Age is Just a Number

Pep Rallys and Pom Poms

High School was just painful.   There's just no other description for it.   I was painfully lacking in self esteem and self worth, painfully aware of not being good enough, painfully intimidated by people, events and contests ... particularly the contests involving people in that age-old arena:  Popularity.   I was a B+ student without doing homework , minded my own business, tried not to screw up and tried not to make anybody mad and hoped everyone would like me.   I probably subconsciously didn't get A's so's not to draw attention to myself.

I had one thing going for me;  I was "good in Art".   That didn't help my self esteem problem, or give me courage when I had to walk past "The Wall".   The Wall was a retaining wall strategically placed at the front of the school next to the parking lot, so if you didn't make a really obvious dash to go around, you had to walk past The Wall.   This is where all the popular kids gathered for the daily a.m. social party.   For the rest of us it was a gauntlet; a march through high school hell where every fear rose painfully to the surface - are my clothes right?  Are my pimples showing?  Is my hair okay?  Have my glasses magically changed into cool spectacles?   Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip - get up the steps without tripping and just get to your locker.   It didn't help when my dad bought me my first car:  a White 1966 Valiant  Station Wagon with push button transmission and slant six engine for $300.   I had to arrive in this thing, in front of the wall.  In searching for a picture, I was certain it had more fins at the time.  I was surely Not Cool.

Some painful reminiscings might include when the football coach, who was very expressive with his hands, knocked me square between the eyes with his class ring leaving me with something that looked like a giant pimple upon entering the gym for a pep rally, or when, amazingly, a popular guy noticed me and took me out on a date and I got a cold - picture kleenex and blowing my nose, talking weird and looking horrible.  He didn't pursue another date...thankfully.   Or how about when I was changing in the girl's locker room and another popular guy was shoved down the stairs to catch me in my skivvies.  I never, ever tripped arriving to, passing by or going up the stairs by The Wall - there is some mercy.

Which brings me to what I originally planned to write about.   Have Blogs become another form of The Wall - a popularity contest?   While out and about this a.m. catching up on other blogs and reading comments I stumbled across the equivalent of a giant pimple.  This comment read something like ... I've read other XYZ blogs, but yours is the best.   Ouch.   I didn't realize there was a bottom or top of the heap; a contest.   Naturally, as noted by the content of this post, I found myself thrust back into H.S. Land and wondered if I am not as popular - or popular at all - or maybe not as clever, or not as good as other blogs - Gosh, is that why I don't get dozens of complimentary and gratifying comments for each post I do?  Maybe everyone is sitting on The Wall chortling quietly or laughing out loud to my Blog?   It's - almost - painful all over again.  If I get a cold write a boring Post, will I be rejected and not asked out set aside and deleted forever?

You don't have to comment, really - not for my self esteem - just count your lucky class rings you didn't drive a 1966 Valiant Station Wagon to high school  in 1978 in a dusty cowtown in Arizona.

Burger and Flies

I was dusting this evening to work off the Good Times Burger and Fries with a small Vanilla Shake, when I remembered the May Fly that landed on my arm while sitting outside the drive-thru.  It was just a baby that was barely spared a good swat since I thought it was a mosquito.  You might remember that May Flies remind me of summer.  More specifically the sight of this itty bitty one brought back vivid memories of the screens on the windows at my childhood summer lake cottage on Diamond Lake.

The screens were always covered with these little creatures.  We had those yellow lightbulbs in the outside lights, and those too always remind me of that place.  So imagine the yellow light illuminating the wings of the insects.  They were beautiful. 
My bedroom was on the side of the house of the "lagoon".  We were on a corner lot, if you will, with the front facing the lake and the whole length of the side running along the lagoon.  So I would wake up to light pouring into the windows and the black screens covered with May Flies.

And there were good smells too.  We had stacks of towels and boxes of bathing suits.  We kept these around for any visitors who showed up empty handed.  The bathing suits were so outdated I cringed even as a little girl - happy to have my own!  So we always had the smell of "wet" and water, but not mildew.

And the sounds - I would wake up to water softly lapping against the seawall, as we always called it;  An entire sidewalk that ran around our "corner lot" that Dad put in.  Or the soft putter of the motor on a pontoon boat that belonged to one of the neighbors heading out for an early morning fishing trip.

We had a willow tree planted outside my window.  I always thought it was a baby tree, hardly big enough for me to climb under.  When I saw this tree 3 summers ago it was taller than the house!  At the end of the weekend, we'd close up the place for the week and hop in the truck to wait in line, with all the rest of the folks leaving the island on Sunday afternoon, for the barge to take us back to the mainland.  Then, to top it off we went to The ice cream place, a Tastee Freeze or something similar, and sitting in the back of the truck we'd get our cones and eat them quick before they dripped all over.  Guess that's why I am such a fan of vanilla shakes now, a little less messy, but with all the sights, smells and sounds that send me off daydreaming.

The Substance of Summer

The weather has been hot hasn’t it? I am already in summer mode. We bought a watermelon the other day and it was a good one – I just finished up the "butt", as we used to call it, tonight.

I grew up in Northern Indiana and we were fortunate to have a summer cottage on Diamond Lake just across the border in Michigan. It was unique in that it was actually on the island, Diamond Isle, along with about 100 other cottages. We used a barge to take our car across to the island every weekend. My dad bought property from a Mr. LaMunion who owned much of the island, so that we enjoyed the shores around "The Lagoon". I have a boatload of memories of this place.

I went back for a visit with my brother about 10 years ago and we canoed out to the island. As we drifted past our old place I questioned out loud why they would replace that old 6 foot chain link fence with a 3 foot one along the road… That was my memory as a little tadpole as I wandered the yard! It was the same old fence from 30 years ago!

Here are a few childhood sights, sounds and tastes that transport me back to summer:

• Watermelon with seeds!
• Sailboats and Regattas
• Fireworks
• Cane Poles and Bobbers
• The smell of a Shed that stores Boat Supplies
• Corn on the Cob
• The sound of Water lapping against a Seawall
• Swimming in a Lake
• Digging for Night Crawlers in the Wet Leaves
• Turtles sunbathing on Lily Pads
• Fire Flies, May Flies, Dragon Flies
• Popsicles in the old frosted-over freezer inside the Old-Timey Fridge
• Strawberry Shortcake with homemade shortcake
• Lots of Family around
• Lots of Wet Towels perpetually hanging on the Line
• Potato Chips
• The smell of Life Jackets
• Bare Feet
  
  Picture Credits