Reading Tara's post
An Ode to Blogging at
Too Much Information got me thinking about life in general. I have all these memories, but nothing written down. I do journal, however it is more of a venting journal since I can't just go run at the drop of a hat. Before kids, my way to vent was to go for a good run. I am now realizing that I should document more of what I did as a kid and share those stories with my boys now that they are old enough to appreciate them. They have been to my hometown many times, but I have not taken the time to show them where I played as a child. We are generally too busy visiting family and going to our favorite family spots, such as the Sweet Shoppe and best local bakery in town. Next time I will have to drive them around and aquaint them with my old childhood haunts.
The Babysitter's House: my home away from home
My mom and my pop both worked, so my sister and I went to "The Babysitters", at least that is what we called it then. Now we call it a Home Daycare. Jeanne, the babysitter, was older than my mom, but not quite as old as a grandmother. Times were very different back then. The older kids were allowed to go to the hill (at the end of her street) and play without adult supervision. The hill was like an escape, this is where I truly felt creative (and I am not very creative). I would go there and play on this bunch of rocks, that looked like teeth to me, and just hang out. Other kids would go too and we would play as if we were in the jungle......at the tender age of 7 and 8 it was like a jungle, lots of trees, bushes, wild flowers, and tons of poison oak. There wasn't a time I didn't come home without getting the nasty rash that followed. Later in life I discovered that I get it so bad that contact with the pollen is enough to trigger the burning itch and nasty red rash. Any way, another favorite was to get cardboard and climb to the top of the hill when the grass was dry and "sled" down. We all came home with ugly bumps and bruises, but none of us cared because it was such a great time. When we got tired we would go to the west side of the hill and look at the view. You could see most of the town, all the way to the freeway. It was beautiful.
The Hill: my own personal backyard
Sadly, many years ago, a family cut off the top of the hill to make way for their house. I don't blame them, the view is lovely and they probably enjoy it every day. But gone are the days of childhood fantasies as well as the freedoms that we were able to enjoy many years ago.
And this is my childhood home. My mom still lives here.
