Trick or Treat...

I remember when it was safe to accept home baked goods when Trick or Treating as a kid. Seems like such a long time ago. I was still quite young the first time I'd heard about some poor kid biting into a caramel apple that had a razor blade in it. It was a long time before I could eat one not made by my mom. Trick or Treating is supposed to be a fun night for kids of all ages; a safe walk through the neighborhood where kids basically beg for candies and toilet paper the house of those that don't hand any out. Right?

Gonna tell you about my most favorite Halloween of all time. It earned my siblings and I a deserved beat down...Can't recall the year or my exact age, but I think I was around 8 years old and so for the sake of this posting, we'll just agree I indeed was 8. It was a normal day that turned into our sneakiest night yet - we decided to make a dummy to scare kids who came Trick or Treating. It turned out awesome!

We used my one brothers old clothes, shoes, baseball cap and even a pair of his glasses. Made the limbs and torso out of newspapers using small branches for stability. Little bugger sat on the porch until past dark and we then made much better use of him...

Across the street there were two homes but at the corner, the lot was empty. A number of tall, thick trunked trees were on that lot with the granddaddy of them all near a stop sign. We'd found some rope - a nice long stretch of it - and made a noose for our dummy, slid his neck in and tightened it up. Oh, did I forget to mention that we slung the rope over a nice thick branch that overhang the cross street first? Well, we did. Once our dummy was perfectly hanging close to the branch, we hid behind the mammoth trunk of our host tree.

What you should also know is that the street we had it hanging over may have been flat where we were, it wasn't when you were driving up to that crest. There were no stop signs on this road at the cresting either, just on the cross street. It was super dark but for the moonlight...and the beam from the headlights coming up the hill.

We were nervously excited at the potential outcome of our devious prank. Still hiding behind the tree, lights were coming up the hill and we had to have this timed perfectly. Holding our collective breath, the seconds that went by were like hours until the precise moment came when we could let the rope loose and watch our dummy fall in front of the car that just topped the hill. It was dead on timing! Who'd of thought our first drop would be so perfect! The driver of the car stomped the breaks and beat on the horn at the same time - we accomplished our goal of scaring the crap out of someone!

Next thing to happen was our getting our butts beat severely for even thinking of doing such a thing, then beat some more for the mental distress caused to the driver, then again for that small detail that the driver could have been so freaked out, instead of stomping the break he could have hit the gas and propelled his car into one of the trees on that lot. Sure, who wouldn't be sorry for something bad really happening to someone because of something we did - we really were sorry about that.. Thing is, the potential outcome never came to our minds - we were just youngin's pulling a prank. Fact is, no one was physically hurt but us with the beat down but the memory of our achievement still makes me put on my devilish face and be proud that we had set a goal and accomplished it greatly!

Brutha from anotha Mutha...

Sorry, couldn't help myself with the title

There is only one person in this entire world, that if I met him, my life will be forever better. For some reason, I cannot for the life of me remember how I happened to locate another man back in the mid 90's with the same name who turned out to be the way I found the one I was looking for. The one I found initially is a lawyer in CA and said he'd help, all he needed was some information. I gave him what I had, which wasn't all that much, and before I knew it, I had a phone number for the one I intended to find!!

We'd talked a few times on the phone, exchanged letters and later on emails from time to time but meeting this man is tops on my life's bucket list. Came close a few times, but life has a way of always interfering.

I've known of this man basically all of his life and the regrets of having to miss out on him, though not put upon me myself, are a constant. He is my brother. Technically he is my half brother but I've never thought of or referred to him as such. Would love to meet his wife and children; his mom who accepted me via a phone call and was happy that I'd found them; his sister who I consider my own because of our shared link to him...so many I wish I could know.

My brother. Always on my mind, always in my heart. One day may I have the chance to fly out and meet you because finally nothing will get in the way of the plan...Love you brother mine

Chris...The Best Dog Ever...Part One...

The back stairs at the house on the corners of Thomas and Earlington Avenues were, from my then perspective, about a mile high up to the back door. Mom's collie, Cheena, was about to give birth to a litter of pups and it was nearing dusk on that Christopher Columbus Day back in 1964 and poor Cheena was on her way up those stairs when it happened.

On the fourth step up, her babies began coming and the next thing I know, the lot of us kids are with her trying to make her as comfortable as we could right there on those stairs. I met my new best friend that day and named her Christopher Columbus Barrus. Yeah, I know the name belongs to the male gender but what the heck did I know about that kind of thing then?! She was a collie and shepherd mix and the sire's owner came down once hearing about the birth trying to stake claim on all the puppies. Not a smart move on his part as mom went after him rather severely! He agreed to one pup but I don't remember him coming back to claim it when it reached the right age.

Chris was my baby and she went everywhere I was allowed to take her along. Never used a collar or leash with her, didn't have to as this was the worlds smartest dog ever. When going to some friends that lived across the Sunset, my Chris would put her teeth in whatever I was wearing and she could reach, even if it was just my shoelace, and not allow me to cross that four-laner with a turn lane in the middle unless she thought it was safe for me to do so. I never even had a near miss when Chris was with me - she was the best dog ever. I missed her a lot when I had to live with my grandparents Anardi for a few years but on the weekends I could go home, it was wonderful just to play with her again. She never favored anyone else but mom while I was gone and I think she instinctively knew the necessity for mom to have to send two of her kids to her parents was pretty hard on her. At least, that's what I like to think.

Gramma Anardi...Part One

My gramma Pearl Emma Lewis Anardi was my second best friend of all time...only bested by my mom. Neither women were considered friends by me in my younger years as both had their moments of meanness  however I've been able to look back on years gone by and know that they were only doing their jobs as best they could with what they had.

Anyway, gramma was a stout woman and didn't have the easiest of lives being married to grampa but there are moments in my memory that stand out as ones that if they haven't left me know, they surely never will:

Gramma taught me how to tie my shoes in what I saw at the time as mean. I was set to begin Kindergarten and she told me that unless I learned to tie my shoes, they would not let me attend class. She showed me how to do it many, many times and I just had the hardest time trying to complete the job. Gramma never ever bribed her grandkids into doing anything, she just used fear. Her telling me I would not be allowed to go to school was just the ticket - within 10 minutes of her statement, I was tying my own shoes!

Remember getting those flyers about books in school? You know the ones, where the parent could pick out which books to purchase for their kid(s) at well below the store prices? Well, during my kindergarten year I had received one of those flyers, looked it over real good and saw a ton of books I wanted. Full of excitement, I ran into the house after getting off the bus to tell gramma all about it. I tried to bribe her, telling her I would do this or that if I could just have one single book from that paper. Though I couldn't tell you which book specifically it was that I was panting over, I can tell you that gramma went to her built in linen storage unit at the end of the hallway, opened the second drawer and dang it, didn't she come back with that very book! I didn't know how to read, but with gramma's patience and my absolute adoration for her at that moment, I at least could read the words in that book from that moment on.
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Just late this morning, I was talking to my middle one about the wood burning stove and double oven range in my grandparents kitchen. Oh, the table they had, too! Blonde wood full of nicks and cuts that today I can only see as character given to it through countless years of raising kids. Gramma always made her own pasta and I was telling my middle one how grams would throw flour all over that table, toss her dough on and roll it out for ravioli. I saw and helped her roll out her pie dough - man, that woman could bake up some amazing pies!

Gramma was an amazing woman. Her day was as follows: she awoke at 9:30 pm to get ready for work as an RN on night shift in Seattle, about a 30-40 minute drive from home. When she got home from her shift, she made breakfast before taking her husband to work at PACAR (Pacific Car and Foundry) down in Renton. When she got home from that, she did the breakfast dishes then got my brother and I ready for the day while my Uncle John got dressed. She'd lay down for a 'nap' around 10 am and get up at noon to make us lunch. Another nap for her until she had to start dinner before going to pick her husband up for work. She served our dinner and went back to sleep until 9:30pm. Could never figure out why grampa didn't drive his truck to work instead of making gramma take him and pick him up - going without much needed sleep and still expected to take care of all the required chores. He was a dick.

Buttermilk and Cracker Jacks...

Mert and Walt were our neighbors while living on the corner of Thomas and Earlington Avenues. I'll never forget the first time I went over there...

My brother and I were looking for more playmates so we knocked on the door of the brown house next to ours. Mert was a hefty woman and when she said she was sorry, she had no children for us to play with my brother asked her if she was going to - yes, I remind you that Mert was a bit round however unable to have children of her own.

My brother inadvertently offended Mert and sad to say, he did not end up as fortunate as I was in finding such wonderful friends in the childless couple that lived next to us. Their home became my sanctuary; a place I go escape my reality. Hard to imagine I didn't spend more time at their house than my own; I was loved as if I were indeed their very own child and having that made the truth of my life so much better. I could go over at any time - no knocking required - and just be like an only child in a two parent home. It seemed every time I went to their house I'd get either Buttermilk or a box of Cracker Jacks - two of my favorite things.

Oh the things I was able to do with them! They took me all kinds of places: camping trips complete with my very own sleeping bag and fishing pole; the ice cream parlor; shopping for a new dress and shoes; just running errands like anyone else did. They had a big garden that took up the majority of their back yard that had a stone walk-way throughout so one wouldn't step on the plants. There was a deck off the sliding glass door that was the home of Walt's favorite cooking appliance - his grill. I felt so special to them when one day they handed me a few packets of seeds, a little shovel and a child sized garden apron then led me to a little patch of dirt and said it was all for me - my own garden. Because you don't yet know all that went on in my own house, you can't imagine what it meant to be me right then, how I truly wished Mert and Walt were my real parents.

My mind is a flood and am at the moment lost in a flurry of memories which make me unable to focus on just one single thought. I'll tell you more about these 'parents' as I go on but for now I need to take an emotional break...

Oh yeah, the entire ensamble I'm wearing in this picture is one given by Mert and Walt for my sixth birthday so I would have something special to wear on Easter Sunday at church. Mom couldn't outfit us in such finery and as I think about it now, I can't help but imagine how badly she must have felt about that...

Grandparents Barrus...Part One

When I was but a very young thing, mom received plane tickets for all of us, including her, to fly to Utah and spend time with gramma and grampa. I remember mom standing by the buffet in the dining room, on the phone, thanking gramma for the tickets but saying she couldn't afford to take time off since her son doesn't help financially. Mom said she was going to cash in the tickets because there were things her children needed far more than a trip. I heard her say 'thank you, Eliza, thank you for not being upset'.

Years later we lived on a dirt lane in a yellow three bedroom ranch style house. I loved it there: the yard was fenced in so my girl Chris (you'll really meet her in a later post) could run freely within the confines of the yard. We were told our grandparents Barrus were coming to visit which meant unless you count being an infant, I will be meeting them for the first time. I was in the 5th grade and pretty excited to get this opportunity and for me, it was amazing.

We went to the Seattle Center, going on rides and eating all manner of junk foods! It was the best since it surely wasn't something this family did on a regular basis! Grampa said he didn't like roller coasters and I wholeheartedly agreed with that statement yet somehow we ended up seated together on it, having a lot of fun on the ride. When we got back with the rest, gramma said my cousins back in Utah were not going to like me because none of them could get grampa to go on a roller coaster - EVER - no matter how hard they begged and pleaded. I was instantly proud of my feat and it's still one of my all time best memories.

In a later post, I'll tell the rest of this story which I'll give a hint of now: when my grandparents departed Seattle for Salt Lake City...I was gifted with a ticket and sitting in between them!

Mobile Life...

Having just installed the app for mobile blogger it hit me how virtual my life has become. Remember there was a time before the Web and we all talked either on the phone or in person and didn't let the whole world in on our more personal side of living?

Now we post just about everything up to and including the intimate things. Our children follow our lead, spending more and more time online instead of being active playing with friends. Schools have made laptops mandatory in some grades, lending to the sedentary lifestyle they will claim as their own.

Even as I sit here with my husband waiting for his appointment, I am writing this via the mobile app...thank goodness my kids are adults and I don't have to worry about setting a bad example.

Mom...so funny

Three hilarious memories stand out:

It was April Fool's day and I couldn't tell you the year, but we lived in Timberlane, lower section. Mom knew how much we loved Jell-o and this time when she made it, when placing our desert dishes in front of us she told us there was a marshmallow at the bottom! Myself and my two older sibs took our time to reach the drool-causing marshmallow while my one brother all but hoovered his Jell-o to reach the puffy deliciousness. When he reached his desired treat and started chewing on it, his eyes bulged out of his thick lens glasses and he spit it out with such force it literally stuck to the outside of his bowl. Mom, dear mom, put a friggin large cotton ball in our Hell-o! The humor of it was not seen until years later...

(Still living in Timberlane) I was super sick one Thanksgiving season to the point of having to spend a few days at my grandparents in order to not get my siblings sick. I was brought home on Thanksgiving Day and mom had prepared a great turkey meal. Grampa sat at the head of the table like it was his house, carved the bird and doled out the slices to us all. After the dinner dishes were cleared, mom was about to set desert when she told her father he just had to try this new, incredibly delicious pepper! She put the jar in front of him and he forked a few, then popped them into his mouth. He began chewing and it hit him...he had just released the ferocious heat of two whole jalapeno peppers and the attack was fun for us to watch! Tears began to well up in his eyes; then his face contorted; mouth gaping, gasping and arms waiving as if he was trying to put out a real fire. He began screaming for water, which for us was about the funniest thing we'd ever seen. Mom knew the water would do nothing for him but gave him a big ol' glass of it anyway and we continued to laugh our collective asses off. Needless to say, grampa did not find the humor in what he'd just experienced...tough shit!

Flash forward to my eighth grade year and once again it is April Fool's Day. I'd always gotten moms first cup of coffee ready for her and on this day, I was going to make it extra special. I'd brewed the coffee so it would be ready when she woke up. When she did, I'd told her I'd be right there with her mug of get-up juice. Know how over time you build up a great collection of spices? Yeah, I put a crazy concoction in that cup of coffee, sniffed it to make sure there was no odor and took it into moms room for her to enjoy. I'd safely gotten back to the kitchen when I'd heard "SON OF A BITCH! LIZABETH, YOU BETTER HOPE YOU CAN RUN FASTER THAN ME!!"

April Fool's paybacks are a real bitch, ain't they?

Sperm Donor...Only Part

There is very little I remember about the biological pop but all of it is quite vivid...

He had a motorcycle which had a gold speckled seat behind the operators seat. We lived in a housing development above the West Valley Highway in Kent and being just about three years old, I don't remember much other than what I'll relate here:

Donor used to piss mom off by giving me rides on that cycle - in our yard - but still, barely over toddler stage and on the rear seat with no sissy bar at that age. Yeah, I can still see mom chasing us, arms flailing, screaming at the top of her lungs for donor to stop the bike...happened often enough that mom would say I was right in my recollections. Maybe that's how I got my doing stupid stunts from. I used that gold speckled seat as my booster at the kitchen table for a few years after we moved.

I don't remember seeing it happen, but I remember how mom reacted when my older sister's leg got caught under the wagon she was riding down the block in and donor was nowhere to be found...with the car. She broke her leg and mom had to find a neighbor nice enough to drive her and her daughter to the hospital and yet another neighbor to watch the rest of us. 

Walking into mom and donor's bedroom I can still see how he was sleeping: laying on his back with his right arm over his eyes...

We moved to Thomas and Earlington Avenues when I was three years old. How awesome to be living in such a big house, on the corner of the block with playground equipment half a block away at what would be my elementary school a few years later. How cool was it when we found Cathy's family had moved in down the hill shortly before we did! We'd known them at the previous housing development so it was nice being in a new place and already knowing someone. Somewhere in the following 12 months or so, mom had caught donor in a huge lie which led to her discovery of his cheating. Fights ensued; tension at home was pretty bad and that's when I believe mom took up drinking for sport. He was told to go, and he did...

There was a supporting beam which separated the dining area and the living room. On his last morning in the house, we were all lined up according to age under that beam so he could say his good-byes. As he gave us all hugs, he also gave us dollars in accordance to our age and as I was still three years old, I received $3 and so on up the line. I remember crying and the lot of us running to the big windows to watch him drive off...

He came back a few months later to give my one brother a race car set complete with track for his birthday. He didn't stay long and I'm sure he and I had a few words but all I can honestly remember was that he came back for my brothers birthday. When he came back for my fourth birthday, I wished he hadn't...

Mom had put together a little birthday party for me and before my little friends arrived, I had to have dinner. Mom made burgers 'cause that's what I wanted and she'd also cut up onions for donor's burger. He figured out I didn't like onions but told me there would be no party if I didn't eat all the onion slices that were left, and he meant it - even told mom to call the parents and tell them. Mom got raging mad the more he tried to force me causing me to cry even harder. Next thing I know, mom went into her bedroom, grabbed a belt she used on our butts and started whackin him with it telling him to get the hell out - how dare he treat his own daughter so cruelly. Once I recovered, my party was great! Go mom!!

Several times when we had no adult supervision and had to stay inside while mom was at work, donor would pull up in front of the house in his VW Beetle and just sit there looking at the house. Our faces plastered to the glass of the windows yelling for him to come to the door, waving our hands at him - he never got out of his car. Just sat there for what felt like an eternity before facing forward and driving away.

When I was 13, I met him again. Spent the equivalent of a day with him down in Los Angeles where he lived. I was not impressed. Never saw him again. Heard from him, though. My oldest sister thought it was okay to give out my phone number to him when I was living outside Buffalo. When I answered the phone and he told me who he was, I hung up. This happened a few times right away and the last time I lit into him like no one else could: told him everything I hated about him, especially what he put mom through by his financial neglect in raising us. Think I spent about 20 minutes laying into his sorry ass and hung up on him again. And he called right back for more of the same! I told him to go back to forgetting I existed and for maybe a year or two he did. Yup, got my phone number again. 

The last time he was given my phone number and let himself be put through my version of civility towards him, I told him I'd be out visiting mom and if he wanted any chance of clearing the air with me, he'd show up. Turns out, he was supposed to be visiting one of my brothers at the same time so I figured I'd see him. When I got to moms, I learned donor changed his plans and had been in the area the previous week. Asshole. This same scenario happened three times in total and the last one was indeed the last one. He'd called me a few weeks after I'd returned from my trip and I lit into him again giving him one final chance: You claim to want to know me but refuse to see me. You have my address; show up on my doorstep and you have the only opportunity for me to let you into my life. Never heard from him again.

I recall a conversation with my mom over the phone somewhere in the middle of all this and she'd said that maybe he was trying to set things right before he died. I asked her why I should let him go to his grave in peace when I spent my entire life knowing he didn't give a shit about me? That's when she understood my anger at him. She said she never saw it that way before, that she was sorry and that she'd not speak of him again to me.

When I learned he's suffered a fatal heart attack and stroke years later, I didn't feel bad for not being able to feel anything for a man who gave me life and nothing else. My boss at the time said I had five days bereavement but I had to explain to her I would feel guilty taking paid time off for a man I didn't know. I know it's probably wrong and some may think me cruel but unless you've been where I've been, you can't understand. Yes, I still miss the idea of having a real dad; one that was there to kiss the boo boos, teach me how to play ball or fishing instead of mom having to. And yes, I still hate the man that hurt my mom most especially because she loved him until the day she died.

Mom...Part One

I'm going to preface future postings on my mom saying she was one of the best friends I'd ever had. Imperfect, drank a lot, whooped our collective asses like it was her only job in life, extremely intelligent, soft hearted, and beautiful. I realize there are contradictions in my description of her, but it's the woman she was.

You will read posts on how she beat our asses...often; taking us to the lake after working all day at one job but before needing to go to another; giving up on finding Mr Right; other abusive methods to get us to listen; how she did every single thing she had to in order for us to have what we needed even though some things embarrassed her.

I think I was about 11 or 12 when I realized all she'd done - right or wrong - for us. I saw her as a person, not just my mom. How I treated her from then on was the basis of a mutual respect not just as parent/child but as human beings who happen to be blood and friends. For all her at times horrific parenting, my mom was the best she could be given her own life experiences...

Risky...

Just the other day, my middle one and I were out and about discussing all matter of things when she mentioned how having not been overly exposed to taking risks as a child has made it a bit difficult to put herself out there as an adult. I had to apologize. I was a daring youngin' and I told her about the things I'd done:

Scaling the side of my elementary school building up to my first grade classroom because the doors were locked (the school year had ended) and I just knew my teacher Mrs. Buckinger was up there doing what teachers do once the instruction year was over. I did make it up there! My error was letting go with one hand to wave at my teacher which caused a meeting with the ground that was not in my itinerary. Did I learn anything? Yes - to not let go and wave. Up again I went; fall again I did. I did this three times and it is true that three times is a charm because that's how many times it took for me to severely sprain my right wrist making another climb impossible.

Another crazy thing was climbing on the roof of Cathy's house; walking the wood fence to the trees at the back and literally walk through the trees via the branches. Hey, it was fun and something I recall doing many times without any bodily damage. Had a branch broke while in transit, I would have probably gotten right back up there again. We used to simply climb to the roof and jump off just 'cause it was fun.

We used to walk about two miles (can't believe that's all it is) to Liberty Park down in Renton to go swimming. Down from the library there's a train trellis over the Cedar River that just screamed out to be jumped from! Not that I did it more than one or two times, us kids would go down there all the time and I'd usually just watch mine and Cathy's sibs do all the jumping into the river. Dangerous at best, I know how lucky we were not to have killed ourselves.

We moved from the corner of Thomas and Earlington Ave's at the beginning of my third grade - should give you an indication that I took such risks at a very early age! It's the stupid stuff like that which caused me to be over-protective of my own kids. I wanted them to have fun, sure, just not the ways I did. So yeah, had to apologize to my daughter about having given her a lack of risk taking...I on the other hand am now 50 years old and up for just about any challenge!