Required

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When I was in the 8th grade we started to tackle LITERATURE.

My English teacher at the time was a great and by the time we had finished reading books like War and Peace and Romeo and Juliet and A Tale of Two Cities we had actually learned something.  A few of us actually loved those books enough to take on other books that we probably wouldn’t have read until High School or even College.

At the end of each unit we were tested and I loved the Essay part-  we got to free write about what we had just read.

You could pick up a lot of extra points if you completed that section.

I wrote in part: Everybody DIES it’s worse then Salems Lot by Stephen King. I’m glad Romeo and Juliet didn’t have a dog because Shakespeare probably would have killed it too.

I went on to say I liked Shakespeare because he was like Stephen King .

Now days when I get dragged off to an Arts In The Park type of a thing I remember my teacher handing back our test papers and before he handed me back mine he asked,

” Do you really feel that Mr, King and Mr. Shakespeare had  a lot in common Miss Godfrey? “

” Yes. I told you. They saw monsters in everyone. They saw them everywhere. But Shakespeare made it sound pretty.”

My teacher tossed my paper on my desk.

I got an A.

Hoozah.

Volcano Birds, WheelChairs And Santa Claus

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You’ve heard the debate- do you tell your kid Santa is real or not? It’s a lie. So do you lie to your kid or tell them the truth.

Oh piffle.

My Dad used to tell me whoppers and he was usually backed up by his cousin and nobody went out of their way to write books about it or discuss how it would effect my life as an adult and how I could be scarred for life.

On the other hand they were great stories and even after I learned the truth I’d spread those stories so fast and so far I’d put Super Viruses to shame.

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THE  VOLCANO BIRDS

My Mom’s family lives in Hawaii and when I was little we lived there too.

My Dad was from Seattle and he used to love to do the tourist stuff while we were there  and he took tons of slides.

One place he really loved to go to was to see volcanos.

My Dad would pack us all up in the car ( which took some doing because I HATED to be separated from my Grandmother)  And he’d grab his camera.

The only thing I hated more then leaving my Grandmother’s side was having my picture taken.

I’d run around screaming like little tiny banshee until someone could catch me and stuff me into the car- and in those days nobody used seat belts but my family used them on me because I couldn’t get them off once I was buckled in.

So there are a bazillion pictures of me looking ticked off in front of some beautiful scenery because my Dad was going to have our family outing, he was going to take a million pictures and a sullen three year old wasn’t going to stand in his way.

batcar( I got a ride in a Batman car, a rootbeer float, a new toy and the dress I’m wearing dress was made by my Grandmother to wear  on Volcano Day and was I happy? HA!)

So on one outing we are at this volcano and I start in:

” What happens if you fall in? What does lava taste like? What’s lava made from? Is the volcano going to blow up with us on it? WHEN is it going to blow up?  And the one that sealed the deal as me as the family brat:

How come it doesn’t blow up NOW because I really wish it would SO WE COULD GO HOME.”

My Dad looked like he was ready to chuck me in when these little birds flew over us and I shut up and watched them flying around.

I was enchanted.

And then I asked why they were grey and my Dad looked at me and said, ” Those are volcano birds and they’re grey because they live in the volcano.”

” They live in the lava?”

” Yes.” he said snapping a picture  of me looking happy.

He carried that picture in his wallet for the rest of his life.

And I ran around and told people about the Little Volcano Birds Who Live In Lava for years. I told my sons about them at one point too.

THE LADY IN THE WHEEL CHAIR

One Spring we went to Mount Baker with my Dad’s cousin.

I was around 10 or 11 and I was in a good mood on this outing because my Dad’s cousin brought his Saint Bernard Nicky with us.

Nicky was a champion show dog so I was able to walk him around and hey, a day trip with a great dog. What’s there not to like about that?

Well, we get up to Mount Baker and we’re walking around and my Dad is taking pictures from one of those scenic lookouts and I start with THE QUESTIONS because, that was me.

We are all standing there soaking in nature and I look down and say, ‘ I wonder if the railing ever broke and if people have fallen down there and died.”

My Dad’s camera quits clicking, my Mom wanders off and lights up a cigarette and my brother and sister jump back from the railing and start crying that they don’t want to die too.

Cool as a cucumber my Dad seems to ignore me and said to his cousin. ” So that’s where that woman  in the wheel chair died.”

” I remember that.”  his cousin says.

” Yeah. It was bad. The brake on her wheelchair broke and she just rolled down the path and went over the edge and into the wet cement on that road way down there.”

” Is she still down there?” I asked hopefully.

Click.

I told that story at school- one week before my class took a field trip to Mount Baker.

My teacher said it wasn’t true and that I needed to fess up because some of my classmates were scared to go now.

I said no.

And then my teacher said he was going to call my parents.

Fine I said. Because my Dad was going to say it was true. He told me about the Lady In The Wheelchair.

By the time I spread that story around I knew it wasn’t true.

I just wanted to see what would happen when the Teacher called.

Touche’ Dad.

Nobody Wants To Hear It

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I went through this phase where I would not answer a question- I’d either give the wrong answer on purpose or I’d just stand there with my  mouth frozen open- I think I resembled the screaming mummy remembering the looks I’d get when I did that:

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Ok. I exaggerate but I just learned about Pentewere, the alleged treasonous son of Ramses III and I just wanted to find a way to work him into this post.

But the point is, I would play stupid. Nope. Didn’ t know the answer, why would I know the answer, dumber then a box of rocks- that’s me.

So why would I do this?

When I was about 10 I found a book about archeology and before you could say Akhenaten I was the biggest Egyptologist  Geek in the world. I Geeked over ancient Egypt the way little boys geeked over Dinosaurs the only difference is- yeah. I was a girl.

Anyway, years later King Tut went on a world tour and my Dad was talking to some of his his friends about it – I was there soaking it in and as they started to talk about the artifacts and mummies they would  speculate on something and guess who knew the answers?

So one of his friends kept asking me questions and I kept answering them and he said-

” Wow Anita. You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

From the look on his face I knew that was no compliment.

When my Dad and his cousin bought tickets to the exhibit there was no question it was not going to be  a party of 3- I opted out. I didn’t even ask. Instead I insisted on seeing KISS who was in town at the same time.

Honestly. I liked KISS but not more than King Tut.

But from that point on for several years I wouldn’t ask for help if I was on fire and if I was engaged in a conversation I would agree with you and tell you how right you are.

Even if I knew you were dead wrong.

Do you know how long I’ve been listening to people insist that Mars would stop spinning and then it would rotate BACKWARDS and that’s why or TV’s got messed up. I dunno, I think since I was like 11 years old. That’s 40 years of making humanity feel better about itself one person at a time.

So over the years I  have  played dumb less and less and the people in my life who knew me as the not so bright but really nice, good old Anita  really didn’t like it.

I spent several years being called a ‘smart ass’

And then one day I started owning my space and my smarts.

Here’s the point of this post: Being smart isn’t bad, being enthusiastic and  passionate isn’t something you should ever temper or tap back.

There are only so many minutes we get on this world and you need to make them all count.

Don’t  waste them like I did.

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The Devil You Say!

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It’s September 1st and in my Universe that means one thing:

Tonight I start writing for Halloween- and like magic all of those posts start showing up at my Owl Creek Blog in October every single day .

But that also means I won’t be playing on Facebook so much. I’m going to be working on my two blogs- Enduring Bones and Anita’s Owl Creek Bridge.

” They Devil You Say! “

It’s true.

To  my friends in FB Land:

 Sorry I won’t be around to fill up your news feed with talking cats and other Jackassery.

I mean I love to do that on so many levels, but it’s time to do what I actually have a gift for:

I write.

To The ” Baby Monster ” in me who started to write when she was 9 years old and is that little voice in my head that has kept my love of writing alive  and my focus on writing for over 40 years no matter what was going on in the world, who, in some pretty vivid nightmares,  threatens to poke me in the eye with a fork because I missed  ‘story time AGAIN’… all I can say to her is.,,,

Honey! I’m home!

Nine Years Old And This Person Knew She Was A Writer. We should all be so sure of ourselves.

Nine Years Old And This Person Knew She Was A Writer. We should all be so sure of ourselves.