Contrary Woodrow

Our neighborhood library was in Sharp Park, Pacifica, CA.  From the first visit, we Hagler kids became addicts - of reading and books.  The day we received our Library Cards, we knew we were important! 

We all had our favorites.  I loved Black Beauty, Tom Sawyer, The Wizard of Oz, and Beatrix Potter stories the best. Beatrix Potter was one of my inspirations for drawing. Her illustrations were enchanting. 

 Arlo's favorite was "Contrary Woodrow", by Sue Felt.  In fact, there was a period when that was all that Arlo wanted to read.

This became problematical when Arlo had to return the book. It didn't help that returning books in our family was sometimes a challenge.  The books could get lost in any number of places, and remembering the due dates was not easy, in our often chaotic household.  

But the reason that returning Arlo's favorite book every 2 weeks is that he didn't want to let it go.  It didn't occur to our parents to actually BUY the book.   Thus, Arlo would emulate his favorite character when told that he had to return "his" book....or when he realized that his book had been checked out by someone else.  He became "contrary".  

Luckily, Arlo outgrew "Contrary Woodrow" and went on to other things.  Just as Woodrow did, in the book.  

THE END

The Folded Arms of Hagler

Throughout our childhood, one of the ways my father kept us in line was to have us fold our arms. 

You get the idea.  I've been doing our family genealogy, and now realize that we were just following our tradition....the Folded Arms of Hagler! 

Cold Summer in Westview

One of the percs of being an older sister is that I was able to give my younger siblings wheelbarrow rides and airplane rides.  We had a large back yard, perfect for playtime scenarios.  

 

Arlo, Laurie & I would stage little shows for the neighborhood kids, charging a dime for admission, and a nickel for lemonade.  We also served popcorn occasionally.  Arlo was the script-writer for the majority of our plays and scenarios, though we also got to do a little improv.   My best friend Leda remembers attending a few of our plays, and actually thought that they were entertaining.   Arlo & I played the characters of "Sporty and Lynn Nelson", which Arlo wrote and directed. I went along with it all, interjecting a few additions to the script, which Arlo would only accept if they were "in character".  

My brother was a character himself, a true individual, which sometimes got him in trouble with the local toughs. Laurie & I would often find ourselves rushing off to help our brother out, when he was outnumbered by the bullies.  Arlo later told me that it wasn't great for his ego that his sisters saved him a lot of the time!

My brother Tom and I were often at odds growing up, partly because the four youngest continually complained about Tom's bullying.  After one trying day when I was 17, I was stuffing a chicken for dinner, and Tom was being his usual bratty self.  In frustration, I turned around and yelled at my brother, and in a rage, hurled the chicken at Tom. 

Tom deftly dodged the flying chicken, which landed on the floor.  My action was counterproductive, because not only did Tom just laugh about it, but I had to re-clean and stuff the thing.

Arlo didn't like taking baths or showers, when he was young. It was partly because it was so COLD in Westview, where we grew up.  But stink is stink, no matter where you live.  One day, my mom had had enough, and ordered 10-year-old Arlo to take a shower.  He reluctantly agreed, and Mom was content to hear the shower running soon after.  20 minutes later, the shower was still running.  Mom decided to check the situation out, and found Arlo in the bathroom with the shower running, alright.  But Arlo was fully clothed, sitting on the closed toilet seat, reading a comic book!  Mom took the comic book, rolled it up, and started hitting Arlo over the head with it.  She didn't get too far before dissolving into laughter (I found her that way, outside of the bathroom, and couldn't help laughing, myself)!   

Maybe Arlo couldn't be blamed; as I mentioned, Westview in the summer is a COLD place to be, and we all sported the "layered look"....many layers of clothing....and didn't like shedding the protective warmth, unless it was for a good reason.  Among the nine of us, Arlo wore the most layers, they were like tree rings. Conversely, baby brother George didn't see the need for clothes, and he would often shed them and  run outside, before we could catch his little butt.  Occasionally, I'd hear: "Hey, Debbie, I saw your little brother running around naked!" Luckily, George outgrew that tendency....eventually.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

My brief hairstory:  At some point in my early 20s, I decided to let my "freak flag fly", and stopped cutting my hair.  I was curious to discover how long it could get.

 After a decade, my hair reached as far as my knees.  Most of the time, I wore it in a braid, or braids, just to function without it getting in the way.

  Other times, I let it hang loose.

My husband Perry also had a lot of hair, but while mine grew down, his grew OUT! 

  

I walked everywhere, and got a lot of notice & compliments on my hair. Others wondered if all of that hair was "too heavy" on my head, and how long it took to dry, after washing it?  I also received some snide remarks. My brother Arlo called me:  "Cousin It".  One day, I walked down the street, and some teens yelled out from their car: "Cut yer fuckin' hair!"

Then there was the time that my hair got stuck in a man's shirt button, as we were passing each other in a narrow pizza parlor hallway.  It took a few minutes to extract the tendrils from his button. He chuckled, and was kind enough to put up with it. My hair also caught on door knobs, and I sat on it a few times, yanking my neck in the process. I cut my bangs in my late 30s, trying for a different look.

For at least 10 more years, I kept the bangs, as evidenced by my work photos here

.  

 My hair is naturally straight, but because I had to keep it braided most of the time, it was wavy when "let out".

When I was in my late 40s, I dyed my hair, as per usual, with "Nice 'N Easy" hair dye.  Unfortunately, I was allergic to the dye at that point.  My scalp tingled, then itched, then burned.  By the time I made the shower, half of my hair fell out.  

Some of it grew back, but not all of it, leaving me permanently bald in spots.  Now I wear a hat when in public most of the time.  One of the many lessons about "loss" in my life, but, after all.... it's just hair!