Month: July 2018

The order came from nowhere. It was like an air raid siren, emanating from the parade announcer’s metallic microphone, stopping the Oblong Halloween parade dead in its tracks.

“Will the owl and the pussycat please leave the parade!” There was no inflection in his voice denoting a request. It was a demand. My mother had dressed us up as an owl and a pussycat and placed us in a little red wagon with rusty wheels. Apparently, the screech of the wheels was emitting a frequency that could have jammed the airwaves in WW II and more importantly, drown out the MC’s voice. So after a few harsh words from our mother, defending her children’s right to be included, we quietly exited the celebration with our wings and our tail tucked in submission and defeat.

And when our town’s teenage pregnancy rate was skyrocketing and the only thing to do on a Saturday night was to drink beer on the outskirts of town, our mother created a teen center. She rented out an old storefront on south Range, installed black lights and benches for the faint at heart when it came to dancing, booked bands from all over Illinois and Indiana and charged a dollar a person for admission. REO Speed Wagon was one of the bands, before they made it big. They had dinner at our house. I was in awe of the long hair and the rocker vibes that they brought to our kitchen table. It was AWESOME !

And when our Girl Scout group wanted to learn to camp and survive in the wilderness, our mother was the ring leader. She hauled all of our goofy, giddy skinny butts to Red Hill State Park for a weekend of learning to pitch a tent, dig a commode and navigate our way through nature. As we sat around the campfire telling scary stories, the moon light lit up our innocent little faces. You could see the happiness from within. This was one of many experiences that shaped who I was to become. It reinforced my notion that I could do anything I set my mind to do. It reinforced my notion that I was part of a clan. I was connected and supported. It reinforced my notion that despite all of those vast stars out there in the midwestern sky and all of the galaxies staring down at me that night as I lay in my little warm sleeping bag, I was important. Somehow, instead of feeling diminished by the big, expansive night skies, I felt embraced.

And when our town park and pond were overtaken by moss and slow decay, our mother decided to start a beautification project. It was a labor of love from the entire town but as mayor, she saw the importance of infusing new life into this tiny park where families brought their children to play, their parents to picnic and their grandchildren to fish. It needed to be done. Just as we needed to be the owl and the pussycat or we needed to learn to camp or we needed to experience live rock-n-roll music in a town that went with the sunset. With my father as her silent financier and support, she JUST DID IT!

So I have learned from an early age, that instead of complaining or wishing or dreaming about what you want out of life, you JUST DO IT. You build a supportive safety net of family and/or friends around you that give your wings their flight and then, you envision. Despite the fact that we really have little to no control over life, we can control what we give and how we receive. We can leave this world better than when we entered. And it’s all encapsulated in our daily “stuff”…the smile we offer, the hug we melt into, the kind words we offer to a total stranger. That’s what keeps the world spinning.

So I’m thankful for the small town in which I grew up. Although it felt stifling and restrictive the closer I got to leaving for college, in hindsight, it gave me freedom. The safety and predictability it gave me allowed me to dream. I’m thankful for all of my awesome teachers and wise adults that gently kept me within boundaries, so I could continue on my journey. But most importantly, I want to thank my fearless mother and my dear dedicated father for all that they gave to me.

I still feel like the owl and the pussycat sitting proudly in my little red wagon. But this time, my wheels are oiled and I’m ready to rumble!

It was 3 pm. The air was humid and hot and Main street was blistering in the midwestern sun. We were sweaty and tired  from the long Oblong Elementary trek to our favorite watering hole, Ma Burton’s soda and candy shoppe on east Main. We were small and frail, beaten down from a day of learning and behaving. Driven by thirst and a desire to “ break the rules”, and oh yes…CANDY…It was High Noon at the OK Corral. ( Imagine : rawhide whip crack and some weird cowboy whistling in the background ) Are you with me?

As the saloon’s old screen door slowly squeaked opened, allowing the afternoon light rays to reveal the dust filled aire siluoetting our tiny, desperate bodies…we knew we had arrived. Trembling with excitement and fear, with no ammo to fall back on, only our tiny backpacks full of dreaded homework and uneaten lunches, we entered this musty, ancient, archival place that was straight out of Raiders of the Lost Arc. Once a vibrant pharmacy run by Ma Burton’s late husband, it was now this embalmed place. It was frozen in time and filled with old pencils, mildewed wallpaper rolls from the ‘20s, bug spray, turpentine and the best cherry phosphates west of the Wabash River . Ma Burton had a disdain for children, especially the ones that twirled on her soda stools. We weren’t allowed to spin, so.. game on Holmes…that’s just what we did! She would turn her back and off we twirled. Sometimes getting two full rotations in before being ousted from the bar.

We always got our loot first…We drank our cold cherry phosphates like the true cowgirls we were. Slurping every last drop through our red and white striped paper straws. Then we turned our eyes to the gold. Barrels full of Candy dots, Mallo Cups, Sugar Daddys, Neccos, Cat tails, Licorice… Our fat little cheeks quivered in anticipation. We couldn’t touch the candy, only point, as her old frail hands slowly placed our sucrose into pristine brown paper bags. It was pure torture waiting for her to get the loot in the bag and hand it over. If we would have had bandanas and pistols, the whole job would have gone down a lot faster. But we were only 8 yrs old or so, so we had no choice. We were at her mercy.

So, we got our candy, we got our phosphates, we twirled and we were ousted. Thrown to the street tasting dust in our mouths. It was always worth the risk and we were in this together. We had each other’s back. We took the risk together and reveled in the glorious sugar high as we walked the rest of the way home from school. The candy was gone within a block. The sting of getting caught as the “twirler” faded as fast as the high noon heat.  But the friendship and memories have lasted forever.

I’ve often wondered why this was such an indelible memory for me. I always thought it was the candy, the phosphates, or the thrill of getting caught. But now, as I age and I reflect back on that time, I realize it was so much more. It was about the friendship, the bonds I’ve carried with me my entire life. The knowing that I am never alone along this trek through life. The things that have strengthened me and given me a foundation that has allowed me to endure my MS, my failures, my losses, and all that life has thrown at me, have been my enduring friendships, past and present. And as I’ve ridden my trusty horse down this wild trail, I have collected more precious friends to add to my posse, my most prized possessions.

No gunfights, no drama, just “sweet” memories of me and my brave partners in crime at the OK Corral. Happy Trails to you…until we meet again…