My Flashback Friday Posts

I had a plan to post my favorite or most popular post of the year but I was having trouble choosing just one. THEN, I realized it's my blog and I don't have to! So, here are posts from a series called Flashback Friday. 

I had this great idea to go through my childhood memorabilia and tell the stories of my childhood. I had fun with these posts but realized nostalgia isn't exactly motivating. That is unless you can use your nostalgic 7th Grade Life List to have new adventures. Look for MORE of those in the coming months!

Click any photo to be taken to the post.

Flashback Friday: My Book About Me

Welcome to Flashback Friday, where I delve deep into the piles of my childhood memorabilia so that we can reminisce, laugh at the bad perms, and finally prove that merely throwing away your NKOTB door hanging does not diminish your love for Jordan Knight.

I thought since we've already talked All About Us - we should probably discuss My Book About ME!

In a little insight that should surprise NO ONE, I like to talk about myself. This is a passion I did not discover with the advent of the internet. Oh no! This is a passion I have been pursuing for a very long time.

For a small child who loves to talk and write and REALLY loves to talk and write about herself, My Book About Me is basically the perfect present. (And they still sell it for those of you who love your children.)  I had TWO Books About me and I filled each one of them out several times - scribbling out my previous responses or writing right over them with marker. 

I can still remember counting the steps to my mailbox and collecting autographs for the different pages. I loved recording my likes and dislikes and I LOVED thinking about my future.

At one point, I filled the "I like to write stories" page with a story about my life at 30. It wrote this when I was nine years old. It is AMAZING. 

Hello, my name is Sarah. I'm an actress, signer, and mother. I'm 30 years old. I have 4 kids two girls and two boys. Their names are Carol, Matthew, Joey, and Beth. Their ages are 6 months, 7, 10, 2. We live in Beverly Hills. My husband's name is Joey Mcintyre. We both sing with New Kids on the Block. Our house as 20 bedrooms, 3 kitchens, 40 dinning rooms, 50 bathrooms, and 5 yachts. We have 100 servants and 20 black limousines and I have 50,000 dresses. We have 15 pets - 5 cats, 6 dogs, 2 fish, 2 gerbils. We have 100,0000,00000 dollars. I've made 20 movies. I have 30 Oscars, 20 Grammys, 40 Golden Globes. I own Universal Studios. I love books so I got 10000,00000 books. I have a very nice life.

(Side note: I REALLY should have filmed my interpretative reading of this for my husband. He about lost it.) 

Wowza. Where do we even begin?

First, I was going to be BUSY between my four kids and THIRTY Oscars ... and my pets and my servants and the whole RUNNING A MAJOR MOVIE STUDIO. I had ambition clearly.  Also, I had interesting math skills. I'd made 20 movies but won 30 Oscars? Perhaps I was a producer or screenwriter?

Also, what happened to my undying devotion to Jordan Knight?!? I don't even remember liking Joey and suddenly I'm going to marry him?!?  Maybe I felt he was the key to becoming a part of the group. He was John. I was Yoko. That always ends well. 

 I read this and realize that I watched way too much television - how else do you explain all the numbers? Apparently all that mattered is how much of something you had. In order to have a "nice life," my nine-year-old self thought you had to have a lot of everything money, children, careers, possessions.

There are other gems throughout My Book About Me. I love reading my favorite food (pizza), my favorite teacher (Mrs. Dallas), and my favorite book (The Boxcar Children). 

And I love that I have my beloved grandfather's autograph. I love the thought of the smile on his face as he helped me fill out my little book.  

Mainly, I love the little girl whose dreams were big if not a bit misdirected. She knew she wanted to be a mother. She knew she enjoyed people and the spotlight and had the confidence to believe that other's might be interested in what she had to say.

Now, who needs a yacht (or 5!) when you've got that?

Did you own My Book About Me? What were your big dreams at nine years old? 

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Flashback Friday: Sarah the Ballerina

Welcome to Flashback Friday, where I delve deep into the piles of my childhood memorabilia so that we can reminisce, laugh at the bad perms, and finally prove that merely throwing away your NKOTB door hanging does not diminish your love for Jordan Knight.

My name is Sarah and I love to dance. For a while, I thought I wanted to be a dancer.

Growing up, my favorite book was Angelina Ballerina. I have vivid memories as a child of going with my mother to the public library so I could check it out one. more. time. I dreamed of being a Prima Ballerina just like Angelina. However, it wasn't long into my young life that I learned a fundamental truth of girl-dom. 

A love of dance doesn't make you a dancer.

I don't remember how old I was when I took my first dance class but I took classes from an older lady in town who was a bit of an institution and I loved it.

I loved chatting with my friends. I loved our leotards and the little pink ballet shoes. I LOVED our fancy costumes for our big recitals. I remember tap-tap-tapping my toes through classic ballet and tap classes and feeling so special.

Plus, my grandmother took me to class every week and we would get ice cream sundaes on the way home. Life was good.

When several of my friends moved to a new JAZZ studio in town, I jumped ship. Jazz dance was cool and grownup and required belly-baring costumes if these photos are any reflection.

The new instructor would march around the room banging a giant pole on the floor and yelling at us to keep up with the beat and sharpen our movement! Suddenly, there were dance troupes and out-of-town dance performances. Overnight the stakes had increased from a once-a-year recital to multiple shows, tryouts, and endless rehearsals.

Then, Linda Bernabei showed up. She was a REAL dancer. Y'all, she had been in DIRTY DANCING. She came to audition for the LADF - Los Angeles Dance Force. I don't think I need to tell you that THIS was a big deal in Paducah. My mother now tells me that she let me audition because she honestly didn't think I would make it. (Thanks, Mom!) I'd only been taking jazz for a few months and was one of the younger girls in the group.

I made the team.

Ms. Bernabei informed my mother that I would have to work hard but she couldn't ignore my stage presence. 

I had short red hair. I had glasses. I talked too much and wasn't that good of a dancer. When this woman said I had something - something else that mattered, it rocked my tiny little world.  At this point, my "stage presence" only got my name on the board and a bad grade in conduct. I had no idea that this personality - the talking, the arguing, the assertiveness - could get me anywhere but in trouble.

I have Linda Bernabei for making me see that perhaps there was more to being a girl than looking pretty and having the right moves. 

I wish I could say that the ensuing trip to St. Louis for LADF performance changed my life. I wish I could say I that her trust in me transformed me into a phenomenal dancer. 

Alas, my days as a dancer were numbered.

After a year, I realized I loved to dance but I did not love being a dancer. The classes and practices and trips required so much time - time I wanted to spend doing other things. I won't claim the other things were more important or even more beneficial. (I still remember having to leave a particularly hilarious episode of Mama's Family to go to rehearsal.) 

Eventually, I told my mom I wanted to quit. I think she was relieved. All the trips and dance forces cost money and since she worked full time, I'm sure organizing my dance schedule was a nightmare.  

My love of dance (and sequins and hot rollers) survived, even if my dreams of becoming Mademoiselle Prima Ballerina did not.  

 Did you attend dance classes as a child? Did you stick with it or are you a dance class dropout?

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Flashback Friday: New Kids on the Block

Welcome to Flashback Friday, where I delve deep into the piles of my childhood memorabilia so that we can reminisce, laugh at the bad perms, and finally prove that merely throwing away your NKOTB door hanging does not diminish your love for Jordan Knight.

My birthday is Sunday. I will be 32.

Do the math. It should not surprise you that I was a huge New Kids on the Block fan.  

I had shirts and a sleeping bag and the aforementioned door hanger. I had a beach towel and a giant button and all their tapes and a Jordan Knight doll with a rat tail. 

Jordan was my preferred New Kid. People who liked Donnie were bad girls. Everyone knew that. Donnie was a trouble maker. After he set fire to the hotel room in Louisville, I let everyone know my elementary school girl thoughts on Donnie. 

He was no good.

Jonathan was for shy girls. Joey was cute but too much of a baby. Danny...well, Danny was Danny. 

Jordan was a dream. When my friend Jenny (yes, the same Jenny) had a party for their pap-per-view concert, I still remember him standing high on a platform with with a white button-up shirt being blown open by a fan. It is burned into my memory forever. I'm pretty sure I screamed.

When someone at the party took my seat in front of the television, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. 

I still maintain this was the only reasonable response.

 My friend and I got in constant fights with the boys at our school over who was cooler - New Kids on the Block or Vanilla Ice. They constantly asserted that Jordan and the lot were gay. I got in HUGE trouble for explaining to my friend Erin what that meant.

My parents never took me to a concert because they didn't love me. Obviously. Finally, when the tree of nostalgia was ripe, New Kids on the Block went on a reunion tour (the first of many). I bought a ticket. I was INSANELY excited. 

Then, I got pregnant and was so sick with nausea I couldn't go.

It is a multi-generational plot to prevent me from seeing Jordan Knight in person. 

Again, only reasonable response.  

I once argued passionately to my mother that the New Kids on te Block were going to be bigger than the Beatles. This argument is burned into my memory because my mother reminds me of it ONCE. A. WEEK. At least. 

They were my first boy band. My first true pop music crush and the first time music and the emotion it can evoke really affected me.  

Even after I get rid of the last of my memorabilia - years after the last reunion tour, know this.

New Kids on the Block, I'll be loving you (forever). 

Were you a NKOTB fan? Who was your favorite New Kid? I promise not to judge...too harshly.  

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Flashback Friday: Youthful Politics

Welcome to Flashback Friday, where I delve deep into the piles of my childhood memorabilia so that we can reminisce, laugh at the bad perms, and finally prove that merely throwing away your NKOTB door hanging does not diminish your love for Jordan Knight.

Listen, people. This is not all fun and games and Lisa Frank. It’s time for me to share some darker aspects of my past. I wasn’t always the super-gorgeous, super-smart, super-liberal (and super-humble!) redhead you see now before you.

In fact, the entirety of my childhood and adolescent years I was a Bible-beating, super-judgmental, conservative.

NOW, before any of my gorgeous, smart, conservative friends get their panties in a wad, I am not saying those characteristics always go hand in hand. They just did in 16-year-old Sarah...and I have the Heath Post editorial to prove it.

Here it is in all it’s glory. Future Hillaryland intern and staffer Sarah Stewart Holland calling for President Clinton’s resignation. (Feel FREE to skip past this part. It’s pretty unbearable.)

Our president is going through a crisis. Contrary to popular belief, if our president is going through a crisis then so are we. Our president’s personal life affects his ability to perform his job effectively. Also if we were being truthful, the presidency is not just a job, it is an entire life. For this and other reasons, President Clinton should resign.

President Clinton lied. He came on national television and told this entire country a blatant lie. This in its self is inexcusable. Yet it doesn’t end there. He has had a history of lies, beginning with saying he wasn’t drafted; he just got lucky. Then a draft record was released. Whoops. He said memories of black churches being burned in Arkansas when he was a young boy were “vivid and painful.” There were no black churches burned in Arkansas during that time. Now we move on to bigger lies. For seven months, Clinton vehemently denied an affair with Monica Lewinsky. He used every legal avenue possible to delay and hinder Starr’s investigation, including his office of presidency. He had his wife, his lawyers and his closet advisors and friends go on every public medium to say things he knew were completely false. Finally it came down to a stained blue dress. There was physical evidence and he had NO choice.

This is something that needs to be understood. He did not apologize because he was sorry. He apologized because he had no other choice. Also if he is so “scandal weary” and feels sorry for the American public having to go through all this, why didn’t he admit his guilt seven months ago and save us all the trouble?

Another Clinton contradiction is he says he’s sorry while sending his lawyers out with statements blasting his innocence.

If Clinton does not resign or is not impeached the moral lesson will be sending to younger generations and other countries will be appalling. We will be saying that as long as our money is safe we do not care if the president is running a brothel. That it is acceptable for the moral leader of our country to lie compulsively to his friends, to his wife and daughter and to the entire country. The absolute law enforcer for our country can break the law.

This is unacceptable. Billy Graham issued a statement saying that no man is an island, that ever person’s actions affect us all, the bigger the person the bigger the person’s impact. President Clinton is not a CEO; his job doesn’t end at the end of the day. Someone asked me would I want my personal life spread all over television. No I would not, but I am not the president. He took an oath to preserve, protect, and defend. He also took an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth; he lied once he will again. 

Whew. The self-righteousness is SMOTHERING. I had some thoughts, y’all. You can’t really figure out what they are through all the judging and the simplifying and the hyperbole but yeah THOUGHTS. I particularly enjoy my concern for “younger generations.”

A mere two years later I will be protesting in an Old Navy over sweatshop labor and supporting Ralph Nadar for President. A decade later I will be working for Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign. 

My how things change.

I’d like to think that my swing to other side of the political spectrum taught me not to take it all so seriously. Sadly, I know newly liberal Sarah was as insufferable and rigid as longtime conservative Sarah. 

Over time I’ve tried to learn the difference between passionate defense and sanctimonious judgment but I know I don’t always get it right.

Coincidently, it was Bill Clinton who taught me my most profound lesson on how to walk that line. In 2004, he was on his book tour and had come to D.C. to sign copies of his new autobiography. I had taken turns waiting all day with a group of guys. We were technically past the 3,000 person cutoff but we had a feeling Bill wouldn’t turn us away after waiting all day.

We were right.

He had been shaking hands and signing books for several hours when we got to him and his handlers were pushing us through the line at a rapid pace.

When I finally got up to meet him, I took a deep breath and asked what was his number one piece of advice for someone considering public office.

He stopped the line and looked me directly in the eye. For a few minutes, I was the only person in the room. He told me to go out of my way to meet all different sorts of people - to listen to them, to learn their stories. He told me that people too often see politicians as two-dimensional and that if you can find different ways to relate to people, they are more likely to see you as the human being you are. 

Three years later his wife would give me the same advice. 

Listen. Sixteen-year-old Sarah was doing a lot of talking and not a lot of listening. She hadn’t met enough people or heard enough stories to know the world was bigger and wider and much more complicated then she could possibly understand as she walked the halls of Heath High School. 

I hope to talk with Bill Clinton again someday. I’m going to thank him for the great advice... and apologize for my editorial.

How have your political beliefs changed over time? Do you still believe the same things you did as a kid? 

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Flashback Friday: All About Us

Welcome to Flashback Friday, where I delve deep into the piles of my childhood memorabilia so that we can reminisce, laugh at the bad perms, and finally prove that merely throwing away your NKOTB door hanging does not diminish your love for Jordan Knight.

Tomorrow my husband and I will celebrate our ten year anniversary. Surrounded by our nearest and dearest, we plan to renew our vows in the front yard and then party late into the night in our back yard.

When I look back now, I realize marriage really intimidated me. I was a child of divorce. Even though my mother had remarried and her and my stepfather had (and still have) a great relationship, I was worried. I knew I loved Nicholas. I knew I was ready to be in a committed relationship but, in a way marriage seemed like a roll of the dice.

How could I stack the odds in my favor?

I decided that if Nicholas and I preemptively tackled every possible conflict before we got married our odds of staying married would be better. So, I sat out to find every “Know your partner” quiz and “Ten Things You Should Ask Before You Got Married” list the burgeoning Internet had to offer.

Nicholas played along – night after night – as we talked about future children, career goals, and who would do the dishes.

I even found a book.

An entire book dedicated to partnership quizzes! One hundred and sixteen pages of likes, dislikes, passions, problems, and plans.

Whew! I’m exhausted just flipping through it. I cannot believe I filled the whole thing out and I REALLY can’t believe Nicholas participated.

As different as I feel from the young girl who filled out all the blanks and checked all the boxes, it is surprising how little about our relationship has changed. Nicholas still loves my passion for life and I still want to hear his opinion on almost everything. We still fight about money and how long it’s been since Nicholas’s last haircut.

Of course, one thing has changed. I’m no longer intimidated by marriage. I realized a long time ago that divorce isn’t the luck of the draw. People get divorced because they never should have gotten married in the first place. While I had my doubts about marriage, I never once had any doubts about Nicholas.

I knew he would make a loving husband, a wonderful father, and an amazing partner.

I thought I needed quizzes as evidence but now the years we have spent together are all the proof I need.

 Anyone want to offer up marriage advice for our next ten years?

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Flashback Friday: Lisa Frank diary

Welcome to Flashback Friday, where I delve deep into the piles of my childhood memorabilia so that we can reminisce, laugh at the bad perms, and finally prove that merely throwing away your NKOTB door hanging does not diminish your love for Jordan Knight.

I’m a keeper. I keep things. I keep photos and souvenirs and clothing and every single issue of my high school newspaper (and college...and middle school...and elementary...don't you dare judge me).

There are a million reasons I keep. I’m an only child and always had my own room to pile high with mementos. I come from a long line of keepers. I’m a historian at heart. 

The reason doesn’t really matter - what matters is that we exploit this stuff to maximum entertainment capacity!

Let’s begin at the beginning. I’ve been journaling for as long as I can remember. Recently, whilst sorting through the piles, I found my very. first. diary. 

Look at that beauty!

Awwww Lisa Frank, you and all your unicorn/butterfly/floral/rainbow graphics were a sight to behold! I shutter to think how much your technicolor dreamland has influenced my current aesthetic preferences.

Raise your hand if you owned some Lisa Frank in your time!

Or seriously coveted some Lisa Frank for that matter. We all know the line between cool and not cool was drawn with the razor-sharp edge of a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. Apparently, Lisa Frank is still going strong if not in a slightly more anime direction - although I’m going to go ahead and say it was all downhill after THIS. 

I digress. Time to examine my very first entry on July 26, 1991. Two days shy of her tenth birthday, baby Sarah had some thoughts.

Dear Diary,

I got this Diary for my birthday. At swiming party I let it about I had a slumber party. Everybody stayed up late. They woke me up and froze my pantys. Jaclyn said she was sorry but I didn’t believe her. I got a cool papack and pajamas from Adorable Child. Mom says they are no better than Wal-mart. Jenny thinks she’s got her period but I think she’s just trying to impress us.

Sarah

Wowza. Where should we even begin? I really cover the gamut of girl experiences. Parties? CHECK! Panty freezing? CHECK! Fundamental distrust of girl friends? CHECK! Mother-daughter conflict? CHECK!

A little background. This party was a big, freaking deal. I still remember it. I went behind my mom’s back and shaved my legs before my “swiming party.” Now, I all I can wonder is why I was in such a dang hurry?!? I don’t remember much about the slumber party except the panty freezing fiasco in which my friends woke me up to ask me where my underwear was so they could freeze it.

Stealth they were not.

Also, isn’t the point of freezing underwear that you don’t have anything else to wear home? Isn’t it a little less than impactful to freeze the panties of the host, who in theory has many more pairs in her underwear drawer... probably with lots of Lisa Frank unicorns and rainbows on the butt? 

Adorable Child was the super-fancy children’s boutique in my town. My mother always refused to shell out the big bucks for my outfits, which at the time made her seem mean but now makes her seem super-smart. I don’t even remember the aforementioned pajamas but I promise you she was right and they were no better than ones from Wal-Mart.

My favorite part of the entry is that I clearly didn’t believe a word coming out of any of my friends’ mouths! Although I now have girlfriends I consider my sisters, my road to true friendship had a rocky start. My childhood girlfriends (almost all of which I still know and love) were no different from girls of that age everywhere. Consistently silly. Intermittently loyal. Occasionally cruel. 

Still, I had such a tough time riding those waves of emotions and moods. I was a know-it-all and probably more than a little bossy (fine, a lot bossy) and I just wanted everyone to LIKE me. 

Obviously, I made it through and I’m so glad I have this beautiful Lisa Frank diary to remind me how far I’ve really come.

Did you own any Lisa Frank as a child? 

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