Passion



Passion is a gritty kind of love, tough and

optimistic enthusiasm that overcomes negativity and inconvenience to make it

through to the end. (10,000 Reasons Overflow)


Thursday, August 30, 2007

You can go home again

Sara’s blog made me think… So now, I’ve got two blogs for today. Thanks for the memories, sister. This probably will seem jumbly to everyone else, but in my mind, it makes perfect sense.

When I was 15, the winter/spring of 9th grade I was told that we were going to have to move. If you’ve read my blogs, you know I don’t like change, never have. Hated it more in 9th grade than I do now. My dad decided that we were going to move Downriver. Yikes. From Dearborn that seems like states away when you don’t have a license.

We got the keys on June 23, 1988. The day my grandpa died. I didn’t want to move. I certainly didn’t want to move after hearing that my grandpa died. My dad was moving some stuff with his buddies, I was at home packing. I got the phone call. I was probably only alone in the house for an hour, but it seemed like a lot longer than that.

We moved into 7535 Manor from 7624 Manor when I was 5 (1978). I remember when we moved my dad’s friend’s carried (literally) the swingset across the street. It was funny to see when you’re 5.

I spent a lot of time on that swing set, even up until 9th grade. I remember sitting on that swing set with Sean O’Neill in 3rd grade. He had red hair and freckles, he brought over a tape player and we listened to J. Geils. He lived down the street from me, and was only there one year.

Erica and I spent so much time at my house when it was just us. She always had to babysit so I spent a lot of time at her house, but when she could get away, we would go to my house and eat tomatoes with sliced American cheese and salt.

A lot of kids hung out at my house, my dad wasn’t home, and we didn’t cause trouble (really), we all sat outside on the porch and just hung out. There was rules at my house, but no one crabbed at us, we just hung out. It was mostly boys. I don’t know why, but it was. They would cut the grass for my dad, he was a big guy, especially big I am sure when you are in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade.

Dani would come over on his Raz. And sing “with or without you” by U2. I hated that song, and I still swear to this day, he sung it because I hated it. I can’t hear the song and not picture in my head the young boy, who is still my friend, riding up. And that gorgeous smile he had, and still has.

We had a ton of neighbors because we lived in a duplex. They came and went. We really didn’t like most of them. The person who owned the other half was not the same person who owned our half.

The walls were Jungle Moss Green, from Sears. It was like a mint green color, I hated it. The carpet in the living room and up the stairs was pink, wore out and itchy. My room did not have carpet, it had hard wood floors. My room was pink, when I was like 6 I got Holly Hobby bedding and new furniture, princess furniture from Sears, Phyllis used it until just recently, now it’s upstairs. My dad’s room had dark green carpet. He had dark walnut furniture atht had cigarette burns on the nightstand from his cigarettes falling out of the ashtray. I would lay in my dad’s bed sometimes, it smelled like him. I loved that smell, it was smell of love and safety. The floor in the kitchen was that old kind that needed to be waxed, we never waxed it, it always looked dirty even though I washed it on my hands and knees every week (because that’s how I made money). I would climb on the counters to reach stuff in the shelves. I was too short to reach anything. The basement was where we hung out almost always. We would eat on TV trays and watch Laverne & Shirley, Happy Days, MASH, and Hogan’s Heroes, I cried when Hogan’s Heroes went off the air. Like I said we would eat in the basement, and on more than one occasion I wouldn’t be paying attention, go down the stairs too quickly, and my spaghetti would slide RIGHT OFF my plate. I am sure my dad wanted to kill me.

I got to stay home by myself (no more babysitter! Yeah) when I was in 4th grade, which meant I cooked dinner. I remember one time I tried to make spaghetti sauce from scratch. It was terrible. To this day, spaghetti sauce still comes from a jar, can, or packet. And I had to come home straight from school, so as soon as my dad would come home in the summer, I was off on my bike until I hard him call, “MMMAAARRRGGGIIIEEE”. DIdn’t matter how far I was, 1 block or 1 mile, I always heard him.

I remember having to move. I remember looking at houses, and I especially didn’t like the one we moved into, but we could afford it (barely) and “I should see it for the potential it has”. Yeah right, when you’re 15 that means you’re moving, you don’t have to like it, but it’s the way it is. Life was hard, a summer spent with no friends. But in the end, God guides you where you don’t want to go, and leaves you with sweet memories of where you were.

1 comment:

Pat said...

I enjoyed this little window into your childhood. I can just picture the spaghetti sliding off of your plate, and I can almost hear your dad yelling MMAARRRGGGIIIIEEE!