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New Year’s Eve 1962 Editorial by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

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New Year’s Eve 1962

TICK TOCK TIME TRAVELERS_resized

by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

 

A childhood memory can last a lifetime.

 

The impact of a memory can affect the way you view an issue in Life.

 

This New Year’s Eve memory provided the framework for my approach to celebrations, especially, New Year’s Eve.

 

The New Year’s Eve memory of childhood always inspired me to carry out my own memorable New Year’s Eve celebration through the years.

 

The Layout of 313

 

Opal M. DeLong Warren, a tall brunette, and my mother, stands at the sink in the kitchen washing dishes.

 

The large kitchen has cabinets against the far wall. In the center, is the small window, that looks out over the backyard to the garage.

 

Underneath the window is a counter with a double sink. It is the 1960s, so the overhead cabinets and the counter cabinets are the same type of lacquered wood.

 

The counter top is a black vinyl with short silver lines erratically positioned throughout the counter top.

 

The linoleum floor emerges from under the counter and passes under the rectangular art deco table that seats six.

 

The dividing line across the top of the table allows for a drop in leaf that allows the table to expand to accommodate more people at the table. The black vinyl counter top pattern is repeated on the table.

 

A large Lazy Susan, sits at the far end of the table, usually it just collects misplaced envelopes and entertains a child’s imagination because the two large wood disks turn.

 

The six art deco chairs match the table;however, the back and the seats are a gaudy red material held in place by silver chrome hubcap buttons around the edges of the material.

 

The table sits East to West in the North to South kitchen, The obvious emphasis of the room is on the South. All the furniture and appliances seem to move toward the far wall.

 

Behind the head chair is a smaller art deco table under a two door white metal wall mounted cabinet that doesn’t seem to belong.

 

Under the cabinet is a shorter art deco table, that’s main purpose was usually to hold the electric gray AM radio.

 

Beside the table, is the large ice box. The wooden wall by the ice box extends at least eight feet under the cathedral ceiling to the wall into the formal living room.

 

About four feet away from the door of the ice box, sits the plastic, vinyl green sofa with a pattern of repeating octagons. The sofa sits the border for the living room.

 

The Boogeyman Door

 

The distant wall contains the door in the center into the formal living room.

 

The door in that far wall was always my nemesis.

 

Once the sun, went down I would not go through that door. Somewhere in my young life, I had heard “The Story Of The Boogeyman.” I was convinced at night, the Boogeyman waited on the other side of that door, waiting for someone to turn the door knob.

 

The corner of the far wall was the most important because a nightstand table supports the black and white TV.

 

Our Cathedral Home

 

The home at 313th East 26th Street is a large white shingled house with a screened in front porch.

 

The cathedral ceilings throughout the house towered above me and always made me feel at home. The irony is I was a small boy under ceilings usually used in omnipotent structures like the Westminster Abbey.

 

A curious construction technique had several columns of concrete blocks to rest in a surrounding pattern under the house.

 

The house may have been moved to this location and the block had yet to be removed. In childhood, it was interesting to be able to look under your home.

 

However, the horizontal three-step concrete step under the screened in porch, established that the home had found a port to drop anchor and ride out Life’s storms.

 

The large house dominated the lot. A small front yard and a small back yard were connected by an extremely narrow driveway.

 

The chipped and cracked shingles of the house were evidence that a driver had to be careful driving down or backing out of the narrow driveway.

 

The large structure at the back of the yard was the two car garage that never housed more than one car. The space to the right was storage and my large wooden toy box.

 

The cyclone fence around the property established the borders. A small gate, in front of the screened in porch allowed a visitor access to the front door, which was really the back door.

 

Two small standing metal lions faced each other on the tops of the double gate that protected the driveway.

 

Down the slender driveway, about six feet from the end of the house is the slender door, which is a screen door, in front of a wood and glass door.

 

The side door seems almost an after thought. The side door opens into the kitchen. Salesmen who knocked at the front door went unanswered.

 

Sunday, December 31, 1961

 

Night is in command over Houston, Texas. “Wagon Train” or “Rawhide” is not on, so the TV blabs on unwatched.

 

I am six years old. I have no concept of New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day.

 

Momma washes the dishes. I sit on the floor, in front of the sofa, and play with my plastic cowboys, Indians and horses.

 

Momma and I had moved to the farm in Missouri. But, “The Dream House” dream kept us shuttling back and forth between Galena, Missouri and Houston, Texas.

 

Usually daddy came to Missouri. This year, we had celebrated Christmas in Houston and were getting ready to make the trip back to Galena, Missouri, after the New Year.

 

In Texas, when Daddy is working nights Momma would let me stay up until he comes home from his night job.

 

About 12:30 am., voices and laughter echo down the corridor outside the kitchen door. The pounding against the kitchen screen door causes momma to turn and look into the neighbor’s smiling faces.

 

Momma opens the door. Since the house is anchored on pillars of concrete blocks, people at the door stand about a foot below the entrance into the house. Thus, a visitor always has to look up at you.

 

Warrens and DeLongs are all long-legged, so stepping up to step in was never a problem.

 

The secret is the back door into the backyard and the screened-in porch door to the front yard usually got more use by the Warrens, who lived in the house.

Sunday night

and

new Year’s Eve

 

The culture of the United States has become more flexible in the area of religion through the years, but at the start of the 1960s conservative morals and ethics ruled the day, especially in the Ozarks and in the South.

 

It would be difficult to imagine that public celebrations would have been held on a Sunday, a traditionally religious day.

 

Nightclubs and bars would have had to had a celebration on Saturday, December 30, 1961 and kept their doors closed on Sunday, December 31, 1961.

 

In this era, states had “Blue Laws”, which did not allow alcohol to be sold on Sunday.

 

Of course, when you are six years old, it is just “neat” to be able to stay up until midnight.

 

 

New Year’s Well Wishers

 

Momma stands at the door talking to the festive neighbors. I naturally rush to see what is happening.

 

Thomas Jack Brinkley, in the traditional 1960s narrow lapel-ed black suit, white shirt and slender black tie, wears the black cardboard top hat bearing the silver glitter words: Happy New Year. He looks up and wishes momma, “A Happy New Year.”

 

He hugs his wife, Wanda. She is a statuesque redhead in a sequined midnight blue cocktail dress. Her hair is up. The cardboard silver glitter tiara brandishes : Happy New Year. Wanda’s red hair outshines the tiara.

 

Standing on the driveway, they look up and wish momma, “A Happy New Year.” Then, then launch into a detailed account of the evening’s exploits.

 

Tom worked for “Ma Bell”, the telephone company. Since December 31 fell on a Sunday, they must have came to our house from an office New Year’s Party.

 

Tom’s arm at the back of his wife emerges and grips a huge champagne bottle. Two plastic upturned champagne glasses dangle from Tom’s other hand.

 

My mind recorded the smiles, enthusiasm, joy, happiness and the waves of emotion that rippled forth, while Tom and Wanda told momma about their New Year’s Eve celebration.

 

My Challenge

 

When I became a young man and could celebrate my own New Year’s Eve, I always remembered Tom and Wanda in their New Year’s Eve attire and the enthusiasm they exhibited to welcome in the new year in style.

 

Likewise, I always attempted to embody the zeal, zest and optimistic enthusiasm that they displayed in their celebration.

 

Through the years, I’m confident I have met, and, perhaps exceeded, their level of celebration energy.

 

The lesson I learned is the beginning of a year should always be a monumental event. A monumental event always creates a memory.

 

The outcome of how the monumental event effects you depends on the energy, effort and dedication that you put into the event. The result is you end up with a positive or a negative memory.

 

In youth, New Year’s Eve celebrations seem to be celebrated with “A Spirit Of Wild Abandon.”

 

The World At Large has changed since the 1970s. Now, there are rules and consequences to partying and celebrations.

 

Celebrations overall are more toned down, less impulsive and spontaneous. In the US, cities make it a point to organize New Year’s Eve celebrations that they can control.

 

Future generations will learn to “party” and “celebrate” within a more reserved set of social guidelines.

The emphasis on global terrorism and security have done much to implement controls over public celebrations.

 

The change might not be a bad idea. Nonetheless, New Year’s Eve should always be considered monumental.

 

In my guru years, I observe the celebrations. I watch the youth take center stage. The unknown expectations of the future still seem to remain in the hopes and dreams of youth. The masses on television still exude the exuberance of hope in front of the TV cameras.

 

Celebrations’ Considerations

 

I have switched the tiny bubbles of sweet champagne for cold bottles of rum.

 

Alas, I still believe the spirit of most celebrations usually involves a certain amount of distilled spirits.

 

Experience reminds you to be responsible and aware in your use of distilled spirits.

 

Monumental Moment

 

The New Year should always be heralded as a monumental moment to set the tone of the days to unfold. Each New Year’s Eve celebration should be a positive memory maker.

 

When my New Year’s Eve event approaches, I always see Thomas Jack and Wanda Brinkley in their New Year’s Eve attire smile in my memory and I am ready to celebrate and face The New Year.

Sam

TICK TOCK TIME TRAVELERS THUMBNAIL

 

Links

 

New Year’s Eve

In The

United States

Time date.com

http://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/us/new-year-eve

 

His dates.com

http://www.hisdates.com/years/1961-historical-events.html

 

New Year On The Net

http://www.holidays.net/newyear/dates.htm

 

New Year’s History History.Com

http://www.history.com/topics/new-years

 

Historical Events

December 31st

History Orb

http://www.historyorb.com/events/december/31

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons license.

“Have A Green Christmas” by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

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Have

A

Green Christmas”

GREEN CHRISTMAS LEAD PHOTO_Nikon D 70 Photo by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

 

Have Yourself A Green Christmas !

If Christmas Day this year is “too close” to put the”green” in your stockings and brighten up the gifts under your Christmas Tree,then, a simple act of “saving” should be the shine on your Christmas tree and keep more bills in your wallet for next Christmas. Photo by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

 

I always got my “Letter to Santa Claus” request.

 

Regardless of the economic conditions at the North Pole and in “The Lone Star State”, Mom and Dad always made sure I had a “Merry Christmas.

As a child, I simply came to expect that I would have a wonderful Christmas. After all, both of my parents were workaholics.

 

My mother left “public work” to stay at home and “raise me.” I appreciate her decision. Throughout my childhood, my dad ALWAYS worked a second job. In 1960, momma and I moved to the farm in Missouri.

 

My mother was one of the few “Women Hog Farmers In The United States Of America”, especially in 1960. Momma raised hogs and used the money to provide for my every need from grade school through college.

 

Daddy stayed on the job in Houston, Texas to “maintain his seniority” and continue working toward a retirement plan.

 

Like most kids, I knew, the vast majority of my toys on Christmas morning came from the money in daddy’s wallet and the cash in momma’s purse.

 

The Big Picture

 

What I never saw was “The Big Picture” of earning a living on a daily basis.

 

The reason the wrapped, brightly colored boxes, sporting bright bows, under the Christmas Tree made my home look like Santa Claus’ North Pole Showroom and a Toys R Us store is because my mom and dad were “bound and determined” that I would have a better childhood than they had.

 

I did.

 

Dirt Poor Childhoods

 

Opal M. DeLong Warren, my mother, was born in a small house in Peach Tree Holler, near Reeds Springs, Missouri. Opal’s mother, Martha, and father, Charley, loaded their personal belongings and their son, Richard, into the covered wagon and moved from Versailles, Missouri to a place, near Reeds Spring in Stone County in 1907.

 

All the rest of the DeLong children were born in Stone County. Richard began farming as soon as he was big enough to do the farm chores. The other boys: Willie, Hobert and Joe didn’t go to school very long.

 

Opal DeLong liked school and graduated from the 8th Grade. Every year, Martha, her mother ordered three dresses a year for Opal out of the Sears and Roebuck catalog to wear to school. She rode a pinto-mix horse, named,”Shorty” to the Wilson’s Creek School in Bear Den Holler.

 

Samuel E. Warren, my father, went to school in Perryville in east Texas. Joseph Samuel Warren, his father, was a tenant farmer, which meant J. Frank Couch, owned the land that “Papa” Warren farmed.

 

Dirt Poor” is an accurate financial description of my parent’s childhood years.

 

To add insult to injury, Fate unleashed The Great Depression around the time of their teenager years.

 

Daddy’s Short Range Financial Plan

 

Daddy adopted the policy of “Live For Today ;Tomorrow Will Take Care Of Itself.” The major flaw in his long-range financial plan is “In Order To Spend Money – You Have To Earn Money. The More Money You Spend, The More Money You Need To Earn To Keep Your Comfortable Lifestyle Going.”

 

Green Christmas Photo 2 by Samuel E. Warren Jr.At the end of the day, Daddy’s financial plan meant, “He had to be a ‘workaholic’, in order to keep earning money to spend. The irony is you spend so much time working,you never have “any fun” spending your money.

 

I remember, Monday through Friday, he would arrive home from work at about 4:30 p.m. He would sit down for supper and talk about his day. He could only relax a few moments and then, he would have to start getting ready for his “night job” as a bartender or bouncer.

 

His gray pressed Cameron uniforms would hang in the wardrobe beside his double breasted suits and neckties. By about 6:30 or 7 p,m,, the pickup would ease down the narrow driveway to take him to his “part-time job.”

 

Sometimes momma would wake me up about 2:30 or 3 am, so I would be waiting for daddy to come home from work. The headlight beams would dance down the narrow driveway and in a few minutes I would smell the aroma from a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which daddy usually would stop and pickup on the way home.

 

Daddy did make a lot of money. But, he met himself coming and going.

 

Daddy always had “a wad of bills” rolled tightly that looked like a short, fat, pill bottle, with a rubber band around them that he carried in his front jeans pocket. In addition, to the roll of bills in his front pocket, he always had several bills in his wallet.

 

The roll of bills was one of those “Games Of Life” that when you take it out to pay a bill, people notice and they just naturally assume you are some kind of financial genius.

 

The stated “Big Picture” was daddy and momma were working to build their “Dream Home” on land momma bought in 1938, near her mother and father.

 

The Coffee Service

 

Daddy told me he offered the coffee service in his shop “at the plant.”

 

From 1960 until his death in 1978, daddy always made two trips a year to Missouri. One vacation trip always came for the Fourth of July. The second vacation trip depended on the vacation schedule at Cameron’s, which meant his two weeks began either at Thanksgiving or Christmas.

 

Whenever he came to Missouri, he would stock up on three-pound cans of Folgers coffee. He said it was cheaper to buy the coffee in Missouri. About once a year, he would buy a huge coffee pot that could make about 50 cups of coffee. Daddy wasn’t a shopper. He went into a store, picked up what he needed and paid the cashier at the checkout register.

 

However, if Sammy walked past Craftsman tools, he would stop and browse slowly at all the tools. Daddy loved Craftsman tools and bought all kinds of Craftsman wrenches, vise grips and other tools.

 

One trip each year, daddy would “shop” for a new coffee pot to take “to the plant.” He would shop around at the different stores and compare the features of the coffee pots.

 

I have, no doubt, there are people who bought bass boats with less research than daddy put into buying the right coffee pot. Despite his dedicated “shopping around for the right coffee pot”, he always ended up with the same type. And, he would buy a huge cardboard box full of Styrofoam cups to take back to Texas.

 

I remember the huge coffee pots because their shiny silver cylindrical design made them look like huge vacuum tubes that went into the back of a radio.

 

I get to the plant in the morning and I make the coffee for the shop. I have a coffee can with a slit in the lid. The guys know that coffee is 25 cents a cup. They put a quarter in the can. If they don’t have a quarter, then, they put in some change. I don’t really worry about it because the guys are honest. At the end of the week, I take the coffee can of coins home. Monday morning I always bring in a new empty coffee can for that week’s coins,” said Daddy,

 

In 1978, daddy was suppose to leave at the end of June for his Fourth of July trip to Missouri. He never arrived. The Houston Police Department notified momma of daddy’s death at home.

 

A few days after daddy’s funeral, momma and I made the trip to Houston. We found Folgers coffee cans stored in rooms around the house. Each can was filled to the plastic lid with mixed change from pennies to half dollars and a few silver dollars. The cans all had coins and none of the coins had been wrapped.

 

Momma asked Wanda Brinkley, a next door neighbor for help in wrapping the coins. Wanda had momma take the coins next door to her mom and dad’s house, Mr. and Mrs. Pete Pippins. Momma ordered the pizzas.

 

All day until after midnight, Momma, Wanda, Mr and Mrs Pete and I wrapped coins. Wanda’s two daughters, Donna and Debbie also joined the coin wrapping adventure. At this point in US history, American banks did not accept coins unless they were wrapped in bank wrappers.

 

Using the bank coin wrappers that daddy had on hand and some of the wrappers that Wanda had, we all wrapped coins all day and until well past midnight, It was after 2 am, when we finished.

 

Bank Robbery ?

 

The next day, Wanda, Momma and I went to the drive thru lane of the local Reagan State Bank. Wanda would put about 10 rolls of coins at a time up to the drive thru teller’s window.

 

You have a lot of coins,” remarked the teller.

 

My husband, Sammy had the coffee concession where he worked. He died recently. We just discovered, he never wrapped any of the coins from the coffee fund,” explained Momma.

 

The teller nodded. A bank guard showed up with a dolly. The teller seemed to slow,at one point, in tallying the amount of coins. We sat in the car at the drive thru for a couple of hours.

 

After about an hour, the bank guard emerged from a side door with the rolls of coins in the familiar purple bank sacks stacked neatly on the dolly. He pushed the dolly slowly across the several lanes of the drive thru into the rear entrance of the main bank.

 

The bank guard made about four more trips with his dolly from the drive thru to the bank.

 

A couple of days later Wanda spoke to a friend, who worked at the bank. The friend had heard about all those sacks of coins that came through the drive thru. The friend laughed and told Wanda it was not uncommon for people to drop of rolls of coins at the drive thru and she told Wanda the rest of the story.

 

Then, Wanda Brinkley, telephoned momma.

 

When we dropped those coins off at the bank. The bank got worried and called the local office of the FBI. They told the FBI why they were calling and asked the bureau to check for recent bank robberies because they could not believe that anyone would save that amount of coins.  

 

      FBI LOGO_resizedWhile we were waiting in the drive thru lane and the teller seemed to be taking the time tallying up the coins, they were waiting for a call back from the FBI to tell them if there were any reports of bank robberies where a large amount of coins had been taken,” Wanda explained and laughed.

 

We wrapped about 20 three-pound coffee cans of coins to take to the bank. Momma also brought about 10 cans of unwrapped coins with her back to Missouri. It was two or three years before I ever wanted to wrap rolls of pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters,half dollars and silver dollars.

 

My father died at age 52. The Harris County, Texas Corner’s Report listed the cause of death as a “possible ‘double heart attack.’” Daddy had literally “worked himself to death” through the years.

 

Momma’s Big Picture Financial Reality

 

 

Momma would never be a “Victim Of A Global Financial Crisis.” She had a poor childhood and realized ”Money Has To Be Managed.”

 

Momma always put aside a few dollars to have when she needed it. “Save” wasn’t a word, it was a philosophy and a way of life.

 

People would tease my mother that she probably had the “First Dollar” she ever earned. Momma would smile and shrug off the comment.

 

Opal M. DeLong Warren was “never broke.” Maybe, she didn’t have a lot of money in her wallet or handbag, but, Momma was “never broke” financially.       

 

Momma loved to remind me “I bought the first car, your daddy and I ever owned. And, I paid cash for it. I bought the first home, your daddy and I ever owned. I bought the land in Missouri, under my own name with my own money, before I ever met your daddy.”     

 

All the claims were true statements. Momma’s message was not that she was a Green Christmas Photo 3 by Samuel E. Warren Jr.suffragette or a women’s libber, but that she knew “How To Spend And Save Her Money.”

 

Opal M. DeLong Warren is the woman, who went to the Reagan State Bank in Houston and arranged for the money to “buy the home in Houston at 313 East 26th Street.”

 

Stubborn Sammy

 

During World War II, US Army doctors had told daddy that he had contracted “malaria in the Philippines.” In the late 1940s and early 1950s, the Veterans’ Administration wasn’t always able to convince Congress to provide medical care and decent pensions to veterans.

 

In the early 1950s, momma found out that daddy was eligible for VA medical care payments thanks to the hard-nosed efforts of Texas Congressman and Speaker of the United States House of Representatives Sam Rayburn.

 

Daddy told Momma, Uncle Sam had sent him into World War II and, “I don’t want nothing else to do with the ‘Damn Government.’”

 

Momma reminded Daddy that some days it seemed difficult for him to get out of bed to go to work. Grudgingly, Daddy did the paperwork and accepted “Uncle Sam’s Official Help”, which didn’t last that long. By then, daddy’s health had improved and he did go to work everyday.

 

Momma The Family Banker

 

Martha Lou Marcum DeLong, my grandmother, kept her coins in a coin purse and her dollar bills in a sugar bowl in a plain white dish cabinet in the living room.

 

Everyone knew Grandma DeLong had worked hard all her life, but, Missouri’s “old age pension” provided her the money to live out her senior citizen years.

 

Opal M. DeLong Warren had the reputation in the DeLong Family, Stone County, Missouri, Upshur County, Texas and among neighbors in Harris County – Houston, Texas of “Saving For A Rainy Day.”

 

The Burial And The Banker

 

When daddy died in Texas, I asked momma if we could bring his body back to Missouri for burial. I went to the bank with momma. She told the banker, “I need money to bring my husband’s body back to Missouri for burial. I don’t know, when or how I will pay you. But, you will get your money back.” I watched momma tell the banker those words.

 

In the 21st Century, most bankers would find a polite way to show the widow to the door out of their office.

 

In 1978, the banker nodded, “Okay, Opal. When you know how much you need for sure, let me know. You’ll get the money,” I heard the banker tell momma.

 

I was already a college student, so I was impressed that a banker would listen to a widow without demanding various forms of collateral.

 

The banker was not going out on a limb. He knew momma owned her “80 acres” of land and owned the other “10 acres” of land that she lived on. He knew she still “owned her home in Houston, Texas.”

 

The banker wasn’t gambling; he was investing.

 

The worst case scenario would be the bank would end up with Missouri real estate and maybe Texas real estate. Real estate in a city is usually more valuable than farm real estate,

 

In the late 1970s and early 1980s there was an active real estate market in Missouri and Texas.

 

But, everyone from Stone County, Missouri throughout southwest Missouri knew “Opal Warren always pays her bills.”

 

Samuel E. Warren was laid to rest in Yocum Pond Cemetery, near Reeds Spring Missouri. The financial cost of moving daddy’s body from Texas to Missouri was $7,000. The bank let momma borrow the money. Momma paid the bank off ahead of time.

 

Momma used money she already had saved for the associated funeral expenses and the double headstone. Uncle Sam provided the “foot marker” that was placed at daddy’s grave.

 

Save And Manage Your Money

 

Through the years, relatives would have financial issues come up in their lives. When they had no one to turn to, they would turn to “Opal.”

 

If a relative was out to buy a big screen TV, then, they were on their own.

 

But, if it was a valid emergency like a mortgage, insurance, food for their kids or medical bills then momma would “loan” the money. A few of my relatives paid Momma back. The majority did not.

 

Momma had a better financial plan than daddy. Momma never invested in the stock market. I had the debate with her several times and she always told me, “Son, I hang on to my money.”

 

Momma quit farming around 1982. The only “risky investment,” momma ever made, other than her son, was in Land.

 

Land That Pays For Itself

 

But, she always said, “Invest in Land, that will pay for itself.” Her Land did pay for itself because she “rented the pasture to other farmers for their cattle to graze on” and “loggers would cut some trees off the Land every three or four years for lumber.”

 

The Other Land

Through the years, momma would tell me that people had called her and tried to sell her land in Galena or elsewhere in southwest Missouri. I asked momma why she passed on the offers.

 

I have the land I want. The land I have been offered isn’t land I would want to buy at any price,” Momma would answer. Momma lived on one parcel of land. She could open her front door and look across the road to see the land that she had bought back in the 1930s.

 

Momma is one of the few people in the world, I know of, where bankers would call her and try to persuade her to move her money to their bank. She would smile, “The Bank Of Crane has always done right by me. Until something changes, I will stay with my bank.”

 

At age 84, momma left “The Real World” in 2004. She had a double wide home that had central heating and air conditioning. She never went hungry and there was always food in the ice box and the pantry. She always had her coffee and cigarettes. When she went to the doctor or the hospital, she could always pay her medical bills.

 

Momma’s Financial Secret, “She Learned To Save Money And Manage Her Money.”

 

Momma and daddy made sure I always had a wonderful Christmas. I got enough toys to outfit a museum.

 

I was an “Only Child”, which meant I had to play by myself most of the time, but, I had a huge wooden toy box in the garage full of toys to choose from each day.

 

In Missouri, every other weekend or so, my Cousin Donna would be at Grandma DeLong’s and Uncle Richard’s. I would of brought toys with me or we would go off in the woods to play. In Missouri, the toys were in a big cardboard box in the garage.

 

Samuel E. Warren Jr., the senior citizen, realizes now, Momma’s ability to always put “The Green In My Christmas” came from her daily financial sense of saving and managing her money. Thanks to my mother, “My Merry Christmas” was always “A Green Christmas.”

 

Merry Christmas, Momma .”

GREEN CHRISTMAS LEAD PHOTO_Nikon D 70 Photo by Samuel E. Warren Jr.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons license.

Written by samwarren55

December 20, 2012 at 1:53 AM

Posted in Bloggers, Blogs, Business, Current Events, Ecology, Family, Holidays, Money, Observances, Stone County History

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