Imaginary Friends

I think all of us at one time had an imaginary friend. Me? I had an imaginary brother. His name was Timmy and he was responsible for all sorts of shenanigans at my house and was a tad bit accident prone. As my mother tells it, I was about 3 years old when Timmy made his first appearance. She said I had told our Pastor's wife that my brother Timmy fell out of a tree and broke his arm. The dear woman was sympathetic and asked her husband, "I didn't know Sandy had a son." Pastor gave her a confused look and said, "She doesn't. Obviously, Jenny has an imaginary brother." Thus started the stories of my brother Timmy. Timmy lasted for several years and we had many adventures together. I mentioned him to a family friend, Roger, who owned a horse ranch and regaled him with the tales of Timmy and those adventures throughout my pre-school years. Whenever we would go visit him, he would always ask "How's Timmy?" and I would have another story for him. Once I started school and started making new friends, Timmy started to take a backseat to my daily routine and eventually disappeared forever. Timmy was replaced by my friend, Kelly, who grew up only a mile away from me. As we moved from kindergarten into first grade, Timmy "died." I remember going to Roger's house and he asked me "How's Timmy?" I told him quite plainly that Timmy had passed on. Apparently he had been playing by the train tracks (we had no trains near our house) and got hit by said train. It was very tragic. Roger said "That's too bad. I liked hearing about the things you and Timmy did. He was a funny guy." and thus, the imaginary brother was laid to rest. Even as I got older Roger would always ask me "How's Timmy?" and wink. Roger is long gone now, too, and I hope that he and Timmy could finally meet in the afterlife. I wonder what kind of stories Timmy would tell about me?

Childhood Heartthrob...

My first crush was David Cassidy. I think I was 4. My cousin, Dawn, had his poster in her bedroom, along with Donnie Osmond and a couple of 70's teen idols, but David Cassidy was my favourite. He had awesome hair, come hither eyes and that cool hemp necklace. He was dreamy. I told Dawn that when she didn't want the poster anymore that I would take it. True to her word, when she outgrew David, she took him down, rolled him up and gave him to me. I think I was 6. As I got older and my music tastes grew, I added many different posters to my bedroom walls. Duran Duran in 1984/85 was my wallpaper of choice. I think I had about 250 posters and pictures adorning the walls of my teenage bedroom, but on the back of my door hidden behind pictures of John Taylor, was David Cassidy. His eyes staring at me out of the Duran pics. Eventually, I outgrew Duran Duran and took their pictures down and packed away. I moved on to Classic Rock; The Beatles, John Lennon, Janis Joplin, The Doors. I outgrew those and down those went. Next up, Yngve Malmsteen, Whitesnake, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi...those, too, took a dirt nap eventually. But David never came down. He was a balm to my teenage soul of quieter and much less tormented times (in my life- not the world). Eventually I moved out of my bedroom and moved off to college. Everything came down and much of it went into the garbage. But not David. I rolled him up and put him in my trunk where he wouldn't get crushed. Years went by and I graduated, got married, had children, got a job and bought a house. I added a lot of memories to that trunk and removed a few (like old graduation cards and birthday cards). Recently I sat down with my daughter as I rifled thru the memories of that trunk and came across a rolled up poster. I chuckeled to myself as I lifted it out and carefully unrolled it, knowing full well what it was. "Mom? Who is that?" she demanded. "That's David Cassidy." I replied, staring into David's beautiful blue/green eyes. "Well, he looks lame." she replied scathingly. I just smiled at her and said "He may look lame to you, but he was my first crush and I think he is beautiful." I rolled it carefully back up and put him back in my 150 year old trunk that holds all my other treasures. My children's baby books, by high school graduation diploma and mortar board (That funky flat hat that professors wore), my marriage certificate, my high school year books and baby pictures of my kids. Just knowing he is there and has survived nearly 40 years in my room, on my wall and in my trunk without a single tear or rip, makes me feel content. Part of my childhood that will always be there when I need it.

Sugar High

Easter- the time of year when children can eat their weight in marshmallow Peeps, chocolate eggs, bubble gum eggs and a chocolate easter bunny the size of a new born child and parents don't seem to care... As a kid, we would wake up on Easter Sunday early- as it was the Spring equivalent to Christmas- and start hunting for our Easter baskets that the Easter Bunny had hidden over night. Big Sister Amy, Baby Sister and myself would start in the kitchen and move stealthily throughout the house trying to locate our baskets and the sugary sweet convections that were left for us. Discovery! Mine was in the dryer- thank God Mom didn't have to do laundry that morning. I would have had chocolate encrusted t-shirts instead. Big Sister Amy's was in the pantry hidden behind the boxes of cereal. Clever. Baby Sister's was hidden in the coat closet on the shelf behind the box of colouring books and crayons. We would all then sit on the couch and compare our candy horde and trade stuff we didn't like. Big Sister got my Peeps if I could have her chocolate marshmallow eggs, Baby sister could have my jelly beans if I got her chocolate marshmallow eggs. Yes, I love marshmallow eggs. Don't judge me. Then after a few nibbles from our baskets it was time to get dressed and head to Easter service at church. We would get dressed in our new (or new to us) Easter dresses and have our picture taken holding our baskets in our pretty clothes. And, usually, I had chocolate around my mouth in most of these photos because like a chocolate Ninja, I would always have another chocolate marshmallow egg in my mouth. Hence, the closed mouth smile... Then we would pile into the car and wave goodbye to Dad as we drove to church. (Dad was a non-practicing Catholic and we were Methodists, and he said that he would be in trouble if he went to our church. I think it was just a way of getting out of church.) One year, when Baby Sister was still a baby (10 months I think) I decided to take a purse with me to church. It has all the important things in it- a key to something I wasn't sure what, a doll brush, chapstick, a pocket mirror and my illegal contraband- a box of Junior Mints. Now, I don't know about you, but Easter Sunday services can get pretty long and drawn out sometimes, and when you eat breakfast at 830 am and go to 930 am service, by 1030 am this girl is starting to get hungry! So, we settled into our pew by Gramma and Grampa. Mom next to Gramma, Baby sister in Mom's lap, me next to Mom and Big Sister on my left. Greeting and opening hymn commence, then Pastor starts the sermon...Yawn...I sit, swinging my legs back and forth and watching my black patent leather shoes flash in the sunlight coming in the window to my left. Big Sister starts to swing her legs. Back and forth, back and forth, we swing our legs opposite each other, then hook ankles and start to swing. Mom reaches over and puts her hand on my knee- the silent warning of "stop it and sit still." Pouting, I stop swinging my legs and glare at the back of the pew in front of us. I pick up my purse and rummage around inside for a bit and pull out my pocket mirror. I open it up and let the sunlight catch it. The mirror flashes in my eyes and I am momentarily blinded. Then I realize I can create a diversion with the light! I shine it onto the ceiling and watch it dance around as I move it back and forth in my hand. and then...Mom snatches it out of my hand and takes it away from me. I feel like Gollum from Lord of the Rings when he lost his "precious"...LOST! LOST!! Well...back to the purse. Doll brush...can't do much with that. The rogue key that no one knows what it is for...boooorrrrinnnng! AH-HA! JUNIOR MINTS!! I was starting to feel a little hungry anyway. This time, I leave the junior mints inside the box in my purse. Mom will never suspect anything! The congregation stands for another hymn. No one will hear the box rip open when they are singing! Victory is mine! I open the box and pour out a couple of mints into my hand, being the nice sister that I am, I give one to Big Sister to shut her up, if you will. I pop one into my mouth and chew quietly. Hymn's over so everyone sits down. I pop another Junior Mint in my mouth my head turned to the left so Mom can't see, and then hand another one to Big Sister just to keep her quiet. Suddenly I feel a tap on my arm. Rats! Caught red handed! I turn to Mom, she is staring at the front of the church and holds her hand out to me without turning her head. What the what? I wasn't sure if I was supposed to give her the entire box or just one. So, I figured I had nothing to lose. I pour a couple into her hand. She pops them into her mouth and looks at me out of the corner of her eye and winks. I grin up at her and sit throught the rest of church happily munching on my Junior Mints and sharing my sugary contraband with Mom. I am sure even Jesus would have understood that day...

Will You Go with Me?

Having a boy/girlfriend in grade school never made any sense to me. It's not like you could really go anywhere, right? I mean, what 10 year-old has access to a car? And even if they did, where would you go? Unless they had a really good allowance or something, then that is the person you want to hold on to. The system of "dating" in grade school usually involved three people- the childhood version of the "threesome." Generally, one person was the middle-man (or woman) to the "would be" daters. This would be the "go-to" person who would generally be the friend of the person who had a crush on a cute boy/cute girl in the class, this designated "go-to" person would walk up to the boy and say "Do you like so-and-so?" (or like my friends in Great Britain would say "So-and-so fancies you."). If he/she answered in the affirmative the next question would be, "Do you want to go with so-and-so?" Now, here is where my question would come into play; "Go where?" Like I said, this is grade school and a 10-year-old takes things pretty literally so you have to be specific. The "Go-to"-er would give me a look of confusion..."Uh...out?" I would reply in my 10-year-old wisdom, "We are already out. OUTSIDE!" Ok, I wasn't quite grasping what was going on here obviously. "Go-to"-er would roll their eyes and reply in a snarky tone "Go out with..be their girlfriend! Geez!" Oh! "Uh..ok...I guess so." The "Go-to"-er would go to said boy and say "She LIKES you likes you so she is your girlfriend now." To which said boy grins shyly at me and runs off to play baseball with the other boys. Ok, so now I was attached. Wasn't he supposed to come running and pledge his undying love and whisk me off my feet? Nope, when you're 10, it means that you have a boyfriend in name only and he just has laid a claim to you even tho' he has no idea what having a "girlfriend" means. 'Course, at that age, I had no idea either. I just know that so-and-so just decided I was cute and wanted to be the only one to tell me. As I went from grade school to middle school, things really didn't get much better. "Dating" was mostly meeting the guy you thought was cute at the roller rink and "couple skating" with him during the slow songs. This generally involved holding the hand of a sweaty pre-pubescent boy and doing your best to not fall down when his skate stopper snagged and he went crashing to the polished wood floor of the rink. High school "dating" meant going to the Friday night dances we had every week and sitting on the chairs with his arm around you because he didn't want to dance; other than the slow dances where he would hold you at arms length by your waist and go in circles until you were dizzy. As soon as the song was over (something like "Almost Paradise" by Mike Reno and Ann Wilson or "I Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon) he would grab your hand and drag you back to your designated chair and plop back down, effectively holding you in place with his arm and daring anyone to brave the possessive look on his face to come talk to you or even breathe the same air you are breathing. When you DIDN'T have a boyfriend you could actually dance with your other friends because, believe it or not guys, girls LIKE to dance. If I wanted to hold a chair down for 4 hours I would have stayed home and watched the telly. College dating...well, for privacy's sake, let's not go there...but let's just say there is a lot more than "dancing" going on.

Anything with wheels...

At one point in my life my mother told me "I am sorry I ever bought you anything with wheels." What?!? Just because I rode my big wheel down the very steep hill into the driveway at Mach 8, or that I tried building a skate ramp in the basement out of a 2"x8" and a piece of plywood, or that I sat on my skateboard at my cousin Tanya's house and road down the center of the 3rd Street hill, or we took the Barbie Rv down the same hill, does not mean that I shouldn't have anything with wheels. It just means that I would have found one way or another to endanger my life in ways that would scare the living daylights out of my mother. For example...climbing around the ancient sheep shed on the neighbor's farm and building a clubhouse on the platform (a very rickety and dangerous platform that was about 12 feet off the ground, I may add) out of old doors and plywood found in various buildings on the farm, complete with old rusty nails and hinges and such that would surely have given me lockjaw if I had cut myself on one of them. Or...swinging from the haymow rope from the 20 foot platform with the neighbor kids, that could have,at any time, let go and I would have plummeted to the floor ending up with a broken something-or-other. Then there is the horseback riding incident that my friend, Dena, and I tried behind the barn where we decided to see if we could stand on the horse's back while at a full out run. Hey! We started with a walk just to gain balance, so I was cautious! Now as the mother of an 8 year-old son I understand exactly what my mother was saying to me. I apparently have given birth to Marvel character, Matt Murdock or as he is known by his secret identity "Daredevil." It started when he was just 9 months old. He was crawling all over and pulling himself up on chairs and couches and had no fear of falling whatsoever. It was at 9 months that he was standing at the coffee table and turned and walked to me all smiles and fearless. I was terrified. He hasn't sat still since.(I would like to interject here that I had a very cautious and somewhat timid daughter five years prior to Daredevil's birth who never once made me shudder in fear of her falling or doing anything remotely scary other than try to crawl out of her crib once and she fell onto a pillow and cried like she broke a leg. I think that fall scared her off of circus tricks or anything of the sort. It took her until she was 10 to learn to ride a two-wheeler because she was afraid of falling...but I digress...) It was at 15 months he decided to go for a ride in the laundry basket down the stairs. Now, I saw this happening as I was at the bathroom at the top of the stairs, however, did you ever have that feeling of the Six-Million Dollar Man? You know the feeling, the faster you run the slower you go? THAT is what was happening to me. I could see him grab the laundry basket and crawl into it and then start skooching toward the edge of the stairs. I stood rooted to the spot willing my limbs to move but was paralyzed and somewhat intrigued at the scene playing out before me. I was immediately whisked back to my childhood and taking the Radio Flyer down the steep hill between Gramma's house and our house...that ended badly as I overshot the road and went ass-over-teakettle down the embankment and wound up in the cornfield stunned and bruised but not bleeding and broken. I forced my legs to move and I started to yell "N-n-n-n-n-o-o-o-o-o-oooooo!" (like Darth Vader in Star Wars) and I reached for him to only grasp air as he began his descent down the 13 Steps into the foyer. I stood frozen with fear as I watched him lean back in the basket and ride smoothly down to the bottom floor like he was on a kiddie rollercoaster. He landed safely at the bottom; not dumped out and thudding down the steps only to land a bruised and bloody screaming mess at the bottom. He jumped out of the basket with an awestruck look on his face. sort of a "That was aMAZING!" look. "WHOOOAAAA!!!" he said and grabbed the handle as if he was going to come back up and do it again. At this point my husband had come running to the bottom of the stairs, grabs the laundry basket out of his tiny little hands and says "I don't THINK so, Daredevil. You have had enough excitement for one day and Mom and Dad have to go in for a cardiac assesment." Baby boy was not so happy with Dad after that. The one thing that I vowed at that point, was he was never going to have anything with wheels. Ever. He is now the proud owner of a two wheeled bike, roller blades and a Radio Flyer red wagon. Thank God our back yard is flat...

Modern Technology

We had a black and white 19 inch tv until the antenna (anyone under the age of 30 would have no idea what that is) got hit by lightning and *zzzap!* there went the tv. I remember it so well because I was 4 and it was Halloween. I was watching a Scooby-Doo Halloween Special- I still don't know how it ended... A couple of days later, Dad came home with a brand new 19 inch COLOUR TV! Click! Who KNEW that Carol Burnett was in such a glorious array of colour?!? This was a whole knew foray into the wonderfully mind numbing world of television viewing. Marshall Matt Dillon wore a pink shirt, Miss Kitty had eyeshadow the colour of sapphires, the Hudson Brothers were visited by a colourful Rod Hull and his Emu, Sonny and Cher had eye dazzling glittery costumes that were a briliant array of rainbow colours. I was 5 years old before I knew that The Wizard of Oz was partially in colour. Unfortunately, it made the flying monkeys even scarier than normal black and white... That was the extent of modern technology until I was about 13 or 14. Then came the glorious Video Cassetter Recorder! Ah the VCR!! Now I could watch movies I saw in the theatre a year ago! Mom rented a VCR for us one weekend for $5 and two movies for $2. The VCR itself looked somewhat like a box droid from Star Wars. You would push the eject button and the cassette feed would pop up from the top on well oiled hinges. You would put the cassette into the feed and click the feed back down into the machine and then hit play. Michael J. Fox in "Back to the Future" filled the screen (but first I had to turn the knob to Channel 3 so we could watch it) and the strains of Huey Lewis filled the living room. Next up, Footloose with Kevin Bacon (the original and the best one, in my opinion). We didn't have video games in our house, hence the reason I was not and am not a huge video game fan. Nah, I went to Tanya's house to play their Atari 2600 and Pac-Man and Donkey Kong for that. Back then, if you wanted to get a hold of someone, you called them on the phone. You knkow, a land line. A phone that hung on the wall and had a 12 foot cord attached to it so you were limited to the range in which you could get away from the phone. The phone actually rang in a *brrrriiiiiinggggg* sound (not in some ringtone by Barry Manilow or Donna Summer or some other artist of the time) and was followed by the sound of three people in our house yelling "PHONE!!!!" If no one was home, the phone rang and rang...and then people hung up and tried later. We were not able to leave a message (only rich people had answering machines) nor were we able to text them as to their current whereabouts. Cell phones were not heard of at that time. It all seemed so Star Trek-y that we would be able to talk to someone away from home! It never ceases to amaze me how we managed to do without a lot of the modern ameneties that we have now. How did we exist without cell phones and computers and 90 inch flat screen plasma televisions? We did the best with what we had and we were satisfied... Wouldn't it be great to be like that again some days? ...excuse me...I have to answer my cell...

Valentine's Day Revelries

Ah Valentine's Day...the day when all children decorate the average brown box in glorious shades of red and pink with glittery hearts and Cupids and wait for their friends to drop their Snoopy Valentine's into their mailboxes. Cherry Lollipops, smarties, conversation hearts, heart shaped pink marshmallows and chocolates abound! Nowadays, teachers ask that children send no candy but "healthy snacks" instead. WHAT!?! That is blasphemy!! Valentine's Day is all about the candy people! Even teachers were children once and they received all the sugary nasty sweet treats at one point too. Have they forgotten what it is to be children at Valentine's?!? I mean, that is like getting a "A donation has been made in your name to a local food pantry" card in your stocking at the age of 7 instead of presents!! Now, I understand that todays educators are under pressure to conform to the whole "healthy living" thing. I get that. But it is only one day a year and it is all about moderation. When I was a kid, the more chocolate you got the better your Valentine's Day. You knew your friends liked you when you got a boatload of chocolate. One of my classmates mothers used to make sugar cookies with each student's name on it. They were beautiful, too. Almost too beautiful to eat but eat them we did...and with gusto! Our teachers even gave out candy...sometimes a a regular sized Hershey bar! That's what I am talking about!! I don't know about you, but it is an awful mess to deliver a heart shaped pineapple slice into a kids valentine's box. The other valentine's stick together, and not all kids like pineapple... In middle school and high school we used to send "Candy-Grams" for Valentine's day. this included a heart shaped valentine (that you could write a Valentine's message on) with a lollipop taped to it. You could always tell how many friends you had by the number of "Candy-Grams" you received. At the time they cost 50 cents each. So, for 5 bucks you had 10 friends taken care of! All day long you would see kids walking (or in some cases running) thru the halls with suckers sticking out of their mouths. Of course, my mother's words of "Don't run with something in your mouth!" would pop into my head every time I saw it, but regardless, I was one of the idiots running around with a sucker in my mouth. Oh well. I never fell and jammed it into the back f my throat and choked to death, so hey! So, I sent my son off to school this morning with his Valentine's for his classmates with a sucker taped to them. Yes. I am a rebel. Sue me...