The Story of My Life: Take Me Back to That Ocean City

The second of my grand adventures took me to a place where the waters of the Atlantic kiss the east coast. A tourist trap it may be deemed, but as a young child exploring life, this place was paradise. Located on a long strip of land just off Maryland's eastern edge, was the vacation hub known as Ocean City. A sprawling beach metropolis with a boardwalk that stretched for miles that draws crowds summer after summer. 

My parents rented a beach house that had direct access to the beach. In my eyes it was huge. The living room was bigger than ours as was the kitchen set-up just off of it. It had a large deck that you could hang out on and stare at the dunes while listening to the sound of the crashing waves. It also had direct access to the beach so if we wanted, we could roll out of bed, throw on some swim trunks, and be by the water in mere minutes. But the best part in my eyes was cable television. A treasure trove of cartoons I couldn't watch back home were at my finger tips. But I wasn't on my first real vacation to watch cartoons. I had an ocean city to explore.

Mornings were for sleeping in and eating a decent breakfast, followed not long after by lunch. But once the sun was at it's peak, we had on our swim trunks and eagerly ran down the sand trails to the massive beach before us. The crashing waves had me in awe and I had no fear of them, unlike a certain raft ride at Hershey Park. I happily played along the edge, running to where the water retreated and then as soon as the next wave came barreling down, I fled back towards drier sand. I spent hours doing this, but once or twice, the waves bested me. I remember pausing during a run thinking I had time to examine the pebbles and shells before me. I underestimated my timing and saw a large wave barring down on me. I turned to run, but slipped and felt the force of all that water tackling my miniscule frame. As quickly as it came, the wave fled back to the ocean. I was a bit disoriented, but I finally knew what salt water tasted like.

I took a break from the ocean and joined my brother and sister in building sand castles. We had colorful, hard plastic, buckets and shovels specifically made for building sand castles. My mom showed us that we needed to make sure the sand was so our structure wouldn't crumble as we built it. Once we had what appeared to be a castle, we dug a moat around it and put some water inside to make it look realistic. My hope was that they would last while we were there, but I learned about this thing called "high tide" and how it is the ultimate castle crusher.

As the evening rolled in, there was still a lot to discover. We made our way to the seemingly infinite boardwalk. Crowds of people were there, exploring the shops, buying souvenirs, or just grabbing a bite to eat. We ourselves had to take care of our energy depleted beings so we stopped inside a small burger and shake shack. I remember the burger tasting really good and was impressed by the size of the steak fries. After our bellies were satisfied, we continued our boardwalk journey. Along the way we passed incredibly constructed sand sculptures mainly portraying the artist's thought of what Christ looked like. I marveled at how someone could make something so cool and detailed out of simple beach sand.

Souvenirs were a must and Pogs were all the rage in the 90s. Someone got this brilliant idea to put art on the cardboard caps that came under the lid of a popular Hawaiian juice called POG and manufactured them as a game. They were mainly meant to collect, but if you wanted to play, you and your friend would make a stack out of all the Pogs you were willing to risk. Then each of you would take turns with a heavy metal or plastic disc (called a slammer) slamming it on the pile. Any Pogs that flipped over were yours for the taking. Once half than more than half the stack had been won, the game was over. Both players kept all the Pogs they flipped and were returned their original ones that did not. So when we walked into a souvenir shop, I just had to have an Ocean City blue metallic slammer. That slab of metal became one of my most treasured possessions throughout my childhood until it mysteriously disappeared years later. 

We continued on the boardwalk and my senses took over. The sea gulls squawked overhead looking for a likely victim to snatch food from. The lights and sounds from the shops and restaurants were well noted as they did their best to draw the vacationers in and separate them from the cash in their wallets. The scent of cotton candy, popcorn, burgers, fires, ice cream, and so many other delectable smells filled the evening air. I was so immersed in my surroundings that I did not realize we had made it to toy shop. My mom took a break on a nearby bench while my dad took us inside as we were supposed to get kites to fly for the weekend. For reasons beyond my current understanding, we did not end up getting them. Instead my Dad bought us each gumballs and whirly-gigs. A whirly-gig was a plastic rod connected to a large plastic circle. Attached to the plastic circle where multiple colored plastic propellers that spun as the rod was waved in the wind. We were elated and as we rejoined my mom, she asked where the kites were. My dad made a "shh" motion and mouthed something to her that I was not able to apprehend. I have my suspicions that either they were too pricey or they weren't kid appropriate. Either way I was content with whirly-gigs and gumballs. 

We made one more stop before heading back to our beach house. That stop was a brightly lit candy store. My dad purchased a large mixed bag of swedish fish candy. My mouth drooled at the colorful bag of gummy fish. But when weren't allowed to have any until we got back (probably to avoid sticky fingers). Upon arriving back at the beach house, Sarah, Tim, and I watched excitedly as Dad divided a handful out amongst us. I'm pretty sure this was the moment where my love for swedish fish was born.

The next day, before we set out, my parent's called me into their room and had something to give me. There on the bed, still in it's package, was a child's film camera. I went nuts. Now for those of you born after 2007, you may not be familiar with nor have ever seen a standard film camera. Basically you had to purchase a roll of film and insert it into the back of the camera. Then, once you closed the film door, you turned a knob to wind the film into place, usually determined by a clicking sound. At this point, you could not open that film door again until you had wound the film back into the film roll, otherwise the light that hit the film sheet would expose it and ruin it. In order to take a picture, you'd close one eye and use the other to look through the viewfinder. Whatever you saw through that finder was your best guess of what was going to appear on that picture. Once you saw what you wanted, you pushed the shutter button to take the picture. Then you'd have to wind the film knob until it clicked to go to a blank spot in the film. In order to get your pictures, once the film was used up, you'd have to wind it back into the roll. Then you'd take the roll to Walmart or a drug store. You'd fill out a special envelope, put the film roll inside, and drop it in a box/slot. Then you'd have to wait 3-7 days for an employee to develop the film. And this was the scary side of this technology was one, you didn't know for sure how the pictures were going to turn out and two, at least one stranger saw every photo you took. I always wondered how much fun the film developers had seen thousands of strangers photos from the best moments in life to the raunchy ones. Being a young child and not quite understanding the limitations of a film camera, I was so excited to be able to take pictures that I used up my entire roll of film trying to take pictures of kites flying over the dunes. Needless to say, when the pictures were developed, you could barely see the kites. So from that trip I was left with a bunch of pictures of timothy grass covering the dunes. Life lesson learned. 

Rain came down most of the day that day which ruined our beach plans. My parent's pivoted and took us to indoor mini-golf for the afternoon. We played at least two courses. Dad took Sarah and I the first round while my mom watched Tim. The only thing I remember from that course was that it was dinosaur themed and Sarah had a frightening moment. One of the holes required you to go through a semi-dark cave. Half-way through it was a crevice. As we were playing the hole, we had to pass by the crevice. We knew something was up, but Sarah was too little yo notice what was going on. When she got close, a large green mechanical dinosaur popped out of the crevice and made a roaring sound that scared her half to death. She ran back to my dad in a panic and refused to finish that hole.

The second course was an undersea course with large sea creatures everywhere and blue-colored greens. Mom was with Sarah and I this time while Dad watched Tim. The most memorable hole on this course was one with a life-sized mechanical diver. You had to hit the ball up a hill towards the diver into a large hole. Once you got the ball in the large hole, it funneled the ball into a pipe that lined up directly with the main hole. The catch was that the diver moved up and down to try to block your ball from the big hole. Four year old me had a moment I won't ever forget. I stared that dastardly diver down, aimed my shot, and when it felt right, let her rip. I watched intently as that tiny ball soared up the hill, barely clearing the diver's legs, swirl around in the big hole, and let out an ecstatic "whoop!" when the ball came through the pipe into the main hole for a hole-in-one. I was the best and you couldn't tell me otherwise. My mom was not so fortunate, however. Her first and possibly second shot ended up being blocked by the diver's antics much to her disdain and my amusement. 

We finished the round and headed back to find my dad and Tim. But what we found instead was my dad looking for Tim. My dad turned his head for a second and Tim disappeared. Before panic mode could kick in, he looked over towards the arcade games and saw movement behind one of them. He went to take a look and there was Tim, hanging out behind it. I'm going to preface future chapters by saying this would not be the last time Tim, and my other siblings for that matter, would pull scary disappearing acts.

My memory of this trip ends here. I feel like we were here longer than a weekend, but I cannot recall if that was the case. Thankfully this would not be my only visit here as we would return in the summer of 1996. And this concludes my two epic summer adventures of 1995.

The Story of My Life: Chocolatey Goodness in the Summer

The summer of 1995 took me on two grand adventures so memorable that my four-year old brain was able to retain memories from them. But before I tell you tales of the first, I have to plant some imagery in your mind. Imagine you're in an American grocery store. You've managed to find all your needed groceries and are now waiting in the long and seemingly never ending checkout line. You're tired and maybe a bit hungry too. As you near the counter, there before you are chocolate bars piled high and wide. Your mouth begins to water as you see that ever familiar name on the wrappers. Hershey. The options are plenty. Hershey's milk chocolate, Hershey's dark chocolate, Hershey's with Almonds, Hershey's Cookie's N Creme, Reese's peanut butter cups, KitKat bars, etc. The American marketing ploy has you hook, line, and sinker with placing it's chocolatey goodness right where you have to be knowing there's a good chance you add that extra item not included on your shopping list to your cart. But when it tastes that good, it's too hard to resist. You finally make it back to your car, load it up with your grocery haul, and plop yourself in the driver's seat. But before you start the engine, you retrieve that delectable chocolate bar and take a soothing bite. Delicious.

If you've never had a Hershey's candy bar, I hope that intro gave you an idea of what they're like. And living in the USA, Hershey's and chocolate are synonymous with each other. But the reason it's incredibly special to me is there is a city in Pennsylvania called Hershey. It was only an hour from where I grew up and it was named after Milton Hershey, the inventor of the Hershey bar. The city of Hershey took things a step above their chocolate factory and built an amusement park there known as Hershey Park. I was going to experience it for the first time in the summer of 1995.

With Becca and Zeke in town for the summer, Al & Sue thought it would be fun to take the grandkids and their friends to the Sweetest Place on Earth. Ten of us, Becca, Zeke, Chalene, Cam, Joe, myself, Al, Sue, and Tom & Sandy (Chalene & Cam's parents) were bound for Hershey. The car ride was a little over an hour, which can be an eternity for a four year-old, but once the towering silhouettes of the roller coasters and giant swing rides came into view, my dopamine levels spiked and the lingering boredom of the trip vanished.

Upon arrival, we didn't enter through the main gates right away. Hershey Park had a side attraction known as Chocolate World. For a small entry fee you sat in an open train car as it took you through the process of how Hershey's chocolate was made. As you sat in this train car, you passed by large video screens displaying the chocolate making process with a narrator voice explaining it. At one point, the train cars pulled you through an oven-like structure that was a little warm inside to make you feel like you were the chocolate getting baked. At the end of the tour there were smiling staff handing out a free normal sized chocolate bar to everyone. I saw normal because years later it was more cost-effective to hand out the tiny fun-size bars instead. Before I continue, I must share with you actual evidence of what I just described.

            Photo courtesy of Chalene

This is what the chocolate world experience looked like in 1995. From left to right in the front: Chalene, Joe, Cam, Me, Zeke, and Becca. Back: Al, Sue, Tom, and Sandy. This photo disappeared from my life a long time ago, but resurfaced in 2016 on a memorable night that I'll be sure to include in when we get to that point.

Entering the main gate of Hershey Park in the eyes of a child is like entering a dream. I was greeted by and dancing Hershey bar and high fived a large smiling Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Happy music filled the air, old fashioned candy store houses lined the entrance, and giant scales with candy bars as height requirements for rides beckoned you to step on them.

My senses were on overload. The excitement kept building. The rides and all their mechanical clatter were calling out to me. Being a group of little kids, you could probably guess that we were not headed to the roller coasters. The first thing I remember riding was the carousel. It was big, flashy, and played cool theme park music, just like the movies. Once mounted on my trusty steed, my imagination ran wild as I saw myself in a fierce race to overtake everyone in front of me. I was just about to win when the ride came to a halt. I wanted another run, but there were more rides to try out so off we went.

The rest of that morning was spent crashing bumper cars, spinning around on crowns and saucers, and moving invisible dirt on tiny bulldozers. We took a break for lunch and then it was off to the water rides. Here's the thing. If any part of a ride seemed scary to me, I refused to do it. Most of the rides I could see the whole thing from start to finish. But there were some exceptions. One of them being Canyon River Rapids. From the spectator's view, it was an 8 person raft that ran through a fast moving river. Yet you could only see part of the river and all you could see was the calmer parts. It didn't look so bad and since I wasn't riding alone, I agreed to go. Both myself and the ride operator made sure I was buckled in tight. Then the raft was released and off we went. Nothing scary appeared in the first minute or two and it was actually fun going through the rapids...that is until we rounded a devious bend and my face dropped in sheer terror. Giant walls of water roared over rock faces, crashing into the rapids with a violent force. If there was ever a time in my young life that I was going to wet my pants unintentionally, this was it. With no way to stop the raft and no way to escape, I gripped the center wheel tight and braced for impact. WHOOSH! My section of the raft turned right into the first waterfall and soaked me to the core. My brain was in panic mode and I began bawling as waterfall after waterfall clobbered our helpless raft. All the adults and some of the older kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, but not I. As we neared the end of the onslaught, Sue tried to comfort me telling me that Joe was having fun. I stopped crying and saw that he had his head aimed directly down and in between his outstretched arms. I tried that trick through the rest of the ride and once we made it out alive, the initial fear I had began to evaporate.

The rest of the afternoon was going pretty well as no more scary water rides came into play. After taking a short break on a bench, the group decided to go on one more water ride before dinner. I wasn't so sure about this one as I couldn't see the full ride. But Sue convinced me it was just a simple boat ride. Her, Al, Joe, and I all got into a boat. Sue playfully splashed the water with her hand as the boat went through what appeared to be a relaxing water course. Then it made a sharp turn. Suddenly, we weren't very low to the ground anymore. I had been tricked. This boat ride was anything but simple. A behemoth of a drop stared me down knowing that in a matter of seconds, we'd be going straight over it. The boat took a dive and I clutched to the sides for dear life. My teeth were clenched so hard I couldn't scream. The rush of the wind on my face kept me from blinking. Before I could even process what happened, it was over. For those few seconds, I was terrified, but it was over so fast that the fear couldn't overtake me and my mind said "that wasn't so bad." To this day however, I'm still salty I was conned into a "simple boat ride".

Dinner was next on the agenda and we got burgers and fries. Becca and Zeke wanted to get those massive souvenir drinking containers with a long straw. They had all the candy mascots plastering the outside of the giant mug. I was in awe of those things. The adults made sure before we left that we all took a bathroom break. Once re-grouped we were making our way towards the next ride when Becca started freaking out. Apparently she left her souvenir cup on the table and not with an adult. The cleaning people turned over tables fast so they scooped it up in their cleaning efforts. Becca was so distraught that Al decided to get her another one but she'd have to carry it the rest of the day except when on rides.

One of my favorite rides as a kid was the Wild West train that looped around the Wild West zone. We hopped on it as an easy after dinner ride. The train took you through all these cool areas with mechanical cowboys and indians greeting you along the way. At one point, it took you on an elevated track that went through trees. In the distance, there were fake above ground graves that had fake skeletons coming out of them. I thought these were cool. Another of my favorite rides was the old fashioned cars. They were secured on a track that the riders had no control over, but as a kid, I couldn't tell that and thought I was actually driving a car.

As the sun was setting, we decided to head back to the water rides and ride the "simple boat ride" again. Even though I had been on it once, once was enough for me and I sat with Al and watched as everyone else had a blast going down a few more times. 

The magical day would not have been complete if we didn't stop by the arcade and game stands near then entrance. If you've never been to an amusement park and never seen this section, when the sun goes down, it's the place to be. Flashing, colorful lights, zany sounds, vendors calling you forward to try to win some incredible prizes, people walking with large stuffed animals, so on and so forth. We all wandered into a large arcade. Each of us was given a few tokens to play a couple games. I recall the crimson red numbers on the skee-ball machine. They displayed a high score challenging you to beat it. I knew I stood no chance, but that didn't matter. I had a blast rolling those little balls up that ramp and into the white cups. With each game played, the machine released tickets depending on how well you did. Those tickets could then be exchanged for prizes. I think I earned enough to get some candy, but I remember Cam ended up getting a small stuffed clown. The only reason I believe this memory is burned into my brain is because on the tram ride back to our cars, he played with it the whole way back and made it do some pretty goofy stuff.

The very last thing I recall is being half awake and half asleep as Al carried me up those concrete steps of my new house and transferred me into my parents arms. Today, I realize what an effort it can be to bring a four year-old to an amusement park, let alone six in total. But ultimately I'm glad they did because going to my first amusement park with my best friends is a memory I'll cherish for my entire life. I did mention at the beginning that this was one of two big adventures I went on in the summer of 1995. In the next chapter, I'll take you on a journey to the ocean by a city. Ocean City. 

The Story of My Life: The House That Built Me

Yes I ripped off the title of this chapter from a Miranda Lambert song. And I darn good one at that. But it perfectly represents the house I called home for nearly 10 years of my life and the first one I fell in love with. And thanks to the wonders of technology, if you go to google earth and type in 190 E. Water St. Abbottstown, PA, you can see it for yourself without having to travel there. A lot has changed in the past 17 years so some things may be different, but it'll be enough to feed your curiosity.

The brown ranch house was built upon a small hill. Short in stature, but long in length, she withstood the best of times and the worst of times. It overlooked the 18th hole of a golf course owned by a local country club. The country club also owned the house and the entire property surrounding it. Instead of demolishing the house and using the property, they deemed it more profitable to rent it out. And my parents were the fortunate ones to be able to do so. I don't recall the exact acres of the place, but in the eyes of a three year old, it was huge. There were enough trees on the property to create what would could be considered a woods or two. In what we called the back yard stood a large male mulberry tree. I say male because even though it was perfectly healthy, it never once produced mulberries. But it was an incredible climbing tree. I spent many summers hanging out on its upper branches.  Not too far south of that tree was a giant walnut tree. And yes this towering behemoth produced walnuts, as did a plethora of other walnuts trees found on site. Sadly, none of her branches were low enough for me to scale her. But what made her special is she had the perfect protruding branch to hang a swing from. So that's exactly what we did. That swing took me and my imagination on many other worldly adventures. 

To the north of both the trees near the road was cluster of pines that made the perfect tree fort. and directly next to them overlooking Water Street was a female mulberry tree the swamped our little gravel driveway with multitudes of mulberries each year. So many that my mother would have us kids collect tons of them which she used to make mulberry jam. Delicious. Behind these trees and away from the street was was a little, dark brown shed with a concrete open patio in front. We stored all our outdoor equipment here and packed it to the gills. Then behind that was a swing-set which some-how managed to survive all the years of many childhood antics that would occur on it. 

The furthest eastern edge contained a tiny, white, graveled road that led to the large maintenance garage the country club used for repairs and upkeep. We simply dubbed it as "The White Road" and it became the staring point for nearly every single bike race we ever had. The maintenance garage that it led to was a place we weren't supposed to be, but I've got a few tales from entering those premises. 

Just beyond the maintenance garage into the thicker part of the woods was a large hill that led to the country club's overflow parking lot. That lot was empty most of the time save for an occasional car or two. Because of this, us kids utilized that area all year round. 

And to finish up the exterior, behind the swing-set was a patch of treeless land, except for two sets of distanced trees at either end. These four trees on this patch of grass were incredibly important as they became natural soccer goals for us down the road. 

The interior through my eyes seemed huge, but in reality it wasn't that big at all. The door everyone used to enter into the house led straight into the kitchen. Then immediately to the right was a doorway that led to a standard sized living room. At the end of the living room was a door that led to the second biggest room in the house. Then to the left of that room was the side entrance to a long hallway (the main entrance was from the kitchen). This hallway led the cellar, the only bathroom in the house, and three other bedrooms. In the kitchen was a pantry door that led to the attic. The attic could also be accessed from a trap door in the closet of the back bedroom on the right. 

Some final tidbits about the inside. My parents obviously had the master bedroom which was in the back left of the hallway. The back right room was briefly used for storage. I had the small room on the master bedroom side and my sister Sarah had the large room off of the living room. The cellar was a place of terror as musty old stairs led to a concrete floor covered in dirt and shelves containing spider webs. Sometimes an unfortunate mouse or bird would seal their fate down there, leaving us to find their remains. The attic was a little better, but at times it was quite terrifying to be there as well. 

In hindsight, the house and the land weren't really all that impressive. But for young kids, it was a dream come true. Especially when your yard/woods took up as much space of at least 6 neighbor's properties combined. This was the place where my childhood identity was shaped. This was the place where my roots were formed. This was the place that built me.

The Story of My Life: New House, New Meeting Place, New Friends

Moving to the ranch house wasn't the only sweeping change in my life around this time. Being a child, I knew not of how not great things at Upper Adams were. Remember that church picnic I mentioned? Well that was officially our last day there, thus confirming in my childhood brain that it was a long program that had finally ended. I was only told later of how oppressive the leaders were and how it was more of a show than an actual place of worship. All that aside, the members of the congregation and the people I knew outside of the leaders were amazing people. It's their interactions in my life that I am appreciative for. 

After we left, Al & Sue met a couple by the name of Dan and Donna. This couple introduced them and my parents to what they called the local church life. What this meant was that wherever a group of believers was in any location, they met together with no agenda other than Christ and the Bible. There was no pastor, no set program, no band, etc. Now I'm not saying any of those things were bad, because they absolutely are not. But this was an interesting change that was much needed at the time. Al & Sue felt a strong leading and decided to open up their home for Sunday gatherings. It wasn't long before there was a decent group of us meeting together. Every Sunday there'd be singing, worship, praise, and fellowship all in Al & Sue's dome house. There'd also be children's service where one of the adults would bring us a lesson from the bible and then shortly after we'd be let loose to go outside and play. And the coolest part was we'd have lunch together afterwards on occasion. Sundays had become my new favorite day of the week. 

With these two major changes in my life, came more friends. I already mentioned Chalene and Cameron and actually before we moved I had another really close friend. Her name was Elise. Those of you who have been longtime readers know who she was, but for the rest of you, well you'll get to know her a bit more along the way. After the move, I gained 8 new friends, bringing the total to 11, that would make up the original core friend group of my childhood. They are Joe, Becca, Zeke, Melinda, Joanna, Maggie, Katherine, and Zach. Each of them entered my life in slightly different ways, but every single one of them had a profound impact on how my childhood turned out. 

Joe, Becca, and Zeke were all biological grandchildren of Al. Al was once married before Sue and Sue was also once married before Al. Both of their spouses passed and eventually they found each other. But whether the grandkids were biological or not, all three still called Sue Mamaw. Becca and Zeke are siblings and are both slightly older than I. Joe is their cousin and has a younger brother named Dan. Joe and I were born in the same year and once Al introduced us, we became fast friends and he became my best guy friend (Elise was my best girl friend). While Joe lived in PA, Becca & Zeke lived in Oklahoma. They came and stayed with Al & Sue for part of the summer each year. Whenever they did, Chalene, Cam, Zeke, Becca, Joe, and myself made up a tight friendship group that spent many wonderful summers together.

Elise came into my life not long after my parents moved from Texas to PA. Our moms were close friends and she was only two months younger than I. Our moms were in this program called Mom's Group which allowed for mothers to get together and do all sorts of fun things while other adults watched after their kids for that time. I loved it because I got to play with Elise and a bunch of toys I didn't have for a few hours each week. Our mom's also had each other over often so throughout the years we spent a lot of time at each other's houses. For the first half of my childhood, Elise played a prominent role in my life.

Maggie, Katherine, and Zach all were kids who lived in my new neighborhood. Maggie and Katherine were sisters and Zach was the youngest of four. Zach's story is unique in that he was the definition of a "surprise" baby. His parents had three grown children some of whom were already married. They were also grandparents to a 2-year old with a second grandchild on the way when Zach was born. It always blew my mind that he had a niece two years older than him and one who was nearly his age. Since all his siblings were grown and moved out, Zach spent a lot of time hanging with us. Maggie and Katherine also became close friends who became involved in a lot of things we did throughout the year. 

Then, somewhere between 1994-1996, a lady by the name of Alice began meeting with us on Sundays and she brought her two twin daughters Melinda and Joanna. The girls were Sarah's age and like Maggie and Katherine, they also became involved in a lot of things we did. We spent a lot of time at their house as they did ours. They were and still are inseparable.

I have only scratched the surface with these friends of mine, but I wanted to take the time to briefly introduce them because during the PA years, they were the people who were a big part of my life and will continue to appear as we go along. Of course I met more awesome people along the way, but these are what I consider as "the core". One thing I've learned after all these years is that even the earliest friendships matter. Don't take them for granted. 

The Story of My Life: The Big Move (#1)

 I was a month into my third year of life when my brother Tim was born in December of 1993. Our family count was now at 5 people. We were still living in the yellow duplex on Walnut Street, but that all was about to change within the next year. I mentioned previously that this house was owned by missionaries. They were coming home on furlough in the summer of 1994 and needed their house. Thus we had to move. This would be the third time in my existence, but the first I could remember. We didn't quite have another place lined up yet, so there was a bit of a predicament. However, Al & Sue stepped up to the plate and offered to let us move in with them until we had a place of our own. All five of us plus them in their dome-shaped house Al had built years ago. 

Now Al was a brilliant man who had an engineer's mind and put it to good use. The house was one of a kind and I have not seen another like it. The outer walls were built entirely out of concrete and wood logs that were cut. Think of brick and mortar but replace them with logs and concrete with more concrete than logs. The roof was a large dome shape with two octagonal windows at the top and a triangle on just beneath the two. It looked like an old-school idea of a flying saucer and the oddly shaped windows seemed to give it a face. While the house itself was a marvel, the other things he managed to do with it and on his property were wonders in their own right. 

Two examples that immediately come to mind are how he heated the place and how he had running water. In between the living room and the kitchen was a small wood stove. That tiny wood stove heated the entire house. Using his engineer mind, Al had designed a heating system based off that stove from a similar old world Russian heating system. And it worked like a charm. All he had to do was pop open the heavy little door and toss more wood in and the entire house was nice and toasty. The other thing Al did was that he managed to dig into an underground river that pumped thousands of gallons of water per minute. He piped it into his house set it up so it was the main source of running water they had. I mention this mainly because this source of water eventually became part of a chore in life that drove me bananas, but I'll explain that in a later chapter.

As a three year old, I called this dome house home, but only for a short while. While I lived there, Al was working on something in his house (he was always adding to it) and he needed a giant black scaffolding. At day's end, that scaffolding became a jungle gym for us kids. But don't worry, Al removed the platforms so we couldn't get very high. Another perk of living there was that we got to experience their birds. Al & Sue kept a number of birds as pets. The had a few parakeets which were quite cute but also could be annoying with their sharp and shrill chirps. But the really beauties were the two African Gray parrots they had. Al built an extension off his sunroom that was basically a zoo-like bird enclosure so they didn't have to be kept in a cage. They were beautiful and docile. Al's favorite thing to do was to walk in, put one on his shoulder and ask for a kiss. The birds would always comply. Then he'd put a peanut in his teeth and let the birds take it directly from his mouth. We loved it. I was practically living in a kids paradise...

...which only lasted a few months. I didn't comprehend the fact that we were moving from Al & Sue's. The day my parents began packing up they got me out of their hair because I got invited to a birthday party from a family we knew at Upper Adams. For some reason their name eludes me, but that day does not. They came over and picked me up in the morning. I spent the late morning and early afternoon playing at their house. Then they put me down for a nap as the party was in the evening and they didn't want a cranky 3-year old on their hands. After the nap, it was time for birthday festivities, but not at their house. We were returning to the scene of the crime at my old stomping grounds. Kids Biz. Hey I did say it was a poor man's Chuck E. Cheese. Between the games, prizes, cake, and presents, I completely forgot that we were moving. I do remember when the birthday boy was opening gifts, someone got him toy cowboy guns which were all the rage back then. As he realized what they were, he excitedly shouted "Guns! I got guns!" His mom chided him to tone it down a bit, but nobody in the establishment batted an eye or seemed the least bit concerned. That's kind of how life was back then. 

Finally, it was time to take me home. The parents of the kid who had the birthday party drove me back, but not to Al & Sue's. They parked in this unfamiliar place in front of a long, brown, ranch house. Here we are!" they said excitedly. I immediately got worried and started saying I wanted to go back to Al & Sue's. They calmed me down and assured me this was my new home. They walked me up the flight of concrete steps that led up to the front door. Little did I know then that those steps would serve my feet (and shenanigans) for years to come. I was still unsettled until my parents answered the door. My fears melted right there. The couple said goodbye and I spent the next few minutes telling my parents about my day and showing them all the candy I got from the party. They then got me ready for bed and tucked me in for the first night in the place I would come to call home for nearly the next 10 years. This was the place where my entire childhood was about to happen. This was home.

The Story of My Life: Foundations Begin

 After my parents had settled in PA, they wanted to find a place to meet with other Christians. They ended up joining a congregation in Upper Adams, PA. It was here where we met some people who were going to play very prominent roles in my life. The first were an older couple named Al & Sue. They had a grandson who was 6 months older than me by the name of Joe. Him and I became fast and very close friends. The other family we met who became very prominent in my life were Tom, Sandy, and their two kids Chalene & Cameron. But more on all of them later. 

There were many other families I met that I can't remember their full names but I still remember their faces. One family in particular had a son named Daniel. He was a few years older than me, on the tall and lanky side, wore thick rimmed glasses that were quite prominent in the 80s and 90s, and had a very distinct voice. There's one particular memory with him that I'll never forget. I'm not sure of the time frame but it took place in the mid-90s and it was in the summer. Al & Sue had a lot of us kids over at their house. They told us they had a surprise. Turns out they were taking us to a prominent fun center in my area called Kids Biz. This place was basically a knock-off of Chuck E. Cheese. The main food was pizza, they had a robot band of animal mascots, and a ton of games to play to win tickets for prizes. Their main mascot was a bear named Billy Bob. He made occasional appearances to entertain the kids. As a young child, I did not realize that he was just a person in a costume. I was about to find this out the hard way. Daniel and I decided to take a restroom break. The restrooms were located at the end of a long hallway. As we were walking there, one of the side doors was open. Daniel and I peeked in and saw Billy Bob lying on a table with his head not attached. Shocked, we ran over to Al & Sue while shouting that Billy Bob was dead. Imagine the horror on the other parents in the place and the staff who heard these two obnoxious children announcing that their beloved mascot was dead. Thanks to Sue's quick thinking, she calmed us down and asked why we thought that. We explained what we saw and she broke the news to us that it was just a costume. Shortly after that incident, we walked by again to find the door tightly shut and a little later, Billy Bob made another appearance to show us he was alive and well. What a memory that was.

Now back to the congregation. For some reason I'll never understand, my child brain strongly believed that the church we joined was a long program that was one day going to end. I ran with this thought the whole time we were there. While a lot of my memories are slightly foggy and fragmented from those days, I still remember a small handful from this place in detail. I remember being in children's service around Easter and the lady who was serving us gave us all these plastic eggs filled with M&Ms. She didn't want us to scarf them down all at once so she told us that they were like medicine and we could only have some at certain times. So whenever she would allow us to have some, she'd say "okay class, we can take some medicine now." She'd grab one or two from her stash and demonstrate how to eat them with manners and we'd follow suit. When my parents picked me up and asked me what I had, I proudly exclaimed "medicine!" They were probably relieved to find out they were only M&Ms.

Once a week, we would stop in the church's bookstore and rent vhs tapes that contained animated bible stories. I loved doing this because it was cool to see all the tapes behind glass and I got to pick one to take home and watch. From the services I remember them being very upbeat with a full music group on stage, people standing, arms raised, and some dancing. It was wild in the eyes of a four year old. I always got excited when the collection plate came around as my dad would give me some change or some dollar bills to throw in. There was a playground on the property that I utilized quite often and would spend hours on it if I could. 

The very last memory I have of this place was an enormous church picnic at after service. Either we never attended one or this was the first one of they had in a long time. There were a lot more people there than normal. At one point I had nothing but a plate full of animal crackers and was talking to another little girl whose name I cannot recall. They even opened the above ground pool and a good number of kids were going swimming. One boy asked me if I was coming, but my parents said no as we were leaving. I remember at this moment thinking that this was it. That the church service I thought was one long program was ending. That this picnic was the last hurrah. The chain of events that were already in motion were about to affirm my childhood perspective although in reality, it wasn't entirely true. But the fact was that this was the last time my family and I would be attending that church in Upper Adams. Change was coming in more ways than one.

The Story of My Life: The Beginning

 I came into existence November 2, 1990. Born in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, to two God-fearing parents with bible degrees. My father (Rick) was from a small town in Southern-central Pennsylvania and my mother (Sandy) from a very small town in Northern Wisconsin. My father made his living as an auto parts salesman and my mother was a missionary in West Africa before she met my dad. How did these two souls find each other? My grandfather on my Dad's side wanted to donate to a mission and wanted to know the person he was helping. So he was put in contact with my mom via letters. He eventually mentioned he had a son and put them in touch via letters as well. My parents wrote back and forth and I believe sent photos of each other. Keep in mind that there was no internet nor widespread cell phones back in the 1980s. So letters took three weeks to travel halfway across the world. My mom eventually went home on a brief furlough and met my Dad in person. Something began to form between them, but my mom eventually had to go back to Africa. Near the end of her service, my Dad flew out to Africa to get her. They came back to the USA and were married in October of 1989. Then they started dating as my mom likes to say. 

My parents lived in Wisconsin that first year as my mom had been away from her family for so long which is how I ended up being born in Wisconsin. After a year, my parents joined a Christian group called Christ for the Nations and ended up moving to Dallas, TX. In May of 1992 my sister Sarah was born. She was born in the very hospital John F. Kennedy was taken to when he was shot. Being 1.5 years old, I really have no memory of the days I spent in Texas. 

After a year, my parents left Christ for the Nations and moved to Hanover, PA near where my Dad is from. We moved into a duplex owned by a missionary couple who were currently overseas. Believe it or not, my two year-old brain decided to start recording memories here. I remember that yellow duplex located on Walnut Street. And all these stories I'm going to share are mostly straight from memory. Not from pictures, nor my parents, but from my own recollection.

I remember my friend Daryl who lived on the other side of the duplex. Then the house next to us had some older neighbors who I was terrified of because they seemed like the grumpy type (especially when we launched toys into their yard). My parents used to buy food from the Schwann Truck and I expected ice cream every time. We had a swing set I climbed all over and a green turtle sandbox that we played in. A few particular memories were on nice summer nights we'd take walks around the neighborhood and sometimes end up at the nearby park. I'd pay attention to the sun setting through the leaves on the trees, the dogs we passed by on walks of their own, and the random things happening in the neighborhood. 

But there is one memory my two year old self somehow retained in full detail and to this day, I don't understand why it's this one. One afternoon, my mom was taking me upstairs for a nap. That day I really did not want to. So I put up a little bit of a fuss, but she finally managed to get me in bed. I waited until she left and I heard her go all the way down the stairs. Once she did, I got out of bed and grabbed the yard stick that was propped up against the wall. I stood on the bed and looked out through the nearby window. I saw my mom hanging up laundry on the clothes lines. I took the yard stick and began banging on the window and calling her name to see if she'd notice. I saw her stop, look around, look up, and head back toward the house. She came up into the room and found me happily tapping on the window. She then took the yard stick from me, put me back down in the bed, and told me I needed to go to sleep otherwise I was going to be in trouble and have to go to bed earlier. I became compliant and fell asleep. To this day I still don't understand out of all the awesome things I could've remembered, this memory was it. 

A few other memory fragments include waving goodbye to my dad as he left the house for work in the mornings, my grumpy neighbor tossing my squeaky bat from his yard back into ours, sliding up and down the stairs without getting hurt, climbing the doorway frame, protecting my Sesame Street table from my little sister, and playing with my next-door neighbor Daryl. I wish I had more full memories from this stage in my life, but unfortunately children's brains in the early stages don't retain all that much. We weren't long for the house on Walnut Street, but more of that to come later.

Author's note: I realize when I introduced that I was doing this that I called it an autobiography. Well it's actually going to by a hybrid autobiography/memoir as not only will it tell my history, but will at times focus on a collection of memories from my life.