Posted by: patwogan | August 14, 2008

Auditioning for Hair Designer

When we lived by Glencliff, we had a dear neighbor lady that was like a Grandmother to me.  She was an Irish lady with four sons.  I now know my being a little girl was one reason I was as special to her as she was to me.  She was my first baby-sitter and often told a story of putting me on the dining room table with a newspaper cone above me to keep the dining room light from shining in my eyes.  My parents used to go ice skating at a small lake and it was while they were there that she took care of me.  Her name was Lydia, but she was always “Mom” Warnock to me and my family.

As I grew older, I loved to go to her house and “help” her.  She made bread frequently for her large family of  boys and was very generous in giving me a big slice slathered with butter and sprinkled with sugar.  She also had a root cellar which was always stocked with home canned fruits and vegetables.  She also made sauerkraut and there always seemed to be a large stone jar with kraut “making” in it and a large heavy plate on top.  (I now know this would have been an impossibility  because at some time the kraut would have been canned.)  She would let me taste the kraut to see if it was ready.

Her long gray hair was worn in a bun as was the style for older ladies at that time.  I loved to comb her hair and she would sit patiently and let me do it.  Keep in mind that this was before I was in Kindergarten and my ambition at this time was to be a beauty operator.  She had a heavy ivory comb which was needed for her long, thick hair.  It was also about this time that rat-tail combs first came into popularity and my mother used to comb and curl her short bob with one of these.  I had watched her do it and decided to curl Mom’s hair.  So I rolled her hair up on her heavy ivory comb and ended up with it terribly tangled in the teeth of the comb.  She had to go get my mother to untangle the mess, but as I remember, she was not the least bit angry with me about it.  I’m not sure, but I think the scissors were used a few times to untangle the mess.



  1. Oh I can practically picture this. I’ve had the same fear with my own girls when they play “beauty shop”.
    I hadn’t heard this story before or about this “mom” of yours. Very interesting!

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