Monday, January 4, 2016


Come on, babyboomers, where the heck are you? Being one myself, I feel I have the right to speak out about your apparent apathy. If you were born between 1941-1945, the term,'babyboomer' applies to you, and in 1956 most likely you were going through puberty. Remember the awkward development of breast buds and wild emotions? What about the zits that appeared overnight on your forehead and chin? You lathered Clearsil by the tons all over your face and still those disgusting, pus-filled little buggers prevailed! Oh, and I'm not just talking to you, girls, except for the breast buds, boys experienced similar bodily and emotional changes, too!

Yet through all this embarrassment, you endured, I know you embrace the Fifties as much as I do. They were the 'good ole days' filled with innocence and wonder. So many of us attended parochial school where we were taught to love one another and hate the devil. The nuns both inspired and terrified us. We learned to read and write and obey the rules lest we endure the wrath of the infamous 'ruler whacks' on our knuckles! At home, we were to be seen and not heard. Our parents were too busy trying to make a decent living to be bothered with our insignificant problems. They expected us to pitch in to do whatever we could to help the family, and forget about our piddlely selves.

We lived within walking distance of most of our relatives and school chums. Our ties were strong which gave us a true sense of security no matter the problem. If the adults weren't available, our friends were at the ready to share any knowledge they had about the growth and development of the human body. My cousin, Donna, told me about menstruation long before my mother ever mentioned it. Since Donna was the first to get her period in our little circle, she was the go-to person for any questions we might have had.

We experienced a delicious sense of freedom during those wonderful years. Our doors were never locked, and we slept peacefully next to an opened window all summer long. After our chores were done, we rode bikes through the neighborhood, hung out by the creek, and climbed hills and swung from vines with glorious abandon. Remember? We sat on stoops in front of our houses and slurped popsicles in the early evenings. We gathered at the community center for a pick-up game of baseball, or simply to pump the swings reaching for the stars. No one ever called to see where we were or when we'd be coming home. The street lights going on were our signal to get our butts home a.s.a.p.

Since I missed those days so much, I decided to write books set in the Fifties mostly to tell my grandchildren about my awesome childhood. What I found was that the babyboomers identified with these tales because they gave them the opportunity to revisit and relive a time when they were young and free.

If you want to treat yourselves to something truly special, take a peek at my series, When We Were Kids. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll remember the past that helped make you the strong,independent person you are today.

If you read my books, I'd love to hear from you. Let's share our stories and our pride in the Fifties!


Other books in the series include: