Childhood Memory (1-31-21)
Memory Story (1-31-21) by Carrie Keiser
Once upon a time there was a girl of about 11, with long brown hair, knobby knees and elbows, whose tall, dark haired dad, drove a big truck across this country and sometimes into Canada. One summer, she had the opportunity to go Trucking with him.
The truck he drove was not too fancy, it was an old green and white cab over Kenworth with a sleeper that zipped shut. It didn’t have air conditioning and was hot and loud. They cruised down the highways and biways with the windows down and smiles on their faces.
That summer, her dad had a load to somewhere in Ohio. She would get to travel to several states she had not yet been too. She was very excited. She planned to have a BLT and a chocolate shake in every state.
One day they were driving along and it started to storm. I mean really storm the rain was coming down in sheets, just pouring. The lightening was flashing and the thunder was booming. All of the sudden lightening struck the lane next to them (going in the other direction). It was the scariest thing the girl had ever seen or heard or felt! The flash and crack were simultaneous! Her usually cool as a cucumber father was even visibly rattled. They pulled over at the next truck stop and made a mad dash for the door. The rain was torrential and they were soaked! They waited until it slowed and then returned to driving toward their destination.
Upon arriving in Ohio, they attempted to unload and were informed they had to wait a few days. That sounds fun, right? Well maybe if it hadn't been raining the whole entire time?! They unhooked the trailer and went to a campground for the wait. The girl learned to play backgammon, and to this day, when she sees a backgammon board she is transported to the cab of that Kenworth.
Childhood Memory By Cary Holmquist
The first time I was in Ohio was back in 1962, when my father started a new occupation with the Montana Air National Guard and the training to learn how to dispose of explosives was six months at Indian Head, Maryland. Because it was six months, he decided to take his young family—four kids, ages five-, four-, two-years and two-months—on this trip as well, from Great Falls, Montana, to 30 miles south of Washington, D.C.
To accomplish this, we would drive the 2,000-plus miles in a 1960 Chevy pick-up with a cab-over camper, the kind with the little bunk bed and widows right over the cab of the pickup. This was long before seat belts, let alone car seats, and so my Mom and Dad rode in the pickup cab with the youngest two kids and the five- and four-year-olds were bouncing around in the camper— which were me and my sister Sharman, who we called Babe back in those days.
It was something like this.
Because Dad could not manage to make a sliding glass door arrangement between the camper and back window of the pickup, for communications he rigged up an intercom between the pickup and the main area of the camper. It worked fairly well until the pickup was moving and then all the engine and road noise rendered the system mostly useless.
So it was we started out in May on a road trip that was going to take a full week. As little kids, we had no idea what was happening, other than we were going on a long drive and we had to make our own entertainment the whole way. And our only real view of seeing where we were going was to lay on the cab-over bed and watch the road coming at us, not much different from the driver’s seat, which we were directly above. With all those cars coming at us, how could we not wave at people—tow little faces and hands waving out that little windshield.
And so, of course, many people would wave back and this made my parents think people were very friendly wherever we went, stretching out across the country. I don’t know how many miles we covered before they figured out that the friendliness originated right above their heads.
For several months, Babe and I had worn these cute kid-sized cowboy boots that we could hardly bear to take off, we liked them so much, so of course we were always wearing them on the trip. As kids will, we got tired of waving at people and we couldn’t usually talk to my parents because the intercom was such a poor instrument while the vehicle was moving and so we ran out of things to do. Somehow, we thought it would be a fun challenge with each other to push on the cab-over window with our great little cowboy boots and before we knew what happened there was glass flying all over and we bailed out of the bed and found blankets to hide under in the seats of the main camper area.
Meanwhile, my parents knew something bad had happened since glass had come falling down onto the pickup windshield. We were in big trouble. It took many hours, stopped along side the road somewhere in Ohio, while my parents tried to clean out the broken glass from everywhere in that camper, while we kids rolled around in the grass of roadside. But our boots were taken away.
From there, the road trip was much less friendly and less scenic, because there was no glass to replace the window we had broken and flattened cardboard boxes were taped over the window opening. Wonder what Ohio looks like.
Ryanne Leavitt's Childhood Memory
Ok, so as time goes by, memories get a little fuzzy. I believe it makes things more fun, if not as accurate as could be.
This particular memory involves a few other people and they may tell the story a bit different, hey, they aren’t here to tell it like they remember.
It was a summer many many years ago and we were home parent less, mum had gone on the truck with Da. I think Carrie was hanging out with Jody and Brandon was probably working or goofing off with Tracy or Bob or maybe both. I had invited Alicia, Sam, and Ami over to hang out and play for a few hours and Clancy was there as well...my guess is Mum had taken Megan with her on the road...but I don’t actually recall that part. I remember we had made sandwiches and had left the cheese cutting knife on the kitchen counter. As we sat down to eat there was a whoosh and a prooooing sound and when we looked the knife was sticking our of the table as though some one had thrown it at us.
Beings that I was pretty sure our house was haunted, I was sure the angry or mischievous ghostie was trying to take us all out...I think you would be hard pressed to see me and the gang run faster than we did that day! We flew out the door ran up the shortcut trail to the road above the house and didn’t stop until we made it all the way to the far side of the gully on our way to Ami’s house. Clancy wasn’t more than a step or two behind us.
I don’t know what actually happened, it was probably there in the table the whole time and when a group of kids 11 years old get together imaginations can and often run on overdrive, but to this day, I swear there was a whoosh of air that ruffled my hair.
Leyla’s childhood story (transcribed as written): I was at preschool, and I learned owls are nottunal, and I learned that caterpillars turn into butterflies. I had so much fun with my friends. We had so much fun. I liked wenn we got to see gramma gramma. And wen we got to see Ava and her brother to. I liked to go to the park. I even liked to go on the swing sets the moste. I like to have fun with my friends. How about you!
Two Childhood Memories by Myrna Flynn
I am going to give you 2 childhood memories because they both involved a friend of mine, Linda Presho. I can not remember which came first. I think they both happened the same year.
One hot summer day, Linda and i took a long bicycle ride. We started on the highway to Ford, not to go to Ford but, to get to the country road. On the way back, we stopped at a deep spot in the creek. We decided to cool off by going swimming. We did not want to get our clothes wet. We removed our clothes and skinny dipped. Luckily, no one drove down the road. Refreshed, we got out, put our clothes on and rode back home.
Linda and I took swimming lessons at Loon Lake every summer. We had finished all the requirements for basic swimming certificates and were now taking Life Guard lessons. We got tired of waiting our turn. We decided that we would swim across the lake, about a 2 mile swim. We were pretty tired. So, we knocked on cabin doors, until we found someone home and asked if they would take us back across the lake. We were in big trouble. I thought for years that it was the swimming instructor that banned us from continuing our lessons, but it was my mom.
My brother, Ed, and some of his friends did not believe that we had swam the lake. They took us to the lake and followed us in a boat. We proved to them that we had. They did not strand us, they helped us into the boat. We spent the rest of the day at Loon Lake having fun.
Childhood Memory by Daren Flynn
For family google meeting
January 31, 2021
Before getting to what I remember, a little background.
I'm not sure of just when, but my dad borrowed some money from his dad to go to school in Eugene, Oregon to learn the machinist trade. It was during World War II and the demand for machinists was great.
So Dad and Mom got us settled in a small apartment in Springfield, just across the Wilamette River from Eugene and Dad started school.
Late in December 1942 the river flooded and I will quote and Associated Press story dated Jan 1, 1943.
"Portland, Oregon. Evacuation orders went out today to more flood plagued Wilamette communities as a new crest mounted in the wake of an inundation that already has done damage estimated at $5,000,000.
G.C. Mangold, resident Army engineer at Eugene, hub of the current Wilamette River Flood, told residents of Santa Clara, Riverwood, and Good Pasture Island to quit their homes in those fertile farming lowlands. Between 1,000 and 2,000 residents left or were educated from their homes yesterday, mostly in West Springfield, where muddy water stood three feet deep today in the business and residential sections and in greenwood. But the new order was expected to affect almost 1,00 additional persons who were in the path of the floodwaters that were rising one tenth of a foot each hour after receding momentarily from 16.7 feet to 15.8 at 8 PM last night. Eugene's flood stag is 12 feet."
Yeah, I was there along with my mom and my brothers. I was just shy of 6 years old, Lonny was about a month short of 3 and Larry lacked about three days of being 8 months old. I don't remember being afraid. It was more like an adventure for me.
Mom, on the other hand, was really concerned. I don't think she had a telephone. There she was with three little boys and three feet of water and mud on the floor. What could she do? What she did was put all three of us on the kitchen table and wait for someone to come and get us out of there.
So my memory of the event was simply being on the table with my brothers and eventually getting into a rowboat that came to our door. I also remember that we had a dog and it was not allowed in the boat. He/She was left in the apartment alone for how long, I don't know. I only know that when we were united with the dog, the leather parts of Dad's suspenders had been eaten.
All is well that ends well, it has been said. That was true for us. We were rescued and reunited with dad, the dog didn't starve, dad finished schooling and was employed in Spokane.
It did not end well for everyone, however. It was a major flood and at least ten people lost their lives.
Childhood Memory by Colleen Holmquist
Childhood seems so long ago that I almost wonder if I had one...a few memories begin to surface—fragmented so I find it necessary to fill in details as they please me.
It seems that most of my memories are connected to my brother, Sean. It seems that I prefer to be the one who is right and always does the right thing. So, on a certain day, while living in Soap Lake, Washington and as a second grader, I was walking home through a vacant lot—but not entirely vacant as many sage brush plants inhabited it. We liked to play there because the sage brush plants afforded us hiding places.
And so it was that I was strolling along on my way home—minding my own business because at the moment it was the only business. I came to the sage brush lot and noticed a familiar figure, my brother Sean. He wasn’t alone, no a little girl was also in the sage brush lot.
This could mean only one thing—Sean had skipped school. And I had a duty to report this transgression to Mom. I started running for home. Sean ran after begging me not to tell on him. But hey, I was the Big Sister and that was what was expected of me—at least I expected that of myself for to maintain my integrity. So the race was on. I burst into the door and my report exploded out of my mouth. Sean was right behind me. Turns out that not only did he skip school but he and his friend spent their milk money on candy!
I’m pretty certain the story concluded with a rich reward for my journalistic prowess.
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