Interrogation.. (Part 6)

We pulled into the station before long.. It was a small white building with a flat roof. Part of the parking lot was paved, part was dirt. None of us had said a word during the car ride, and we remained silent as the officer got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle to open the doors for us. As we stepped out of the car, the second one pulled up behind us and the other officer also got out to let the boys out of his car. The officers led the way into the station and we followed.

We were led into a large room with 4 or 5 long tables lined with chairs.

"Have a seat," said one of the officers. "We'll call in the social workers and get this started. We're going to take you into the office and ask you a few questions before doing anything else."

We each grabbed a seat along one of the tables as the second officer went further into the building to fetch our interviewer.

"While he's taking care of that, why don't we talk about how you guys got here," he said sitting down on the other side of the table. He took down our names and ages and we gave him a brief and minimal story of how we got from Sacramento to Arbuckle. Explaining our walk along the bike trail, stay with Baby's uncle, and ride north to our current location. He informed us that the boy we had tried to sell our CD player to happened to be the son of the store owner. He informed his mother that a group of runaway kids had tried to sell him a CD player and she was concerned enough to call the police and have it checked out.

And here we had been shocked, thinking word of our stunt had already stretched so far north as Colusa county. They had no idea who we were or where we came from. Only that we were 'rumored to be runaways'. Humbling, to say the least.

He then informed us that we were to be asked some basic questions regarding home life and what led us to the decision to run away. Then they would decide what to do with us after that. I didn't know exactly what that meant, but was a little hopeful at the idea that this was not the end and my parents were not already on their way to pick me up.

The other officer returned with the social worker and she took Missy and Baby back into an office with her. The boys were also taken to speak with one of the officers and the other went to get started on the report. One officer was left in the room to babysit Patty and I as we waited our turn to be questioned.

Patty and I talked in hushed whispers. She told me about receiving homes and that if they were to decide that we had valid enough reasons for splitting, then they would send us to a receiving home where we would wait to be placed in foster care. That hit me like a ton of bricks.. Foster care. Those, for some reason, were two words I did not expect to hear. I didn't know exactly what I had expected to come of it if we were caught (well, I suppose I was expecting to be sent back home, no questions asked..). Maybe I thought perhaps that I'd be sent to live with a family member or something along those lines.. Oh hell, who am I kidding.. I was 14, I thought I was invincible like every other teenager. Get caught?? That was crazy talk. We wouldn't get caught. Beaten, robbed, raped, murdered, homeless? Sure, probably.. But caught?? No.

She went on to tell me that Baby had been sent to receiving homes in the past, but had always been sent back home in the end. That kind of surprised me.. she had some pretty crazy stories. But then, how much was true??

The other girls came back out from their interview. Their faces blank. They walked silently to the table and sat down.

"You girls are next, come on back." said the lady.

There would be more questioning than just 'why did you run away'..

"So you started out at school? Where did you go from there?"
"We walked to the bike trail." Patty answered.
"And when you got to the bike trail? then which way did you go.. where were you headed?"
"We walked along the trail until we got to Rancho Cordova." I responded.
"And then?"
"We got a ride to Christina's uncle's house." said Patty.
"From who?"
"Some people we met outside the grocery store.. strangers" I replied.
"How long did you stay there?"
"Just for the night." I answered.
"Megan, you and Devon went to the store the next day? What did you get there?"
"Um.. hair dye and candy and stuff.."
"How did you pay for it?"
"Devon found some money on the way."
"Enough for hair dye??.. or just candy?"
"Just candy."
"Okay.. then what happened when you guys got back to the house?"
"We got ready to leave. Christiana had found us a ride." Patty answered.
"Who picked you up? From where?"
"Her friend picked us up at American River College."
"What was his name?"
"Steve."
"Did you know Steve? Either of you?"
We shook our heads.
"Okay."

"Patty, what are things like for you at home? Are your parents strict?"
"Yeah.. I guess. I mean, not super strict. But when my dad gets pissed off, he's pretty scary."
"Scary how? Does he hit you?"
"Yeah."
"Where does he hit you?"
"He'll slap me in the face, or spank me.. stuff like that."
"Does he ever leave a mark?"
"Um.. I don't think so."
"Okay. How are things with your mom?"
"Okay, I guess. She yells at me a lot, but that's about it."
"Anyone else in the house?"
"I have an older brother."
"You guys get along okay?"
"Yeah.. well, he's not home that much. But when he is we mostly leave each other alone."
"Okay. Thanks."

"Megan.. How about you? How are things at home?"
"Um.. okay."
"You sure? If they were really okay, would you be here?"
"No.. I guess not."
"So your parents? Are they strict?"
"Yeah, but not overly.. I guess."
"Do they hit you?"
"My dad does, sometimes.. Nothing bad though."
"Oh? Where does he hit you?"
"Well, he's slapped me before.. and my parents used to spank me, but not so much anymore."
"Okay, anyone else in the house?"
"I have two older brothers."
"How old?"
"15 and 19."
"You get along okay?"
"Not really."
"Who do you not get along with?"
"The one who's 15."
"Why not?"
"Well.. he's got.. problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"Um.. depression, stuff like that. He gets really angry... and violent."
"And he takes it out on you?"
"Yeah."
"So does he hit you?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Anywhere he can."
"With fists?"
"Yes. And feet."
"Does he ever leave marks?"
"Yes."
"Okay... That's all girls. Let's go back out now."

She led us back down the hallway to the room where the other five kids were waiting. We went back to the table and sat down in our chairs and looked around at our comrades, meeting their solemn and somewhat angry gazes. The social worker stood off to the side of the room, near the door, and spoke in hushed voices with the two officers. After a few minutes, they came to the table to speak with us.

The officer spoke first. "You guys will be on juvenile probation. What that means is that you run away again, you can be put on house arrest. Then, on a third offense, you could be sent to juvenile detention. Megan and Devon, we will be calling the store you stopped at and seeing if they want to press charges for shop lifting."

Next, we were addressed by the social worker. "Patty, Devon, Missy, and Alika.. we'll be calling your parents and telling them to come and pick you up this evening. You may wait here for them.. Megan, Danny, and Christina, we're calling another social worker to come in and speak with you, calling your parents to speak with them, and we'll be arranging for you to go to receiving homes."

What!?!? Wait.. You're sending Patty home? and Devon?? But where is Patty going to go when she has a fight with her dad if I'm not around? She can't go home alone like that? I looked at Patty and I could see in her eyes a look of 'Don't leave me!'

"No," I said. "I'm going home."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, just call my parents and have them come and pick me up. I'm going home."
"Well.. If you're sure."
"I am."
"Okay."

They turned and walked down the hall again to make their phone calls and Patty stood up and practically jumped into my arms. Danny and Baby sat across the table and looked at each other. Devon and Alika stood up and moved their back packs from the backs of their chairs to the table. When Patty let go and went to hug Missy, who was starting to get choked up with tears forming on her cheeks, Devon came and wrapped his arms around me.

"You're brave." he said.
"Psh.. no I'm not." I said. Brave?? Why?
"Yes, you are." he assured me.
"It's not a big deal.. really.. It's not like my life is in danger."
"I know. But you're brave. You had a chance to get out, to get away. And you didn't take it. I think you're brave."
"Wouldn't that make me stupid?"
He laughed, "No."
"Well, like I said. Really not that big of a deal."
"I still think you're brave." he said, leaning in slyly to sneak a kiss.

I realized then, just how much I loved my family. Sure, we had our shitty times, we had some downright crazy stuff happen in our house. But I loved them. I may have wanted things to change. I may have wanted a different life, but I didn't want it without them. Yes, there were times growing up when I really did fear for my life. I was afraid. But it was childish fear born of helplessness. I didn't want a new life somewhere else, I just wanted a new life at home, with my family. I loved them. I wanted to go home.

A Strange Land (Part 5)

The ride was long and bumpy. At times, it seemed like it would never end, scrunched and contorted into weird positions in the bed of a pick up truck as we bounced along the interstate. At one point, we tried to get a little more comfortable, raising our heads up a bit and almost getting into a sitting position, only to have Baby open the window and remind us to stay down. We didn't talk much, it was too uncomfortable. I'm sure you can imagine.. 5 teenagers wearing winter coats and as many back packs smooshed into the back of a pick up that was not entirely empty.

Steve pulled off the interstate in Arbuckle. Arbuckle is a semi-rural town off I-5 in Northern California. There was a gas station just off the freeway and he pulled in there to let us out. Danny was closest to the tail gate, he didn't hesitate to unlatch it and start rolling out as soon as the truck stopped moving. Seriously, we're lucky no one got car sick. The 5 of us peeled ourselves out of the truck bed and walked around the driver's side to thank Steve for his oh-so-selfless act as Patty and Baby were stepping out of the other side of the cab. Patty looked a little uncomfortable and Baby looked somewhat embarrassed. We started walking toward the store while Baby spoke quietly with Steve and then waved goodbye. He drove off, and there we were.. alone, and over 150 miles from home.

"We need money," said Alika.
"Agreed," said Missy. "Any ideas?"
"What do we have that's worth anything?" asked Devon.
"I have a ring," said Patty. "My dad gave it to me, it's gold with a ruby and some small diamonds."
"I've got a cd player," added Danny.
"Let's start with the cd player," suggested Baby. "You two go in the store," she said, pointing to Devon and Danny, "I just saw a kid walk in there, you can talk to him and see if he's interested."

So Danny and Devon walked toward the store and the rest of us headed for a grassy area between the store and some old train tracks.

"I say we follow the train tracks," said Alika.
"Sounds like a plan," agreed Baby. "They look pretty old and unused, we can probably find an old depot or something to squat in for the night."

As we were standing there, looking around and checking out the new town, we heard a pick up truck coming down a gravel road on the other side of the tracks. They stopped right across from us and two guys who looked to be in their early 20's got out.

"Hey," one of them said, smiling at me.
"What're you all up to out here? You're not from around here are you?" said the other.

Baby started walking over to them. What is she doing? Is she seriously going to talk to these guys? Big, beat up old Ford pick up, two beefy guys stepping out in their ripped jeans and plaid shirts and jean vests.. wait. Is that a shotgun I see in the front seat??

"No, we're not from around here," said Baby, smiling flirtatiously. The first one kept his eyes on me, making me want to run for cover.
"Well, where you headed?" he asked, still looking at me.
"That's a good question, see.. we don't really know where we're headed."
"You don't have a place to go?"
"Nope.. you know of somewhere we can go? We were figuring we'd follow these tracks and just see where they lead."
"I see..." he said, looking now from me, to Patty, to Missy, to Alika, and then Baby..

Danny and Devon were about half way from the store to where we were when I noticed them. I was relieved that they were back.

"Holy shit, there's more of you?" he looked like he might fall off his perch on the side of the truck bed.
The second guy was rummaging around in the bed of the truck but now looked up and held up a pair of brass knuckles.
"Hey," he spoke up, "you guys got any interest in these? You can have em, if you want.. you know, in case you come across any thugs or something." They both chuckled.

"Uh.. no thanks," answered Missy.
Danny's face perked up, "I'll take them!" Missy shot him a 'What the hell are you doing?' look as he took them. The first guy was looking off into the distance behind us now..
"Well, we gotta get going," he said. "Best of luck to y'all." And with that, they hopped in their truck and took off, leaving behind only a cloud of dust and a pair of brass knuckles.

That was one of the most bizarre exchanges I'd ever taken part in.

"Any luck?" Baby asked Danny and Devon.
"No," answered Devon. "Who were those guys?"
"No idea," I said. "Just drove up and started talking to us."
"The one was totally undressing Megan with his eyes," snickered Baby.
"Shut up," I said, I could feel my face turning red. I was just glad they were gone.

"Shit.. Cops." said Danny, hastily stuffing the brass knuckles into Devon's jacket pocket. Devon didn't even notice. We tried to look casual as the squad car pulled up alongside us where the truck had just been.

"Hey, where you kids from?" asked the officer.
"We're from out of town," answered Baby. "We're here visiting my cousin."
"Yeah?" he looked at us doubtfully, "you need any help finding where they live?"
"Um.. no.. I think we got it, thanks."
"What's their address? Maybe I can help you find the street.."
"Well, I'm not sure, actually.. I was just about to go use that pay phone to call my mom and get it again. See, I had it written down but lost the paper..."
"I see.." said the officer. I could see he knew we were lying. I knew then, that we'd been caught. "Well, rumor has it that y'all are runaways. See we got a call from the owner of that store over there saying she heard there was a group of seven kids out here who were rumored to be runaways. What do you say we go down to the station and have a chat?" As he said that, another squad car pulled up.

We stood there and looked at each other for a moment.. I think all of us were seriously considering bolting right then and there. Seriously. How can two cops catch seven running teenagers? All we'd have to do is scatter a bit. We were all wishing we could read each other's thoughts at that moment.. You see, you can't really silently negotiate a plan 'Hey you run this way, I'll run that way.. ready, set, GO!' It wasn't going to work.

The other officer stepped out of his car and said, "I'll take the boys in my car, you take the girls." And so, Devon, Danny, and Alika quietly climbed into the back seat of the second squad car. Baby, Patty, and Missy climbed into the back seat of the first car.

"You can ride up front, miss." he said to me, opening the door for me. Oh goody. I climbed into the passenger seat of the car and he shut the door behind me. As he walked around to the driver's side door, I looked around. I peeked through the black metal mesh that separated me from the other girls - they looked at me without saying a word. Then I looked at the center console, the radio, and the big shot gun that separated me and the cop.

On Our Way... (Part 4)

We returned to the house to find everyone dressed and waiting. All our belongings were packed up and the backpacks were grouped together in front of the couch.

"Ok, let's get to work on the hair cuts and we can do the dye later, we need to hurry up." said Baby. "I got ahold of my friend Steve, and he said he could pick us up at AR at 1:30."
"American River College?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"My dad works there."
"... Will he be there then?"
"Um.. I think his class is at 2."
"Ok, we'll be gone by then."

We went back in the bedrooms to find hair cutting supplies. The shears were in Herb's room, so Patty and I followed Baby in there after collecting combs and towels. Baby opened a drawer on the dresser to rummage through in pursuit of scissors and I glanced about the room. The mattress and box spring rested on the floor with no frame. There were some worn out sheets that were half on the bed and half on the floor, rumpled and dirty.. And there was a hole in the mattress. At first I was just confused as to how someone would end up with a hole in the middle of their mattress like that.. It looked as though someone had taken a toilet paper roll sized corer and shoved it into the center of the bed. Then it hit me... Oh.

I couldn't wait to leave that house.

One by one, the girls went in the back bathroom and gave their requests as Baby started snipping away. She said she had some experience cutting hair, so she handled the shears. I'd always worn my hair long (ever since that hair cut my mom had done in 4th grade that I HATED), so I figured short would be good for disguising purposes. I asked her to do it short, with some layering.. she said she could do layering. It turned out.. um.. interesting.

Once we were done with the hair cutting, we quickly cleaned up the mess and grabbed our bags on our way out the door. It didn't take long to walk over to the college - maybe 20 minutes or so. It was then that I realized just how far we'd walked the day before. We'd spent the night in a dingy little apartment only a little more than a mile from my dad's work place.. Somewhere that took more like 30-45 minutes to drive to. And we had not exactly taken the straightest route either.

We decided to take turns with the hair dying. The other three girls went to the ladies room on campus and got to work. I hung out with the boys and we all talked a little more about our less than perfect home lives and how creepy Uncle Herb was.

After about 15 minutes, the girls came back looking slightly wetter and a bit frustrated. I saw that Patty and Missy's hair were the same color as when they had gone in the bathroom.. and so was Baby's.

"They weren't gone long enough." Devon said under his breath as they approached.

"I don't know what's wrong with this dye. It didn't work.. Did you guys get permanent dye?"
"Yes." Devon answered.
"Well.. we followed the directions and it didn't work." Baby replied indignantly.
"You didn't let it set long enough." Devon pointed out, matter of factly.
"We followed the directions."
"Whatever." said Devon. "It's almost 1:30, we don't have time to worry about it anymore."

We waited. And we waited some more... I started to get uncomfortable. I knew that my dad should be arriving soon and we were waiting near a driveway. I had no idea where he might enter the parking lot..

"Steve said his truck has some stuff in the back. We should leave behind anything we don't need to lighten our load and reduce our amount of stuff." Baby informed us.
"Truck?" I asked. (How are the 7 of us fitting in a truck?.. or any vehicle for that matter..)
"Don't worry, it has a shell on the back."
"Oh."

Those of us who had any school books or other unnecessary things in our bags purged it and left it under a bush near the long driveway.

At about 1:45, Steve rolled up the drive in a beat up old white pick-up with a camper shell on the back. He looked to be about 17 with dark hair and a typical teenage attempt at a mustache, probably grown to make his fake ID seem more convincing. He was near 6' and skinny, looked like many of the guys I'd seen my friends buy drugs from.

"I can fit two up front. Girls. The rest of you can get in the back. Stay down, I don't want to get pulled over."

Baby and Patty sat up in the front seat and the rest of us did our best to squeeze into the bed of the truck on top of the random blankets and trash and lay low.

We were on our way. The plan? He'd point his vehicle north on I-5 and drive until he didn't feel like it anymore. Then, we were on our own.

10 Things Tuesday

10 things about the day I was born...
October 22, 1979

1. it was 359 days after the birth of my brother (we're Irish Twins)
   
2. it was one day shy of 11 months before my husband was born
3. I proved my grandmother wrong.. 'Babies are always born in the middle of the night..' she'd say.. I was born at noon.
4. and it happened during a blizzard in Rochester, MN
5. my mother had to push me out with no contractions, because her labor had stopped.. again
6. were she not 'experienced', her doctor would have headed straight for the forceps (actually had them in hand before saying 'just push')
7. once my head was born, the doctor said 'It's a girl!' my mother didn't believe him and said 'How can you know that? It's just the head!.. and besides, I don't make girls..' 'Because I know a girl's face when I see it.' the nurse said 'He's usually right..'
   
8. and then, when it was all over, my mom got really freaked out.. the doctor said she could take her legs down out of the stirrups, but she couldn't move them! no one had told her that that would happen with the epidural (yep, she pushed me out with no contractions AND no feeling.. how's that for hardcore? hey, good things don't come easy..)
9. and then she bawled.. a lot. she called my grandma and bawled on the phone.. 'What's wrong??' 'Nothing.. I, I.. had a giiiirrrlll...' cause I was that special.
10. my parents had NO idea what they were in for...

On the loose... (Part 2)

We headed down the street away from the schools, talking about which way we'd go and what our target destination would be. We snapped a few pictures and said good bye to our friends who barely made it back to school in time for the bell.

We contemplated how long it would take them to all realize we were gone, for them to think something was amiss, as we wandered through residential streets ducking behind cars and around bushes whenever a car would pass.. cause you know, people would actually notice us. We were on our way to the bike trail. We figured following the trail would be longer and slower, but would keep us a bit more out of site. I think we all reveled a bit in the drama and danger of it all.. Obviously we each had our own thrill-seeking streak, and if anything, had a desire for attention.

"So how much money do we have?"
Everyone checked pockets and wallets and such..
"That makes about what.. $10?.... Great."
"I have about $80 at home."
"Where do you live?"
"Over off Main."
"Naw.. that's too far. It's the opposite way we're going."
"Yeah, but wouldn't it be good to have the money?"
"I'm sure we could find other ways to get some money.."

I tried not to think too hard about that one.

I had $2.25 with me. I'd brought it to get a snack after band. Band. I almost wished that I'd brought my clarinet with me.. but playing on my own just wasn't the same. Strange how I missed it already. Aside from my poetry/song notebooks that I'd started writing, playing music was my only escape. I felt like I could lose myself a little. Let go and get lost in the music. I'd feel as if I was floating away, life didn't matter.. it was just me and the music.. Some pieces would bring me to the verge of tears and I'd have a hard time holding back the emotion that would well up inside me - I was so relieved that the other kids had their eyes on the music and the band director and not on me. I thought of the piano in the living room at home. Thought of quiet afternoons, when my brothers were off at sports and work and my parents working.. and I could sit at the piano and plunk out some Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata and Romeo and Juliet.. make up my own little tunes to go with the songs I'd write. Megan and Patty and I had talked about starting a band together.. I laughed a little to myself.

"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." I pulled my walkman out of my backpack and plopped in my Temple of the Dog cassette. I turned it on and within 5 minutes my batteries started to die.

"Shit."
"What?"
"Anyone have any AA's?"
"No."
"Lame."
"Why don't you just sing, Megan." Patty asked.

I kept us all amused by belting out anything that sounded decent a capella, while they kept busy thinking up songs and helping me out by giving me the first line. I lost count of how many times they asked me to sing No Rain from Blind Melon. I can't think of any other songs that I so easily related to at that time and just felt all through me (side from, perhaps, I Wonder.. see previous post).

We walked along the bike trail and they discussed how they would ration cigarettes and tried to think of people who had cars that we could get rides from. Baby, the most experienced runaway of the group, seemed to have the most connections and the most ideas. She had an uncle that we'd stay the night with and some older guy 'friend' that had a covered pick-up that we could call in the morning and arrange a ride... and perhaps some weed.

The plan began to unfold...

Apparently we were heading for Canada. Canada?? Since, word has it, you can work at 15 in Canada.. and since Baby was already 15 and a couple others were nearly 15, they could get jobs. Of course, hair cuts and hair dye were in order.. and the idea of splitting up came up as well. It was quickly thrown out.

"Well, they'll be looking for 7 kids.. that's pretty conspicuous. We could split up and figure out somewhere to reconnect.."
"No."
"No."
"I agree. No. We need to stick together.."

That was settled.

We came to the first bridge along the bike trail and squatted under it for a while, resting our feet and talking plans. We shared what small bits of food and drink we had on us and talked about which way we needed to go next. Cigarettes were shared and it became pretty obvious who was going to 'hook up'. Naturally, the subject of 'who's a virgin' came up. Nearly all of us were. It was becoming quite obvious that I was going to end up the '5th wheel' in the group.. I was actually ok with it for once. Alika and I had already 'dated' (in the 8th grader sense of hanging out behind the locker rooms kissing after class but not actually going on dates since no one had a car.. or drove for that matter), and while I would have been more than happy to get back with him, I knew he had NO interest. He'd lost that when he realized he couldn't get in my pants. I'd had the reputation of being the 'good girl' for quite some time already, not in the goody-two-shoes sense, just more straight and narrow than the others. Sure, I was practically a professional when it came to shoplifting (a skill they looked forward to putting to 'good' use), but they all knew I was Christian, they all knew I didn't smoke or do drugs, and while they knew it wasn't for fear of getting in trouble but more out of respect for my body, they just saw me as 'the good one'. I anticipated a long and lonely relationship with this group.

"We better hit the trail if we want to make it to Uncle Herb's before dark.."

Did I ever tell you about the time I...? (Part 1)

I ran away from home when I was 14.

I wish I could say it was one of those 'rite of passage' kid moments where you go to your friends house with a knapsack and hide out in their tree house for a few hours.. parents knowing where you are the whole time and just letting you come home when you've figured things out for yourself. Hm.. not so much.

That's not to say I didn't have that experience.. I did. But that's not what I did when I was 14.

We talked about it for probably a good 2 weeks or so before we pulled it off. My friends and I that is. It seemed the more we talked about it, the bigger the group got. It's a good thing we left when we did, otherwise we might have had the whole 8th grade class go with us. I think our count the night before was 10. At departure, we had 7. 4 girls and 3 boys.

I remember packing my backpack the night before. I stacked my school books on my chair next to my desk and tossed in a change of clothes, some random snacks, a few personal items, and about $80 of allowance/lunch money that I had saved up. I wrote letters to my family - one to my parents and middle brother, and a separate one for my oldest brother. (I'd tell you what they said, but then I'd have to kill you..) Everything was set.

But the next morning, I chickened out. I unloaded all the stuff from my backpack and shoved it under my bed, put back my school books, tossed in half a bagel and a bottle of water, put my money away, and threw away the letters. As I zipped up my bag, I glanced at the clock.. 7:10. The bus would be there any second. I peeked out the window at the bus stop across the street and could hear the sound of the bus coming down my street. Crap. Grabbing my bag and pulling on a jacket over my flannel shirt, I laced up my wanna-be Doc Martens and headed quickly out the door.

The bus pulled into the parking lot at the junior high school at about 7:50. I could see my friends gathered in a corner of the parking lot and I headed their way to inform them that I'd changed my mind.

But I thought about it.. with every step I took on my way over there.. I felt regret sinking in. I wanted to go.. I wanted to go so bad. The only thing stopping me was fear. Fear of what? Well-founded fear of failure. Who wants to be some homeless 14 year old kid wandering the streets? But my friends had a plan.. a plan I didn't entirely understand and wasn't so sure I trusted. But they ensured me they had a plan. It would be fine. By the time I reached them.. I was decidedly.. undecided.

"Are you ready?"
"Ready?.. No."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I decided last night not to go.. but I'm starting to reconsider again.."
"Well, come with us and you can decide before we leave campus."
"Ok."

We walked across the back field to meet up with Devon. He rode his bike to school with Alika and they'd be arriving in the back of the school. Patty would be walking up that way too. So Baby (I think her real name was Christina), and Megan (my best friend), and Katya, and John, and Danny and I headed off to meet them. I analyzed my clothing as we walked.. I'd dressed pretty well for walking around outside, since it was January.. I could live with the jeans, thermal, Pearl Jam shirt, flannel, boots, and coat.

We found the rest of our crew waiting by the back entrance to the school.

"Shall we head over to Will Rogers and take it from there?"
"Sounds like a plan."

So, off campus we went, to go see the runaways off on their adventure. Megan had her camera with her to take some pictures.. obviously upset at the idea of possibly never seeing us again. She had more sense than I gave her credit for. My parents tended to see her as 'not so bright' at times, but she was certainly far more intelligent at that moment than I was. Here we were telling her 'Don't worry, we'll be fine. We'll see each other again - it'll be great. You'll see.' All while she was pondering the very real risk we were taking and recognizing very clearly the danger we placed ourselves in.

"So are you going? or not?"
"Yeah... Yes. I'll go."

We stood there in a group. Danny, Patty, Devon, Baby, Alika, Missy, and myself.. along with Megan, Katya, and John who'd come to see us off. Megan pulled out a cigarette and Patty lit it for her - there were others smoking, but this was significant to me..

"I didn't know you smoked."
"Well.. I knew you wouldn't approve. Now? It just doesn't seem to matter so much."

I wasn't sure what stung more - the fact that she'd hide it from me, the fact that she'd think I'd be so 'disapproving', or that she no longer cared?

"You said you weren't ready.. will that be a problem?"
"No. I mean, if we could swing by my house, it would be great - I have money - but if we can't, that's ok.."
"We'll see.."

I felt a lump rising up in me. Anticipation. Excitement. Fear. Elation. I wanted to get away and escape SO bad.. it was finally happening.

I felt like a dog at the pound. I'd watched all these people file past me for so long. Stopping to notice, to say how cute I was, to offer comfort and condolences.. a scratch behind the ears.. 'Oh, the poor thing..' but never opening the door. Never taking me home. Finally, someone had the key and was slipping it into the lock. My heart pounded and the air caught in my throat as I waited for the door to open. I wanted out.. SO BAD.

unstifling childhood..

The pond spread out in front of us like a giant moss speckled mirror. Totally still, calm and placid, like a child waking from a restful sleep.

*plop plop*

I look over as the boys fling some crab apples from the sidewalk into the murky water. I feel sluggish. Like the mid-afternoon drag on Monday, when you've lost some of the momentum you had to start the week off, when you stop just long enough that you realize the past two days were so much shorter than the four ahead. Is it the heat? or the lack of sleep from last night? It slows me down enough to make it impossible to think of anything but here and now.

Children with cheeks flushed from hard play and eyes filled with eager anticipation "What's next? What will we do? When do we come back?" I look around the park with a twinge of sadness. I love their innocence and delight in the simplicity - the grove of trees often holds their attention longer than the slides and swings do. Still, there are remnants of a truly awesome piece of childhood here. A snack bar by the pond, with a picnic area up stairs, built into the hillside. A tiny boat dock, a plastic jug now covering the fountain spout in the pond. A wading area, over grown with weeds, now disintegrating concrete and only part of the hand rail left jutting out of the ground sorely out of place. The squeak of the swings is so loud we can barely hear each other - they are the only remnants of the original play ground.. which was replaced some years ago with updated 'safer' play equipment. Still, I can picture in my mind the things that may have been there - a merry go round, a tall metal slide, a jungle gym tall enough to break bones if you fell from it... It seems as though the tennis court is the only thing that has really been kept up. As if the children that once played here all grew up and moved on, and their parents only cared to keep the court clean so they could keep up their game.. never mind that they might have grandchildren visiting some day who might like to play in the park. But there will be DVDs and video games for their entertainment. Overstimulating technology constantly bombarding their delicate minds. Numbing their brains to the point of quieting them.

I remember the hours spent in the parks of my own childhood. Days upon days of digging tunnels in the sand, swinging from monkey bars and spinning on the tire swing until we got nauseated. Racing in the grass, flying kites, hunting for lizards and tadpoles or, after a good rain, for worms and newts. Exploring dry creek beds, perfecting our bumble bee catching techniques, and listening intently for chirping frogs and crickets as dusk would fall.. And I wonder, how many of these things will my children miss out on? So I resolve to make sure that they don't miss a single one. After all, it was my own mother who introduced us to many of the hot summer afternoon wonders of my own childhood.

I'm tired of my kids sitting in front of a computer game or tv show. Brain destroying idiotic humor filled cartoons and hypnotizing pointless games.. Sure, I do enjoy the hour or two of peace and quiet it gives me now and then - but I don't like seeing that glazed over look in their eyes.. It's disturbing. It can be an uphill battle some days to fight the entertainment industry, and it surprises me at times that my children continue to fight it even after having the taste of sunshine and grass on warm afternoon... and then I remember the broken glass in the grass of our park. But I won't let it stop us. I won't let the intoxicated transient who sat and drank in the park and then threw his bottle at the tree just to watch it break ruin our perfect August afternoon. We'll just keep our shoes on today.

passing childhood dreams..

I love the Olympics. Sure, I'm geeky, I know.. but I do. I always have. Seriously though, what kid doesn't watch, pick a favorite sport, and then fantasize about one day winning Olympic gold for it?? I know I did.. maybe that makes me weirder than I thought I was.

I remember watching Mary Lou when I was a kid. She was my hero. I loved gymnastics, never learned to do gymnastics but I loved watching and imaging myself being able to do it. Of course, when the winter Olympics were on, I was all about ice skating. I was in awe of the graceful figure skaters with all their daring stunts and glittery costumes.. though, in reality, if I ever succeeded as an ice skater, it would have been speed skating. I could skate pretty fast as a kid, but I couldn't spin for the life of me.

As I got older and more of my 'natural abilities' emerged it became easier to try and squeeze myself into that Olympic mold. By the 92 summer games, I'd realized my true calling was in swimming. I've always LOVED the water. I think I was around 7 or 8 by the time I had 'formal lessons'. By that time I was a capable swimmer but lacked technical expertise, able to keep myself from drowning but unable to distinguish between breast stroke and butterfly. I still can't do the butterfly very well.. After making my way through all the lessons our local pool had to offer - including all the basic strokes and floats, some basic diving, and rescue swimming - I got my little certificate that said I could indeed swim (and save a drowning person... so long as they weren't too much bigger than me).

It wasn't long after that that my parents had a 'real' pool put in in our back yard. Man... I miss that pool. I swam any day that I could and had some days that I only got out of the pool to eat meals. If I could have, I would have lived in the water.

In the summer of '92, we found out we'd be moving. We all really liked where we were living and didn't want to go.. even if it was way cheaper and my dad wouldn't have to spend 3hrs a day commuting. (Suck it up, Dad.. my school kicks ass.) We moved anyway.. and we survived. That summer, before our move, we took a big family vacation. We went to Disneyland and then drove from the West Coast to Chicago and back - seeing more of the USA than I probably ever will again. Aside from the awesome sights and seeing long lost family members and friends.. I looked forward to checking out the hotel pool each night. The Summer Games had just ended and we'd all watched as Summer Sanders, a 20 yo California girl, had medaled 4 times in Barcelona. My new hero.

I loved swimming in those hotel pools, working on my breast stroke and back stroke and trying to improve my butterfly.. I had more than one stranger comment on my swimming ability and one night even heard "Wow.. will we be seeing you swim for gold in another 4 years?" Then it dawned on me...

"Hey, I could do that!"

Then we moved. We didn't have a pool anymore.. But we did have a membership to the local racket club (yes, Buffy.. the racket club). I spent lots of time there.. not as much as I should have or could have.. but lots. While my brothers spent time pushing each other in the outdoor pool, jumping off the diving board and trying to drown each other.. I spent most of my time in the lap pool (though my oldest brother did join me now and then), honing my skills. (Mad skillz, yo.) I know I asked my parents at some point 'Hey, do you think there's a swim team for kids my age??' Which probably sounded more to them like 'Blah blah blah money blah blah blah?' Lol.. probably figured I was kidding or something. Being a parent myself now, I realize just how often the words coming out of our children's mouths sound just so.

It didn't take long for us to not be able to afford the Club anymore... Dad stopped working for the IT MegaGiants and started teaching at a vocational school instead.. Wow.. hello pay-cut! By that time I'd turned my attention more to theater and band and let those grandiose dreams of Olympic medals fade away long enough that by the '96 games it was a distant, nostalgic memory of 'Wow.. I wish I'd stuck with that.. I could have been good.'

Oh, and my husband has dreams of swimming in the Olympics too... Literally. Last night, after watching Phelps break yet another record, he dreamed of swimming in the Olympics.. and then followed it up with a dream of trying to beat a Japanese female gymnast. It really pissed him off that no matter what he did with his 6'3" 200+lb body, he just couldn't seem to beat that little Japanese Olympic gymnast.. Poor guy.