When my kisters and I were kids, we had a camper in our back yard. We had it for years. It was just one of those old pop-ups, with all the itchy foam bedding. It wasn't new, and I swear, we never actually camped in it. We had gone camping with my uncle and dad and cousins once, a trip with 5 kids and two adults crammed in an old half station wagon/half jeep wrangler (with the required paneling on the sides ---what was THAT all about?)with my Uncle's camper attached to the back (No, kids, you can't sit in the camper instead of being piled on top of one another---the camper could come loose and then you'd be rolling away from the car at great rates of speed--hmmm, maybe that's not such a bad idea) ...Anyway, half way through the drive TO camping my cousin Laurie decides to do some kind of imitation of something that involved putting those fat little Tootsie Rolls up her nose....In a hot, over crowded car, in one hundred degree heat....THAT was a lot of fun, watching my uncle try to pry the melted little messes out of her nostrils(apparently they only melted at the bottoms!)
Any way, after that wonderful excursion, my father just had to buy one for ourselves, so we could all enjoy the benefits of spending quality time together in the GREAT OUT DOORS. I guess the thought of that alone scared the heck out of my folks, because that little camper never hit the highway! It just sat in the same spot in the back yard, probably longingly looking at all the other campers happily being towed away to exotic places by carfulls of smiling happy families who enjoyed spending quality time together in the GREAT OUT DOORS
That's not to say it didn't have its purpose. That trailer became the after hours hang out for the Cleveland ave crew that summer. My kisters would have cousins over and we would hold sleep overs out there. And after certain cousins finally fell asleep, the neighborhood boys would attempt to leap over our four foot chain link fence (without touching it, thereby waking our dog (a mangy mutt) or worse, waking our mother (a trained attack mom). After several leaps and bounds over the fence, and endless laughing and giggling, we inadvertently woke the sleeping cousin just several feet away, who then proceeded to tell us that BOYS IN THE CAMPER would not be tolerated and that this kind of behaviour was UNACCEPTABLE. Mind you, this cousin was the same age as my kisters, just not as much fun at the time.....
Well, just as she was THREATENING to wake our mother who would surely disapprove, my mother's voice boomed from inside the camper saying "I think you should ALL shut up and go to sleep now!" We all started looking around, to notice that my mother was not even in the trailer, or outside it's flimsy screen door. Now all mothers think they are omnipresent, but this was a stretch even for MY mom.
Well, after a thorough search of the quarters (done ever so quietly as to not raise the savage mom again), we found an intercom that my mom had so thoughtfully placed in the camper earlier....I guess all those times of silent leaping over the fence wasn't quite so silent after all!
Any way, for some unknown reason, just like the camper's sudden arrival in our yard, it was swiftly sold and removed...... If I didn't know better, I'd think my folks were on to something....
Now, we take our kids camping on the beach every Memorial and Labor day weekends...and there's always a mess of other families and kids with us... It makes me think fondly of those old camper days.... It particularly struck home one year when my then 15 year old son and his friend got caught with two girls and a six pack in their tent... I think I sounded just like my mother (shudder) as I ranted about respect and reponsibility-- but these kids have it easy today---they didn't even have to leap over a four foot fence!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
I Want To Play A Game
This week is fright week at our house. Each night we are watching a different version on the Saw movie series, starting with Saw I last night. My sons, a couple of friends, and my hubby hunkered down to watch the first movie, and each consecutive night we will watch the next so that on release day, Friday 10/24/08, we will be caught up to see Saw 5 at the theatre. It doesn't help that these movies are very loosely connected, but in the fourth, they suddenly claim to all tie together... We don't recall how, hence movie week refresher.
Now, I'm not one for horror movies. As a kid, my oldest kister would make me watch Night of The Living Dead with her, so SHE"D feel better. Forget the fact that I had nightmares for weeks.
As a teen there were a few horror flicks you HAD to see, just to save face with the rest of the gang.....I can remember seeing Friday the 13th (the very first one of what, 98 or so?) with not even a group, but more likely a crowd of kids at the now defunct town movie theatre, where if you were a little short on cash, someone (no, officer, it was NOT Jimmy this time) would pop the back door for you. The movie screen was distorted, and you never could get all the sticky crap off your shoes, but for $2.00 it wasn't a bad deal.
Anyway, we went to meet Michael of the hockey mask fame, and I will admit (only to you, dear reader, never to the crowd) thatI spent most of the show with my head buried behind a dear friend we once swore was destined for the nun hood!
After the show mercifully ended, we did what any other good natured, trouble seeking, marauding gang of hoodlums would: we went out to carouse the town.... Again, where were our well thinking parents?
I had recovered my composure from the movie terrors, and I remember us walking toward the old sixth grade annex of our school, when one of our crowd who had apparently sneaked ahead
and climbed a tree, waited till we were directly under it, and then jumped down at us.....
At which time, I'm pretty sure my friends learned that Sue DOES scare pretty easily....Darned insensitive friends! Where WAS our compassion?
Fast forward twenty six years, and I find myself and my then thirteen year old son sitting in a theatre Halloween weekend sharing a nice little mother/son moment in at a horror movie....Now I was a little concerned about his tender age, and that the apple doesn't always fall far from the tree(in fact, when it comes to work, I'm pretty sure he isn't even from the SAME tree...he might be a pear of maybe a peach, but definitely not an apple). Anyway, I watched him closely the first few minutes of the original Saw movie, and between the darkness of the screen, the ominous music, I snuck a glance in his direction , and saw he was practically laughing....That was the last I saw of him, because I, true to form, spent the next 90 minutes with my head once again buried behind a back...Yep, I must say, I've come a long way over the years.
Jump ahead four years, and three more SAW movies, each visited opening weekend in the theatre, with pretty much the same result...He laughed, I barely saw a thing...So, last night was kind of watching the first movie for the first time for me....With the exception that my husband's back was little larger to hide behind than my teen son's. And of course, our whole audience of 5 was there to poke(not in the Facebook way) fun at me....
There was SOME consolation, though. At one point during a particular scene, (I'd be more descriptive, but I was hiding, remember)...but at one point, I did hear my eleven year old gasp.
Yep, at least some of us ARE apples, even if we are scaredy cat apples.....Can't wait till part 2 tonight. Maybe we'll go for a walk after, and I can sneak ahead of the little bugger......
Now, I'm not one for horror movies. As a kid, my oldest kister would make me watch Night of The Living Dead with her, so SHE"D feel better. Forget the fact that I had nightmares for weeks.
As a teen there were a few horror flicks you HAD to see, just to save face with the rest of the gang.....I can remember seeing Friday the 13th (the very first one of what, 98 or so?) with not even a group, but more likely a crowd of kids at the now defunct town movie theatre, where if you were a little short on cash, someone (no, officer, it was NOT Jimmy this time) would pop the back door for you. The movie screen was distorted, and you never could get all the sticky crap off your shoes, but for $2.00 it wasn't a bad deal.
Anyway, we went to meet Michael of the hockey mask fame, and I will admit (only to you, dear reader, never to the crowd) thatI spent most of the show with my head buried behind a dear friend we once swore was destined for the nun hood!
After the show mercifully ended, we did what any other good natured, trouble seeking, marauding gang of hoodlums would: we went out to carouse the town.... Again, where were our well thinking parents?
I had recovered my composure from the movie terrors, and I remember us walking toward the old sixth grade annex of our school, when one of our crowd who had apparently sneaked ahead
and climbed a tree, waited till we were directly under it, and then jumped down at us.....
At which time, I'm pretty sure my friends learned that Sue DOES scare pretty easily....Darned insensitive friends! Where WAS our compassion?
Fast forward twenty six years, and I find myself and my then thirteen year old son sitting in a theatre Halloween weekend sharing a nice little mother/son moment in at a horror movie....Now I was a little concerned about his tender age, and that the apple doesn't always fall far from the tree(in fact, when it comes to work, I'm pretty sure he isn't even from the SAME tree...he might be a pear of maybe a peach, but definitely not an apple). Anyway, I watched him closely the first few minutes of the original Saw movie, and between the darkness of the screen, the ominous music, I snuck a glance in his direction , and saw he was practically laughing....That was the last I saw of him, because I, true to form, spent the next 90 minutes with my head once again buried behind a back...Yep, I must say, I've come a long way over the years.
Jump ahead four years, and three more SAW movies, each visited opening weekend in the theatre, with pretty much the same result...He laughed, I barely saw a thing...So, last night was kind of watching the first movie for the first time for me....With the exception that my husband's back was little larger to hide behind than my teen son's. And of course, our whole audience of 5 was there to poke(not in the Facebook way) fun at me....
There was SOME consolation, though. At one point during a particular scene, (I'd be more descriptive, but I was hiding, remember)...but at one point, I did hear my eleven year old gasp.
Yep, at least some of us ARE apples, even if we are scaredy cat apples.....Can't wait till part 2 tonight. Maybe we'll go for a walk after, and I can sneak ahead of the little bugger......
Monday, October 20, 2008
Baby You Can Drive My Car
My seventeen year old is learning to drive....I just can't tell how well he';s doing since my head is never over the dashboard! For some reason, the very thought of this kid barreling down the road in a metal and fiberglass bucket weighing thousands of pounds scares the bejesus out of me. It can't be that the first thing he does when entering my vehicle is pump up the volume on the radio to distortion levels heard all around the globe...or that the stations he now presets make the car vibrate and jump up and down as if in an old Cheech and Chong movie....I reflect to my own early driving days....I was NEVER like that.......
When your thirteen or fourteen or so, your circle of friends starts to expand with the onset of Junior High...All of a sudden your world gets a whole lot larger with all those buses pouring into one junior high....Friends are no longer limited to walking disatnce only....people you know now know other people who you will now get to know and love....The only question is, how will we get there?
Well, one option (granted, may be not the BEST option, but it seemed like a good idea at the time) well, let's say that someone's brother has a perfectly good car (not a beauty, maybe, but it had tires and ran---what more could you ask for?)...Any way, said brother has a license AND a vehicle.... but being of legitimate driving age, this brother also has friends with those same great attributes...licenses and vehicles, so could WE help it, if this most fortunate brother was a passenger in another vehicle that day, while WE unfortunate underaged (and yes, unlicensed) utes (translate: youths) had a new friend across town and no way to get there.
The plan was simple (aren't they always?) Jimmy (you know, officer, from art class) and I would simply borrow (grand theft auto is SUCH an ugly phrase) the fortunate brother's (hi, Joe) car, take a QUICK spin across town, and return it and the keys to their original spot....No Problem....
Now, this new friend lived in unchartered territory....This was a whole side of town on the opposite side of the high school that we had never frequented before......and us being new?! inexperienced?! completely irresponsible?! teens did the only thing we could be expected to do.....We just winged it.
Some how, by the grace of God, (who by the way must have one hell of a sense of humor when it comes to underage car theieves) we managed to get to new friend on the other side of town's house without a) injuring oursleves, b) injuring any innocent bystanders, and c) not cracking up the fortunate one's car.
Well, after some time of primping and preening and showing off our (ahem) ride, and feeling really really cool about our damn sleves, we decide for the sake of saving our lives by returning that car BEFORE the fortunate one returned home, to hit the highway, you know, cruise on down the road, you know...gotta Hit The Road Jack!
That at least was our intention. Unfortunately, when Jimmy and I were secured in our (again, ahem) vehicle and Jimmy turned the key in the ignition, the car......how do I put this? oh that's right...the car did absolutely NOTHING!!!!!!!! No turning over, no stalling, no puttering, or knocking or whining(that was probably me whining)...it did nothing.
Well, lucky for us, new friend across town was something of a car jockey....He had cars and played with cars(real one, not just toy ones ) all his short life, and he could LOOK UNDER THE HOOD.....(hey, he DID know how to pop the hood)...He even had a brother who toyed with cars, and together they LOOKED under the hood... they tried lots of things that I probably couldn't even describe, most of the ending with "Try starting it now"... Well, if might could move a mountain......and if praying "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE START" actually worked, we'd have flown right home......but alas...that flight was deemed cancelled.
The longest walk ever known to all of mankind occurred that evening, with Jimmy and me and the fortunate but soon to be furious one's keys dangling along.... Forget that we were ALL the way across town (apparently the new kid across town and his mechanically inclined brother didn't have a way to drive us home---do ya think THAT told us anything?????) We walked with such heavy steps...dreading actually getting to our destination...
We pondered what would happen when we actually DID get there.....Would he call the police,? Could you ACTUALLY kill someone for not being able to start a car? Would the circus be in town any time soon and could we join it? "I don't know...where would YOU like to run away to?"
Stall and stammer as we did, we finally DID get back to Jimmy's house...That driveway looked so, I don't know....empty.
Worse than the walk, now we had to wait....Why didn't my parents give me an earlier curfew...and why the heck was I even allowed out after dark for pete's sake!!!!!!! Clearly, we were NOT the responsible kids that could be trusted with freedoms.
Well, it seemed like forever, but it wasn't long enough before that front door slammed and the sweet sweet voice of the fortunate one BELLOWED down the stairs where we huddled together like orphans on a transatlantic journey to be sold into slave labor!!!!! Where was his car? What had we done? What were we, stupid?........
The only thing to be done BEFORE he killed us, was for us to take him to his (damned broken down bucket of bolts) car. The fortunate but furious one's equally fortunate friend (well, maybe more fortunate...he had a car that was actually working!) offered to drive us to the scene of the (sigh) crime. There we sat huddled together again, shaking in the back seat of the car, trying not to do anything else to further enrage our dear host.....Jimmy started to give directions back to the new friend across town's house and ultimately to the little car that couldn't. Unfortunately, it WAS our one and only trip to the wild part of town, and we were sooo nervous walking back, and there WERE lots of twisting and turning streets in that area.....
Well, it turns out worse than coming home without the car, was not being able to find where we left it....
After God only knows how long we drove aimlessly,( but unfortunately not silently!), we magically managed to stumble upon the vehicle I had come to loathe.
Now all we had to do was hope oh great fortunate one was a better mechanic than the car jockeys without cars tag team.
The furious one jumps behind the wheel, puts the key in the ignition, turns it, and Jimmy and I prepare for another round of "those damn kids " comments...but, alas, lo and behold...the car starts...that's right...Just. Like. That. Turn key, start car... that easy.
Shit. Talk about feeling like a couple of inexperienced little kids....(well, that IS what we were.)
Thankfully, the fortunate one was gracioius enough to allow us to ride home with him...Upon returning the car back to it's rightful place in the driveway again... he informed us, that death would be too easy...and instead, he decided to GROUND two kids who had never been grounded in their lives. Every day for a whole month, we had to come back to his house and stay inside.....
I guess it wasn't all THAT bad, but poor Jimmy's dad couldn't figure out "why don't you kids ever get out any more? Maybe make some new friends across town??"
No thanks....I don't mind the ones right here within walking distance!!!!!
In the mean time, I guess it's time to climb out from under the dash board when the kid is driving....At least I KNOW when he's driving my car.....don't I? Where did I put those keys.....
When your thirteen or fourteen or so, your circle of friends starts to expand with the onset of Junior High...All of a sudden your world gets a whole lot larger with all those buses pouring into one junior high....Friends are no longer limited to walking disatnce only....people you know now know other people who you will now get to know and love....The only question is, how will we get there?
Well, one option (granted, may be not the BEST option, but it seemed like a good idea at the time) well, let's say that someone's brother has a perfectly good car (not a beauty, maybe, but it had tires and ran---what more could you ask for?)...Any way, said brother has a license AND a vehicle.... but being of legitimate driving age, this brother also has friends with those same great attributes...licenses and vehicles, so could WE help it, if this most fortunate brother was a passenger in another vehicle that day, while WE unfortunate underaged (and yes, unlicensed) utes (translate: youths) had a new friend across town and no way to get there.
The plan was simple (aren't they always?) Jimmy (you know, officer, from art class) and I would simply borrow (grand theft auto is SUCH an ugly phrase) the fortunate brother's (hi, Joe) car, take a QUICK spin across town, and return it and the keys to their original spot....No Problem....
Now, this new friend lived in unchartered territory....This was a whole side of town on the opposite side of the high school that we had never frequented before......and us being new?! inexperienced?! completely irresponsible?! teens did the only thing we could be expected to do.....We just winged it.
Some how, by the grace of God, (who by the way must have one hell of a sense of humor when it comes to underage car theieves) we managed to get to new friend on the other side of town's house without a) injuring oursleves, b) injuring any innocent bystanders, and c) not cracking up the fortunate one's car.
Well, after some time of primping and preening and showing off our (ahem) ride, and feeling really really cool about our damn sleves, we decide for the sake of saving our lives by returning that car BEFORE the fortunate one returned home, to hit the highway, you know, cruise on down the road, you know...gotta Hit The Road Jack!
That at least was our intention. Unfortunately, when Jimmy and I were secured in our (again, ahem) vehicle and Jimmy turned the key in the ignition, the car......how do I put this? oh that's right...the car did absolutely NOTHING!!!!!!!! No turning over, no stalling, no puttering, or knocking or whining(that was probably me whining)...it did nothing.
Well, lucky for us, new friend across town was something of a car jockey....He had cars and played with cars(real one, not just toy ones ) all his short life, and he could LOOK UNDER THE HOOD.....(hey, he DID know how to pop the hood)...He even had a brother who toyed with cars, and together they LOOKED under the hood... they tried lots of things that I probably couldn't even describe, most of the ending with "Try starting it now"... Well, if might could move a mountain......and if praying "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE START" actually worked, we'd have flown right home......but alas...that flight was deemed cancelled.
The longest walk ever known to all of mankind occurred that evening, with Jimmy and me and the fortunate but soon to be furious one's keys dangling along.... Forget that we were ALL the way across town (apparently the new kid across town and his mechanically inclined brother didn't have a way to drive us home---do ya think THAT told us anything?????) We walked with such heavy steps...dreading actually getting to our destination...
We pondered what would happen when we actually DID get there.....Would he call the police,? Could you ACTUALLY kill someone for not being able to start a car? Would the circus be in town any time soon and could we join it? "I don't know...where would YOU like to run away to?"
Stall and stammer as we did, we finally DID get back to Jimmy's house...That driveway looked so, I don't know....empty.
Worse than the walk, now we had to wait....Why didn't my parents give me an earlier curfew...and why the heck was I even allowed out after dark for pete's sake!!!!!!! Clearly, we were NOT the responsible kids that could be trusted with freedoms.
Well, it seemed like forever, but it wasn't long enough before that front door slammed and the sweet sweet voice of the fortunate one BELLOWED down the stairs where we huddled together like orphans on a transatlantic journey to be sold into slave labor!!!!! Where was his car? What had we done? What were we, stupid?........
The only thing to be done BEFORE he killed us, was for us to take him to his (damned broken down bucket of bolts) car. The fortunate but furious one's equally fortunate friend (well, maybe more fortunate...he had a car that was actually working!) offered to drive us to the scene of the (sigh) crime. There we sat huddled together again, shaking in the back seat of the car, trying not to do anything else to further enrage our dear host.....Jimmy started to give directions back to the new friend across town's house and ultimately to the little car that couldn't. Unfortunately, it WAS our one and only trip to the wild part of town, and we were sooo nervous walking back, and there WERE lots of twisting and turning streets in that area.....
Well, it turns out worse than coming home without the car, was not being able to find where we left it....
After God only knows how long we drove aimlessly,( but unfortunately not silently!), we magically managed to stumble upon the vehicle I had come to loathe.
Now all we had to do was hope oh great fortunate one was a better mechanic than the car jockeys without cars tag team.
The furious one jumps behind the wheel, puts the key in the ignition, turns it, and Jimmy and I prepare for another round of "those damn kids " comments...but, alas, lo and behold...the car starts...that's right...Just. Like. That. Turn key, start car... that easy.
Shit. Talk about feeling like a couple of inexperienced little kids....(well, that IS what we were.)
Thankfully, the fortunate one was gracioius enough to allow us to ride home with him...Upon returning the car back to it's rightful place in the driveway again... he informed us, that death would be too easy...and instead, he decided to GROUND two kids who had never been grounded in their lives. Every day for a whole month, we had to come back to his house and stay inside.....
I guess it wasn't all THAT bad, but poor Jimmy's dad couldn't figure out "why don't you kids ever get out any more? Maybe make some new friends across town??"
No thanks....I don't mind the ones right here within walking distance!!!!!
In the mean time, I guess it's time to climb out from under the dash board when the kid is driving....At least I KNOW when he's driving my car.....don't I? Where did I put those keys.....
Friday, October 17, 2008
Walk This Way
Thirteen years old and we used to walk for miles!!!!When your only transportation was a pair of Lil' Abner workboots, you put in a lot of leg work around town! We didn't mind.....heck, we were young, ambitious, and maybe more than a little unsensible.....
There was Joe T. He was maybe a couple of years older, and Whoo Hoo EMPLOYED. That's right, he had an honest- to- God paying job. Yep....he was the official Supermarket Cart Collector around town!!!!! That's right, in all it's glitz and glory....He was PAID (granted minimum wage was probably around $2.65 and hour---but he was PAID!!!!!!
Of course, just because he was the ONLY one of us from the Cleveland Avenue crew working, didn't mean we were gonna let him go it alone....No sirree...if one of us was going to have to traipse all over creation searching for the elusive FoodTown shopping carts, you were certainly going to have a posse go with you!!!
So, here we would be on a Friday or Saturday night walking up to TSS shopping center, down behind school #2, and always you could find a submerged cart waiting to be drudged from The Creek! Come winter snow or spring rain, we would faithfully walk the perimeters of our fair town collecting and pushing a line of supermarket carts back to their rightful resting place behind the Food Town market.
Granted, there would be some kind of soul warming $2.00 cheap pre mixed beverage involved with a classy name like Night Train or Tango, but we'd have done it sober. Hell, most times we did. Yeah, you can't find good help like that any more....
And every time I go to the super market and notice those cart corrals and signs urging you to please return your cart YOURSELF, I think of the poor unemployed youth of today, not even given the chance to earn their own way, while making life time memories......And then I remember that MY kid is still looking for the perfect $100.00 per day, don't have to do much, attendance optional job. Well, if he ever DOES find it, I'm sure he'll be immediately promoted to management, in which case I can only hope he hires me!
There was Joe T. He was maybe a couple of years older, and Whoo Hoo EMPLOYED. That's right, he had an honest- to- God paying job. Yep....he was the official Supermarket Cart Collector around town!!!!! That's right, in all it's glitz and glory....He was PAID (granted minimum wage was probably around $2.65 and hour---but he was PAID!!!!!!
Of course, just because he was the ONLY one of us from the Cleveland Avenue crew working, didn't mean we were gonna let him go it alone....No sirree...if one of us was going to have to traipse all over creation searching for the elusive FoodTown shopping carts, you were certainly going to have a posse go with you!!!
So, here we would be on a Friday or Saturday night walking up to TSS shopping center, down behind school #2, and always you could find a submerged cart waiting to be drudged from The Creek! Come winter snow or spring rain, we would faithfully walk the perimeters of our fair town collecting and pushing a line of supermarket carts back to their rightful resting place behind the Food Town market.
Granted, there would be some kind of soul warming $2.00 cheap pre mixed beverage involved with a classy name like Night Train or Tango, but we'd have done it sober. Hell, most times we did. Yeah, you can't find good help like that any more....
And every time I go to the super market and notice those cart corrals and signs urging you to please return your cart YOURSELF, I think of the poor unemployed youth of today, not even given the chance to earn their own way, while making life time memories......And then I remember that MY kid is still looking for the perfect $100.00 per day, don't have to do much, attendance optional job. Well, if he ever DOES find it, I'm sure he'll be immediately promoted to management, in which case I can only hope he hires me!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Beauty Is In The Eye of The Beholder
It's seventh grade and I'm in art class....Not one of my favorites subjects.....I was never one of the kids who really shined in this class with newly revealed hidden talents with a lump of clay and a kiln. I also was never the kid who the teacher picked to walk every one through their own project, so that one out of thirty of us had a master piece worthy of an art degree- which upon reflection happen to be COMPLETELY made by someone WITH an art degree! My particular lump of clay had the amazing grace to completely resemble it's former kiln and painted self and looked exactly like.....a lump of clay. Any way, the gods of artistic talent, for one reason or another, did not shine on me in the great junior high world of art....(these same gods did not exactly favor me through home ec., shop, music or gym)---They must have been saving all my true natural talents for my not yet to be followed blog...Yea Me!---
Well, as any one in junior high can clearly tell you, those of us without artistic talent tend to flock together, similar to vultures, who (although we never did), were probably not above bumping (accidentally of course) the teacher's pet model tea pot worthy of any indie shop to a million pieces on the floor! So, it happens I sit at a table with otherwise unartistic types like myself---Of course, this is known simply by a look that is given to a particular tables participants, and based on the fact that they did not look like complete dorks to me, nor I to them, (although would one dork know if he already WAS a dork that He looked like a dork---that sounds like a whole other chapter....)
And there, in seventh grade art class, I have the wonderful good fortune of sitting next to Jimmy. Now, maybe I had seen him before, but age and memory limit me as to this being our first meeting....Any how, what should come up at the table of unartistic art students (not to be confused with the island of misfit toys)....But this new aquaintance introduces himself..and I thought, cool, at least I have someone to talk to when I should be spinning clay or painting Rembrandts, cause clearly I was gonna have time on my hands for THAT class!---Next thing I know, my new unartistic friend asks if I want to go to a "small" party at his house that weekend....slight panic, yea I want to go....what am I crazy? I don't even know this guy....
Mass murderer theory aside (or maybe he likes multiple victims) 'cause then he asks if I have any girlfriends I could bring......
Well, this was the first of many a wild party....and if you lived anywhere near Steven's Street or Long Island for that matter...chances are you heard a few of them....
Suffice it to say....We went, we partied, we laughed...and NOBODY got murdered ever (although there WAS that one time when an oversized drunk showed up all bloodied from a recent fight?!)
And yet out of that art class not one project made it home or under the tree for christmas or wrapped for mother's day.... The closest success in art was a paper machie christmas elf who strongly resembled a lumberjack, and had the unfortunate name of Abby Normal...And yet out of the class was crafted the foundation for friendships of people I stuck with through high school and beyond.....
However, I also remember those parties surprisingly well...I should, some of the best times of our lives were spent in that yard.....And I have to say...it's a wonder we all came out better people for it.....What are the chances of THAT ever happening again...
Now this was all those years ago, and it's funny what triggers a memory, but last christmas my then ten year old presented me with a school made gift...As near as I could make out, it was a lump of clay... Looks like he's not the teacher's pick either....
Now it looks like I can't leave home on the weekends until he graduates college----Great.
Well, as any one in junior high can clearly tell you, those of us without artistic talent tend to flock together, similar to vultures, who (although we never did), were probably not above bumping (accidentally of course) the teacher's pet model tea pot worthy of any indie shop to a million pieces on the floor! So, it happens I sit at a table with otherwise unartistic types like myself---Of course, this is known simply by a look that is given to a particular tables participants, and based on the fact that they did not look like complete dorks to me, nor I to them, (although would one dork know if he already WAS a dork that He looked like a dork---that sounds like a whole other chapter....)
And there, in seventh grade art class, I have the wonderful good fortune of sitting next to Jimmy. Now, maybe I had seen him before, but age and memory limit me as to this being our first meeting....Any how, what should come up at the table of unartistic art students (not to be confused with the island of misfit toys)....But this new aquaintance introduces himself..and I thought, cool, at least I have someone to talk to when I should be spinning clay or painting Rembrandts, cause clearly I was gonna have time on my hands for THAT class!---Next thing I know, my new unartistic friend asks if I want to go to a "small" party at his house that weekend....slight panic, yea I want to go....what am I crazy? I don't even know this guy....
Mass murderer theory aside (or maybe he likes multiple victims) 'cause then he asks if I have any girlfriends I could bring......
Well, this was the first of many a wild party....and if you lived anywhere near Steven's Street or Long Island for that matter...chances are you heard a few of them....
Suffice it to say....We went, we partied, we laughed...and NOBODY got murdered ever (although there WAS that one time when an oversized drunk showed up all bloodied from a recent fight?!)
And yet out of that art class not one project made it home or under the tree for christmas or wrapped for mother's day.... The closest success in art was a paper machie christmas elf who strongly resembled a lumberjack, and had the unfortunate name of Abby Normal...And yet out of the class was crafted the foundation for friendships of people I stuck with through high school and beyond.....
However, I also remember those parties surprisingly well...I should, some of the best times of our lives were spent in that yard.....And I have to say...it's a wonder we all came out better people for it.....What are the chances of THAT ever happening again...
Now this was all those years ago, and it's funny what triggers a memory, but last christmas my then ten year old presented me with a school made gift...As near as I could make out, it was a lump of clay... Looks like he's not the teacher's pick either....
Now it looks like I can't leave home on the weekends until he graduates college----Great.
Money Can't Buy Me Love---Tell that to Guy Ritchie
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
Winston Churchill
So, he who gives from the heart is far better off than he who has amassed millions....That is probably very true, yet a small part of me still wishes for the chance to be ruined by money...loads of money..... Anyone willing to donate to such an experiment (that in which we study together on- line the effects of oodles of money on Sue ) please do not hesitate to contact me!!!!
It's times like this that I wish for a larger(and wealthier) readership........
Winston Churchill
So, he who gives from the heart is far better off than he who has amassed millions....That is probably very true, yet a small part of me still wishes for the chance to be ruined by money...loads of money..... Anyone willing to donate to such an experiment (that in which we study together on- line the effects of oodles of money on Sue ) please do not hesitate to contact me!!!!
It's times like this that I wish for a larger(and wealthier) readership........
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