Not knowing how to spell a word and asking my father, who often instructed, “Look it up in the dictionary” to which I would typically respond, “How can I look it up if I don’t know how to spell it?”
Riding in the car to my great-grandparents’ house every Sunday after church. It seemed like forever to get there and back, and while there, nothing to do. So, we invented our own games like picking grapefruit from their trees and throwing them over the house to each other until they split apart.
Prior to Evel Knievel coming on the scene, convincing my little brother that he could ride his bike off a wall and land just fine. It didn’t work out so well. He landed face-first in a bed of gravel. But at least he wasn’t afraid to try! (And I imagine it taught him a lesson about believing his big brother too!)
My mom filling us with fear about the dangers of deep water….then making us take swimming lessons where the instructors threw us in the deep end and made us swim the length of the pool.
Riding my green Sting-Ray bike to the Del Rancho market to buy comic books for 12 cents each.
Just one TV in the house with a black-and-white picture and no remote control.
The family Plymouth station wagon with push-button transmission. My little sister would sometimes push all the buttons at the same time. This caused my dad to raise the hood on the vehicle, which, like the Bat-Signal, was the distress call for the neighborhood superhero, Dick Hallsted. Dick would arrive with his tool kit and make the necessary repairs.
Mostly I remember being raised by loving, supportive parents who instilled the belief that we had the ability to do anything. (Except swim in deep water….)
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