Part II

Before I start with part 2 of this blog of growing up in a little podunk town - I just want to say:

I think watching the Olympics Hockey teams would have been hella more enjoyable if I pretended they were fighting over the world’s biggest and last Oreo!   Well, with that being said, now I want to say that I strongly oppose deporting Justin Bieber for his crimes. This is America, after all. We have the death penalty! Oh, and the local Sheriff's Department came to my gate this morning claiming that my dog Skye had chased someone on a bike. I told them to go to hell because my dog doesn't even have a bike. Idiots.Oh, now I am just ranting, aren't I? 

Getting back to Issaquah - being raised in Issaquah was both exasperating and amazing. No malls, one movie theatre, and no nightlife worth mentioning.  Often times I  felt  like there was  nothing to do. It was always the "small town ****."  Regardless I never said that I was "issapointed" that there was "issanothingtodo" and that I  "issararely" got to go anywhere. The great thing about living in a small town is even if you didn't know what you were doing someone else always did. Everyone knew everything about everyone. Unless you got scholarships, chances are you weren't ever going to go to college.  As it was I didn't go to college until I was 32 and was considered a 'California transplant'.  I was too busy raising two kids. College was out of the question.

Neither me or my friends were destitute growing up, our parents always had enough money for clothes, food, and a trip to the Issaquah Theatre or a comic book once in a while but at any given moment, every single one of our families were about one paycheck from poverty. Times were pretty tough for our parents back then but they always managed. As a family we maybe went out for dinner once or twice a year. In all truthfulness my Dad and I snuck out to dinner quite often because my mom was a horrible cook. I think we both saw it as "survival". My parents always seemed to have the money for any of us kid's sports adventures  though, and now I wonder what they actually had to give up in order for us kids to enjoy Football, Track and Gymnastics.  We bought our clothes from J.C. Penney or the Sears & Roebuck catalog store. I mostly got to wear my brother's hand me downs, specifically John's clothes. No wonder I turned out to be a tom-boy, running around in his worn out jeans and torn sweatshirts. Odd, it never mattered to me. At all.  I had to wear  dresses to school but as soon as I got home I changed into my outdoor clothes, which were jeans and sweatshirts. If anyone looks at any of my grade school class photographs I was the one who had bruises up and down her legs and arms - pretty evident in those photos that I played hard and had fun. Couldn't call me no sissy girlie- girl. Thank Goodness.

 Wow, 1962-1963 -  Seattle World's Fair era, Assassination of President Kennedy. Both good memories and bad memories. Oh wait a minute, can't see my bruises in this photo - better try another one.

This is my fondest memory of my big brother Dick - he was always the 'jokester' but even though I was often the butt of his playful jokes, I still adored him. I think the only reason people hold onto memories so tight is because memories are the only things that don’t change when everybody else does.

I remember my brother Dick worked on my little fat "just like my Daddy mechanic fingers", trying to get them into just the perfect position. Keep in mind we were 10 years apart. He was my hero, and I listened to his every word.  I didn't know this game he was teaching me.  I knew other hand games like  the church and the steeple,  but not this particular game. "No Sis, not like that," he would say, "Do it like this. Pull these fingers down and use your thumb to hold this one down. Your thumb Sis, don't you know which one is your thumb? Then you do this. Try it." Over and over, I tried. I almost got it. He was persistent that I learned. Then, finally, I got it. Still, I didn't see what was so fun about this game. "Can I go play now?," I asked my brother Dick. "Hold your horses Sis. Remember just do it to surprise Mom and Dad tonight. Show 'em that and say 'here's to you." Keep practicing Sis, you don't want to mess this up".  I swear even today I can hear Dick's laugh.  That night (after my brother's clue) while the 5 of us were at the dinner table, I turned to my Mom, said "here's to you," and gave her the finger. It's one of my first memories, which means I had to be about five, which would make my brother Dick 15.  Most of my memories of my oldest brother stand out because he was bigger, louder, and had the most funny yet obnoxious humor than anyone else in our family. My Mother was about to beat the bejesus outta me. Typically she had a quarter-inch fuse when it came to me but this event was no doubt a 1/16 inch fuse.  My Dad intervened and my brother confessed his sin of teaching me 'the finger'. My Mom was dragging me out of that kitchen chair, by my long blonde hair, no less. My Dad grabbed me away from her, and my brother's laughter turned into an endless monologue of "It's not her fault. It's my fault. Leave Sis alone".  It was a memorable day.  So memorable I will never forget how frightened I was.  Memorable also because my other brother (3 years older than myself, 7 years younger than my oldest brother) never said a word, he just continued eating. Growing up with two brothers who were complete opposites was, well, hard. My brother Dick and I would laugh at that memory for many years to come. Damn, I miss him. My life will never be the same without him - he was amazing. 

To be continued.
I have a list of things to do today. I have to go to town and get blank business cards and hand them out and call them my “none of your business” cards then I am going into the Dollar Store and ask for a price check because that just never gets old. After that I want to go to a Park and sit down next to a stranger on a park bench, place an envelope beside him and whisper “It has to look like an accident.” and then walk away. The older I get, the more I come to realize that I just don’t care what the hell anyone thinks - so I just wanna have FUN!
Until next time.........................

P.S. Thanks for your visit Bridget - always enjoy having my second daughter come to see me!