I've relived my childhood- over and over these past 24 hours. Liz was such an integral part of it. There really are very few memories that I have that don't include her. We were best buds- without really ever having to talk about being best buds. We met when we were four years old- and she was a part of most of my major (and more of my minor) life events from that time until today. I really don't know where to start- but start I must. So, over the course of the next several days, I'm going to take time to write about her. You can visit her blogspot at armbruster1.blogspot.com. She kept it up faithfully- and I, I took the road more hurried by- and rarely read it until today. What a fool I've been.
Childhood is the foundation of one's life. It is there that all of the building blocks- good or bad- well-formed or a bit cracked- are laid. It's an interesting thing, childhood. I work with children every day, and still can't quite grasp the complexities of what is occurring. I wonder why we, as a society, seem so hell bent on destroying it. Why don't we encourage play any more- real play, child's play, creative play. It should go on AT LEAST until one is in junior high.
Liz and I played. Real play- child's play. Just this last week, I was sharing with my class a memory I made with her- one of the millions. Children are naturally curious- and want to manipulate their surroundings so they can test their curiosity. One day in Liz's kitchen, as we were wondering about the power of carbonation in root beer, was such a moment of curiosity.
We rarely had something like root beer at my house- only if there was a special occasion like a summer picnic. But Liz's parents had some that day- and her mother wasn't home- only Peter was, who was supposed to be watching us. He, however, was somewhere else when Liz and I decided to conduct an experiment. We shook, and we shook, and we shook that bottle of root beer some more. When the cap came off, all but about a 1/4 inch of root beer came shooting out so fast- we were stunned. Peter came rushing into the kitchen just in time to see a root beer geyser erupting all over the ceiling and the cupboards. We laughed- the three of us- at the great event- until Liz's mom drove in the driveway. Then, we panicked.
Peter went rushing out to try and distract her from bringing in the groceries- or whatever else it was she had. But somehow, Sr. Patch knew something was up. And she caught Liz and I standing on the countertops trying to wipe root beer from off of the ceiling. I'm sure we were punished- but I don't remember how. If I know Liz's mom, she probably did it while trying to hide a smile.
1 comment:
Julie, thank you for sharing this wonderful and hilarious memory. And thank you for the wonderful post about my mother. I appreciate you coming out, I know how much your friendship meant to my mother, and knew that she loved seeing you again this past summer! Thank you very much for all that you have meant to my mother and all that you are now.
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