(thank you Steve Martin)
Why am I being so reflective lately? Don't know. Deal with it!
I'll get back to posting about the offspring soon. Hope I'm not boring you.
By the way, they're both completely addicted to this blog, and want to know who this "Cherry person" is. Take it as a compliment, Cherry!!
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
My Life
Right. A weighty title for this entry, but I'll give you a sketch.
I was born a poor black child.
Alright, not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin very premature. I'm told my grandfather Erwin took one look at me and exclaimed I wouldn't make it. He always used to give me dollar bills as I grew up, much to my parent's disdain. "He needs to learn the value of a dollar" said my dad.
I apparently had a penchant for trouble as a toddler. I remember standing in the window of our Wisconsin Court house yelling at our cross-street neighbor (an elderly man) "is anybody home Mr. Watson says says says...". He must have dreaded going to work each day, waiting for the inevitable wailing.
Though I don't remember, I guess I tried crawling up my dresser and tipped the whole thing over onto myself. I also allegedly loved to crawl under my crib and hook my feet into the springs, thus suspending myself.
Many a toddler day was spent with me in our Carroll Street home in my Doctor Denton PJs, sitting cross-legged in front of a heating vent. There are pictures, but I don't have them right now.
I was a latch-key kid, and, with my older sister Michelle, we spent many evenings alone. Dad with his nursing home, Mom working at the hospital as an LPN.
My elementary school friend and I thought it funny to let the air out of the tires of a car parked near the school. Now, we used thumb tacks to hold the air valves open. No harm ever came to the tires. Turns out the car belonged to the cheif of police in Appleton. Crap. It's the only time my Dad ever hit me in the face (open handed and he felt terrible). What was I thinking?
I found shoplifting as a hobby, and got caught twice: Once at Prange's and once at the local Park 'n Market. Ooops.
Growing older, I spent alot of time with my female cousins in Door County, at our "cabin". We had a coupla acres of land, and my cousins and I used to spend hours playing "Star Trek". I would alternately rescue the girls from intrepid alien threats. Made phasers out of makeup compacts, and communicators too.
I befriended two Door County boys along the way. We got into trouble. They kept a Jeep in an storage shed, and one day we decided to check it out. There was a gallon of fuel in a jug in the front seat. Of course the shed was totally dark, so we used a lighter to check out the contents of the jug. WHOOOOOOSH!! Apparently fuel is not very appreciative of an open flame.
Me and my Door County friends got into other trouble, smashing headlights on old derilect tractors and the like.
Here's the weird part: These same two boys vandelized our house in Door County, breaking anything breakable, and flooding the house by putting rocks in the sinks and starting the faucets. Still don't know what they were thinking.
Enough for now.
I was born a poor black child.
Alright, not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin very premature. I'm told my grandfather Erwin took one look at me and exclaimed I wouldn't make it. He always used to give me dollar bills as I grew up, much to my parent's disdain. "He needs to learn the value of a dollar" said my dad.
I apparently had a penchant for trouble as a toddler. I remember standing in the window of our Wisconsin Court house yelling at our cross-street neighbor (an elderly man) "is anybody home Mr. Watson says says says...". He must have dreaded going to work each day, waiting for the inevitable wailing.
Though I don't remember, I guess I tried crawling up my dresser and tipped the whole thing over onto myself. I also allegedly loved to crawl under my crib and hook my feet into the springs, thus suspending myself.
Many a toddler day was spent with me in our Carroll Street home in my Doctor Denton PJs, sitting cross-legged in front of a heating vent. There are pictures, but I don't have them right now.
I was a latch-key kid, and, with my older sister Michelle, we spent many evenings alone. Dad with his nursing home, Mom working at the hospital as an LPN.
My elementary school friend and I thought it funny to let the air out of the tires of a car parked near the school. Now, we used thumb tacks to hold the air valves open. No harm ever came to the tires. Turns out the car belonged to the cheif of police in Appleton. Crap. It's the only time my Dad ever hit me in the face (open handed and he felt terrible). What was I thinking?
I found shoplifting as a hobby, and got caught twice: Once at Prange's and once at the local Park 'n Market. Ooops.
Growing older, I spent alot of time with my female cousins in Door County, at our "cabin". We had a coupla acres of land, and my cousins and I used to spend hours playing "Star Trek". I would alternately rescue the girls from intrepid alien threats. Made phasers out of makeup compacts, and communicators too.
I befriended two Door County boys along the way. We got into trouble. They kept a Jeep in an storage shed, and one day we decided to check it out. There was a gallon of fuel in a jug in the front seat. Of course the shed was totally dark, so we used a lighter to check out the contents of the jug. WHOOOOOOSH!! Apparently fuel is not very appreciative of an open flame.
Me and my Door County friends got into other trouble, smashing headlights on old derilect tractors and the like.
Here's the weird part: These same two boys vandelized our house in Door County, breaking anything breakable, and flooding the house by putting rocks in the sinks and starting the faucets. Still don't know what they were thinking.
Enough for now.
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