I've been bemoaning the fact that my old memories have faded away. It happened during my surgery and multiple CT Scans (although the neurosurgeon poo-pooed that idea). I have been working toward getting them back, the memories I mean, along with the normal use of my legs and vocal chords. It's a long journey but I'm getting there. I know people are as tired of hearing about it as much as I am living it.
A few days ago I was sitting in my den feeling sorry for myself when something Debbie said jolted a memory to the surface. It wasn't a monumental memory....wasn't particularly funny even but doggone it, it was a memory. I'll tell you about it but first a word from our sponsor:
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We've had the opportunity to host a college intern this summer. She's a sweet girl but shy. We're really trying to make her feel at home. In fact, Debbie made her do the dishes just last night....just kidding. We don't know how to entertain young people anymore. If you are older than six, you've outgrown our talents. We don't know how to do anything but watch TV and work in the yard. (Debbie works, I watch). This sweet girl (I'll call her Gina) is finally coming out of her room to visit with us occasionally now but she still doesn't seem at home. One evening she came into the den and sat down in one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the room and started watching one of our super intellectual shows. Debbie invited her to come sit on the sofa with her. She did. Debbie then told her we don't have any rules about furniture and stuff. "Go ahead, take off your shoes, stretch out, put your feet on the coffee table. Get comfortable." That last comment reminded me of the time I realized that even as a stinky, skinny little boy, I was still important and welcomed.
We absolutely did not put our feet on any of the furniture. We had an ottoman which was not to be used as a footstool by us smelly old kids. We could sit on it if our clothes were clean but we could not put our feet on the ottoman. It was 'furniture'. The same held true at my aunt Ramona's house but only in the formal living room. The den was lovingly offered for our destruction. But when we went to aunt Cricket's house, there were no rules. I'm serious. This wonderful woman who laughed all the time and carted us around to junk yards, playgrounds, and anywhere else we suggested showed me I was welcome. We lived close enough to aunt Cricket that we could go visit her regularly. It was about a twenty minute drive to her house unless uncle JD was driving. Then the trip lasted about ten hair-raising minutes. On one occasion, probably the birth of another sister, I had to spend the night at aunt Cricket's house. I was warned to be on my best behavior. After my shower that night I came into their den and sat down in the only chair I knew no one else would want and sat there with my hands in my lap. The show being watched was some old comedy and everyone was laughing and having a good time. They were even eating ice cream IN THE DEN and not at the dining room table. I didn't know what to do so I became invisible, or so I thought. I had been perfecting invisibility for several of my six or seven years of life, however aunt Cricket saw me anyway. I'll never forget what she said and how she said it; "Rusty, get over here and grab a spot. Put your feet up on the coffee table and get comfortable. Peggy, (my cousin) get in there and get Rusty a bowl of ice cream." This type of thing had never happened. I know it's a silly little memory but it was important enough to me that as I searched back for fond memories, this is the first one that came back. I sure loved my aunt Cricket...still do love her. I'm sure she's reading this. I think Heaven would not be heaven if my blogs were blocked.
One more amazing thing happened this week. I was hitching a ride home from a little league game in my son Cody's car. As we drove along Cody said to Carter, "Hey Carter, see that old bicycle shop over there? It was a grocery store when I was in high school and I worked there!" Carter was so impressed he almost acknowledged Cody's comment. That made me offer, "Hey Carter, if you really want a blast from the past, one of these days I'll drive you by the old derelict building that was a brand new grocery store where I worked as a kid!" I'm thinking Carter was overwhelmed with awesomeness because he had a bit of a glazed over expression on his face which told me he couldn't wait to see that old building. Whether I ever drive by that old building again or not, that quick jolt of memory brought back a flood of fond memories stretching from high school, through college, and into my professional career. As soon as I got home from the game I grabbed a notebook and wrote down eighteen memories I had recalled. Stay tuned because I've got some catching up to do. There will be stories ranging from 'chasing the shoplifter' to 'blazing grasshoppers' to 'life in the fast lane as a 19 year old "boss". I can't wait to write them. I hope you can't wait to read them.
