Jacking Up the Floor

Speaking of repairs, ya'll remember our assignment to repair the holes in the trailer floor? We (Andy, Brian and me at least) had to lay underneath the trailer with a car jack and pieces of wood. We would push a new piece of wood over the hole and splintered particle board using the jack. Then we'd screw the new wood in place. There was a great deal of mud, cats, junk, laughing and bickering. Then there was the time Dad had me go under there and fix holes by myself as punishment for talking back to him. It wasn't nearly as fun . . . or easy.

Craig, The Window & Me

The summer after my freshman year of college I came home for a couple months before flying out to Taiwan. I was working the 6-6 night shift at Dennys so I slept a lot during the day. I had no bed or room--I slept on the couch. But I was frequently in my old room on the computer chatting with Morgan.

One day, just before I had to leave for work, I wanted to get on the computer to see if Morgan had written. Craig was on it, playing some computer game. I pestered him to get off so I could check. He wouldn't. I pestered some more. Craig yelled at me to go away. I pestered some more. Craig lost it. He stood up (way bigger than me, as all ya'll were) and shoved me into the window. My bum went right through it, shattering the glass.

I have no recollection of what happened next, our reactions, my injuries etc. But I do remember that Mom put an old neighborhood watch sign in place of the broken window. The funniest part of the whole story, I think, is when I was talking about this with mom a few years back and she completely denied putting the neighborhood watch sign in place of the glass. She said she was sure she'd had a new pane of glass installed. I mean, was anything in our house repaired, let alone professionally? Awesome. The best part of the window incident is the semi-yearly conversations I have about it with Craig, who just won't forgive himself. I love you Craigy!

Bread

When I was younger and would walk home from the bus stop on those blustery winter days - you know the ones where it got down to the 50's or even lower - I would always hope Mom had thought to put some water on the stove for hot chocolate. She never did, but she would offer that we could make our own. That, of course, was pointless because I would be warm by the time it was ready.

That being said, sometimes I would walk in the door - on a cold day or otherwise, and that wonderful aroma of Mom's bread would fill me up. Those were great days to come home. Mom's bread, I have later determined, has always been the cornerstone of her cooking reputation. It was so good to come home to.

I used to love grabbing a loaf so hot that it hurt to hold on to and using our Amway knife to cut a fat slice. When it was hot, it was extra soft, so thick slices were required to keep it from squishing permanently. Then I would slather on butter - well, margarine - and just take it all in. I loved the smell and texture and taste. MMmmmmmmmmmm breeaaaddd.

How have we not talked about this before?

Ditch Surfing

When our subdivision was originally created, there wasn't sufficient draining. Often the rain waters would stay in the ditches for weeks. I recall one time when our entire neighborhood looked like a big lake as it was completely under water. If the trailers weren't four feet off the ground, we would have been flooded for sure!

As we waited for the bus to arrive in the morning, we found various things to do for entertainment. My most favorite had to be Ditch Surfing. The rain had washed a piece of plywood to the main ditch on Powerline Road that we used to "surf" across the ditch.

We would place the board partially on the ground but mostly on the water and run as fast as we could toward the board to then jump on it sliding across the ditch. The ditches on Powerline were deeper and wider providing an impressive challenge to cross the ditch successfully without stepping into the ditch or falling in completely. My worst cross involved only one leg submerged to only my knee. I do recall Rupert completely falling into the chocolate water and then having to walk back home and miss the bus. I would practice on the weekends to be prepared for the weekly competitions during rain season.

When I go back now the water drains very quickly. The surrounding modern master plan communities have created excellent draining. The ghetto may have fewer mosquitoes but the children will definitely have no chance for water sport as before.

Do you guys remember when we would spend hours playing with the water draining from our land into the ditch in front of our house? I remember building the coolest "gumbo clay" aqua duct systems that would have put the Romans to shame. I learned a lot during those days. Everything was so "hands" on. Additionally, the mud was great for my skin. I receive compliments to this day.