A few months ago I saw these journals at Barnes and Noble called Tell Me Your Story, Mommy (and Grandma). At the time I thought what an amazing idea it would be and how much I would have treasured one of these journals completed by either my mom or grandmothers. I wanted to do something like it for Sophie and Libby (and future grandchildren), but wow - there were a lot of things I wanted to write and I would have to do it in duplicate. That seemed exhausting and well, we all know my handwriting leaves a lot to be desired. So instead I decided to create a blog where I worked through the ideas in the journal step by step. A little birdie told me that you can print your blog, so maybe I'll do that.
And so it begins...
I was born in Waukegan, IL (Waukegan Memorial Hospital) on May 7, 1976. My mom had had several miscarriages before me and was not supposed to even be able to get pregnant. The previous fall she had gone to the doctor with what she assumed was the Asian flu. At that visit she discovered the flu was indeed baby number 3. I'd love to say she was delighted, but as an adult I was given a letter she wrote to her mother-in-law when they got the news. It was kind of the opposite of delight. In the letter she wrote about how it was an awful time to have a baby as my dad was out of work and she was past the age of wanting another baby. But she supposed that it would all work out in the end. After reading the letter I shared it with my dad who looked at me sheepishly and said, "We wanted you after you were born." Thanks dad.
My dad, Kenneth George Kiehne, was born May 14, 1941 and was 35 when I was born. My mom, Karen Theresa Sage, was born May 28, 1944 and was 31. My brother and sister made sure to tell them they were too old to have kids and they were sure they would be dead by the time I "grew up". My brother was 10 years older than me, born December 6, 1966 and my sister was 7 years older than me, born November 17, 1968.
We only lived in Illinois for a few short years before moving to Harmony, MN to the house my dad built and I grew up in 1979. My mom told stories of us renting an apartment above the pharmacy in Preston until the house was finished, well as finished as it needed to be to move in. In the 20+ years they lived there, my dad was always working on something. In fact, when we moved them out, I think he still had to put the trim up in the family room. I loved that house and the 40 acres it was on. I would give anything to be able to call that home again, although it doesn't look the way I remember at all. Gone is the spiral staircase that all of us kids slid down and gone are the cowpaths through the woods where I spent most of my childhood.
Growing up in the '80's was a lot different experience than the way our kids grow up today. Guess you'll have to read on to find out how.
