It was really helpful, and I wrote about 10 entries before I stopped----you know, my present life kept getting in the way.
But, with this blog, I feel that I have a perfect outlet to write about my personal history and hopefully, every few years, I can make this blog into a book for my children. It is already, basically, my journal. I don't really write about everything personal, but if I want to vent or tell of the ridiculous things that happen to me, I feel that I can do it here.
So, once a month, or maybe twice----I have decided to do a Memory Monday. I wish that I could do it every week, but I have a hard time writing more than two times a week. I know. I know. If I could just not do the other 9 or 10 things that I have to do! Well, some of those things fall by the wayside, as it is....
But I digress.
I was born in Colorado. My Dad was in the Air Force, and he was stationed there. My Mom said that the house that we lived in has since been torn down, but the corner is still there....
I have pictures of me----scrawny, with skinny legs and sparse hair.
Hmmmm---where is everyone?
I had one older sister, Janene, who was two years older than me----she took care of me, stood by me and was my best audience.
I, basically, came out of the womb an entertainer. I have seen film from when I was just barely sitting up and pulling myself up to the couch. My Mom would put on records and I would dance and dance---up and down----up and down----to the beat.
My sister would laugh and laugh, and of course, clap.
I was addicted to applause at an early age.
Real camping when I was about a year old---with my sister and my Mom.
When I was still a toddler, we moved to a farm in Utah. My grandpa owned acreage there, and a house, so we went to live there. This was where my first memories begin.
The house was very small, with only two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and one bath. I shared a bedroom with my sister, and when my brother was born, when I was three, he had a crib in my parents bedroom.
Two years old and what a cutie!
I loved living there, as there was a lot of space for us to play outside. In the summer, one of our favorite things to play was "going camping". My sister and I used to load up a red wagon with our dishes, blankets, dolls, some reading material and some snacks. We would then proceed to
go around the perimeter of the yard several times before coming to rest under the trees at one end. The yard was a large grassy area flanked by trees on one end, a gravel area on the other end, the driveway on one side and the house on the other.
We started out going over the uneven grassy terrain, taking turns pulling and pushing the wagon. We would sometimes sing as we traveled----this was something that we did in the car, so since we were traveling, we did it then.
At times we would stop and get a drink out of our thermos, (we didn't have water bottles then, folks) then continue on to our destination. When we felt that we had gone around the yard enough times to seem like a long journey, we would stop under the trees and start to set up our "camp".
This was my favorite part of the expedition, as we would try to figure out how to build our tent out of the blankets that we had brought, using the edge of the playground equipment that was next to the trees. After we got our tent built, we would sit our dolls up, get out our "picnic" and eat, chatting about our journey so far. Sometimes we would read for awhile and then would go to "bed" for the night, laying down with the blanket above us, watching the sun make a dappled pattern through the leaves cast on the top of the blanket.
I still remember the warmth of the sun as we shut our eyes and how the grass smelled alive, as we waited for the "morning" to come. There was a certain sound that we would make for morning---a tune that sounded like a sun coming up. And then we packed up our things and headed for "home".
At the gravel area, we would usually stop again. It was time for our water break, and we would also play a bit---running around on the gravel---dancing or chasing each other.
The farm where we lived, standing here in the field with my sister.
It was at this point that our Mom would yell out of the front door, telling us to come in to dinner. It was still light outside, as the summer days seemed to stretch on long and lengthy---especially when you are young, so it seemed early for dinner, but we didn't want to get into trouble, and started getting our things together.
We made sure that everything was back in the wagon and pulled the wagon back to the front porch. There we would fill our small arms with our blankets, dolls and trash from the lunch, going back and forth, taking our things into our bedroom.
And the wagon? It was placed there in the corner of the front porch.
Waiting for our next adventure.