Flashback Friday #1

The night before I graduated from the Arts High I went out to Loring Park with five friends. It was bittersweet. We tried not to think about how we were all moving out of the dorm in the morning. We tried not to think about how it could be a while before we got to see each other again. We really tried not to think about the end of our time at the Arts High. So instead we spent the time playing in the dandelion fountain.

While we were jumping, dancing, and splashing I happened to look across the street, and there in the low lamplight was Emorej, one of the other dancer seniors from the Arts High. He said that he was just sitting on the bench thinking about how school was over and crying. So we invited him to splash with us.

I don't have any pictures from that night, but here are some of the next day after we had all graduated.

Me, storysmith, box car child, and girl genius

My communist, Me, Seattle Girl

Me and girl genius

The five best things about the first day of school, nostalgia version

1. First day of school pictures. The Hatlady is a picture fanatic, she has an obsession with capturing things on film. She always has a hat and a camera on her. She can get pictures of anyone, especially if they usually don't let people take their pictures, she has a gift.

So every year she would make my sisters and I take a first day of school picture and a last day of school picture. You can tell how each of us feels by the look in our eyes, whether we're excited or don't want school to start again. It has become a tradition, and continued until box car child finished high school. If it weren't so hard to get us all together twice a year I would keep this tradition going.
me first day of first grade (not your typical first day of school photo, it would usually be all three of us together, but I couldn't find one of all of us.)

2. New school supplies. I love new pens, pencils, notebooks. I love the possibility they hold, the blank pages and new ink. It was so exciting going to school knowing that I had a backpack filled with possibility.

3. Friends. I grew up on a 13 acre farm out in the country and didn't see school friends often during the summer. I was always jealous of my 'town friends' that got to hang out during the summer. Late when I was going to the Arts High my friends were scattered across the state, so it made it even more difficult to see any of them during the summer.

4. Dance. Coming from farm country I didn't have many opportunities for dance classes during the summer, especially if I was looking for more than studio sparkle dance. Going to the Arts High meant being able to move again, being able to be around other dancers and, for my senior year, really finding my own voice and strength in dance. It really is like coming back to an old friend and feeling like you haven't changed at all and the relationship fits perfectly.

5. Having a clean slate. In a small town everyone knows everything about everyone else. Sometimes even before the people know it about themselves. Going to school in a small town and living far enough away to not be around all the time meant that I could escape that for the summer. I didn't get hooked into all the drama, I didn't have to. Coming back to school in the fall meant that I got to start out fresh. I didn't have the drama of the summer, and didn't know why so-and-so was made at her or him, or why everyone wasn't talking, or whatever. I didn't have to follow those rules, because they didn't apply to me, at least not yet.

Going to the Arts High meant coming back to an entire new grade of people, meant being able to stop being called 'Little Storysmith' or 'Storysmith's sister' and instead just be J. Don't get me wrong I love the Storysmith dearly, but being a junior in high school I didn't have the confidence or ability to be okay with that and still be myself. It meant that if people recognized me it was because they actually saw me, and not my older sister walking down the hallways.

Inspired by prompt #2 of Mama Kat's writer's workshop.

Pie Day on a leash

Quite a few things have come out of Braham, MN that the world should be happy about. Egg beaters were made there, the pooper scooper was invented there. I think that the best thing to come out of Braham is Braham Pie Day, although, I can image that if I had a dog the pooper scooper might move up on the list for me.

Braham was named the 'Homemade Pie Capitol of Minnesota' in 1991 by Governor Rudy Perpich (the very same guy who starter the Perpich Center for Arts Educaion, really was he an angel in disguise?) Since that proclamation Braham has held an annual one day pie festival in August. And it is great. I love it.

It was a wonderful day. And exhausting. Why? Mr. Not Hideous is the director of Pie Day, and me, I'm the secretary and co-coordinator for the Kids N' Berries tent. So, yeah, we were a little busy.

I spent the morning with Goosey in our Kelty backpack as I went between the hospitality room, Kids N' Berries tent, main stage, and the storage locker, all the while trying to remember to check the answering machine every half hour.

Mr. Not Hideous was unable to find himself a golf cart to borrow for the day, so instead he had the motorcycle out and was driving that up and down the length of the three block park. (He was definitely NOT hideous riding around all morning!)

The afternoon was a little less hectic, but still filled with stops to the stage, kids n' berries, talking with random craft fair vendors who showed up late and didn't know where they were supposed to set up, checking the answering machine, and running in to relatives from Oregon and Washington.

Mr. Not Hideous' Mom, Shopping Queen, was staying with us, so I could leave Goosey with her on my perpetual trips out of the apartment. Now, Shopping Queen loves Goosey. Absolutely adores her, but Goosey doesn't seem to have quite the same feelings for Shopping Queen. Every time that I came back into the apartment I was greeted by the sounds of Goosey crying. No matter how long I had been out. That was another reason I felt like I walked ten times faster than normal all day long.

On one of my walks between the apartment and the festival I ended up behind one of the other in town families with a young child. I have seen them around town a lot, and usually they have their daughter, E-R, in a stroller, but she has just learned how to walk. So instead of a stroller they had one of those monkey-backpack-leash things on her. It was the first time in my life that I have actually thought that the monkey-backpack-leash is an invention worth thinking about.

In the past, whenever I would see parents using leashes for their children my reaction was always the same. 'What sort of stupid parent would need to put a leash on their child?!! Can't they just teach their child to listen? Don't they know how to talk to their kids? Kids are not animals!!! I will NEVER be one of those parents! I will be aware enough to not use one, blah, blah, blah...'

After having spent months seeing E-R with her parents and watching her Dad out on walks with her, I have been humbled. He is a wonderful father, and has so much patience for little feet learning to walk and explore the world on a whole new level. I know that he has the capability to talk to E-R with respect and if anyone could figure out how to get their 16 month old to listen and walk out in public without a leash, I'm sure it would be him. So, I'm eating my thoughts, and apologizing to the countless parents who have given themselves a break and bought a monkey-backpack-leash thing.

Did I mention that I'm thinking about buying one of the monkey-backpack-leash things? Goosey is walking already, and I like her too much for her to have free reign over busy streets. Not to mention crowds where little feet have a way of finding all the small places to slip away.

So sorry for being a self-righteous twenty-something and thinking that my few years of life-without-child could magically know better.

I'm sure there will be some Pie Day when I will have the child on leash look going for me.