Burn Down the House!

When I was a little kid there were a couple of times that our house almost burned down. One was my fault and I'm just luck. The other was some neighbor kids and we had to call the fire department. I had a space heater in my room and one night when it was turned on I threw a pillow on top of it. When I woke up the next day my parents showed me the slightly burned pillow and explained the danger associated with the heater. That was kinda' scary and also sad. The pillow was a homemade throw pillow with a teddy bear on it. I had a matching set until one got tainted by the space heater.

The other time was more serious. It was attempted arson! There were these two boys who lived on our street who were trouble makers. I remember one time when they were walking around the block carrying a butcher knife and a big rope. One day I was out riding my little red bike and they got me to put it up in the back of my dad's pickup truck. They then put the tailgate down and said that if I rode fast enough I could jump the bike out of the bed of the truck. I was just about ready to go when my mom came out and quickly assessed the situation, bringing it to a quick stop.

Then one Sunday afternoon, when we got home from church, the pine tree in front of our house was on fire. We called the fire department and I think my dad put out the blaze with a garden hose. When the firemen arrived they traced the source of the fire back through the grass and over near the gas box in front of our house. It was a good thing we came home from church when we did. My parents suspected those two no good boys, but I don't know if they were ever convicted of being involved.

Time To Go!

When I was little my mom would take me over to one of our neighbor's houses and we would go swimming. During the summer it seemed like we went almost every day. I really liked to swim and play games in the water with my neighbor friends. We would play missile, marco-polo, and my favorite sharks and minnows. They had a diving board and it was great to be the shark. Standing on top of the board waiting for the perfect moment to turn and jump to catch your minnow prey. 

It was a blast being there and so I never wanted to leave. When I would hear my mom say, "Time to go", I would duck under the water and turn in circles. When I popped up I would take a big gulp of air and then quickly go back under as I heard, "Com'on it's tim....." I would just keep repeating this process as long as I could. One day this brilliant scheme back fired. I was doing my gulp and spin routine when I hit the gradual slope to the deep-end. Somehow in that moment I forgot how to swim and the top of the water seemed too far away. I found my self jumping toward the surface gulping, flapping my arms, pleading for help and not spinning. My mom patiently directed me to move toward the shallow end with each jump. She saved my life! 

Halloween

I'm writing this because Halloween is a little less than a week away and I thought it might be good to write about it while I was thinking of it. Currently I'm a self declared Halloween Scrooge. I just don't like all of the haunting and tricking that comes with the treating. I do like the treating but, for adults, the treats seem to take a back seat to the other less tasteful aspects of this late October celebration. Kids, on the other hand, seem to accentuate the good part. They dress up because it is fun to pretend, not because they want to live some alter ego for a day or have an excuse to look and act silly. Kids view the doorstep treat as a treasure, not some sort of right. Some little kids even cry when they see a scary face...now there's a novel idea.

I once was a little kid. I have pictures of Be Nimble the ghost, Be Nimble the cowboy, Be Nimble the construction worker, and Be Nimble the red indian (See a couple below). When I was little I would skip the "scary" houses. I carried a sandwich size brown paper bag, not a pillow case. I would always bring my candy home and then sort and count it. Usually I would load it back into my bag and save it. It usually lasted the whole year. When my little sisters came along I would trade candy with them so that I could have more of my favorites. I liked to share my stash with special visitors. I had fun being a ghost, a cowboy, a construction worker, and an indian for a day. If you ask me, that is the way Halloween should be. People need to grow up and be something for real instead of reverting to a one-day-per-year display of true character.

Saturday Morning

When I was little I remember a little bit of Saturday morning cartoons..."After these messages we'll be right back." Mostly what I remember is yard work. I think that Saturday was always the lawn mowing day. I don't remember when I went from waking up to the sound of the lawn mower to waking up to mow the lawn. I'm amazed that there was so much work around our little house to do.

One Saturday my dad was trimming the hedge between our driveway and the neighbor's driveway. He was clipping it by hand. He had finished the sides and part of the top, but he couldn't quite reach the middle of the top. I was anxious to help because I thought that the giant pair of scissors he was using looked quite fun. My dad came up with a brilliant Idea for how to cut the last part of the bush. He placed a half sheet of plywood (maybe a quarter, it was more like 2'X4') on top of the cut part of the bush. The plan was to then let me sit on top of this board and my small weight distributed over the large piece of wood could easily be held by the bush, right?

Wrong! All went according to plan until the little kid, me, was thrown onto the board. I either didn't understand the concept of try trying to distribute myself or I was too little to do it properly. Whichever one it was meant that the board and I went into a vertical position and I slid right into the middle of the hedge. I was surrounded and stuck by hedge on every side. It was a pretty thick bush and I was pretty trapped. The bush had scraped me too. The only way to get out was for my dad to pull me out of the same hole I had created.

As a note of reflection: My father is a civil engineer. The bush bridge he made that day failed. I wonder if this event had any bearing on my choosing engineering, but not bridges, weapons. Who knows!

Salt Does Not Equal Pepper

When I was little we had several staple meals for each meal; Breakfast was oatmeal or cream of wheat; Lunch was sandwiches or hot dogs; and Dinner was meat and potatoes, or scrambled eggs with toast or muffins. I've spoke of breakfast before, all I'll say about lunch is that I remember choking on hot dogs and oranges, and dinner...well that is what this post is about.

You see when we had meat and potatoes it was usually with gravy and green beans. I would spread the mashed potatoes out and then put gravy on and then stick the beans vertically through the gravy and into the potatoes. I imagined that the brown gravy was mud and the green beans were trees. This helped me to eat it all because I would try to get some mud and a tree with every bite of potato.

I noticed that the adults added salt and pepper to their food and I wanted to try it. I added a little salt and pepper. When I tasted it it seemed too salty, so I added more pepper. Then it was too peppery, so I added more salt. This vicious cycle continued until I had a concoction that would probably have preserved you mid sneeze. My mother was the type who wouldn't let you leave the table without finishing your food, especially if you had insisted on taking more (or in this case, insisted on adding salt and pepper). If my first salt and pepper experience had been delicious I would not remember it, but I do remember it.

Oo-De-Lally! I Can Read!

When I was little I loved the cartoon Disney movies, just like most kid I suppose. At least I thought I loved them. Recently I purchased Robin Hood on DVD and when I watched it I remembered a lot of it, but there were parts that I would swear I was seeing for the first time. I've had the same experience with several other classics like Pinocchio and Snow White. There is a possibility that I never actually saw these films before I learned them.

You see, when I was a little boy my mother bought a set of children's books that were published by Disney. They each had illustrated scenes from the movies and had a cassette tape that accompanied them. The tape read the words on the pages and then gave a nice little chime to let you know when to turn the page. I thought I was reading these books with the tape, but I don't think I could actually read.

One day my mother noticed that I could read the books. Actually I had memorized all of the words, with voice inflections, and the proper moment to turn the page. I only fooled her until she caught me "reading" without the book. It must have still impressed my parents though because they have me on home video reciting the stories.

Little Boy Blue...Ran Away

When I was little sometimes I would get really mad at things. I would threaten to run away and then pack up and leave. I never made it far. I usually ended up sitting in the car port in front of the car. I thought I waited out there for a couple of hours and then I would sneak back in to the back yard. I bet that it was really like 15 minutes at the longest, but it felt like forever to a little kid. I would usually try to come through the back door and make it to my room. In such a small house this never happened. My mom always gave me a big hug and told me she loved me. The truth is that I love my mom too. No more "Little Boy Blue."

Digging to China

When I was little I had a large portion of the back yard dedicated to my enjoyment. The  back half of the yard was dirt with some citrus trees and a homemade tree fort. Half of that half was just plain dirt and for half of the year that half was turned into a garden. At the very back of the yard, mostly in the garden half, I had a spot of dirt that was all mine. How did I utilize that plot? I did the typical little boy thing and dug a hole.

The hole was about three feet in diameter and a couple feet deep. It served for years as one of my favorite play places. That hole was a construction site, the grand canyon, a fox hole, bunker, hiding place, sandbox, swimming pool (when it rained), and food source (I used to eat dirt). One day there was a man over at our house and he asked me about my dirt hole. I told him about how special my hole was. I think I also revealed my ultimate goal of turning it into an underground secret hideout room.

He said, "it looks like you're digging a hole to china."
As a little kid I was like, "What?"
He then gave me a lesson in geography, "If you dig all the way through the earth you'll end up in china!"
I said, "oh" and from then on when people asked about my hole I told them about china. As a note, I've since discovered that if I had made it all the way through the earth then I would have ended up in the ocean or Australia. I also found out later that the earth is not solid the whole way through. Boy am I glad I didn't make a volcano in our back yard.

How Much is That Doggy...

When I was little it took me forever to eat breakfast. It still does sometimes because I developed the habit of chewing my oatmeal. I would usually take a large spoonful with a little milk and then chew and chew...and chew, until I was satisfied that I wouldn't choke, and then swallow. This process was usually followed by a swig of juice or water and then the task of the next bite was commenced and repeated.

My mother was very patient with me. She occasionally would take care of the spoon loading and lifting when I got tired of it. While she waited for me to finish processing she would teach me nursery rhymes or simple songs. On of my favorites was "How Much is That Doggy in the Window?"

I'm pretty sure my mother's rendition wasn't as glamorous as this one.

Oooo! A Big Doggy!

When I was little we lived next to an interesting guy. He was a manly man, as I remember it. He worked construction, drove a big truck, drank in the evenings and more on the weekends. And he had a couple of the biggest meanest dogs ever. They were wolves, literally. Maybe not purebred wolves but at least they looked like wolves. He always kept them on a chain. Not a rope because they would have chewed a rope off. I know they could have chewed a rope easy because they chewed through our fence. We had a wooden fence; the kind that gives you slivers if you're not nice to it.

One day the dogs broke loose from their chain! It was night time and they jumped our fence. Then they jumped our other fence into our other neighbors yard. Our neighbors had two nice little bunny rabbits. I say had because the dogs ate them. What amazed me was that the dogs then jumped back over both fences and went back to their own yard. Before those dogs ate those rabbits I thought that all dogs where nice. It boils down to a lack of education. After that I knew that dogs could be mean.

Another time I was playing in the back yard and one of those mean dogs jumped over our fence. Lucky for me it was still on it's chain so it hung from the fence. It didn't die. We ran next door and told the man that his dog was hanging and he came to our side and threw his dog back over the fence. It was a lucky day for the dog and me!

Commodore 64

When I was a little kid, until I was a teenager, my family had a Commodore 64. It was complete with 5.5" floppy drive and a one button joy stick. I had some great games. Like Frogger, Roger Rabbit, and Where In The World Is Carmen San Diego. We also had some other non-traditional games or programs. There was one that let you write music. It gave you a blank score and then you would add notes and click play to here it played electronically. I guess that was the precursor to Garage Band. Anyway it was pretty cool. My dad told me that he thought when he bought it, "how will we ever use 1 Mb of memory?" Wow, things sure have changed. I bet if my mom had saved all of the letters she typed on that thing it would have taken up a whole gigabyte today.

Sunday Memories

When I was little I went to primary Sunday school every week. We would sing, play games, listen to stories from the scriptures, and occasionally have treats. When I was 2 and 3 years-old I went to the nursery where we had treats every week. I must have liked food back then because the nursery leader told me, years later, that he will always remember me as the kid who asked for seconds, every week. Raisins and crackers, YUM!

As part of the primary they assigned a couple of two-minute talks to the kids each week. One day when I was four I was asked if I would like to give one of these talks. I said, "sure."

My mother was surprised and asked if I was really up to it. I said, "oh mom, it's easy. All I have to do is stand there and repeat what you tell me to say." You see, most of the young kids had a parent come in and read their talk with them and they would just parrot it into the mike. Well, my mom explained that that is not really how it works and that I would have to give the talk myself, but she would help me write it. True to her word she helped me write it (I couldn't read so it was a pictogram of sorts) and I spent the whole week memorizing it.

I'm proud to report that the following Sunday I gave my whole two-minute talk all by myself. It was probably one of the best talks I have ever given. I don't remember what it was about I just remember a picture of foot kicking a soccer ball. It must have been good.

The Cheerio Motivation

When I was little I was not allowed to have "sugar cereal." You know like Lucky Charms, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Cookie Crisp, and Rice Krispies type cereals. That's right, even the snap, crackle, and pop of puffed rice earned the tittle of "sugar cereal" (Which didn't last long once I found out how to read-because I could say, "hey mom, there's only 1 gram of sugar in these"). Anyway, about the only variety of cold cereal that we had was Cheerios and Corn Flakes. I must have really liked Cheerios because they helped me learn to walk.

I also have never liked grass. At least I've never liked the half-dry-its-obvious-grass-was-never-meant-to-grow-in-the-desert type. When I was little I didn't like it because it was prickly, now I don't like it because I'm allergic to it. My parents discovered this weakness before I was even a year old. They thought it was hilarious to put me in the middle of the "lawn" and watch me crab walk out or just stand up and start crying (Ha, Ha :( no). Okay, so my parents aren't really sadists they just used this as a tool to help me learn how to walk.

The plan was simple. Put Cheerios on the sidewalk next to the "lawn"; put the little kid, who can't walk yet, in the middle of the "lawn"; and then point out the Cheerios to the little kid. Let the walking begin! It worked. I can walk. Maybe someday I'll post the super 8 video of this amazing event.

Pepsi and Cheese

Our small house was a twin-home and the folks who lived in the twin part, next door, where an elderly couple who I called grandma and grandpa hatch. They were not my parents parents but they were very nice people. I still have a nativity that grandma Hatch gave me one year for Christmas and it is tradition to set it up the ceramic-hand-painted figurines in a prominent place every year during the holiday season. I loved to go over and visit with them and I think they liked having me come over.

My parents had a non-caffeine policy that was strictly enforced at home. As a little kid I didn't have any concept of what this meant. When I would go visit the neighbors grandma Hatch would always give me my very own can of soda to drink and a square of american cheese. I would then sit next to grandpa hatch, watch baseball, and enjoy this treat until my mom would come and get me.

Every time my mom came she didn't seem too happy at the delicious meal of Pepsi and cheese that I was enjoying and would always kindly take it away from me and explain the no caffeine rule to me and grandma Hatch again. I guess grandma Hatch didn't understand the rule any better than I did because every time I went over there I was offered the same deliciouses.

Grandma and Grandpa Hatch were great people in my book. I remember them with fondness especially at Christmas time...

or  when someone offers me a Pepsi!

Small House

We lived in a small house until I was 8. It was less than 800 square feet, but it had 3 bedrooms and two bathrooms. When you’re little everything seems big and this house was no different. I remember that by the time I had 3 sisters I had been upgraded to the "spare" room which I shared with my baby sister, her pack-and-play, a computer desk/office area, and a lot of food storage. I always had a pet fish and this blog is about a gold one that lived on the top of a dresser in my room. He seemed happy in his octagon bowl and it sure was fun to have a pet to take care of.

One day when some cousins where over at our house playing and I learned a lesson about gold fish and peer pressure. I would guess that I was about 4 or younger. My cousins all thought my pet fish was pretty cool and it was fun, for a while, to tap on the glass and wake him up and make him move. Then someone came up with a brilliant idea that would be "fun" and clean the fish bowl at the same time. I don't know if the baby wipes were meant for my baby sister or me, but I found out that they were not for fish.

Next thing I know the 0ctagon bowl has become an ultimate fighting arena where my fish and the baby wipes are fighting to the death. I guess fins and scales are no match because my fish died. Now that I analyse the situation he may have drowned because there were so many baby wipes in his bowl that I don't think any water was left. Oops! As I recall my mother had a hard time understanding why we would fill the fish bowl completely to the top with wipes and I had a hard time understanding why my fish died.

When I was a little kid!

Hello,
This is my first blog entry ever, I think. I decided while I was at work today that I should try to capture some of my childhood memories. My goal is to try to remember things from when I was a little kid and then share them with you all. I hope you enjoy!