Running away from home

Running away from home..

There’s a very cute commercial on TV right now. (‘Advert’ for our British fans..) It’s a little bitty boy with bright red hair, pacing with purpose down a sidewalk, teddy bear under one arm and a tiny suitcase in his other hand. Behind him, driving very slowly is his mom. And the voice-over is talking about his mom being there when he’s tired of running away to the circus.

I thought back to my daughter’s growing up. She is away in school and I miss her terribly. But I digress.. I was thinking back on our growing up together and I didn’t remember her ever running away from home. When I was small, I packed my little suitcase.. it was one of those cardboard ones with, I think, Barbie on it.. I know my arms were loaded down, but have no real recollection of what they were loaded with. I do know that, since I wasn’t allowed to cross the street, I sat cross-legged at the end of the sidewalk for what seemed like hours (Mom said it was about 15 minutes.. but it’s all perception, yes? LOL) and then standing up, dragging it all back in and that was the end of it.

I then called my Chicklette and asked her if she ever ran away. She said, “Sure I did! I was seven and I moved out.”

WHAT??? Where the heck was *I*????

She then went on to tell me that she moved under the stairs outside of our apartment (it was inside stairs, so she wasn’t left to the elements.. probably just dust). She hauled her Cabbage Patch Big Wheels down there (maybe for a fast get-away, incase she wanted to see more of the world on her own), took some sheets and a blanket and made a bed and hung out down there. Again, where the heck was *I*??

She went into some detail, reminding me of the guy and girl that lived across the hall that babysat her occasionally. Amazing.. I can’t believe how much I remember that I apprise her of, but I’m always stunned at what she comes up with on her own for memories. What an amazing, beautiful and brilliant girl she is.. I’m so blessed with having her in my life. Or within 3 hours of my actual life..

Well, let me hop into the ‘way back machine to other times when my littlest brother and I ventured off into the wild blue yonder as little kids..

I was born and raised in laid back, quiet, safe Iowa and we lived next door to an old Jewish cemetery. It was beautiful and so peaceful and I’d take my Nancy Drew books over and lay on a headstone and read the afternoon away.. I used to eat the berries that grew on all the fences (Until Dad told me that most of the ‘inmates’ of the property weren’t buried in coffins and probably their.. uh.. pieces-parts were fertilizing the berries.. I thought of all the weeks and years that I’d sated myself, wiped the berry juice off my chin and it was full of DEAD GUYS!?!?!?! Oh, GAK! Double GAK.. Double GAK and a half!!! )

Anyway, digressing again.. Here I am sitting on my favorite headstone, reading Nancy Drew’s latest adventure, a lap full of gooseberries, black berries and raspberries (BEFORE I learned that I was eating DEAD GUYS), and watching a bunch of people coming to my house and then leaving again.. Shrugging, I went back to reading and eating (Dead Guy Berries, remember?).

Finishing the (dead guy) berries.. (still shuddering just to think about that), I sighed and closed the book and sashayed back to the house. My mom screamed, ran over grabbed me up and hugged me and then paddled my butt.. HUH? That was a confusing set of moves.. Turns out, I was lost for a long time. Hmmm.. *I* knew where I was! What’s the big deal? So, after the tears of joy from my mom and the tears of, ‘What the heck?’ from me, we decided that in the future, I’d mention that I was going over to read and dine on DEAD GUY berries. (Remember, I still wasn’t apprised of the fertilizer situation in the cemetery). All was well after that.. with me..

But then, came the situation with my littlest brother.. Revisit me in the cemetery, reading, eating and enjoying the day.. I look up to see people coming and going again and hopped down, stuffed the rest of the Dead Guy berries into my mouth and wandering home. This time, Mom wasn’t looking for me.. it was my second little brother, Robin, she was looking for.. he was about four or five at the time. So, I volunteered to ride my cool bike all over the neighborhood to look for him.

My other brother was two years younger than me and had a red bike. My bike was a girl’s bike and it had a bell and basket. The nut the held the handle bars to the bike said ANDROCK.. no idea why I remember that except that when I hit a fence post, I felt it was branded into my pubic bone for weeks.. yikes, that hurt. But yet AGAIN, I digress..

I hopped on my brother’s camel our bikes had many personalities and names and characteristics of many heroes and means of travel. His was red and FAST! Mine was blue and had a basket and bell. He was cool with my thieving his bike if he could ring the bell on mine and put all his sports stuff in the basket) and road all over the area calling my little brother’s name. Well, that worked wonderfully up until I passed the little local store (wood floors, ceiling fans, no air conditioning ~ it was ancient times, remember, before we ever knew of a/c) and I had a dime.. suddenly, it was ‘what brother?’.. What? Where? Who? IT WAS TIME FOR A SMOKE!!!!!!

Back then I could get a handy, flip-top pack of candy cigarettes for a nickel. Or I could get a package of those little wax soda bottles that housed some of the raunchiest, sweet flavor on the planet and my girlfriends and I LOVED them! (course it left our teeth the same color as whatever heinous stuff was in it.. but, again, I digress). OR.. I could get some waxed red lips.. wow, the tension was maddening.. so I decided to save half of my fortune and grab the ‘smokes’ while I looked for my brother.. oh, yeah, MY BROTHER!!!!! He could be out there in danger.. wild dogs, bears, my girl friends putting their mother’s make-up on him and dressing him like a little doll .. who even knew! It was the 50s, it didn’t seem as dangerous back then, but in my mind, Nancy Drew and I were on the trail.

I stood up and pedaled my little legs as if they were pistons and Nancy and I needed find that kid! But wait.. I needed a smoke first. Pulling over to the side of the road, I chewed up a cig and relaxed. Refreshed, I pedaled my wares on the road and went back on duty. Having only gone a whole block (this was Iowa, these were long blocks), I realized I was thirsty after all the cig-chewing and went back home for water.

While I was slurping down the water, I happened to spill it all over my shirt.. you remember those cute matching shirt and shorts outfits worn with TOTALLY pristine white sneakers and ruffle-dy socks? Well, I had to change. Walking so my long pony tail whipped back and forth (I mastered that walk.. have no idea how it’s done now). I heaved a HUGE sigh and I went to my closet (ok my sister’s and my closet) .. a sort of large, walk-in sort (that was then, probably today, it’s probably a regular size linen closet without the shelving.. but back then, it was HUGE.. especially when I had to clean it out on a regular basis). And I stepped over my little brother who was sound asleep on all my teddy bears.

HOLD THE PHONE! Here he was!!!! What a little rat! I was out there smoking myself into a frazzle and sweating and ruining my cool outfit and the little twerp (ya’ll remember that work, my old friends?) was sound-eyed asleep on my bears!

I stomped out to the living room where my mom was pacing and promising everything to who ever the almighty is to allow her son to live. Righteously, I pulled myself up tall, adjusted my glasses that kept sliding down my hot and sweaty face, moved my shoulders so my pony tail went back down my back, and said, “HE”S ASLEEP ON MY BEARS!!!” With that declaration, my mom rushed to the closet, swept him up and hugged and kissed him awake.

HOLD THE PHONE AGAIN!!! Where was all the bottom spanking? *I* got a whoopin’ and all he got was hugs!?!?!?! LIFE IS NOT FAIR!! Well, PFFT! Where is the justice? Well, there was only one recourse: Back on the bike, pedal to the store, buy the wax lips with my last nickel and once back home, hop off the bike while it was still going about 3400 miles an hour and watch it hit the garage and fall over (wasn’t MY bike, right?), get old Nancy Drew, and stomp off to the cemetery and smoke and chew up my wax lips..

The quiet peace of the afternoon (and the silence of the ‘inmates’) helped assuage my indignation and Nancy Drew ‘drew’ me into danger and the solving of mysteries, the cigs and wax lips got me through the rest of the afternoon and all was right with the world again.

And then there was the time that my little sister, Heidi, and Stevie, the next-door neighbor kid decided that they’d go see the horse that lived at the end of the street.. I was sitting on a head stone, reading Nancy Drew and still didn’t know I was eating Dead Guy berries….

Copyright 2007. Bekki Shanklin, from her Thinking All The Time series.