Posts in memories
In the 1970s my Mom used to drag us in our little red wagon to the library.
Up Vincent Avenue where I would later trudge to school and never had Mountain Dew poured on my head by Eric Swanson and Tom Remier after they ALLEGEDLY smashed my diorama to smithereens.
But NOW there’s no reason to have your Mom drag you up to the library in your little red wagon BECAUSE you can just LISTEN to Audiobooks on an app!
WHAT A RELIEF/BORE!
Before Cape Cod (could that be the most irritating thing I’ve ever written?? MAYBE), summer days were spent “building” backyard forts, floating to the middle of Lake Calhoun in an orange rubber raft (sans life jackets), stubbing big toes while walking to the beach, and selling Kool-Aid in front of our neighbor’s house to thirsty-passersby.
I don’t remember seeing a nickel of the profit, but I didn’t even care because I didn’t even know what money was for anyway and I looked like this:
Fast-forward 40 years to these kids selling LEMONADE across the street from our house and I’m pretty sure their parents were a part of the whole thing. I mean, look at that professional signage.
I bet none of these girls even wears a neighbor’s hand-me-down unitard for a swimsuit! I’m going to give this birthday card to one of them so they really understand life before it’s too late.
I’m sure their parents will thank me.
Mrs. Reece thought it made sense to cast me as Tweedle-Dee and my BFF as Tweedle-Dum. (Did we argue over who would get to be Tweedle-Dee?? Maybe.) We wore matching Nike tennis shoes, (before Heaven’s Gate!) knickers, striped socks, and propeller-topped beanies.
Last week, I asked Tweedle-DUM to find a photograph of the two of us in our Roles Of A Lifetime. She dug out her old STA yearbooks TO NO AVAIL! (Frowny-face.) BUT she DID find some other treasures!
Aww! SEE HOW SWEET I WAS?? Father Dillon and I must’ve taken a break from the PET computer lesson we were having so I could sign yearbooks.
(Did my mom know my pants didn’t fit anymore?)
All of this has nothing to do with a card I made! Here it is!
We sat on the rug every day while Ms. Stringer read a story to our second grade class — I felt jealous of the girls that planted themselves behind other girls so they could “play” with their hair. Why don’t they ever play with my hair? Sigh… Oh, well… Hey, WAIT!! Someone IS playing with my hair today!! Okay… Don’t move or they might stop… Just listen to the story… This feels pretty nice!… Okay, story is over… Turn around and see which girl it was… ACT NATURAL… Waaaait, that is NOT a girl!!! That’s an icky boy!!! I casually walked back to my desk and felt my hair… Maybe he DID braid it?? It does feel kinda funny… Um, no. NOT braids. HE TIED IT IN KNOTS. KNOTS.
I don’t know why that memory pulled this Mother’s Day card out of me. PULLED IT OUT OF ME JUST LIKE I PULLED THE KNOTTED HAIR OUT OF MY HEAD AND SECRETLY SHOVED IT IN MY DESK.
Facebook is so good at reminding me of important dates, LEST I FORGET. Normally I’d chisel a statue to honor a significant event, but I settled on creating a letterpress greeting card and ALLOWING the Intern and Jen to print it.
It will be added to our much anticipated Spring Release. And I’m sure if Prince were still on Planet Earth, he’d whisper a thank you and dance away in his tiny high heels.
We bought our house on the Cape in 1982…
this was the same year that The Go-Go’s penned their masterpiece.
Coincidence?? I THINK NOT.
Summers on the Cape were filled with so much adventure! There were trees to climb, sea-creatures to discover, rocks to paint (it’s complicated), and cans to return for 5¢ — imagine returning an ENTIRE BAG of cans. Your very own money to spend on candy at the Barnstable News. I dragged a garbage bag of empty cans up Millway, past the dead bodiesto claim my prize. I did not anticipate this being such a great windfall… The Adult behind the counter counted all of my (mostly beer) cans (thanks Uncle Gary!) and the total staggered me.
“Two dollars and thirty-five cents.”
I walked past the wall of candy, right to the freezer full of ice cream treats. One box of six ice cream sandwiches, all for me. ALL FOR ME!!I was a girl on a mission: Eat all six, share with no one, and never breathe a word of this to any of my siblings. I held the package to my (boyish) chest, and ran until I was sure I was alone. Across the street from the cemetery, and next to an abandoned house, I ripped open the box and started eating. 1…2…3… still going strong… 4… slowing down… 5… Five! Only FIVE! What a failure!
I staggered home, and benevolently offered the final sandwich to my little brother. (What a fool he was for not even questioning my backstory!)
Present day: Southwest Airline’s Boeing 737: 40,000 feet.I made these: