JustaKrusen/ Mrsjustakrusen

After living in that house in Skaneateles, my parents rented a home in Spafford. At the time my sister Karen was in high school and my sister Pam and I were in elementary school . I remember the bus ride from the house to Skaneateles to this house was about super long. In this picture there is a small window on the left of us, that was the bathroom window. I remember that bathroom window because I remember some mornings running into the bathroom and not coming out until I saw the bus go by. That did cause a tad bit of disappointment with my mom because we didn’t have a second car, and I chose to have to go to the bathroom on days when my dad was gone for work.

On most days mom was aware of my little urgent need for the bathroom. I really didn’t like school for so many reasons, but in the winter it was worse. It was a challenge some days to get to the bus in the winter. We got ALOT of snow, huge amounts. We had a long steep driveway, and in good weather it seemed like forever to a young child, but add a super slippery driveway and it got new meaning to challenging with all the snow. I look back now and realize that Spafford helped me learn to trust in things I had no control over. Let me explain.

This is the driveway now, it is the same steep driveway I remember, just the house is now updated a lot. So our bus driver would always pull to the foot of the driveway, turn on the blinkers and we were supposed to get down to the bus as quickly as possible. The bus driver realized we were having trouble when the driveway was super icy. Sometimes we would have a woman bus driver instead of the man I wasn’t too fond of, and she would have the bus aide and herself stand outside the bus, she would let us know when she was ready and one by one we would sit on our book bag, holding onto the sides of it really tightly, and slide down the driveway, hoping she would catch us, because if not we were going under the bus. Fortunately we didn’t have to do this on too many days, as sometimes we could carefully walk down on the very edge, but when the edge was not an option we totally trusted her, trusted that we would get caught. This is a blind faith, a trust in something I had no real control over, it was fun in a scary sort of way. Neither of us ever hit our heads on the bus, so it was a win win. Getting back up to the house after school was a different challenge, but we did it.

I also remember that this house taught me about being able to make the best use of the land, and canning. Being we didn’t have a 2nd car, my mom and dad put in a garden. it provided enough veggies for canning. Mom had a shelf in the cellar with canned vegetables, pickles, and tomato sauce and pasta sauce. It also was the house where my older sister, Pam and I carefully would walk down to Fesco’s farm and get fresh milk in rather heave aluminum containers that we had. I remember the milk very fresh, kinda warm…., it was how we got our milk.

I also learned that I could do what I felt was impossible. We weren’t allowed to ride down the long driveway for obvious reasons, but I learned to ride my bike on the grass in the back of the house. That was kind of tough keeping my balance on uneven grass, but I tried and tried, and mom and dad would encourage me not to give up, I learned I can do things I put my mind to. A lesson that has followed me through the years.

I also remember learning about obeying my parents when they told me to stay put. We had a dog whose name was Whitey. She was a large whitish collie, she was a really special dog. Very very protective of us as we played outside, and we tried to keep her tied up on a chain/ leash. Well this one day I remember dad asking where Whitey was, we all started calling her name, we went outside, and called her name. All of the sudden dad seemed like he heard something and he told us to go inside, and he got our neighbor, and started to walk down the road. I snuck outside, and leaned against our fence, watching curiously as my dad and Mr Call walked towards the road. From what I could see, they went to the side of the road, and I watched them lean over a white mound on the edge of the road. Our neighbor then pulled out his gun and shot at this mound. I realized it was Whitey he shot. I ran inside, screaming and crying, I couldn’t understand what happened. I also realize looking back that I really should have just listened to my dad and stayed in the house. The end result was our dog was dead, but I would not have seen all I saw. It was terrifying. When Dad came back to the house, he and Mr Call had Whitey in their arms. Dad said he was sorry I had to see that, and that was why he told us to go in the house. He told us that as we called Whiteys name, what he heard was the sounds from Whitey crying. Dad said someone hit her with their car and she was bleeding , she had lost a lot of blood, and they knew she was not able to get to the vet. To try to help us deal with it all, dad asked if any of us wanted to come out and see where we want to have her buried. I did go out, so did Pam and Karen, and we buried her under the tree she loved to lie under. We didn’t live in the house for too long after that, between the winters, the distance to school, having the one car and the walk along that road for milk, our parents found a rental in Skaneateles , in a different area than the first scary house. I will share that in a different post.

Life brings up so many lessons, some we don’t even realize what they are until years later. But each one, they help to create the adults we become. I think some of the things I learned in Spafford, faith in what I could not see me being able to accomplish, listening, obeying, trust, loss and attempting to redirect the sorrow…..I think they have helped me as the years have passed.

I hope you have some happy moments, create some pleasant memories, Until later, Mrs. Justa alias Cindy

I heard a commercial the other day on the radio. The “actors” on the commercial were supposed to be a husband and wife. The jest of the commercial was financial doom and gloom. The man was saying the mortgage was due, all their credit cards were maxed out, and they had no money for the bills they had. Well, the wife pops in with this sunshiney voice stating her relative just contacted a certain company after being in the same situation, and within moments this great lending company sent her relative $5000.00. Well, the husband is thrilled and the commercial ends as they are about to contact this lending company.

That commercial in itself really bothered me in so many ways. Firstly “all their credit cards maxed out” means they try to make minimum payments and with interest rates on credit cards being what they are, they will have a horrific time paying them off. On top of that they are adding yet another loan to the pile of huge debt, as I am sure this lender isn’t planning on just giving them 5 grand and forgetting it!.
The very next day, I am introduced to a pop-up ad for this incredible wallet, one that “will carry all your cards in one place”. LOOK AT THE NUMBER OF CARDS THEY HAVE, let alone the multiple $100.00 bills . This even fumed my frustration over the commercial trying to entice people with built-up debt on top of built-up debt, that it’s okay to get whatever you want cuz you want it, not because you need it.

I remember growing up, we did not have much money. Mom did her best to afford our necessities, and she could stretch a recipe to feed 7 people by adding rice or pasta to it. Chocolate chip cookies were a scavenger hunt to see who got a cookie with more than one chip. But we survived, we didn’t have the biggest, best things, we wore hand-me-down clothes, and we did not have huge expectations, but we had each other. She tried to teach us to live within our means.

As I grew up, and became a mom, then a single mother, I was so thankful for that upbringing. I did the best I could, I would tell Jeff when we went to the store that all the toys were there for him to touch, but leave them for other kids to touch too. He was okay with that. At Christmas time I would give him the Sears catalog to choose the one gift that was special to him. It wasn’t a punishment, it was a way to get to the next day. We didn’t travel a lot and when we did, we took a cooler, slept at people’s homes when possible, and enjoyed the scenery.

When Mark and I met, we didn’t make a lot of money, we each had a child, and they each learned how to have fun without all the expensive wants, and yes there were times when we had to decide which payee might be paid a week late. We made it through it. As years passed we realized that looking at the checking account or savings account before spending anything was not enough, we needed to name each dollar with a job. As he got into being an owner-operator, that became even more important.

We started out using Excel and creating our own budget, but for the past decade or so we have utilized a budget plan created by people a lot smarter than us. Any money we have has a name. We budget for the upcoming expenses, estimating what the monthly bills will be, what groceries will be, etc. It is so much more comfortable to know we have planned for an upcoming bill, than it is to realize the money just spent should have been saved for the mortgage, groceries, electricity, a quarterly or annual bill, or whatever comes up.

I wish there was that type of education earlier in life, through the schools, so as we got into the financial world as young adults, that we understood the importance of money, saving, investing, and budgeting.

It infuriates me that advertisers try to get us to spend money on things that are foolish, or unnecessary. Oh I know that is how they sell things, by exposing people to various products, but there are so very many things that people don’t have the money for, so many things that can just be thrown on a credit card, and the seller is happy, yet one can end up at the end of the month like that ad I heard…. credit cards maxed, no money for bills.

My point for today is to not be swayed by the glitter, the newest gadgets, and the enticing “must haves”. Be wise, be careful, and appreciate every single dollar you have, let it work for you, not against you. Teach your children to save a portion of their allowances, their wages, and invest in something that can quietly build in the background as they age, so that when they are 60 or 70, they have financial security. Teach the difference between wants and needs. It is so very important.

Until later, Mrs Justa… alias Cindy

Continuing to reflect on things I learned in my younger years. I keep thinking about endless talking, and that when I was much younger- ( 5 1/2 yrs old) my parents would often tell me that I was talking a bit too much. I guess I talked until I was asleep. In fact mom used to tell me as a child she knew when I was sleeping because it got quiet.

That all changed after an incident when I was 5 1/2. I remember that house in Skaneateles, the big brick house with lousy water. Well the owner of the home arranged for repairing the well/water issue. It was very common to be able to just go out and play without a parent feeling like they had to be right out there. My mom was in the house with the my younger brothers and I think my sisters were inside too, I definitely don’t remember them out with me.

My “entertainment” outside was the “well man”. I remember it was kinda warm out and I was hanging out with him, thinking we were having a great time. I asked him questions, stood close by to watch, yeah I thought we were doing the stuff together. That was until he asked me if I could quiet down some, then he told me pretty strongly to stop talking.

Oh I would run off for a bit, but returned to see what he was doing. He had various equipment and I remember a 55 gallon drum filled with water too. To this day I am not sure the whole reason for the drum filled with water, but it was part of the well repair.

I ran back to the site he was at, and talking as I tended to do, and all of the sudden he grabbed me, he said he warned me for the last time, then he grabbed my ankles and submerged me upside down in the barrel of water. His intent was not to drown me, but to , I guess, stop my endless chatter. I remember opening my eyes, the water was cold and it was very dark in the barrel. I am sure it was for only a few seconds, but those seconds have left a memory that I am confident will never leave me.

As soon as he put me on the ground, my wet hair dangling in my tear-filled face, I ran like crazy to the house. Crying my eyes out, sobbing and scared. My mom heard me crying and came to the door as I entered the hallway, she asked me what happened, I told her that that man dunked me in the barrel of water. She asked me why, and I sobbed saying I talked too much.

She did go out and say something to him, but no words, no actions, could heal that moment from my mind. Often as I have grown up, people ask me to converse with them, people ask me what am I thinking, people want me to get in a long conversation, but it is something I just can not do. After that dunking, I really do not think I every rattled on again, not like before the dunking. And I left the man alone for the rest of the time too!

I don’t know why it keeps surfacing to the present in my mind but it does. Maybe by jotting it down, maybe that will help it seal itself up in a area in the back of my mind. Most recently it surfaced as I was singing some songs yesterday and the day before, and it made me think that songs bring out thoughts in my soul, they are words I can sing, words I can feel, and somehow way back in my subconscious, it is not talking all the time , as the words make the songs.

The posts on this blog give me a safe way to bring out words too. It is just strange how actions, once they are done, they can’t be taken back. And the result of an action can sometimes change a person for a short time, and sometimes for life.

One of the things I always try to remember, is an action, or a word said—once they are done, they are no longer able to be taken back. That man, he was wrong to do what he did, and his actions… well it saved many people from being exposed to my endless need to talk, but it also took away a part of me. I am sure he is no longer on this earth, and I often wonder if he felt bad after he did that, or if it even left any impression on him. I also wonder what my mom said to him.

Those things I will never know. What I do know is no matter how hard I try to have conversations, I just don’t talk a lot. And that is just how I am, so it is okay. I just had to jot it down, to remind me that actions are not retrievable…

Until later- take care, be kind, Mrs. Justa alias Cindy