Violated Airspace!

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day but this post is not about Martin Luther King Jr.  Instead, this is part of my "A Moment from Mondays Gone By" series...where I re-post a favorite story or in this case, share a favorite memory.

As I was running errands today, I happened upon a small community football field.  What surprised me the most is that it was empty.  See, when I was a kid, if we had had a day like today...no school, no snow, dry ground, blue sky, 40 some degrees...the neighborhoods would have been crawling with kids.  We would have been all over that field!  That makes me sad.

Moving on.


Part of my growing up years were spent in a trailer park.  Don't judge.  Our lot was the main hang-out for all the park kids.  We had a great sledding/biking hill with a bridge over the irrigation ditch; an amazing log fort; materials for building epic bike jumps; AND an empty lot next door.  Our lot was separated from the empty one by a deer fence, which had started out about 3 feet high but had been pushed down for easier access.  However, the grass that had grown up through the fence was at least 3 feet high.  Anyway, this lot was used for football, soccer and Frisbee.

The problem was the neighbor on the other side of the lot.  She was a witch.  She ate children.  If you looked her in the eye, you would be paralyzed and she would put curses on you.  Actually, some of that might not be true but we weren't about to take chances.  I don't actually remember ever seeing her but I have distinct memories of being yelled at.  And we never got our ball or Frisbee back when they went over the fence.

So, there we were...enjoying a "no school" day...playing football.  Suddenly, the ball veers off course...15 or so kids freeze...there is a collective "gasp" as the ball crosses the plane of her lot...multiple voices yell, "VIOLATED AIRSPACE!!"...15 or so kids run-jump-dive-roll-slide into our lot and hide behind the grass until the coast is clear.  Then 10 or so kids brave enough to continue, scrounged up another ball while everyone else went and hid in their own yards or houses.  It was so much fun!  But then again, any experience that could be followed-up by the phrase "We almost died." is a winner in my book.

I wish all kids could have that experience!

I'm Part Leprechaun...

I know it is not a Monday but I am sharing a memory in honor of St. Patrick's Day. 

The students that are currently in my sixth grade class are the same students that were in kindergarten the year I was Mrs. Jackson's (kindergarten) assistant.  It was a difficult year for me.  Mostly because I have a difficult time teaching foundational knowledge that needs to be learned by rote.  Playing and interacting with them was great but teaching them "short vowel sounds" and "counting to one hundred"...not my thing.

On St. Patrick's Day I decided to pull their leg a little...ok...a lot.  While Mrs. Jackson took them upstairs to visit the bake sale, I stayed behind to set the stage.  First, I locked the door, opened the emergency exit window and knocked over a few chairs.  Then I took $5.00 in pennies and scattered them all over the room and put a blue marble in each student's pencil box.  Finally, I stood at the door, listening for their return.  When I heard them outside the door, I started yelling, "Stop! No! What do you think you are doing? I'm not letting you go! You're mine now! etc."  Mrs. Jackson tries to come in and finds the door locked and starts pounding on the door yelling, "Ms. Janet?  What's going on?  Are you ok?" (She's was always ready to play along with my schemes...plus she had plenty of her own!)

I finally come and open the door and I stand there, disheveled and gasping for air.  I had never seen that class so quiet or their eyes so huge.  They didn't say anything.  Mrs. Jackson asks me what happened and I gasp out, "There...(gasp)...was a...(gasp)...Leprechaun...(gasp)"

The kids came into the room...sort of (they pretty much stayed by the door at first) and I told them what happened.  "I was going with you to the bake sale but I heard a noise in the classroom so I went back and there he was...just standing there...a Leprechaun.  I knew that if I could catch him he would have to give me his gold so I locked the door and chased him around the room.  He kept tripping over the chairs so I was able to grab him as he was trying to go out the emergency window.  But then he got loose.  He got away but I tore a hole in his money bag and his gold spilled all over the room!"

The kids still haven't said a word.

"You can keep whatever you can find..."  They still don't say anything but they do start scrambing around collecting pennies.

Finally, one boy asks, "What was he doing here?"

"I don't know," I said, "but I saw him messing with some pencil boxes."

They all make a run for their pencil boxes and discover little blue balls of glass.  "He left us this."

I gasp loudly and then, in my best "hushed-whisper-of-awe" voice I say, "Do....you....know...what...that...is??  That is an Imagination Ball!  The legends say that as long as you have an Imagination Ball you will have an ammmmmaaaaazzzzzing imagination!"

Soft "oohs" and "aahs" from the kids.


Now, I probably should have stopped here.  But no.  One of the kids says, "How do you know about the Imagination Ball?"

"I'm part Leprechaun.  Because my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was a Leprechaun."

"No, he wasn't."

"Yes, he was.  His name was Littleberry Roach...and if that's not a Leprechaun name, I don't know what is."

"You mean your great-grandpa was green?!"

"Real Leprechauns aren't green...that's just in the movies.  Real Leprechauns look just like everybody else...they just have special skills."

"Do you have special skills?"

"Yes.  I can tell good stories and I can make people laugh."

GASP "It's true you guys!! She tells good stories!"

Moments from Mondays Gone by...

This morning, as I was reading through some of the blogs that I follow, I noticed that there were a couple of stories involving dogs.  That got me thinking about the dogs we had growing up so I have decided to share a "dog" memory.

Now, we had several dogs growing up and they were all unique...but there was one dog in particular...well, he was special...

His name was Zach.  Zaccheus, actually, because when Dad brought him home the only thing we had to tie him to was a Sycamore tree.  He was a black lab puppy that, before we knew it, turned into a black lab dog.  He was strong and full of energy...uprooting the young Sycamore tree, then tipping over the big swing set (the next thing he was tied to) and then separating the porch from the house...

But before I share this particular memory, I must preface it by saying:

I have a temper.

Some people hear me say that and are shocked.  "I've never even seen you get angry," they say.  That's because I am Christian ADULT who believes in practicing self-control.  But seriously, I have red hair...and I'm Irish...it's kind of a no-brainer.  However, I did not always practice self-control.  In fact, when I was young, I very rarely practiced self-control.

So anyway, I am coming home from school one day (I was about 12) and it was a bad day...maybe...at least I like to think I was already having an awful day because it makes my reaction seem a little less...insane...
Zach is all excited because now there are kids and kids means he will be let loose and he can play.  Even as it was happening, I knew that he didn't do it on purpose, but... he was soooo excited to see me and he's barking and jumping around and (when I got close enough) putting his paws on my chest and trying to lick my face...and he bit me.

It was just a nip, really.  But, evidently, it was enough, because...









I bit him back.





Yes.  I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and chomped.  Through the haze of my anger I hear my mother yell, "Janet Lorraine Roach! Get that dog out of your mouth!"  Or something to that effect.  Zach and I stood there looking at each other with petulant glares before each going to our separate rooms to sulk although my sulk lasted a lot longer than his did.  That is one of the best things about a dog...they don't hold grudges.  Still to this day, I wonder what the neighbors were thinking?...





Oh. And if YOU are wondering what I was thinking?...well...I wasn't.  Eventually, I learned to control my temper but I just have to chuckle sometimes, because, when I get angry, my first reaction is still wanting to "bite" something.  But I stick to gum these days.

Refections? Or Not...

I am sitting here watching the Rose Bowl Parade and looking over blogs that I follow and reading facebook statuses...

There is a whole lot of reflecting going on.  I suppose that is natural but I have never really gotten into the whole "refecting over the last year as you bring in the new one".  I don't know why.  Maybe because reflecting on the past and looking forward to the future is something I do regularly throughout the year.  Some of my reflection times happen at regular intervals...like June 5, August 31, and March 18...but there are other times of reflection that are brought about by random events.

a memory
                                                   a thought
                                                                                                  a picture
                                    a conversation
                                                                  a sound
               a smell

You get the idea.  Anyway, as far as I can recall, 2010 was pretty good.  I will reflect in detail later...right now, I'm enjoying the parade.

It Started with Some Mistletoe...

This is really an installment of Memories from Mondays Gone by...on a Wednesday.

About a decade ago...when I was still in Washington State, my youngest brother and I were the only ones still living at home. (Actually, I was living at home AGAIN. You know, they talk about the boomerang generation...adult kids that move back in with mom and dad...I'm more of a yo-yo.)  Anyway.  We had not had  a decorated Christmas in a couple of years and for some reason, Tim and I decided that we would be funny and hang a single sprig of mistletoe in the living room. 

So, we dig out the Christmas decorations and a step-ladder and attach the mistletoe to the light fixture in our living room.  Then we step back to admire our handiwork.  That's when our attention focussed on the step-ladder.  Evidently, we both had the same silly idea at the same time because we just smiled at each other and proceeded to decorate our metal "Christmas tree."

When Mom and Dad got home, they were greeted by a gleaming silver "tree" complete with garland and bows.

And I don't think they ever noticed the mistletoe.

Holiday Memories...

If I had had my computer I would have shared this memory closer to Thanksgiving.  Not because it is a Thanksgiving memory (because it is not...it is not even a holiday memory) but because I was reminded during Thanksgiving.

I spent Thanksgiving in Knoxville with my brother and his family. On the way there I saw a guy trying to get to Johnson City. I know all the warnings about picking up hitchhikers...but there I was, wondering if I could shift some of my stuff and make room for this guy.

See, my dad used to work in Portland, OR. And we lived in Twisp, WA (about 400 miles away) with my grandparents. And after work on Friday, he would hitchhike all night so that he could spend Saturday with us only to leave Sunday morning so he could be at work Monday morning. And I wonder how many people passed him by because they were afraid to pick up a crazy person... But to those of you who stopped to help him get home to his family...thank you.

Oh, and someone else stopped for Mr. Johnson City before I could and hopefully he was able to spend his Thanksgiving with his friends and family.

Memories of Mondays Gone By...Thanksgiving Edition

I love Thanksgiving.  I love the food...the turkey, the stuffing, the sweet potatoes, the pumpkin pie.  I don't like the cranberry jelly but other than that... I even like the green beans.  I remember a Thanksgiving when I was about three, my mother asked me how many green beans I wanted. I answered "6."  That's a big number to a 3-year old.  My 5-year old cousin David overheard my answer and got all excited and proclaimed that he would take 6 green beans as well.  I also remember several Thanksgiving poker games where we used the vegetable tray instead of chips..."I'll see your radish and raise you an olive."

I love the football...Grandpa was very big on team loyalty.  My cousin Brent was the only one who ever dared to oppose him.  He was a die-hard Raiders fan in a Seahawk family.  I remember my mother cheering during the game.  Whenever her team was doing poorly she would yell, "Dang!"  Whenever her team was doing well she would yell, "Hot Dang!"

And I love the friends and family.  I love the hugs, the laughter, the memories (or exaggerated stories), and all the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make a family...yours.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  And I am very grateful indeed.

A Positive Outcome

I had to leave early tonight.  I just couldn't take it any longer.  If I had stayed...well...it wouldn't have been pretty.  But I am happy to report that no "yoots" were smacked upside the head during the making of this evening.

However, the positive outcome is this:



I am extremely thankful for my upbringing.  I'm not sure that I can adequately communicate just how grateful I am for the way I was raised.  So, I am going to just list some of the highlights.

I am thankful...

1. I was not given everything I wanted
2. we did not replace the TV when it broke
3. we took our vacations in the woods
4. that sometimes we were awakened in the middle of the night to witness the northern lights and meteor showers
5. that I was spanked when I was disobedient
6. I was required to do my homework...myself
7. laughing was strongly encouraged
8. I did not ALWAYS get presents for my birthday or Christmas
9. my mother taught me to be creative and resourceful
10. my father taught me to be diligent and perseverant
11. I was taught to value books
12. that striving for mediocrity was not an option
13. I wasn't allowed to blame other people or situations for my own actions
14. that disrespect (toward anyone) was not tolerated
15. I was taught the importance of empathy

I am thankful that my parents loved me enough to see that I grew up...well.

This Memory Is Brought to You by My Mother...

Today my mother asked me if I wanted her ashes.  And that question and the resulting thoughts that went through my head eventually led to this memory being shared with you on another Moments from Mondays Gone By...

There are no adults in this story. Now, some of my best childhood memories are adult-free but in this case...well...you be the judge.

At the time, I was 12, the brother involved was 10, and the kid from across the street was 14. We lived in a trailer park in a small town in the middle of nowhere, WA. Our neighbors were on vacation and they had a cat. The cat was hit by a car.

So, here we are, looking at this cat...which was really more of a kitten, gasping for air, mewing pitifully, and unable to move due to a squished spine. Now, I'm not a cat-person...never have been...but I remember getting teary-eyed watching that cat suffer and knowing that it was not going to survive. We were trying to figure out what to do and how to put this cat out of its misery and the kid from across the street says,

"My dad has an axe."

OK. Now we had a plan. So the kid from across the street returns with the axe and there is a brief discussion about how he is the oldest and it is his father's axe therefore he should be the one to chop...the cat's...head...off.

So, my brother and I take a couple steps back and...wait.  And wait. Evidently it is one thing to watch this kind of thing being done by adults and quite another to be the one doing it. Anyway, he finally works up the courage to swing the axe but closes his eyes and completely misses. After another few minutes of gathering courage, he swings...he severs.

Now, let me just take a moment and say...we were all familiar with farm life...we had all seen chickens running around with their heads cut off...BUT...what we did not know...could never even have imagined...is that ALL creatures, suddenly severed from their brains, "run like a chicken with its head cut off."

This cat...body...jumps up and starts running around, flopping on the ground, jumping in the air and generally doing all manner of acrobatic feats while its head is just laying there in the street. There is a moment of shocked silence...and then the kid from across the street start screaming...like a girl...and my brother and I begin to giggle.  You know. Those giggles you get when you are really nervous or...FREAKED OUT!! The ones that you can't stop and they get worse the more nervous or freaked out you get?

Thankfully the cat started to settle down because right about then we see the park manager start heading our way. So we grab both pieces of the cat and head down to the river to bury the thing. We were still nervous so we just gave it a shallow grave.  It was really more like getting rid of the evidence instead of a proper funeral. However, in just a few days it started to really stink and it was right where we all played so...

we built a raft...
placed the cat...
set it on fire...
and gave it a glorious Viking burial.

And we NEVER told the neighbors.

The Butterscotch Pudding Episode...

Here is another installment in the Moments From Mondays Gone By Series. I am sitting here enjoying a butterscotch pudding cup and I suddenly get the giggles as I remember...


It sounded clever in my head. But when you are twelve...pretty much everything sounds clever in your head. Anyway...Mom and Dad were out and I was home with my three younger brothers. I was making Bean with Bacon Soup (or...stirring Bean with Bacon Soup as it was from a can) and somehow came up with the idea that it would be funny to tell them it was butterscotch pudding. I told them that the reason there were lumps was because it wasn't the instant kind of pudding but the kind that had to be cooked and this was my first time making it. So, there they were with a large bowl of sweet, delicious, buttery-goodness in front of them and a big ole mouthful of...soup. Savory, bacon-y, bean-y soup...some of which was spit directly back into the bowl.

I laughed...they didn't.

That was 30 years ago...but the effects have not worn off. I have two brothers who are "not fond" of butterscotch flavor and one who shudders at the mere mention of the word "butterscotch". Would I have played that practical joke had I known just how far into the future I would influence?.....uhhh...yeah.

Thinking About Home...

On this day, last year, I was home.


After 8 years of living on the East Coast, I went home to Washington state for the summer. Many people have told me that I have lived out here long enough to start calling Maryland my home and, in some regards, that may be true.

I have a great job...great friends...
This is a great place to travel and take pictures...
...however...


The home of my soul is...and always will be the Pacific Northwest.


See, it might be different if I were just homesick. If I just missed my family and friends. A particular city. A certain coffee house. That one special thing that you can only get in that one special place.

But what I feel goes deeper than that. I don't just miss people, places or things...I miss a way of life. My entire being yearns for this way of living life. A way of life that involves elements that are non-descript and unspectacular on their own...elements that can be found just about everywhere...yet when combined produce a result, a manner...a rhythm that is distinctly exclusive to the Pacific Northwest. My heart beats to this rhythm. But this rhythm (and hence my heart) is very much out-of-sync in the place I now find myself. And there are days, like today, where it seems as though I am clinging to the rhythm of my heart as the frantic pace of life threatens to overwhelm me with it's powerful flood. As it hurls to-do lists, project deadlines, appointments...waves of busyness laced with futility and the occasional flash of panic...

What I need is a good pair of ruby slippers...