Showing posts with label remember. Show all posts
Showing posts with label remember. Show all posts

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Camp Thousand Pines

I think I was in the 5th grade when I went to Camp Thousand Pines for the first time. I remember pulling up in the bus and having all the girls in one group, the boys in the other. It had been a hard year in school for me that year, having just lost my best friend, Louise Pritchard, when she moved away. I've never stopped looking for her.

The bus pulled up in one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. Little cabins were dotted through the woods with a central hall in the dead center of it all. The kids all piled out and began to scatter in multiple directions before one of the teachers bellowed for them all to freeze where they were and reassemble by the bus.

One by one we received cabin assignments. There was a teacher or parent in each cabin, but that didn't stop the girls from giggling and the boys from trying to pull practical jokes on one another at night. Parts of the trip turned out like the practical joke events in the original "Parent Trap" movie.

We went on night hikes. We met the local Native American tribe and they came to teach us how to do the traditional Rain Dance. I discovered my allergic reaction to bees. I had a metal ladder fall on my leg and sprain my ankle and we all took turns in the kitchen preparing a meal for the other kids before taking any food for ourselves. We even learned how to curl our hands and place our lips in the correct position in order to call the squirrels. I can actually still do it.

We told ghost stories out by the fire at night, roasted marshmallows over the open flames and enjoyed root beer floats while chatting about life in general. Though it seems as if Camp Thousand Pines has changed a lot since I was last there, my memories of the place before technology, live on just as they were.






Boo Hag - a Ghost Story.

You know how they say some folks are lucky at cards and some are lucky at love? Well, that fit Bobby Hansen to a ‘T’. He was the best poker player in the county, but somehow he couldn’t find himself a bride. Oh, he proposed to several girls, and even got accepted by a few. But they always got cold feet a day or two before the wedding, and it was bye-bye Bobby.

After the third time, Bobby was mighty discouraged, and his Pa felt real sore for him. They worked together in the family grocery store, and Bobby would sometimes sit on top of the pickle barrel and tell his Pa all his woes. And his Pa told him to hang in there, because a nice lady was on her way. Neither of them believed it, but it made both of them feel better to hear it said. Well, the day after their latest talk, the old woman who poled her barge through the swamp to deliver milk and eggs to the grocery store had a long talk with Bobby’s Pa. Seems she had this daughter who was hankering after a husband with a good steady job, and the old woman thought Bobby would do the job nicely. She suggested they introduce the pair at the next dance, and Bobby’s Pa agreed.

The night of the dance, Bobby’s Pa insisted that his son dress in his best. Bobby was dragging his feet a little, remembering all those women who played him false and not wanting to go, but his Pa dragged him out anyway. Well, the moment Bobby clapped eyes on the dark-eyed, red-lipped girl from the swamp, he was head over heels in love. Her eyes sparkled like the sunlight on the bay. Her skin was as creamy as new milk. Her voice was low and sweet.

The pair cuddled and cooed and waltzed the whole night long, and come sunrise Bobby was all for bringing his new love before the visiting priest who delivered his sermons in the grocery store (since there weren’t no church in that vicinity) and getting married right away. Well the girl was willing to get married, but not by a priest.

“Let’s just go to Beaumont and have the judge marry us,” she said to Bobby, and he was so smitten he agreed, though it would have been quicker and easier to just walk a mile down the road to see the priest.

By the next evening they were wed, and Bobby brought his pretty bride to the nice little cottage he rented just down the road from the family grocery. It had a nice front porch with a swing, a big bedroom on the second floor and a big attic with a window that could be made up into a second guestroom should his new mother-in-law care to visit from her home in the swamp.

After fixing him a nice dinner, Bobby’s new bride sat awhile in the rocking chair near their bed while Bobby yawned and watched her fondly. She cuddled under the blanket and knitted and hummed, and Bobby’s eyes grew heavy. He didn’t wake up until early morning, when his new bride crept into bed all hot and sweaty and fell asleep at once. When he asked her where she’d been, she wouldn’t answer him. Bobby was mighty sore that his bride had snuck out on him on their wedding night, but when she got snappish and her eyes blazed like they did when he questioned her, he grew frightened and backed down.

Life took on an odd pattern for Bobby. During the day, everything was perfect. His wife was sweet and pretty and loving. She kept the house sparkling clean and cooked him wonderful meals. But each night she refused to come to bed after supper. Like their wedding night, she sat up singing and rocking and knitting until he was asleep and did not come to bed til just afore dawn. She was always sweaty and cranky when she came to bed, and went to sleep before Bobby could question her.

Bobby was very confused and upset by this behavior, and finally confided in his Pa one morning after opening up the grocery store. Bobby’s Pa was awful worried. The visiting priest had gone on to his next parish, and there was no one they could consult but the local conjure woman. So he sent Bobby to her with a couple of chickens as a gift.

The conjure woman knew all about hoodoo magic and was an excellent herbalist. Local folks went to her when they were sick, on account of the doctor lived nigh on twenty miles away. When she heard Bobby’s story, she told him to pretend to go to sleep that night and watch what his new bride did. Then he was to come back and tell her everything. Bobby agreed.

The next evening, he pretended to fall asleep while his bride rocked and sang in her chair. Then he followed her up to the attic and watched through the crack in the open door as she sat down at the spinning wheel and spun off her skin, leaving only pulsing red muscles and blue veins. She was a terrifying sight and she sprang through the window and flew away into the night. Bobby ran out to the privy and was sick after he saw her. Who, what was this monster he had married? He was still trembling and in shock when his bride, looking like a normal person again, crept into bed at dawn, and he had trouble behaving normally at breakfast.


Part 2: Video created by a Reader
As soon as he could get away, Bobby ran to the home of the conjure woman and told her about the spinning wheel and the terrible skinless creature who flew away from his attic. “A boo-hag,” the conjure woman said at once. “You’ve married a boo-hag.”

“What’s a boo-hag?” asked Bobby. “A Boo Hag is a witch and a shape-shifter,” said the conjure woman. “She lures men into her trap and then delivers them to her Boo-Daddy, who eats their flesh and gnaws their bones. And that’s what she’ll do to you if you don’t get rid of her first.”

The conjure woman told Bobby to get himself some blue paint. As soon as the boo-hag left the house that night, he was to spread blue paint on every window frame and every door frame and make sure it was two coats thick. A boo-hag couldn’t fly through a window or door that was painted blue. And if she didn’t get back into her skin before dawn, she would be trapped without it, and be revealed for the monster she was. So he was to leave one tiny window unpainted, and keep it open a sliver so the boo-hag could squeeze through. Then he was to fill up her skin with salt and pepper, which would burn her up from the inside out. And Bobby promised to do exactly as the conjure woman said.

That night, Bobby lingered over his dinner, looking with sad eyes at the pretty woman sitting opposite him. He knew she was really a monster inside, but it was so nice to have a little wife in his home. He hated like anything to see her go. But he didn’t want to get eaten by a Boo-Daddy, and that was his fate if she stayed. So he went up to their bedroom and pretended to fall asleep while she rocked and sang and knitted. Then he followed her quietly upstairs and put salt and pepper into her skin after her ugly red-muscled blue-veined figure had flown out the window to her Boo-Daddy. He spent the rest of the night painting over every door and window frame with blue paint, leaving only one small unpainted window open in the cellar. He nailed it up so that it would open no further than a crack, just as the conjure woman instructed him. Then he hid himself behind a large chest of drawers up in the attic to wait for the boo-hag.

Just before dawn, the boo-hag came flying up to the attic window. As soon as she touched the blue frame, she gave a shriek of pain and rage. Bobby listened as she flew around the house, testing each window and door and howling like a banshee when it burned her skinless hands. Then she found the little window in the cellar, and he heard the thump as she landed beside it, followed by a painful whimpering sound as she squeezed and squeezed herself through the narrow opening, her skinless red muscles and blue veins tearing painfully against the rough wood.

The boo-hag ran up three flights of stairs into the attic and squeezed and squeezed into her skin as fast as she could. She just barely got it on when the first light of dawn shone over the horizon. And that was when the salt and pepper did their work, burning the boo-hags body from the inside out. With a scream of agony, she flung herself out the attic window. The glass shattered everywhere as she tried to fly away, tearing at the skin to get it off. But it was too late. She exploded into tiny pieces right over the swamp, and the alligators had them a mighty feast of cooked boo-hag for breakfast that morning.

So Bobby was once again without a wife. But bachelorhood looked much better to him after that, and he never went looking for a wife again. ‘Course, after he made a pile of money in oil, the girls started chasing him. But that’s another story!

Thursday, June 10, 2010

First Date

I've had a lot of first dates in my history, most of which didn't make it to a second date. It's hard to find a stable, drama free guy.


One guy ended up seeing me for a while, constantly charming me, flirting, teasing, dancing and dining. When finally after many months we took it to the next level he made a disastrous comment immediately after kissing me.


"I think you like me more than I like you," he said calmly. He was cool - no, strike that. He was cold. The whole thing had been a game for him. When I laughed at him, it really blew him away. He didn't know how to take it. He thought I was angry at him. Had I been angry, there would have been no doubt - I would have torn his head off. It upset him greatly that I wasn't actually angry at him I think. I laugh it off as one of the all time biggest relationship failures.


I once had a man propose to me on a first date. With my history of first dates, I knew he had a screw loose and played it off as a joke. I gave him an easy way out that way, and yet he didn't take it. He insisted that he was serious. He claimed that I was the "perfect woman" and he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. At the conclusion of that date, I gave the wrong address and walked a full three blocks home from where I had told him I lived.

Another first date once took me to a buffet style dinner where he proceeded to gorge himself in the most ungentlemanly fashion imaginable. By the end of the date, there was a full meal splayed down the front of his shirt. At that point I had already learned my lesson about meeting somewhere rather than riding together.

In High School, one of the popular boys asked me out on a date one night. I had been working at Wendy's in Roy, Utah at the time and he had apparently admired me from afar. He didn't know that I didn't fit the mold of what his family deemed a proper girl to him (mainly due to my religion unfortunately) and we had a glorious time anyway. We played miniature golf, watched an old Disney movie with a group of people where I fell asleep, and then he drove me home. I kissed him on the cheek before I got out of the car, and floated on air all the way to bed. The next day at school, he wouldn't even say hello to me. Someone had told him about my religion. He never spoke to me again.

I've had first dates that would go down in the record books as being some of the most horrible. One openly gawked at a passing woman with a large chest. One tried to slip a drug into my iced tea. One actually tried to put a drop of acid in his mouth and then kiss me without my knowing about it. He almost didn't survive the night.

I've had some very nice first dates as well. One guy showed up with a dozen red roses and a pencil drawing he did of me from a photo. It was sweet and romantic - and I eventually married him. Another took me dancing, also a very romantic move. Unfortunately he didn't really know how to dance and ended up sending me home with bruised feet. We were together for 2 years. Yet another took me to a beautiful restaurant in Beverly Hills called Vibrato and got a seat reserved right near the Jazz band where we dined on incredible steaks accompanied by dirty martini's, just the way I like it.

With all of these First Dates under my belt, one would think I would be an expert in the field - but there are those who have still taken me by surprise.

One first date in particular stands out in my mind above all others for some reason... A noisy restaurant isn't exactly the best place for a first date, but the food was good and the view was spectacular. Afterward we decided to go for a stroll. Walking along the beach in the dark, 10:00 at night just talking with someone I hardly knew turned out to be a wonderful night and an evening to remember. It's the little things I remember most; the sand between my toes, the ocean waves lapping at the shore, talking about surfing, going to Hawaii, being burried in the sand, odd family members and just life in general made that night the most successful first date in my history. There was nobody stomping on my feet or a Jazz band to shout over. There weren't any buffet lines, hidden drugs, sneaky idiots or marriage proposals. It was what I had always wanted - a NORMAL first date with a wonderful person.

There are many events that have happened in my life that I can swear I will never forget for as long as I live. I've forgotten most of the horrible first dates, and I remember most of the good ones. There are those that will live in infamy within the recesses of my mind though that will always make me smile, just with the mere thought of them. And as you all know, I do love to share my fond memories.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Windy the Pony

The first gift I can really remember ever wanting very badly I had to lobby for night and day. I begged my mom and daad to buy this silly little toy for me! At the time it was the most important thing I could think of. I wished on stars every night, and every morning my wish hadn’t come true yet. I didn’t have my precious toy. Still, every night, I wished on a different star, thinking maybe I had wished on the wrong one the previous night. I don’t know if there was any special reason, like a birthday or Christmas, but one morning I woke up to discover my wish had finally come true.

Mom and Dad had paid attention. They found Windy at a store and brought her home for me. I loved that purple My Little Pony. She had a decorative pattern on her flank depicting wind. I thought she was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen. Then again, I was 3 years old.

I played so much with that pony! I loved her hard plastic purple body and multi-colored flowing mane. She was beautiful in my eyes. I cried inconsolably when I lost her on the playground near the house. I begged for another pony, but to no avail. My mom and dad said that if I lost her, I would lose her again. I never saw her again.

In my youth I had many My Little Pony toys, somewhere nearly numbering 50 to 60, I'm sure. I never saw another “Windy” pony for many years though.

Though I no longer have Windy, at one time I ended up with two of her. When I originally posted this story on my Myspace blog in 2004, two of my biggest fans found my PO Box and mailed me Windy toys they had managed to find somewhere. One even came with the hair brush and accessories that would have been in the box at the time of purchase.

Sadly, the two Windys went the way of the uHaul - but it's not the end of the Windy story. Someday I'll have another. I displayed Windy prominently for as long as I had her. She was always a reminder of simpler days when the only things in the world I wanted were a popsicle and a little purple pony.


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Not long after posting this blog, I got a message from a friend on Twitter... you've got to see the Seranading Unicorn they sent to me! It went so well with this blog that I had to share it with you.

Dinner is Ready

  It might seem harmless. A quick detour to check the mail. A moment to look for that charger, water the plant, or send one last text. But ...