Another Day, Another Time

I should probably pray about actually creating a blog – I’ve had two blogs before already. One was called  “Sohailah in Africa” which got sucked into the other was called “Adventure in Hope” – which was more about all of my life.

Back to the Glorious Seventies when I was a kid. My dad was a teacher, like I said, and I walked to Kindergarten at Riverside. My brother was 2 ½ years younger than me (well he still is, actually), and my mom did not drive. She was born in Iran, and grew up in Boarding Schools in England, (who needs to drive there?). When she moved to North Dakota after marrying my dad (another story for another time), she took the driving test, but she didn’t pass it. I think they said she was “too cautious”. So, she walked. We lived in small towns growing up, and it was easy for her to walk to where she needed to go – I think in Arizona we actually looked in neighborhoods that were specifically close to important places like the Post Office, the Bank and the grocery store.

We were too young to be rock throwing at this point, but you get the idea.

But when I was little, she would walk or would ride the bus. The bus came right down our street – how cool was that that the bus came right down our street?

If she had errands to run in town, she and my brother would meet me at the Old Bridge and we would walk into town and do whatever errands she had. (I guess if it was grocery shopping we would take the bus home?) My favorite part of the trip was throwing rocks over the railing of the old bridge into the river. The Mississippi River. The Mighty Mississippi rolled right through our town. HAH! The Mighty Mississippi rolled right behind Grandma Jo’s backyard, which was right across the street from OUR house. It was so fun to throw rocks over the railing. And the pedestrian part of the bridge was made out of wood slats, and there were holes in the wood where the knots had fallen out, and it was fun to look through those at the rushing, Mighty Mississippi. And in the winter when the river was frozen over, we liked to throw chunks of snow over the railing. I thought maybe if I threw it hard enough I could break through the frozen river. I wonder if I ever said that to my mom? If I did, she didn’t laugh at me, because I would remember that.

One not happy thing that I do remember from my snow chunk throwing experiences: one time my hand knit red mitten went over the side of the railing WITH the snow… that was a sad day. A sad day, indeed. I know my mother wasn’t too happy about that. Because she reminded me. Who am I kidding – even if she hadn’t reminded me in a fit of frustration one day … I would never forget watching my beautiful hand knit red mitten sail over the railing.

But I still threw snow..

I only went to Riverside for Kindergarten. Apparently there was a test in Kindergarten that determined if you were a regular kid or a Gifted and Talented kid. I was the latter. So this meant I would go to Lincoln Elementary – along with all the other kids from the other elementary schools in Brainerd, Minnesota that passed said test. (Seriously - what kind of test in Kindergarten determines this? Coloring? Letters? Numbers?) Luckily, Lincoln was close to our house. But a suburban came and picked me up in First and Second grade. And the driver was the same man every day, and I don’t think he ever said my name right. Not One. Single. Time. This was probably a point of frustration to me. But I wasn’t ever rude to him. I was too shy (another true story for another time)

My brother also went to Lincoln after Kindergarten at Riverside. And the four kids in the family that lived kitty corner across the street from us. And another girl from down the street. But none of the rest of the kids in our neighborhood went. I wonder if it bothered them? I hope not. I think we were all just friends.

Is this blog supposed to have something poignant or stirring or thought provoking at the end of each post? I’m not going there, right now. I’m just writing. Those were the only specific words I heard. “Write a book.” So I wonder if it’s ok to make it a blog? I guess if people read it then it’s ok, and if they don’t then they don’t. 

And someday I'll figure out what to do with it all.