Vivid Memories of Childhood and Beyond

WOW! A lot of what has been mentioned memories have also been memories to me also. LOL
My memories are riding horse for hours and hours and enjoying the outdoors. Fishing, playing BB, playing with friends and no worriers in the world. I remember doing in old drug store and having a drink from the fountain machines they had. WOW! So much I wish I could have back now. I loved the days gone bye!!
 

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Coming to this thread I do have memories of my childhood, but the majority of them are not good. I will not get into it and all I will say is my parents were not the most ideal set of parents. I am just happy that my older sister had the smarts and know how to petition for custody of me when she was old enough and it was granted. Even though things were very difficult for us my sister worked really hard and that is where the positive memories began for me when I was 16 years old.
 

Gary O' said:
Yeah, the tough memories do not go away, but recalling the good ones, that bring a smile, or a nod, those are beyond value
Click to expand...
The good ones growing up came from what my older sister and I made the best of together. I cannot recall any positive memories that my parents gave us at all.
 
written a decade or so ago

Naps

How terribly underrated.
Fought ‘em from 3 to ‘bout 60.
Now I wake up and start lookin’ forward to the morning nap.

When three, folks would nab me and toss me on the bed most afternoons.
During solitary confinement I found fascination with ceiling stains, bugs on the wall, boogers on the wall (from countless previous incarcerations), and the wispy sheer curtains, taunting me with flavors from the other side of the open window.
Eventually gramma would pardon me.
Free at last, free at last!

Next 50 some years, work/play ‘round the clock.
Sleeping was for suckers, could miss out on some fun.
Driving jobs, oil field, work 80-100 hours a week, then play, hard.
Sometimes just go back to work.
Bar maids got used to preparing me breakfast for my graveyard shift.
The third day gets tricky, however.
Seems you must dream whether you sleep or not.
Giddiness turns to grumpassiness, then you finally drop somewhere.
Waking up at the steering wheel seems to immediately raise several questions….the brief panic subsides.
Never new about REM, but drool, I hear, is a strong indicator you were there, especially when waking up with your face feeling like a glazed donut.


Now, now the nap, this sacred rite, beckons.
At work, this pathetic office job of 8-12 hours, requires a nap at around 12:30 or 1, sometimes even at 10a.
Closed door, feet on desk, ‘snork’, I’m up, refreshed. Can’t wait to get home, finish.

Sometimes I like napping in an uncomfortable position just to wake back up so I can drift off again.

One time I fell asleep with my arms behind my head.
Woke up to the phone ringing.
In reaching for it, my arm just flopped down to my side.
Thought I’d had a stroke while napping, both arms paralyzed. Panic.
During the struggle to pick up the phone with my mouth, they started coming too.

I also have dreams, wonderful dreams, dreams of fishing.
You know, the ones.
You want to go back to sleep to get back in it, but can’t.
Well, mine is recurring, same ones over and over………..

Sleepy now.

Hope I remember the bait this time.

moi..thinking.jpg
 
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I posted this in a now defunct forum of mostly twentysomethings, a sprinkling of thirtysomethings, and some fortysomething leaders.
It was a bit of advise on what's to come, in a forum moderator's 50th birthday thread

Maybe some of us geezers can relate;

Here and Now

So, here I am, on the wrong side of sixty, weird things growing, wiry hairs, warts, splotches, odd indefinable patches, moles the size of moles, and that’s just on my hind end.

I’ve got good hearing, but only in one ear.
It's why we have two of most everything.

Vision is going south. Reading glasses are strategically laid throughout the house, cars, tackle boxes, and shop.
It’s not a serious issue just yet, but need to demonstrate more patience when trying to get the neighbor’s hibachi to fetch.

I make little noises when I commence to get outta my lay z boy.
I notice that those same noises will emanate from my wretched larynx when I commence to sit in said lazy boy.
Speaking of larynxes, I find that throat clearing takes several tries…like starting an ol’ model T.

I have partial recall, and even that is a struggle.

I can put on 157 lbs in 13 minutes, just from sniffing a bran muffin.

After sixty, while you slumber, a pubic hair can grow the length of 3 feet…on the pointy part of your ear lobe.

Things grow, and things that were already there will up and move

‘Doc, take a look at whatever that is on my left knee.’
‘Gary, that’s just your right testicle.’
‘BTW, when’s the last time I ran my finger up your pooper?’

When in your 60s you must learn the difference between the words colostomy and colonoscopy…it’s important when checking in.

Of a morning, you’ll look in the bathroom mirror, and find a goblin looking back.
So just comb back your ear hair and greet the day.

Self-keeping becomes secondary.
‘Honey, there’s a puffed wheat in your moustache.’
‘Oh…..so?’
‘We had puffed wheat two weeks ago.’
‘And your point, dear?’

By sixty your underwear from high school has finally given up the ghost, so you retire the little strands of elastic,
but consider the frugal acquisition of 12 headbands.

You discover your new fresh (actually brilliant white) briefs are quite the contrast to the occasional poop stain
…of which is no longer so occasional……poop cake can become a concern.

Oh, and you discover you no longer have a hind end.
It has gingerly crept up and nestled onto your lower back, leaving you with just a six inch line and a tuft of hair.

The fire in your eyes is now just pain recognition.
Speaking of fire, get wunna those birthday candles that doesn’t blow out.

It’ll help you keep the fire.
 
I remembered something today that I had forgotten all about. Growing up I lived in the City and in the summertime we would get wet under the fireplug. When I was about 13yrs old I didn't feel like going outside. So I went upstairs and soaked in the tub and then went in my bedroom to get dressed. All of a sudden my bedroom door opened and the boy that lived across the street from me was standing there. I was so embarrassed and didn't know why he was there. He had knocked on our front door and when my Mother answered it he told her he wanted me to go outside and play under the fireplug. She knew I didn't want to but told him to go upstairs to my room and talk me into going out. After all these years I still remember how I felt that day. 13 yrs old and a 14yr old boy saw me naked. He wasn't embarrassed at all and shortly after that he asked me out and we dated for 2yrs. Luckily for me he never saw me naked again.
 
Sassycakes said:
I remembered something today that I had forgotten all about
Click to expand...
Thanks for bumping this thread, Sassy

Been awhile since I'd posted anything here

Country

Vernonia was the epitome of a logging town in its day.
Still quite a bit of it going on, but they just haul out mostly what we call 'pecker poles' (third growth).
The wonderful stream, Rock Creek, runs thru Vernonia from Keasey dam sight, ten or so miles up the road.
It's full of native cut throat trout...pink meat, as they dine on the crawdads.
They have the fight of a steel head, tail walk, jump, dive, and slam your bait or fly with vigor.
Love walkin' that stream, just for the beauty of it.
The aromas of the creek, frog water and reeds, driven by the mountain breeze thru the firs and alders, sends me back to that little school and our home in the Chapman hills.
A family had quite a logging outfit in Vernonia, and up until a few years ago, I'd stop in to ask the old man for permission to fish his part of the stream.
He was just concerned with the salmon spawning beds, but once we swapped fishing lies, we became good acquaintances.
Wonderful man.
Did himself in when he fell into a diabetic depression.
Sad.

When the boys were 10 and 12, I took them and three of their friends up to my secret fishing hole, just 5 miles out of Vernonia.
Took 'em up the logging road and thru the willow and brush, back down to an 'inaccessible' part of the stream.

On the way they moaned about needing an ATV.
I mentioned that if they would be a bit quiet that they might see something.
Moments later we heard what seemed like a freight train comin' thru the brush.
It was a rather large herd of elk.
Once they put their faces back together, we made our way to the stream.
Didn't catch many fish, but those memories remain etched in their mind.

Ran into one of them years later.
His face lit up when recalling our adventure.
Did this ol' soul some good.
My youngest son is a commercial fisherman.
Yeah, Bristol bay, King crab, and now Dungeness. I may have had a hand in his choice of vocations...........

By the way, if any of you guys happen thru Oregon and onto hwy 26 on the way to the coast,
take hwy 47 at Staley's and enjoy the drive to Vernonia.

A better one is thru Jewel, scope out the elk at the reserve, and truck on thru to Astoria.
Lots of thick old growth and switch backs.
End up climbing the Astor column (if you dare).
Take your camera.................
 
Wrote this a couple decades ago;



Y’know, this ol’ orb is getting’ mighty small for this ol’ coot.
15 yrs ago I was feeding specs into a fax machine, hoping;
1) It wouldn’t wrinkle up
2) The people in England could read it
3) They would actually receive it
4) I poked in the number right

It typically burned three to four days to get a hint of resolution.
Today I electronically communicate with every corner of this globe every day, and now feel it routine.
Minutes ago a gentleman from Texas set me straight on something I forwarded (somewhat tongue in cheek).
It’s amazing.
Anyone can google anything……tons of info…some wrong…some so right you don’t have to think about it….reason, horse sense, common thinking ability is a must these days.
Yeah, back in the day you could get killed without it. Now, lots of people can get hurt, and just as quick, following skewed advice.

A couple times I let myself get in to Email debates….political, religious.
I thought it’d be fun, as I fancy myself a pretty good arguer.
However, they both ended up with threats to my relatives, accusations of my lineage, and pointed query’s as to my exact location, ‘cause they had a yen to do terrible things to my body, and send odd things down my neck

……..but.....she cooled off after awhile.

I shoulda known before hand, ‘cause CB conversations used to go that way when haulin’ dry vans across the lower 48…but then it was just to kill the boredom.

There was that one time this LTL guy got all ugly and wanted to meet up.
Guess he didn’t realize I was right behind his rig, and I eventually sat on the café stool right next to him.


Why is it that skinny little guys feel they have to yell so loud on a two-way anyhow?

So, I’ve learned to keep debates to face time.


It’s just as fun.
 
My favorite place, when growing up, was the beach

Couldn't get enough
Always 'time to go' was waaay too early

Swore I wouldn't do that to our kids
When we took them to the coast, we always got a motel right on the beach

and stayed.....and stayed.....and stayed more

Had to

Couldn't not

Our little guys loved it as much or more than even I

tom on the beach.JPG



steve on the beach.JPG
 
Gary O' said:
I just watched the movie 'Shine' last night

.....reminded me of my eldest son

was hard to hold emotion thru some parts

was much harder for my Lady

but we remained

riveted

My son
Excelled in academics
Skipped grades
Won awards
Became somewhat sought after
Mensa
Artistic things hung in municipal halls
Life for him was just too slow apace
Stayed up for days at a time
He’d regurgitate all his thoughts to his mother and I
It was a bit suffocating

Then one day he came to me in my shop
....and began crying, telling me he felt he was going crazy,
but unable to put his feelings into words
I hugged him
Told him all kids go thru puberty and change
‘this too shall pass’ kinda thing

The next years are a blur
I guess maybe I never have wished to dwell on the events in those years

I’ll try to piece some together on my own, as I know better than to ask my lady


He ended up in prison
At 19
Advancing from a minimum security facility to OSP
And on to ‘thunderdome’
Where nobody wants to go

Tried to arrange visits
Rejected countless times
Talked to OSP counselors
‘forget your son, concentrate on your other children’

We got a call
OSP does not call anyone
‘You need to see your son’

The visiting area was like a staging zone for zoo critters
Steel tables, benches, cemented in
Chain link walls and doors
He was led in by guards
Shackled head to toe
Made to sit
Unseeing eyes
No recognition
Indistinguishable utterances
He stunk to high heaven
Never looked our way

On the way home I had to pull over, off the freeway
I don’t remember the last time I cried
Maybe as a small child...
But
Never wept like that in my life
And have yet too since
Bitter
Helpless
Godless
Utter hopelessness

A week (?) later we got another call
He was being transferred to the psych ward across the street
Where ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ was filmed

We were told he had quit eating entirely
Weighed 90 lbs
A guard carried him across the street

We were led to the visiting area
Typical booth like situation for visitors
Only, the other side of the glass was something from a zombie movie
We got to watch him attempt to drink milk and cry

My lady had a very hard time
I went alone
Weeks of visiting later, he was released
Just like that

After 7 years of maximum security

to us

I do not do well when cleaning up men with uncontrolled body functions

Triage
Nut bins
Meds

It’s all a blur

Somewhere in there, when he was still cognizant, I did a bit of a fraught thing…

We talked about his options
He wanted to go camping

So

Him and I packed his meager belongings

Bought him some basic camp stuff

Drove him to the Trask river area


And dropped him off

while it began to rain

Ever do something that gave you immediate relief, knowing the end result would probably not be optimal?

The sack of cats Dad would have me toss out the window of a speeding Chevy may have had an influence

On the way back home, I tried not to think.

Still

Thoughts crept in

Maybe he’d just lie there curled in his sleeping bag
Inert
Oblivious
Until days later large birds of prey would dine on his remains

It’s all a blur

They found him 300 miles south
Incoherent

The Tillamook women’s mental health facility asked us to take him back 'he can't stay here'

More triage

Got him hooked up with a place called Luke-Dorf

General population nut bin for semi-functional goofballs
Then what they call the quad
Then paired up in a shared apartment
And now
On his own
On a budget

I figger the tax payer’s dollars for this are from this tax payer

During these times he’d ever so often not take his meds
Sometimes it was because they changed colors or shapes and he didn’t think they were right
Sometimes it was just because he thought he no longer needed them
Always ended with me going over there, reattaching his phone, and fishing his glasses outa the toilet.

He’s as functional now as you and me, first look.

As long as he takes his meds.

Sorry
This is jumbled time line mess
My lady can recite the events like they happened yesterday
7 or more years of them
I will not take her there


Couple things;

Underage folks do not get diagnosed in regard to mental health
No matter how batshit crazy they are
At least they didn’t then

but

Rosie O'Donnell can git outa bed to do a show
Then go back to bed
And she’s clinically nuts

I know, I know, mental illness is different than insanity
I jus’ wanted to be trite for a bit during this scattered post
Click to expand...
There really should be a rule against 100,000,000 words posts
 
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