When I came into the picture, the family house was dominated by women - my Mom, my two sisters, and the cats. Dad and Duke (our first dog - a beautiful, kind, patient German Shepard) were slightly outnumbered.
The day I was born, my Dad called my Grandfather Joseph from the hospital and told him, "It's a boy!" Grampy apparently dropped the phone and raced around the family business, shouting, "He finally put a tail on one!" (I think I know what that means now, although for years I was somewhat unclear on whether or not an extremity was amputated in my early years.)
And then there were 5. These are my two favorite images of my little nuclear family unit circa 1972. The top pic, taken on a summer camping trip on
Swan Island (there's Duke, too), pretty much illustrates our life while my parents were still married.
I still dream of these places.
Littlefield Campground was another regular destination for our family. My earliest memories are all about being outside, watching white-tailed deer run across the field, catching minnows, playing with the dog or stalking critters while my sisters wondered why they were always dressed the same. (They were
not twins, born a year apart. But my Mom claims it was just cheaper/easier to buy 2 of the same outfit when shopping. Maybe it cut down on sibling rivalry, too?)
Poor Duke had the bad habit of killing and devouring cats who tormented him. I found out years later he had to be put down. Rosie, a older but very sweet St. Bernard mix, suddenly appeared and we became fast friends.
The week before my first grade picture was taken, my friend and I were attacked by a swarm of
yellow-jackets in the woods. You can see traces of the stings on my face, but I think the shirt is a good distraction from the injuries. This image is an autographed copy for my biggest fan: Mom (yes, I cheated and used a
stencil).
No need for stencils by age 7. In this written assignment, in addition to declaring that
"if I had $100" I would not be mean to people, I also stated that
"when my mother and father didn't have any more [money] I would give them each fiftee dollars," and
"I would have a nice van to ride in and it would have fire on the side's."
By the time we got our third dog, another loving Shepard named Blue Boy, my sisters had discovered that they were not twins and insisted they dress themselves.
Rainy was one of the last dogs we had in my early years, and the first one after my parents got divorced (we'd gotten him on a rainy day I guess... not our best naming effort). He was a hyper but sweet pup. My Mom loved those Shepard mutts. While my Dad stayed in our childhood house, my Mom and my sisters moved around a lot - although never out of state.
This was our first Christmas in our new home in Lisbon Falls, another small town just north of Brunswick. Here, I've just unwrapped my most coveted present of the year:
Robot Raydeen, Shogun Warrior! It was cool. (The later Transformers owe everything to these guys.) Raydeen had wheels under his feet and his fist shot off with the press of a button - a blast for both myself and Rainy. I don't remember much about the town except for the smell of the lumber mill across the street. I also discovered
Moxie soda there, too (think Dr. Pepper meets Root Beer). The town was so proud of their adopted product, they even had a
Moxie festival!
By the time I moved back in with my Dad in the early 1980s, we'd lived in little mill towns all around central Maine from Lincoln to Topsham. We'd had an estimated 10 dogs before I was 11 years old. Now, I was back in familiar territory and entering the sixth grade. Move over Japanese robots, hello heavy metal!
When I came into the picture, the family house was dominated by women - my Mom, my two sisters, and the cats. Dad and Duke (our first dog - a beautiful, kind, patient German Shepard) were slightly outnumbered.
The day I was born, my Dad called my Grandfather Joseph from the hospital and told him, "It's a boy!" Grampy apparently dropped the phone and raced around the family business, shouting, "He finally put a tail on one!" (I think I know what that means now, although for years I was somewhat unclear on whether or not an extremity was amputated in my early years.)
And then there were 5. These are my two favorite images of my little nuclear family unit circa 1972. The top pic, taken on a summer camping trip on Swan Island (there's Duke, too), pretty much illustrates our life while my parents were still married.
I still dream of these places. Littlefield Campground was another regular destination for our family. My earliest memories are all about being outside, watching white-tailed deer run across the field, catching minnows, playing with the dog or stalking critters while my sisters wondered why they were always dressed the same. (They were not twins, born a year apart. But my Mom claims it was just cheaper/easier to buy 2 of the same outfit when shopping. Maybe it cut down on sibling rivalry, too?)
Poor Duke had the bad habit of killing and devouring cats who tormented him. I found out years later he had to be put down. Rosie, a older but very sweet St. Bernard mix, suddenly appeared and we became fast friends.
The week before my first grade picture was taken, my friend and I were attacked by a swarm of yellow-jackets in the woods. You can see traces of the stings on my face, but I think the shirt is a good distraction from the injuries. This image is an autographed copy for my biggest fan: Mom (yes, I cheated and used a stencil).
No need for stencils by age 7. In this written assignment, in addition to declaring that "if I had $100" I would not be mean to people, I also stated that "when my mother and father didn't have any more [money] I would give them each fiftee dollars," and "I would have a nice van to ride in and it would have fire on the side's."
By the time we got our third dog, another loving Shepard named Blue Boy, my sisters had discovered that they were not twins and insisted they dress themselves.
Rainy was one of the last dogs we had in my early years, and the first one after my parents got divorced (we'd gotten him on a rainy day I guess... not our best naming effort). He was a hyper but sweet pup. My Mom loved those Shepard mutts. While my Dad stayed in our childhood house, my Mom and my sisters moved around a lot - although never out of state.
This was our first Christmas in our new home in Lisbon Falls, another small town just north of Brunswick. Here, I've just unwrapped my most coveted present of the year: Robot Raydeen, Shogun Warrior! It was cool. (The later Transformers owe everything to these guys.) Raydeen had wheels under his feet and his fist shot off with the press of a button - a blast for both myself and Rainy. I don't remember much about the town except for the smell of the lumber mill across the street. I also discovered Moxie soda there, too (think Dr. Pepper meets Root Beer). The town was so proud of their adopted product, they even had a Moxie festival!
By the time I moved back in with my Dad in the early 1980s, we'd lived in little mill towns all around central Maine from Lincoln to Topsham. We'd had an estimated 10 dogs before I was 11 years old. Now, I was back in familiar territory and entering the sixth grade. Move over Japanese robots, hello heavy metal!
1 comment:
Fire on the side's indeed! Mr Don Bernier has fire runnin all through his soul!
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