him, it was unexpected. He was so strong - a veteran of the Battle of the Bulge in Patton’s army, a businessman, artist, great husband, father and friend, an excellent writer and collector of stories and information.

I can’t count how many times over the past year I’ve almost picked up the phone to tell him some good news (he loved great book news and bragged too much). I’ve been in bookstores and seen a book and thought, “Oh, Dad will love that,” and pulled back my hand from the shelf. I’m heading off to Nebraska to receive their state award, the Golden Sower. A year ago, the nurses in the hospital were quite taken aback when he’d reel off the list of my awards - and he was accurate, too.

My mother, also gone, was once extremely ill and quite out of her head with pneumonia. She was having some pretty interesting hallucinations - scary at the time but good material for a writer. The first thing she said when she came back to normal was, “Where’s Dad? I want to see him.” My father, sister and I were rather shocked because her father had died 25 years earlier. Dad kindly said, “Well, he’s been gone a long time. Don’t you remember?” (At this point, due to the hallucinations, we still weren’t sure she was mentally okay but believe me, she was.)

I’ll never forget the huge look of disappointment on her face. “Oh, yes,” she said. Then she went on to explain, “I was just lying here thinking he never asks for anything for himself and I wanted to put my arms around him and tell him I love him.’

 This was Grandma’s favorite photo of Grandpa - she kept it on her dresser.

Grandpa was one of the greatest, most generous guys ever and though he was a great storyteller, he could be a quiet person, too.  But he knew how much Mother loved him.  She just wanted to tell him again.

My sister and I were lucky enough to have ample opportunity to tell my father how much we loved him. And as the daily grief lessens, instead of the pain, I remember how hard we laughed in his hospital room about a silly joke he made. It still makes me laugh now.

Laughter and stories, those are the great gifts, aren’t they?

Recently, after I recently spoke at Vail Mountain School, a student commented that I was lucky to have such an interesting family.  How true - and I am grateful.

      It’s been hotter than hot here in Southern California, with the temperature edging up close to 100 every day. Before air conditioning, before inflatable wading pools were invented, we had other ways of cooling off. Here I am in the watering can at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. (I am much more modest now.) They lived on Humphrey Street in south St. Louis. That’s right. Humphrey, as in hamster.

Still, the heat hasn’t kept me inside. Yesterday morning, Frank and I went to the home of Lisa Yee (http://lisayee.com) author of Millicent Min, Girl Genius and others including her new American Girl book) for the South Pasadena Festival of Balloons parade. Lisa and husband Scott have a beautiful 100 year-old Craftsman house on the parade route with a large front yard. The food and company was so terrific (and it was so, um, warm) we watched from the shaded front porch and I didn’t take any pictures. Dumb. But I had great chats with fellow LAYAs (Los Angeles Young Adult writers) Sally Nemeth (The Heights, the Depths and Everything in Between), Michael Reisman (Simon Bloom, The Gravity Keeper) and Amy Goldman Koss (The Girls). Amy and I reminisced about our glory days as judges (with Lisa) in this same parade two years ago. And talked extensively also with illustrator extraordinaire, Dan Santat, and family.

Later, granddaughter Remy came over for a cookout (okay she brought her mom and dad, too). We read books and sang at the table (even though Amy Vanderbilt says that’s not polite) and had a rollicking good time. The kids had thought they could see the Studio City fireworks display at CBS Studios from our backyard. Theoretically we should be able to, but the trees are just too tall. I thought of the perfect spot to see them, so Frank drove up with them while I stayed home with Desi (dog) and listened to the fireworks. I couldn’t see a thing but I could hear them quite well! And then I watched Yankee Doodle Dandy - I love corny older films. Unabashedly.

 Tomorrow, Frank and I are going to the Music Center downtown to see A Chorus Line, which I originally saw on Broadway. At first we hadn’t opted for tickets but then I thought even though we’ve seen it before, hearing great music and seeing great dancing is not a bad way to while away a few hours. I hope it is still a singular sensation.

School is over for the summer … at least for me! My last school visit was a week ago at the Third Street School in Los Angeles. On my way home, I recalled the little saying we chanted on the last day of school:

School’s out, school’s out,

Teacher let the mules out!

No more classes, no more books,

No more teacher’s dirty looks!!!

The end of school always included a district wide school parade, followed by a day at the wonderful old Forest Park Highlands amusement park. The memories are flooding in so I’ll have to do a separate post on the Highlands. The district took it over for the day. You could buy food there or bring picnics. And if your family wasn’t going, bus transportation was supplied. It was a rip-roaring close to the school year. The Highlands are long gone and so is Reavis School.

I loved school but I loved summer, too. More time for reading, bike-riding, swimming, jumping rope, playing hopscotch, playing board and card games and building imaginary worlds.  (I had a lot of those.) But I was always glad to go back to school in the fall because I missed my friends and I did like school.

 Even though I have plenty of writing to do this summer, I hope to get more reading done and enjoy working in my new kitchen.

Carole Koneff, the librarian at Third Street Elementary, wrote an epic poem that’s a lot better than the one about the mules. What a lovely introduction!

The Seven Wonders of the World inspired a lovely book

And lots of us decided to take a closer look

About a boy named Eben who went upon a quest

To find some local wonders and try to pass a test.

His dad threw down the gauntlet and in the space of just a week,

He had to decide the things that he would seek.

He had to scour the neighborhood and overcome some fears,

And on the way must endure the teasing of his peers.

And as he delved a little further and stuck to the task,

The wonders started happening, and then came thick and fast.

A doll that saved a person, a bookcase in the rain

A saw that scared the locusts, a table helping pain

A ship inside a bottle, a blind woman’s magic loom

A perfect miniature of the town that washed away the gloom

This book of seven wonders made us smile and want to cheer

And we are very happy that Betty Birney’s here

To talk to us of Eben and delightful Humphrey, too

And now I am just thrilled to introduce her to you!

Yep. I was away for awhile. Out in the wide open spaces. Riding the range. Don’t fence me in. Back in the saddle again.

I’ve always had that cowgirl thing, because when I was growing up, the most popular TV shows and movies were Westerns. Westerns-westerns-westerns. I think we O.D.’d on Westerns but it took a long time. My heroine was Dale Evans. Sure, she was Roy Rogers girlfriend on TV (and wife in real life), but she was a great role model for girls. There weren’t many other spunky cowgirls out there. For a while, I believe I thought I was Dale Evans. Especially when my parents got my sister and me these cool cowgirl outfits. And Janet even had her own horse - Golden. The fact that Golden was made from a cardboard box did not lessen my fascination with him. Or was it a her? Anyway, my talented, artistic dad created a winner. (I definitely have to dig up a picture from the Wheel Parade where I wore that costume.)

This past weekend I finally got to live my fantasy for a little while. The whole family: children and spouses, granddaughter, Frank and I, went to the Rankin Ranch, about 2 1/2 hours from L.A., in Caliente, CA, not too far from Bakersfield. http://rankinranch.com

It’s a working cattle ranch that also is a fabulous spot for a family vacation. Through our dear friend, Carolyn Hart, we had met Helen Rankin, the matriarch of the family now sadly gone, and her son Bill and daughter-in-law Glenda. This ranch has been in the family for over 100 years and the family still runs it. So nice that the younger generation is still there!

It was my husband’s birthday. We celebrated by riding (okay, I didn’t), swimming, holding ping-pong, archery and pool tournaments. With two year-old Remy, we spent a lot of time with the baby animals. The pigs were especially entertaining. The highlight of the visit was a hayride, a barbecue in the meadow, followed by a horseshoe tournament we all loved. (But you do learn how competitive your family members are in an event like that.) It might have been the first time I’ve worn a cowboy hat since the picture above. Here I am with Walshe (that cowboy just moved to NYC) on the haywagon. We were just so sorry that his girlfriend, Ania, couldn’t leave her new job to join us …. but we’re going back.

Oh, and I got yelled at by a cow. There’s no other way to describe it. She wasn’t just yelling. She was yelling at me. I just wish I knew why!

I love the California landscape. I have more pictures I’ll share… and a special story about Sassy, the ranch dog.

Back to Dale Evans, I spoke in Victorville, CA in June. A huge, fabulous event! At lunch, I mentioned that the only time I’d been to Victorville was to visit the Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Museum (now moved to Branson, in Missouri, my home state). My hostess said they had gone to her church and they were just as wonderful as they seemed in their movies. I don’t think I would have believed her if she’d told me otherwise - they were just too genuine. And you can still get their DVDs!

By now, I guess all schools have started. School seems to start a little earlier every year. When I was growing up, school never started before Labor Day. Even though stores were open all year long, there was always the ritual of buying your school wardrobe. It was as if once school started, there would never be a chance to buy clothes again. When I was very young, my mother took my sister and me downtown on the bus to shop. As the years went on, my mother learned to drive (at 40, bless her heart) and shopping centers in the suburbs developed.

Dark cottons. I haven’t heard those words in years, but we always shopped for dark cottons. That meant lightweight clothes in fall colors - mostly plaids as in the picture above - that would see you through the wilting heat of the midwest Indian Summer in late September. I still think longingly of dark cottons and plaids as fall approaches, though no one who grew up here in Southern California would know what I was talking about.

The above picture must have been my first day of Kindergarten (teacher: Mrs. Samuels). Don’t I look a little apprehensive? I think I was just ready to move on - the bus is waiting, get the picture over already! I still get that look if someone takes too long to take the picture. A funny note: look very carefully and you’ll see Nancy, my friend across the street, peeking out from behind me. I love the socks, the hair ribbon, the saddle shoes! This tall little girl (I am and always was tall) didn’t know she was about to fall in love with books … much less that she would write them some day!

This picture must have been the first day of First Grade (teacher: Mrs. Steinmetz). First grade was when I wore my hair in braids. I had school down by then. Don’t I look more confident? Besides, I got to go to school (usually walking except in bad weather) with my sister, Janet, who knew the ropes. What could go wrong? Nothing did.

All in all, I loved school. Sure, I loved learning but I loved the social aspects as well. And I knew that with each new year, I was growing up. I liked that. Nice to know that I’m still learning and growing up on a daily basis. Over the last two years, I’vd reconnected with a couple of people I grew up with, especially Dale Gebhardt, who lived in my neighborhood and was in school with me from K-12. He has a much better memory than I do. He probably remembers the bus driver that day. More about bus drivers (Carl, particularly, and Sam) some other time. (Hint: I always think of Carl at Easter.)