You Should Write a Book.

In the Beginning

     In the beginning, well, the beginning I can remember. I don't remember much about my childhood. Not because of some horrific psychological reason, but I just don't remember. I can tell only pieces.
     Through pictures, I can tell you I was not an adorable baby. I had a lot of dark hair, but beyond that.. You had to be family to love me.
     I lived in a small house for the first ten years of my life. Walking through the front door, entering the living room. To the left is the master bedroom with access to the basement. The basement was not finished. I hated having to go down there. Cobwebs were everywhere. And dirt . It was cold and damp down there. Mice and crawling bugs called the basement home. The washer and dryer were located at the bottom of the steps. At least I think there was a dryer. I know the laundry got done there but I don't specifically recall the machines.
     Walking straight into the house, there was a slendor hall way of sorts. It wasn't really a hallway, but easily could've been if the area had been surrounded by walls. This walkway led to the kitchen with a small bathroom off to the right. The linoleum in the kitchen was supposed to be a mustard yellow color but was caked in a black film. Many years later I would realise this had been many layers of dirt, oil, and grime. The bathroom was basic. Sink, toilet, and bathtub. There wouldn't be a shower installed for many years yet. At that point in time, it was common for my younger sister and I to bathe together, saving water.
     The hallway led past a refrigerator and small cupboard down to the kitchen table set in the left corner of the house. That table was where I lost a baby tooth while eating an apple. Right of the table was a tiny square area containing the stove, miniscual counter space and cupboards. The garbage was located right beside the stove with only the mousetrap in between.  I remember this, only because one evening when the girl across the street was babysitting, she had her boyfriend stop over. He stepped on that mousetrap!
     But there was also a window in the center of the wall across from the stove. If you just followed the hallway straight back you could have almost walked right into the window. On the other side of that window was my sandbox. It was really a large tractor tire on its side, filled with sand. It was set between that window and the big oak tree. I spent many hours in that sandbox! My mom could watch me through the window as she cooked and cleaned.
     Stopping just short of the refrigerator while walking the hallway, on the left were the stairs leading up to the other two bedrooms. This is where my sister and I slept. At the top of the steps was a window. This window was home to more wasps nests than I want to remember. My mom had a line of pink peonies planted outside every year and the sweet smell of the flowers attracted the bees and wasps. There were times I dreaded going up those steps. The sting was only for a short time, but the fear was real!
     For many years my sister and I shared a full size bed. I believe the bed frame was a simple blue metal. Eventually, we graduated to wooden bunk beds my grandpa had made.
     Typically, since my dad was on the volunteer firerescue team, we knew when to take cover due to storm danger. For whatever reason, one particular time when a tornado was in the area, we were not in the basement as we should have been. I was upstairs in my bedroom and my mom was in the kitchen. I just remember mom yelling at me to get underneath my bed. I knew from her tone of voice that something was wrong. As much as I wanted to obey at that time, I couldn't. I responded to my mom with concern that I couldn't fit under my bed. There just wasn't enough room. Upon her response, I crawled under the other bed in the room. I later found out why she was so panicked. She had been in the kitchen as the storm proceeded to uproot the big oak tree outside the window.  Fortunately, the tree had fallen away from the house. However, in a moment of shock, my mom didn't know this. She truly thought the tree had fallen into our kitchen and was blocking her from reaching me and my siblings ( I also had a little brother by this time).  The tornado had stripped the paint from our house and took out the oak tree leaving a nasty mess in our yard. But we were fortunate. The house caddy- corner across the street from us was a complete loss. The elderly couple that lived there made it out unscathed, but the house was leveled to the basement.
    Across the street , caddy-corner to the other side was where a house was lost to fire. Two young children had gotten a hold of a lighter and what started with a mattress became a total loss. One child had to learn how to walk all over again. I don't know what ever happened to those children. I believe they were put into foster care and I have never seen them again.
     My childhood home is also gone now. It had to be torn down. The house had to go due to foundation issues. Ironic and sad since that was where my foundation began, but the house was literally caving in. So many memories from there...
My first pet was a dog named Bogart. He was a large dog with an extremely powerful tail. I may have gotten knocked over by it a few times.. Bogart died of heat stroke one summer. I felt horrible! I wondered if it was my fault. Did I not give him enough water? I don't know, but life moved on.
My days were spent playing outdoors, climbing on and swinging around the utility pole in the front yard, and riding my bike up and down the sidewalk. I earned my first stitches at the end of that sidewalk. I fell getting off my bike and tore my knee open. My parents were trying to leave, and I was trying to hurry so I didn't get in trouble. In my rush, I fell. I don't even remember seeing a doctor or getting the stitches put in, but I have the scar to prove it!
     I was also a girl scout. Well, technically, I was a brownie scout. One year, I was top seller in cookie sales.  I remember being so proud. Until that good thing turned ugly. The other girls were mean, jealous, and spiteful. Accusing me of cheating. Saying I didn't earn it. It hurt. I had not cheated. I had earned that award. But even then, I was timid. I even refused to go sell cookies to the neighbor. Why? Because she was my friends aunt. I had myself convinced she had already bought from my friend and wouldn't want to order more from me. My mom tried to convince me to at least ask. I went halfway up the sidewalk to her house, then stopped. My hands were sweating and my throat was dry. I felt sick. I just could not do it. So, instead, I waited a few more minutes. Then I turned around and went home. I lied to my mom. I told her the truth as I had it in my head. The neighbor didn't order from me. She'd already ordered from my friend. I couldn't ask the neighbor to buy more cookies from me and I couldn't stand up for myself when I was being falsely accused.
    When I was in school, my mom stayed home. I truly have no idea what she did during the day when I was gone, but I loved coming home to the fresh baked cookies. Especially, when the day had not gone well as happened when I had a fight with my best friend. I don't remember what the fight was about. I just know my heart was broken and I came home crying. Mom had just made cookies. They were still warm. This is probably where my love of comfort food began. Hmmm. A real possibility. Although, there was another possibility. Minnesota.
     My parents had friends that lived in Minnesota, Dean and Sandy. Dean coached ice hockey and he told me all about it. I loved Dean. I don't really know what the connection was with him, but When they came to visit in iowa, he fried up the best fish! And he would debone it for me. And we would play cribbage. My mom taught me to play cribbage when I was 5 years old. My hometown had an annual 4th of July celebration known as watermelon day. During The day I would go to the legion and play in the cribbage tournament. I always lost, but couldn't help but try.
     Back to Minnesota. Sandy didn't usually come to Iowa with Dean. But she was there when we went to Minnesota. I know she stuffed animals for a living. A taxidermist. I didn't know much else about her. But she said one thing to me that has stuck with me--ice cream makes it all better. I don't recall whether it was a toothache or a headache, but I got ice cream! I love ice cream. It is one of my favorite comfort foods.
     From stories I have been told, My gpa used to take me to the local diner for ice cream. Apparently, every time we would drive by in his green truck, I would remind gpa we should stop and get ice cream. I wish I could actually remember going with him. ..
     My parents had another set of friends from my hometown that lived in the country, Tony and Eileen. We spent many nights at their house. Home cooked meals and ice cream. I could hardly contain my anticipation for desert. The couple were regular customers of the Schwans man. Their ice cream came in a five gallon bucket! And so many flavors. Suffice it to say, ice cream and I have a history!!
    Tony and Eileen had a lot of animals. From dogs and cats, to peacocks and cattle. The peacocks were a spectacular beauty. The geese on the other hand were mean, biting me on the back of the knee. The dogs were generally hunting dogs. I was particularly happy when they had puppies. Soooo cute! But it sure got muddy out there and their mile long driveway would turn into muddy potholes! When it was dry I would roll down the hill set to the side of their berm home.  I don't understand why it was fun, but it was. Sometimes, their son and I would go exploring the farm and the old barns. Tony and Eileen were actually foster parents and throughout the years they have touched many lives in more ways than they'll ever know. When Dean and his friend Gorty would come to Iowa for a visit, Tony and Eileen would host them. Providing food, shelter, and friendship. They would also host a few guys, Paul and Blair, from New Hampshire and Vermont.
     One fourth of July, my family went to Paul and Blair on the east coast. That was the year I learned yellow jackets make their nests in the ground. Of course, I learned the hard way. I was just stepping out of the car, when it began. Apparently, I stepped, unknowingly, on the nest in the ground. Before I could comprehend what was happening, it was over. I had been stung six times in various places on my arms and hands. That sucked!
Thankfully, the trip got better. We did some target practice. I enjoyed shooting a gun. It was a challenge to hit the target but I enjoyed trying. I also got to eat lobster on that trip.  Real lobster. Fresh from the sea, not frozen from a box like you found in Iowa. Not that I would have known. I don't recall ever eating lobster before that trip.
     I had a young mother and a hard-working father. We didn't have much money, but I was always taken care of. We had meat and potatoes of some form with most every meal. Potatoes were cheap. My father worked at the local locker and got meat for a discount price. He volunteered for the fire rescue team and he was the local police officer.
     Dad also liked to hunt; that was free meat. I do recall going hunting with him once. Squirrel hunting. I couldn't have been but maybe 8 years old. All I really remember was waiting. Sitting and waiting. I don't remember if we went to e with a squirrel or not that day. I just remember feeling special; I had gotten to go hunting with my daddy!
     My mother stayed home. She babysat for others in town. Nothing formal like the state certified daycares we have now. I didn't know it at the time, but those kids helped make ends meet at our house. I fooled my mom once by telling her a parent showed up early. It was April fools day. I thought I was so clever! My mom was not nearly as pleased with me as I was with myself.
     One of the children my mom babysat was my second grade teachers son. That teacher was remarkable. Mrs. Brown. You know how some people leave a lasting impression? She was one of those. At school, she was my teacher. But she was so much more. I liked to stay after school and help her. Sort papers and such. During the winter, Mrs. Brown would give me a ride home from school, saving me the treacherous five block trudge through the snow. It may not have been ten miles and uphill both ways, but Iowa winters were so cold! And when I was out of school with the chicken pox, she stopped by to deliver my work and check on me. None of these wonderful actions would be socially approved now. Giving a student a ride home or stopping by their house is now seen as suspicious. An act of kindness then, now seen as an act of perversion. That makes me sad.  I wanted to be like Mrs. Brown. I dreamt of being a teacher and helping others. Not for any devious reason but to be kind,generous, and loving. The way God has called us to be.
     Mrs. Brown also taught me how to pray. I have been exposed to the Word of God from a very young age. I recall being part of a bible school group at the Catholic church, but I don't remember much more.  We attended Christ's Church for a while too. I think this was prior to the Catholic church but can't be certain. It was at Christ's Church that I memorized the books of the Bible. I was rewarded with my very own Bible. It was a small Bible with a rainbow and a butterfly on the front cover and my name engraved in the lower right corner. I still have that Bible. But now, I know the rainbow on the front is not only beautiful, but it represents a promise that God made. Mrs. Brown helped me to begin to understand what that rainbow meant and what Jesus had done for me. She also taught me how to thank God for such a gift and praise him in prayer. I am eternally grateful to her for that. I may not have become a teacher in the same way I had imagined, but, as you will see, I have had the same effect on people throughout my life. Teaching, guiding, or just showing by example.
     Living in a small town in southern Iowa, there wasn't a lot to do. One of my favorite places to be was the library. It wasn't much but I loved to read! The library consisted of 2 rooms. Not big but books don't take a lot of room. I could only check out 10 books at a time. That was the max. I would almost always be back the next day. Of course, at that time, I was reading pretty short books . Two of my all time favorites were Black Beauty and Little Women. I had a large array of tastes when it came to reading. I enjoyed The Babysitter Club series but I also read mysteries and romance novels.
     After getting my books, I liked to stop across the street at the local Shoppe. If I had any change I could get some candy. Tootsie rolls for a penny. Lemonheads for a dime. Or if I was lucky enough to have fifty cents, I could get a chocolate bar! No, I did not savor those chocolate bars like Charlie did the Willy Wonka bars (Another incredible book- Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). Instead, I made sure my candy was gone before the end of my five block walk home. Somedays, I would stop at the Bank on the opposite corner. I could usually count on a smile and a lollipop from the teller, who happened to be the mother of my teacher, Mrs. Brown.
     I spent a lot of time at the park. The slide next to the merry-go-round, double seesaw before the swings, and just past the swings, the jungle gym. Nothing fancy but this is where I would go day after day. Even when I was too old to just play, I would go. I would ride my bike up there. You could find me laying on the merry go round using a stick to draw in the sand surrounding it. Round and round. Like Winnie the Pooh, I had a "thinking spot". Never could I have known what life had in store for me.