April 30, 2012

As I worked on this post about what my days will be like when I only work forty-one days next year, I remembered some things about how my life changed when my dad headed back to school.  He became a full time student when I was around eight or nine, I think.  It was when he went full time as a student that he became more of an "after school care" kind of dad.  Finally the day had come where I no longer needed to be babysat by another class member's mom.  My dad's schedule was such that  I could now wait at the pick up spot after school  and see the large white delivery van turn into the driveway.  It was a white beast of a thing. . .with two steps to get up into it and holes along the floor to hold flower arrangements that he would be delivering.

He had found a part time job at a flower shop.  His boss, Taylor became one of our favorite people because he allowed us to come to the shop and play do our homework every day after school.  We became glitter designers on large bolts of ribbon.  We colored, played flower shop, ran up and down stairs, and had a blast!  The shop became our after school day care with the best team of babysitters:  Taylor, Aurelia, Cristina, Ann, Annette, and even my Uncle Ted .  It felt wonderful to have a dad who picked us up and a shop full of aunts, uncles, and grandmas waiting for us every day!

 Besides the flower shop, I remember some neat car rides with my dad and brother.  We made up some fun songs that echo through my mind at times like this, when I let myself recall them.  There were several:  If I Only Had a Pony and You make me sick are the two that spring to the the forefront of my mind.  I'll spare you the lyrics but I'm going to have to teach them to my own kids--this is what would best be known as oral tradition, right?  There is also the memory of running around some hill that overlooked the 210 freeway, frolicking in the long grass and picking flowers and making daisy chains. 

I also recall having some car trouble from time to time. I remember sitting in the back seat of a VW after my dad had confiscated all our shoelaces and tied them together.  He used the laces to act as some sort of cable attached to the engine that he held with his left hand out the window. . .on the freeway!! This same VW might be the one where I was getting out at my Nana and Papa's house when my foot got caught in the seatbelt laying on the floor and I went down.  I bruised my tailbone.  It hurt bad!  This accu pressure guy I go to from time to time says all my back trouble stems from that trauma to the tailbone. . .maybe he's right, who knows?  I do believe this might be the same bug THAT CAUGHT ON FIRE on Halloween!!  And a vehicle to the left of us was frantically signaling to my mom that something was wrong.  We all escaped unharmed, but I still remember standing in my costume on the street as the Firemen put out the fire.  I remember there was a dalmation too.  I swear. True story.

It's funny how sometimes life lets us remember the stuff that was hard easily.  It actually takes more work (at least for me) to remember those good times and there were many. . .I guess I just don't go down memory lane enough.  But I need to.  My kids need to know what growing up was like for me--how we would sit in the back of a truck on lawn chairs to watch the Golden Days Parade every year for what seems like forever.  That memory was so intense, such good times that for my thirtieth birthday all I wanted was to sit on my Aunt and Uncle's corner and watch the parade with my own kids--who were six months and two at the time.

I used to keep a journal.  Those days ended quite abruptly unfortunately. . .but I don't know where my writing went.  I know there are records of my childhood, and of all the fun I had with our Durango Dudes.  I need to keep looking.  If I can't find them on paper, they are in me somewhere.  And they are too good not to share!  The search is on. . .maybe I will have my own series:  Memory Mondays.  Why not? Thanks Dad, great idea!