I hated not blogging on Friday, especially since I have so much to tell you today.
Only the description “Islands in the Seventies” can do justice to our Easter weekend. I mean, of course, our Easter was all about He is Risen.
But, besides that, only Islands in the Seventies (which could be set to the tune of Islands in the Stream) can really capture what this we did this weekend.
Let me explain.
We went to Galveston (Island) this weekend, which is one of our family’s very favorite things to do. Maybe M and I are just lazy parents (which is probably kind of true), but we love the beach because it’s the easiest way to keep kids busy. At least our kids. Give them a couple buckets, and they’ll spend the whole day in and out of the waves and sand making castles. Or excavating their dream houses out of the beach.
Or, as is common with our kids, piling mud onto our feet.
Meanwhile M and I sit and do our very favorite activity of watching the waves and kids, which is nice because it’s the opposite of tackling the to-do list that’s waiting for us at home.
This weekend we also did island-y type things like crabbing in the bay with our friends the Siebenmans, who came to Galveston with us. Although we didn’t successfully get the crabs all the way out of the water and onto the bridge, the whole evening was so fun. We crabbed just around the corner from the house where I grew up. And I’m here to tell you that crabbing doesn’t change over the decades. Or centuries, probably.
Throwing chicken necks (or hot dogs, in this case) between some rocks and hoping to pull up a crab is the same kind of island fun in 1973 as it is in 2013. To be exact, that’s sort-of smelly, kind-of dangerous island fun. And, probably a little white trash kind of fun.
For Easter, we went to St. Johns, the church and school where I grew up. It’s also where Mike proposed to me 15 years ago. We like to visit when we’re in Galveston to see old friends. The kids loved the Easter Egg Hunt there yesterday.
While I watched them look for eggs around the church and school buildings, I couldn’t help but think about all the years I spent playing right there on that same grass and asphalt. Truly. I can’t even imagine how many hours. St. Johns was our second home.
Which is why this picture, of two of my very favorite people in the whole world, strolling past St. Johns is so special. Never ever, when I was roller skating along that sidewalk in the 1970s, did I imagine all the ways God would bless me over the next few decades.
Speaking of blessings, we had a wonderful time staying with the Siebenmans. I also love this picture of Sam and Ibby playing on the bars where my friends and I imitated gymnasts in the 1970s.
Sam hunting eggs by the bench where I sat most days after school and waited for my mom to finish grading papers. Seriously, y’all. How can one bench bring back so many memories? But it does.
And, this picture is crazy. If Catie wore glasses, this could be a picture of me thirty years ago. Incidentally, Catie really wants to wear glasses. Kids who don’t wear glasses always want to.
These kids don’t know about how many variations of Four Eyes their enemies are able to invent.
So, maybe, not all of the 1970s were fun.
I know this post is getting long. And, really, about four people in the world are interested in how I was teased for wearing glasses 30 years ago, but I have more news about 1970’s islands.
There was an island inside the kitchen at the house where we stayed.
By the way, the house was crazy.
CRAZY, I tell you.
It was a shrine to the 1970s. Seriously. Some family had used the heck out of that beach house all through the 1970s and 80s. And then they didn’t touch it for thirty years. Shortly after that, they sold it to a property management company, and our families rented it.
All this makes for an interesting living experience. The adults in our group were constantly discovering retro spice racks and microwave owners manuals and Amway cleaning products that had been lost in time since the 1980s. It was like we were with the Bradys in their wood-panelled, low-ceilinged den. Surprisingly, it was all comforting. Kind of like eating Hamburger Helper. Or drinking Tab. Although I’m not sure how to review the place on VRBO. I guess I could write, “This house has bottles of Prell under the sink. Which is oddly comforting.”
Speaking of oddly comforting and islands in the 1970s (we were still talking about that, right?), I want to announce here and now that the kitchen islands of the ’70s were the very best idea I’ve ever seen. Islands in the ’70s were massive. Huge. The whole kitchen encased by an island. But, get this. The islands were TWO-TIERED.
Basically, the whole kitchen at our beach house was encircled by a low table for the kids to sit and eat or hang out or watch me cook. Brilliant! Yeah, sure, today’s islands might be more visually appealing. But, who cares about visually appealing when you can’t see over the darn thing to know what your kids are doing? Not me.
Here’s another picture of my view while I cooked this weekend. The kids sat on those groovy yellow chairs and chatted with me while flipped eggs onto their plates just like I was a waitress from the ’70s. Which, I guess, would make me Flo.
Because she’s always struck me to be a woman who would love a good island.
She would probably love Galveston, too.
If nothing else, for the wonderful night crabbing.
