Doubt many of us remember when we were little kids and either ask our parents or watch home movies of those moments they are always so eager to capture on film. Mom said I was an active tyke who liked to tease and was not afraid of anything. Ran all over the place but for the first 17 months more so on my hands and knees than on my feet because it seemed to be the fastest way to maneuver around the house.
At a very young age I was a gad about, the happy-go-lucky child who had no problems with eating; the total opposite from my brother who was reserved and quiet with a finicky peanut butter appetite. Of course, now those roles have been reversed--I’m the more reserved and my brother is the one with the quirky mannerisms, a kook, or for lack of a better word, a total nut. But who is a great teacher, is fun to be around, and is quite entertaining. (Reminds me of two bearded gents I know.)
As a youngster I was quite the tomboy. Oh, I played with my Barbie dolls, but I also was out there with the neighborhood kids riding bikes, shooting hoops, playing hide and seek, and in the dirt creating a baseball field on the mesa behind our house. I was considered the homerun king on our little neighborhood baseball team--the Golden Hurricanes--wearing our little green shirts with a golden hurricane proudly displayed on our chests that were so meticulously drawn by my brother.
Yes, those were the days--a child not bogged down with psychological hang-ups but only troubled with the usual day to day problems such as fights with an older brother, scraped knees, or having to ingest creamed asparagus on toast while tightly clamping the nasal passages with the right hand.
So, what went wrong?
(to be continued)
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