I have many memories of my childhood. Most of my memories seem tied to objects (specifically items of clothing!) This is the introduction in a long (perhaps never-ending) series of posts I'll be writing about my life so far as described through the clothes I wore.
The illustration above and the title come from the actual house where I grew up in Oakdale, Minnesota. I moved into the house with my parents, Dory and Tom, and my younger brother, Mark, in 1979, when I was 5 years old. My parents had just moved back home to Minnesota, where they grew up, from being in the service and then living in Texas for 5 years. They were sad to leave a great church and wonderful friends, but they wanted to live in Minnesota again, near our extended family. I am glad they made that decision, because I am happy I got to know my aunts, uncles, and cousins, and I love Minnesota!
I drew the above illustration my first week of fourth grade. The teacher gave us a packet, with a different assignment on each page. One page was an "all about me" page, one page was a "draw yourself" page (I hope I have that page somewhere still!), and one page was this one. We were asked to draw our home. I worked very hard on this drawing (with a ruler to make the lines straight!) and I remember that I worked with my Dad to get the perspective of the roofline and the front stairs (which went up some and then at a sharp left angle up to the front door) right. The colors were also important to me. My room is the one with the pink curtains, the left above the garage. My brother's room was next to mine (with blue curtains). We talked to each other through the vents in the wall, which gave us direct access between the rooms like a secret communication system. The room in the front is the living room. I remember that I carefully colored the left-most bush red over the green because that one had started to change colors at the time school started that year, but the rest of them hadn't yet. I also remember being very intentional about the color I chose for the front door. The door was a pretty burnt orange color the whole time we lived there - not orange, not red! - and I thought it made the house cheerful, welcoming, and special. I still prefer a colorful statement front door!
I also carefully drew our swing set in the back yard, peeking around the corner of the house. I remember "helping" (i.e. watching) as my Dad installed that swing set. He dug deep holes, poured concrete in the holes, and then stuck the legs of the swing set as deep into the holes as possible. We waited for it to dry. There were two swings and a monkey bars section. My friends and I would often sit out on top of the monkey bars to talk about "secret" things (such as how to avoid teenagers, who we pretended were zombies). We also did a lot of hanging upside down. In spite of the deep holes and the concrete, in a few years we had swung so high and so much that when we zoomed high in the sky on the swings, the concrete plugs would come right out of the earth. We never tipped the swing set over, but it always seemed like we might!
One time I was playing on the monkey bars with Mark when I got the idea that I should jump from one rung to the next with both hands at once. Athletic efforts were never my strong point. I fell flat on my back and got the air knocked out of me for the first time. I was scared and thought I might be dying, since I couldn't breathe. I tried to communicate to Mark that he should go get my Dad, but Mark laughed, thinking I was playing. Eventually he got the idea and looked scared, then took off running at top speed to get my Dad. By the time my Dad arrived, I was breathing again and sitting up, starting to calm down.
I also remember the sandbox my Dad built in the back yard (though you can't see it in my illustration). We dug and built things and fully enjoyed the sand. One summer we "adopted" (i.e. kidnapped) a turtle. I was playing with him in the sandbox when I had the grand idea to feed him a couple Nerds candies. He took a huge chomp and got mostly my finger. I remember sitting in the sandbox, yelling, "Dad!" as the turtle hung straight down from my pointer finger. He refused to let go and I once again had to call my Dad to come rescue me! My Dad pried apart the turtle's jaws (I hope it didn't harm the turtle, but I did need my finger back!)
My Dad planted LOTS of trees behind the house. They were varied fruit trees, and some of them had grafts from other fruit trees so that one tree could grow three different kinds of fruits! I think the trees I remember grew apples, pears, and plums.
There was a tree in the back where my Dad built us a tree house. I fell out once and had to sit on a pillow for a couple of weeks because I probably bruised my tailbone.
Behind the treehouse tree was a forest with a huge pile of branches that had been piled there by homeowners who trimmed them off their trees. Rabbits lived underneath. We would walk across the top, trying not to fall through. We called it the booby trap. Most of the time a branch would snap and we would fall in up to our waists and emerge with scratches all up and down our legs.
As you can see, we had a lot of fun in the backyard! There are more memories made there that I'll be sharing in upcoming installments. Most of my photo albums are in storage at the moment, since we just moved into our (hopefully) forever home, but as I find photos that relate to the story, I will insert them, so check back!
Thanks for enjoying my childhood with me!
