On the day of the dandelion fight Christina and I both wore a white shirt. We went to recess and picked all of the dandelions we could find. Then we marched towards the fence of the playground, dandelions in tow.
We headed to the spot on the playground where no teacher or duty could see us unless they were really looking. The spot was between the schoolyard fence and a small pine tree. Being only in third grade, Christina and I were small too so the pine tree shielded us just fine.
We divided the pile of dandelions in half and then the fight began. We tried to smear as much yellow dandelion pollen on each other as we could. At the end of recess, we compared shirts. The person whose shirt stayed the whitest won!
The yellow stains never came out of my shirt, but what a great memory!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Orifino
Before I started first grade my family moved around a lot. If you list every tiny town in the northern panhandle of Idaho, I have lived in most of them. My daddy was working for First Security Bank and so we moved with his job. Orofino is the town that I remember the best. If I close my eyes I can see many specific parts. There was our white house; inside was the kitchen that had a window peaking out onto the street. I remember the window because it was right above the sink. My daddy and I would stand side by side and do the dishes together at that sink--I of course had to stand on a chair to reach. Most people would think that I loved doing the dishes, I never complained about doing them with my dad. The real reason I didn't complain was because I loved that window. At night when we would do the dinner dishes it would be dark outside and the window turned into a mirror. I didn't care about looking outside--I liked looking at myself!
I thought I was cute and I am sure my parents never disagreed with me when I was that young. There is a song that goes something like this, "Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou. Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou. Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou. Skip to my Lou; my darling." During this young phase of my life, here was MY rendition of this song: "Skip, Skip, Skip to THE loo. Skip, Skip, Skip to THE loo. Skip, Skip, Skip to THE loo. Skip to THE loo; I'M darling!" Not only does the last line reiterate what I said in the story of the window, but I was also singing about skipping to the bathroom in the first lines (the loo is another word for the bathroom or an outhouse).
When the darkness didn't turn that kitchen window into a mirror, the window looked out onto an old dirt road. The road ran parallel to our front yard and the next building it passed was my school. In Orofino I started Kindergarten. I would not finish there, but I would remember the classroom and my friends. A chain-link fence separated my house and the school, and the only entrance through that fence was all the way on the other side of the schoolyard. My older brother and I were told by the school and my parents to not climb the fence; we were supposed to go around to the entrance. Of course we never listened. I remember one day, after finishing school, my brother and I walked to the fence, which we always hopped, and we began scaling. I don't remember who went first; all I remember is that we both ripped our jeans that day.
Down a little further on that dirt road was a pasture of horses. Next to the pasture was Melissa's house. Melissa was my best friend from school. We were positive that we were twins and had been split up at birth. Melissa was Jewish and celebrated Hanukah with her family when mine celebrated Christmas. She had a wood stove and a mother with long, black hair. Her mom, Eve, loved to garden.
I don't remember ever going to my dad's bank and I don't remember what it looked like, but I remember it was further down that dirt road. I remember because my mom would let mike ride his bike down to go see dad when dad was finishing work at the end of the day. I am not sure why I never went to visit dad. Maybe it was because even at that age I was bad with directions, or maybe just because Mike was older.
I thought I was cute and I am sure my parents never disagreed with me when I was that young. There is a song that goes something like this, "Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou. Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou. Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou. Skip to my Lou; my darling." During this young phase of my life, here was MY rendition of this song: "Skip, Skip, Skip to THE loo. Skip, Skip, Skip to THE loo. Skip, Skip, Skip to THE loo. Skip to THE loo; I'M darling!" Not only does the last line reiterate what I said in the story of the window, but I was also singing about skipping to the bathroom in the first lines (the loo is another word for the bathroom or an outhouse).
When the darkness didn't turn that kitchen window into a mirror, the window looked out onto an old dirt road. The road ran parallel to our front yard and the next building it passed was my school. In Orofino I started Kindergarten. I would not finish there, but I would remember the classroom and my friends. A chain-link fence separated my house and the school, and the only entrance through that fence was all the way on the other side of the schoolyard. My older brother and I were told by the school and my parents to not climb the fence; we were supposed to go around to the entrance. Of course we never listened. I remember one day, after finishing school, my brother and I walked to the fence, which we always hopped, and we began scaling. I don't remember who went first; all I remember is that we both ripped our jeans that day.
Down a little further on that dirt road was a pasture of horses. Next to the pasture was Melissa's house. Melissa was my best friend from school. We were positive that we were twins and had been split up at birth. Melissa was Jewish and celebrated Hanukah with her family when mine celebrated Christmas. She had a wood stove and a mother with long, black hair. Her mom, Eve, loved to garden.
I don't remember ever going to my dad's bank and I don't remember what it looked like, but I remember it was further down that dirt road. I remember because my mom would let mike ride his bike down to go see dad when dad was finishing work at the end of the day. I am not sure why I never went to visit dad. Maybe it was because even at that age I was bad with directions, or maybe just because Mike was older.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The White Purse
Tuesday was popcorn day; every student at McMillian Elementary knew that. One quarter on Tuesday morning, given to a PTA member, meant one brown paper bag full of buttery popcorn in the afternoon. Every Tuesday morning I would remember to ask my mom for a quarter... right before running out the door to catch the bus.
Fridays were a whole different matter. You could buy a red licorice rope on Fridays after lunch if you had the patience to wait in a short line at recess. I had never tasted a red licorice rope before, but they looked even better than popcorn.
The licorice ropes cost a whole dollar. I didn't have a steady source of income when I was seven so I tried what worked on popcorn day - I asked my mom. She said that would be fine and handed me a faded green one dollar bill.
The next morning after I ate breakfast and changed into my school clothes, I went in search of something very special in my dress up box. My dress up box was a large cardboard box sitting in the corner of my closet. The box held moms old high heels covered in pink satin fabric, some Halloween costumes, many old sunday dresses, and a few garage sale treasures.
I dug threw all of the dresses and costumes until I found what I was looking for at the bottom of the box; a white vinyl purse. The purse was bigger than a shoe box and had a hideous gold broach on the front. With my one dollar bill bouncing around in the extra large purse I trotted out into the living room, ready to go to school.
As my mother looked me up and down, this is what she saw: A three and a half foot tall girl with a two foot wide purse.
I remember exactly what I looked like that day, and I know I looked ridiculous. But, my mother didn't say a word about the purse, she just told me to have a great day at school and helped me catch the bus.
The whole day my purse and dollar bill waited in my backpack. The backpack was stowed in the cubby at the back of the class; the cubby with my name on it. At lunch time I slung the white purse over my shoulder and feeling like I was the most sophisticated person in the whole world, I strolled down to the licorice line.
Standing at the back of the line I noticed no one else had a purse. Some of the kids gave me interesting looks as I waited my turn that day. I got to the front of the line and pulled out my one dollar bill. May I again remind you that my large dress up purse was the size of a saddle bag and could have held a cinder block along with my one dollar bill!
I received my very first licorice rope and walked over to a grassy spot to eat it. At the end of recess, the bell rang and I returned to my classroom. I stored my white purse in my backpack again and it never returned to school.
I was not teased about the purse and I didn't get a million odd looks in the licorice line, but somehow my second grade mind figured out that my white vynlpurse was not as cool as I thought it was.
Fridays were a whole different matter. You could buy a red licorice rope on Fridays after lunch if you had the patience to wait in a short line at recess. I had never tasted a red licorice rope before, but they looked even better than popcorn.
The licorice ropes cost a whole dollar. I didn't have a steady source of income when I was seven so I tried what worked on popcorn day - I asked my mom. She said that would be fine and handed me a faded green one dollar bill.
The next morning after I ate breakfast and changed into my school clothes, I went in search of something very special in my dress up box. My dress up box was a large cardboard box sitting in the corner of my closet. The box held moms old high heels covered in pink satin fabric, some Halloween costumes, many old sunday dresses, and a few garage sale treasures.
I dug threw all of the dresses and costumes until I found what I was looking for at the bottom of the box; a white vinyl purse. The purse was bigger than a shoe box and had a hideous gold broach on the front. With my one dollar bill bouncing around in the extra large purse I trotted out into the living room, ready to go to school.
As my mother looked me up and down, this is what she saw: A three and a half foot tall girl with a two foot wide purse.
I remember exactly what I looked like that day, and I know I looked ridiculous. But, my mother didn't say a word about the purse, she just told me to have a great day at school and helped me catch the bus.
The whole day my purse and dollar bill waited in my backpack. The backpack was stowed in the cubby at the back of the class; the cubby with my name on it. At lunch time I slung the white purse over my shoulder and feeling like I was the most sophisticated person in the whole world, I strolled down to the licorice line.
Standing at the back of the line I noticed no one else had a purse. Some of the kids gave me interesting looks as I waited my turn that day. I got to the front of the line and pulled out my one dollar bill. May I again remind you that my large dress up purse was the size of a saddle bag and could have held a cinder block along with my one dollar bill!
I received my very first licorice rope and walked over to a grassy spot to eat it. At the end of recess, the bell rang and I returned to my classroom. I stored my white purse in my backpack again and it never returned to school.
I was not teased about the purse and I didn't get a million odd looks in the licorice line, but somehow my second grade mind figured out that my white vynlpurse was not as cool as I thought it was.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Two Inspirations
There are two simple inspirations for this blog:
- I am currently reading the book, "She Got Up Off The Couch". The book is a biography; the woman writing tells stories about her life as a young girl. Each chapter is a different memory from her life. I have loved the book and am excited to record my own childhood memories.
- The other inspiration for this blog happened during the Fourth of July weekend. I was with my husband and his family for the weekend. My husband, three of his siblings, and I, all decided to go to the fireworks show on the river. It was exciting to get there early and wait for the fireworks to begin; there were tons of people crowding the bank. Before the fireworks began, the four siblings (my husband included) began to reminisce about the fun things they did as kids. Many specific memories came up and they chatted all the way through the fireworks show. It was a great insight into their lives and I really enjoyed the night.
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