My boy, what have you done?

It's a beautiful morning in late May, 2017. I'm sitting in a packed courtroom in Lethbridge, Alberta. I'm trying to get comfortable on a wooden bench a few feet behind a man who has been accused of killing an elderly woman, a two-year-old girl and her young father less than 2 years ago.

I study the back of his head. He is 24 years old.....would've been only 22 when the crime took place...barely an adult in my eyes. I can't help but admire the youthfulness of this young man. He's clean-shaven, assuming freshly showered, obediently sitting very still, hair as black as a shiny night sky and beautiful features that I'm sure his mother is proud of.

I also can't help but think --what if this was MY son? What would I say to him? What went wrong? Would I blame myself? Is there any excuse that would satisfy me?
I can hear the mother in me asking "At what point were you thinking that this was a good idea?" and "Were you hoping to not get caught and making this kind of thing a hobby?"
I've been seeing pictures of this young man in the media--lots of pictures. He seems to have it all..friends, family and good looks although some of the photos are taken in awkward situations where one doesn't expect a photo shoot....of course the media will focus on those!

This story is so very sad. I've been following the details of this murder tale over the course of the two years since it happened. It's a horrendous story that one might find in a fictitious book or Hollywood movie.

I watched the mom of the deceased little girl on the local TV station back in the fall of 2015 and my heart tore apart watching her speak to the media about her baby. I also couldn't help but think about the families of the deceased young father and the elderly woman whose lives were taken by the senselessness of the situation. The entire scenario is so very heartbreaking. There has been, and will continue to be, an incredible amount of mourning. I can't imagine what these people are experiencing!

And how about the accused's own family? My goodness...his father had to testify in court. The family must be angry and embarrassed to say the least. I don't know the family but I'm pretty sure he wasn't raised to think that murdering people was the right thing to do.

Normally I'm one to hear of a murder and I say to myself "Hang 'em high!" but sometimes I think differently. Maybe, this time, it was because I made a connection to him by being so physically close. Don't get me wrong...I think he should definitely pay for what he has done. In fact, he was sentenced just the day prior to the writing of this post, and he'll be serving 75 years in prison before he's eligible for parole. The evidence against him was overwhelming as one might guess.

While I was sitting in the courtroom that day, waiting for my jury number to be called, (which thankfully it wasn't) I had an overwhelming desire to talk to him as if he were my own son.

Motherhood has done this to me (and age). It has made me soft but it has also made me look at situations differently. When your son or daughter does something stupid, you want to find out why and keep an open mind. That doesn't mean you don't want them to pay for what they've done...you want them to make things right...if possible.

Unfortunately in this case, this young man won't be able to make things right. He's taken three lives away from their loved ones and there's no turning back time. His life is ruined.

For all the families involved, forgiveness will be hard, if not next to impossible. I've seen it done but not very often. I believe one must forgive in order to carry on but this would be the ultimate test.

I applaud the experts who study the way our brains work, how our personalities, behaviours, mental processes change to accommodate the situation.

I wish I could talk to his mom.

It's Taco Tuesday!

Sorry Taco Time...it's Taco Tuesday at our house too!

I used to make my own taco shells quite often...I'm referring to something I wrote in the last blog when I say I didn't want to drag all the hungry yard apes to the store with me because I forgot to get shells for tacos during my last shopping trip.

Here's my recipe for these....it's super duper easy and they taste great...but can be a little time consuming so start supper early or have supper late....unless you've got some help or do these earlier in the day.

Home Tortillas
-2 cups all-purpose flour
-1/2 teaspoon salt
-1/4 cup margarine
-1/2 cup warm water

-Combine flour and salt in a bowl, cut in margarine, and then add the water into a well formed in the middle of the mixture. Combine into a dough and knead lightly.
-Divide into 12 equal parts. Lightly grease your hands with some margarine and roll each ball of dough with your hands to coat them with fat.
-Cover with a cloth and allow to rest for about 30 minutes.
-Roll each ball into a thin 8 inch circle on a lightly floured surface. Pull or stretch if necessary. Allow to rest by cooking the tortillas in the sequence they were rolled out.
-Cook on a hot ungreased griddle until brown speckles appear on the underside. Use spatula to squash down and flip to cook on both sides.
-Finished tortillas can be stacked between paper towels or the folds of clean tea towels.

Don't worry if they are not perfect circles because they just... won't.... be... but your family will love them anyway.

Now these tacos take some time to prepare and I usually enlist the help of somebody in the household to help me with these. OR I just buy taco shells when I do my weekly grocery shopping trip. (I'm much more organized than I used to be with shopping trips--when the kids were little I was such a scatter-brain!)
Our family likes the store bought shells in the different flavours like the spinach, cheese or tomato-flavoured shells.

BUT I always make my own taco seasoning...here's my recipe for this mixture and we love, love it! I double or triple this recipe, use about 3 heaping tablespoonfuls (we like it strong) to the meat and store the rest in a clean labeled canning jar with a tight lid. Keeps well for many months in the pantry.

Taco Seasoning
-6 teaspoons chili powder
-5 teaspoons paprika
-4 1/2 teaspoons cumin
-2 1/2 teaspoons onion powder
   or onion salt
-1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
-1 teaspoon garlic powder
-1/2 to 1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon oregano

-Combine all the ingredients in a bowl. Stir or whisk well and store in an airtight container in a cool dry place. Stays fresh for at least 6 months.
-When making chicken, beef or pork tacos--brown the meat in a frypan and drain. Add 1/2 cup water and enough taco seasoning to your preferred taste then simmer until most of the water has evaporated--about 10 minutes.

..and there we have it.
It only takes about 5 minutes of my time to mix up the seasoning and because we have tacos every month or two, it's well worth making a big batch of it and always having it on hand. It saves a few pennies and tastes much stronger than store-bought seasoning mix. We always had to buy two packages anyway to get what we wanted. I dislike bland food.

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice....and Cheap

When the kids were small, I hated packing up everybody (and there was always a resistant baby to drag along) so I could just pick up a few things at the store just before supper time. I decided to make some of my own spices, syrups and mixes and with a little creativity could go a week without stopping at the grocery store except to quickly pick up milk, bread, and eggs. And those were often things I could ask Mike to pick up along the way from work.

I was raised by depression-era parents so I can get quite frugal when I want to. That is a skill in it's own.

Some of my favorite do-it-yourself mixes are things like seasoning salt (I have two such spice mixes that we enjoy), chocolate syrup, coffee creamer for my homemade iced coffee, sweet coffee mix, Italian seasoning, ranch dressing, and many many more. Some I've looked up on the internet and usually end up tweaking the recipe slightly. Some recipes I've found in old cookbooks like dog biscuits and chocolate pudding. It amazes me how we've forgotten how to make simple mixes instead of dishing out so much of our hard-earned money for something that doesn't taste that good.

Here's what I've been making a lot lately, since the weather has turned nice...finally....
It tastes a whole lot better than Timmy's iced coffee, in my opinion anyway, and you can make this as sweet or as strong as you'd like.

As you can see, the second batch I made this week is almost gone!

Iced Coffee:
     Put a heaping cupful of ground coffee in a clean 4 litre ice cream pail. Fill with cold tap water. Put the lid on the pail and let it sit on the counter overnight or at least 8 hours.
After the coffee and water has soaked, pour it through a few layers of cheesecloth. (I lay my cheesecloth in a strainer and set it on top of a pitcher.) Refrigerate.

Creamer:
     In a blender put one can of sweetened condensed milk, 1 3/4 cups of milk and 2 tablespoons of vanilla extract (I've tried rum extract and it tastes great too). Blend well and pour into container(s) and refrigerate. Lasts a week and a half at least (or until the milk expires). May have to shake before using.

Put a few ice cubes in a glass, fill with your cold coffee and top off with your homemade creamer. You can tweak it as you like by adding more coffee to make it stronger or you can use heavy cream instead of milk in the creamer to make it creamier.

We've been enjoying this home-brewed iced coffee for the last few years.....Mike and I seemed to have acquired a fetish for iced coffee but it was costing a bucket of money every week--something had to be done!!

Bye Bye, Birdie

When my oldest son was about 7 years old, he wanted to sleep in a tent in the backyard one night. I was a little hesitant about letting him do it because we had lived in this city for only a year or two and were a little concerned about the crime here. I tried not to show my fear and told him "Okay, and I'll leave the back door unlocked in case you need to come inside in the night." That night, my husband and I helped him get settled in the tent, kissed him goodnight and went inside to get ready for bed ourselves. It was a restless night for me. At about six a.m., Brody came running into the house, stood by my bedside and whispered really loudly "I did it, Mom!" He was so so proud of himself!

Brody's Grade 1 Picture

Now Brody is moving almost across the country to Ontario travelling in a van that he has fashioned into a camper. I don't know when I will see him again. I will miss him dearly but I know this is something he needs to do. After all, he's 21 years old, working night shifts slinging burgers at Denny's...who wouldn't want something else in life?

I can't help thinking of the time when he was this little boy determined to sleep in the backyard in a tent. I worried back then about whether he'd be okay and I worry now. Motherhood isn't easy.

Below my worry, I'm excited for him. He is young, single and nothing is holding him here. I want to hug him and not let him go, but that wouldn't be fair to him. Brody is craving adventure--I see it in his eyes. He's got a friend living in the area where he'd like to go so I know he won't be totally alone. He also enjoys his own company and I know will enjoy trying and seeing new things. The girl who stole his heart is out east too. She's a lovely girl that still holds his heart although they broke up a couple of years ago. They still talk...a lot! (Maybe one day they'll let me write their story.)

The day he left, it was a windy cloudy rainy cool day....the kind of day for a funeral....you know what kind of day I'm talking about. My heart ached all day as I was thinking of Brody, alone, sleeping in his van somewhere along the TransCanada highway. I can't help wondering "Did we teach him well enough to handle whatever may happen on this trip?"

I'm confident that we did.

A Mother Can Brag, Right?

My baby girl just turned 14 years old. Fourteen I said. She's starting high school in the fall.

When she was little, we thought she was the prettiest little girl in the world.....and she still is. We even considered chaining her up at home--never letting her go anywhere---so nobody could break her heart. That is, until, she was about 5 or 6 and she said her first vulgar word--my fault---totally my fault--sorry about that.

She is a sweet heart. Raelynn is very soft-spoken and gentle. I see a lot of myself at that age in her...except for the sweetheart, soft-spoken and gentle part. I see her struggles and I wish I could take any hurting she's feeling away from her. But I can't.

She is very different than her fourteen-year-old friends. Her friends look like they're going on 18 or 20 years old whereas Raelynn actually looks younger than her 14 years. She will be asked for identification FOREVER. She's very mature for her age and is getting herself mentally ready to move out on her own one day. She can cook, bake and clean. She manages her allowance surprisingly well. She's getting phenomenal grades and has been on the honour roll in her middle school for two years now.

But look out! If she gives me a smile and challenges me to a game of ping-pong, I know some horns will start growing out of the front of her head any minute. She can get tough when it's called for.

Little things about her make me smile. It won't matter how many disagreements we have or how far away she will move from me one day, I will always see her eyes when she observes a beautiful sunrise.

I'm forever grateful that God chose me to be her mother.

...and by the way...she didn't want me to post a recent picture of her on my blog so the picture you see above is from a long time ago.

Mennonites Don't Dance......Unless it's for a Good Cause

When I was growing up in southern Manitoba, it wasn't uncommon for people to throw what we called a Social Occasion, typically shortened to a Social, to raise money for say, somebody getting married, a sports team or somebody going through hard times to help pay for medical bills. It was always quite a shin-dig. All funds raised, minus the cost of setting it up, would go straight to whomever it was being thrown for. You'd buy tickets, either ahead of time at a participating business, or at the door the night of. When you'd arrive at the party, you'd buy tickets for your drinks, socialize with whomever was there and laugh and dance the night away to the popular music-man set up on stage taking requests anything from pop, rock, country and rap.....whatever your heart desired.

There were always plenty of things going on like raffles, 50/50 draws, silent auctions, door prize draws....whomever the Social was held for, could walk away with a good chunk of change.

In our community, the information about an upcoming Social would spread like wild fire. Oh yes, us Mennonites could spread news as if it was The Last Faspa.

Of course, it's us Mennonites who aren't very good Mennonites that would attend these things. You mix booze with Mennonite up-bringing and the Good Lord only knows what could happen!

It was our Mennonite Go-Fund-Me in a way but it was way, way more fun. It was a great fundraiser and fun as heck. Anybody could throw a Social as long as one followed the rules with liquor permits and gaming laws.

Most of the Socials were held in the neighbouring town of Morden because our little town of Winkler was dry.....well, we called it dry but you could go to the local bar and have a beer. (Just beer...they didn't serve anything else but many different kinds of beer.) Morden was less Mennonite than Winkler so that was convenient for the "closet" drinkers.....you don't want to be hugging a bush on a Saturday night in the front lawn of the community hall, emptying your innards from drinking too much vodka and OJ, and suddenly Uncle Henry drives past from having borscht and fresh buns at Grandma's house! Oy vey!

Maybe they have them here in Alberta?? but I haven't heard anything. Of course I'm an "old lady" now and not in the loop like I used to be. I have to be told by my children what's hot and what's not.

What Stitchery Is This?!

A couple of weeks ago I was quite stressed about things going on in my life. I turned my rage towards my quilting. I had a pattern that I wanted to get started on but hadn't purchased the fabric for it yet but I needed something to keep my mind at ease...NOW! So I eyed my fabric scrap pile and went about cutting and sewing, piecing together fabric willy nilly with absolutely no regard for matching colors....well, that's not entirely true. I do have some standards.

I was very pleased when I got this blanket together.....it turned out kind of cute!

I know I'm being a whiney baby. When I step back and take a look at this quilt, I see my stress that I had at that time. It really wasn't so bad. There are many people out there that have much, much worse problems than I do.

I have our taxes to prepare for. I feel another quilt coming on.

A Wrinkle in Time

I love wrinkles. Really. I wish every wrinkle on my face could talk. "Hey! I was born when Brody cracked his face on a motorcycle peg at the age of three!" or "Look at me! I'm a three-pack that started out when Coleson broke his arm for the second time!"

My wrinkles would not be as interesting to talk to as some people I've come across in my life. Several years back, I worked nights at an independent living complex. I didn't have too many interactions with the seniors that lived there, but every now and then one of the residents couldn't sleep and would come sauntering into the common area in hopes of meeting up with one of us night-shift girls. I would make a pot of coffee (these people didn't care if caffeine was going to keep them awake at night because they were up anyway) and we'd have a seat in the comfy chairs and talk or just watch TV together. Once they started talking, oh the stories they would tell! There's nothing like listening to glory days of an era gone by.

I'm sure many of the stories I heard were embellished but that's fine by me.....it made the tales much more interesting!

There's also the happy wrinkles. We call them laugh lines. They are beautiful. Each of my laugh wrinkles could tell you a joke.

Unfortunately I have those nasty angry wrinkles too.....too many of them. I know I've got a permanent scowl going on. They have stories too.

The most I can do is take care of my skin by washing it every morning and every night and smearing on a good moisturizer. I wouldn't want to erase all my facial lines....maybe just soften them up a bit. I like looking in the mirror and know that I've lived and all the tears and laughter had a purpose.

The Wander Years, Part Drei

In my junior high years I got slightly lazy in the summers. There were no sports going on to keep me busy and in shape so in turn, I got pimples and gained weight. I wasn't playing Barbies and tag anymore. I had outgrown my beloved banana seat bicycle.  Although my friends got shipped off to bible camps for a week or two, I did not. Heaven forbid my father pay for such nonsense.

There weren't any more animals on our little farm yard except for our old dog Tony. More of my siblings had moved out and on their own. I was the one relied on to mow the two acres of thick lawn every week while my mom took the push mower around her flower beds, large trees and outbuildings. I had time to think.

I can't remember exactly when, but one of my friends' family acquired an Atari gaming system. What fun that was! Keeping the little ball from touching the side of the TV screen......slowly bouncing back and forth.....wow! Pacman and Donkey Kong turned into all the rage about that time too. My brother got in on the excitement and purchased an Intellivision system which I absolutely enjoyed because I could play baseball on it for hours while he was at work all day.

I can put money on the fact that my brother still has this thing

The flared jeans were going out of style and were replaced with crotch-wrenching acid-washed jeans and the uncomfortable jelly sandals were the footgear of the year. The '80's were fun and colorful, I'll admit that, but the clothing was quite awkward to me, even at that time. I probably hung onto my flared jeans a little too long. To me, the early teenage years were all about how to acquire somewhat fashionable clothing without having a job. Begging. Yes, begging my mother would just have to do until I could find a place to work and make some money. Hair crimpers and leg-warmers weren't a dime a dozen, you know!

Ha!

Eventually, I found sweatshirts/t-shirts and old jeans were the most comfortable and affordable attire. I should have stuck to that plan right from the start....it really is cheaper and much less stressful.

Boys were really looking interesting to me at this time. But not the boys that I grew up with.....that would be like finding my brother attractive....yuck. I should have tucked those feelings away until I was older anyway because when I tried dating boys at that time, the distance between Winkler and Schanzenfeld proved to be the biggest problem. How was I going to make a relationship bloom from 3 miles away?

Time was ticking and soon Garden Valley Collegiate in Winkler was on the horizon. High school is where many of us that grew up together, grew apart. It was inevitable. Different friends, different interests and busier lives pulled us in opposite directions.

I was already missing my carefree younger years but realizing that I'd have to put on my big-girl panties soon. I couldn't lay around playing video games forever. My parents were already reminding me that I'd have to think about working part-time so I could save up for a vehicle in the next few years. I didn't really know how to go about this at first....I lived out in the country so I'd need a vehicle to get to my job but I needed a job to afford my vehicle. Eventually it all worked out.

This was the time in my life that I really, really, really, would like to do over. I look for this period in my own children because this can be a very "lost" time. I honestly wished that I would have had more guidance.

Me in Grade 8

My second son, whom I may need to punish, tells me that I look a like an alien in this picture. I may have to pull out his baby pictures.

I really do miss those young Rebecca years but we all know that nobody can stay there. I would be a 47 year old lady with teased hair and spider bangs wearing platform shoes. That would be a hoot to see, wouldn't it?!

More of The Wander Years

I started school at the Schanzenfeld Elementary School at the age of 6. I originally started school at the age of 5 but I was a scared little mouse and painfully shy so Mom kept me home for another year. Those of you who know me are thinking "What? You were shy?" I know, I know....it's still an anxiety thing but I've learned to work through it. I picture everyone naked just so you know. *Wink*

My friends and I had plenty of things to do in our neighbourhood. On beautiful summer evenings we could knock on doors and find enough kids to play a good game of hide-and-seek. One friend had an indoor pool, another friend had a trampoline and one family owned horses. Unfortunately I couldn't swim and was scared of the horses but there was always something to do whether it be riding our bikes or exploring somebody's big backyard looking for a place to build a treehouse. (Everybody had a big back yard....it was great!) Many a dog-day summer afternoon, somebody's mom would invite us in for homemade cookies and fresh cow's milk and maybe we'd watch a little TV..... if there was anything good on the boob tube on one of the three channels that were available. We'd rather find something else to do because watching TV was usually done out of desperation and wasn't a favorite activity except on Saturday mornings.

Sometimes I would still wander about our ten-acre piece of land. I'd sit or lay by the stream that meandered through the property, chew on a piece of grass and watch birds, snakes, frogs, the sky or the clear trickling water.

Many of the neighbourhood kids had small motorcycles or three-wheelers to drive around and around the village. All I got was an old moped that needed the battery charged every 30 seconds so I dared not leave the yard with it. When I begged my dad for a motorcycle, he just looked at me over his glasses and shook his head. He knew I was becoming materialistic and he wasn't happy about it. Looking back, I am ashamed how I talked to my parents when I wanted what the neighbourhood kids had.
One day I was outside and watched two boys on a three-wheeler jump a driveway. The machine tipped over and one boy screamed bloody murder...he had broken his arm. Ummmm.....okay, I thought to myself, maybe I don't want one of those after all.

I had to settle for my new banana seat bicycle. I loved her. I don't have a picture of it but it was similar to the one shown here except for it was orange. Bright, metallic orange. No '70's childhood was complete without a bike like this. It was my only mode of transportation around Schanzenfeld.

It was technically my sister's bike. Now I'm not clear on the story here, but she wasn't living at home anymore and she definitely wasn't riding bikes--she was 17 years older than me and had her driver's license and her own car for several years--so I declared the bike mine and I drove this bad girl until it was too small for me. Or maybe it wasn't cool anymore, can't remember. Did I say that I loved this bike?

I had other bicycles after this one but this is the most memorable. Today, if the chain fell off my bike or my flared pant leg got caught in it as many times as it did back then, I would throw it in the junk pile. But I was totally in love. To add to the affair, my mom or dad bought me the tassels for the ape-hanger handlebars and the plastic thingies for the spokes. It was beautiful! When the neighbor's bull got loose or our pen of pigs escaped, this muscle bike never let me down AND I looked good riding it.

Things have clearly changed in Schanzenfeld since my wanderlust days. There's two schools in Schanzenfeld now, an elementary and a middle school. From when I was in grade one to grade four, we were packed into three huts until the brand new elementary was built. (The one-room school house previous to the huts had burnt down.) 

Now streets have names and houses have numbers. There's even sidewalks lining the neighbourhood. But I still smile when I drive through Schanzenfeld because nobody can change or take away my memories. 

I wonder if the young children living in that community now are having as much fun as we did?

The Wander Years

I grew up in the southern part of Manitoba in the village of Schanzenfeld. (shon-zen-felt for those who are wondering how to pronounce that nasty German-type word.)

My parents had purchased about 10 acres of land in the late '60's, mostly pasture land, and it was prime wandering-around-looking-for-frogs-and-snakes territory. The house on the property was built in the early 1900's and was originally an old grainery, I am told, but the old place did it's purpose in keeping a roof over our heads. Mom and Dad made it a place for our family to call home.

I was very young, maybe four years old, when my mom would allow to me explore the yard on my own. I'd be out there for hours.

Tony was a few months older than me and he died when we were 14 years old.

My dog Tony, a surviving mutt from a litter of pups whose mother had been quite promiscuous in our neighbourhood, would follow me everywhere. Fortunately Tony was very loyal and extremely protective because, thanks to him, I never wandered onto the road or fell into a well. I shudder when I think about what was on the property at that time. I could have been on the six o'clock news......many times! I've never asked her, but I will assume my mother checked on me as I was roaming about.....although I wondered about those days when I'd come in the house after exploring the yard and she'd be having a nap. Hmmmm. Whatever. I survived.

I had several pets over the years. My favorites, besides my dog Tony, were a couple of cats by the name of Charlie and one by the name of Cookie. (I didn't have them at the same time.) Both of these cats grew well into old age. But, alas, one day Charlie just never came home, presumably hit by a car, and Cookie met her demise by the barrel of a gun. Cookie was a very irresponsible feline and was "in the family way" too many times to count so my dad told me one day that she had to go. Any animal on the yard that was more trouble than it was worth just had to go and that's just the way it was. No questions.

Cookie

Charlie

I had rabbits and several other cats throughout the years as pets but our family also had chickens, ducks, pigs and slightly further back than I can remember we apparently also had a turkey. The latter animals weren't considered pets. They were food and so I was informed to not give them names.

Later in the summer, any time I felt peckish, all I had to do was wander out into the yard and find something to munch on. No, not animals but something much better. We had raspberries, gooseberries (which were the most sour berries I've ever tasted in my life), strawberries, plums, choke cherries and many different kinds of apples. What I wouldn't do to have that luxury now! Mom always planted a large vegetable garden too so I could pick as many fresh peas and carrots that I could fit into a scooped shirt and lay under a shady tree and enjoy my harvest.

I made plenty of friends while growing up in Schanzenfeld. I had no choice. That's just the way it was. I probably had more friends in the little community of a few hundred people than my kids have in a city of almost 100,000. It was a different time and I'm happy to have been a part of that era.

I'm pretty certain that when my kids hear my stories about the good ol' days, they would like to roll their eyes or at the very least, give a big sigh. I know I would. They're polite enough not to. I tell my offspring that it really was a time when we had lots of freedom and yes, moms would just yell out the door and from out of nowhere, their children came running to the house. I often wasn't even questioned about what I'd been up to when I'd come swinging through the door, but if I had been doing something naughty, my mom knew. I think my children believe my stories but it's hard to tell. Hearing myself talk about my young life sounds like fiction to me now.

Schanzenfeld is now a suburb of the city of Winkler. The area is filling up with new houses, built close together with little character.

Oh, what a life I led! *Sigh* Then I grew up and life got stressful. Oh well, all good things must come to an end I suppose. When I was a little bambino, I used to tell myself "I can't wait until I grow up!"

What was I thinking? I had it all!

For all of you camera fanatics, my photos were shot with
the Kodak Instamatic 126 (or something like that??) similar to the one shown above.
Note the optional cube flash bulb for enjoyable indoor photography.
And to think, it would only take about a week (or two) until your photos were
processed at the local pharmacy!