Nostalgia, Continued

August 11, 2011

I went looking online for a picture of the last home I had in Garden Grove a few days ago. Did you know you could find childhood memories on the internet? 11252 Ivanhoe--it was actually only our home for a few years (from my 1st to 4th grade year), but there were a lot of memories there. The living room where one whole wall was mirrors, and kids were only allowed in for special circumstances. (It was nearly impossible to talk to Scott in that room; he was absolutely incapable of carrying on a conversation without being drawn to his own reflection.) The huge den with the wet bar where we kept cream sodas for a treat. That was also where Mom held the Cub Scout meetings, for which the was the Den Mother. The huge fish tank in the hallway with mesmerizing Angel Fish. The huge walk-in playhouse that Dad built in the backyard. The sandbox and jungle gym right next to it, where we would climb up and watch the fireworks that Disneyland shot off every night. Our bedroom with the lavendar paint. Our across-the-street neighbors with the red door. (The mom and dad were Arlene and Charlie. Arlene chewed and smacked her gum all the time; Charlie was always very nice to us, and we lovingly named our pet salamander after him. ) The white rocks lining our driveway. Roses lining the front porch. Dad's red and white Javelin. The family car--the seventies-style station wagon that took us back and forth to Oklahoma each year for Christmas vacation. (Oh man, I was angry at mom when they traded that thing in for a dark green, luxurious Lincoln Continental. She, on the other hand, felt like she was moving up in the world.)

The pets who lived with us there were Maggie and Missy (dogs), Charlie the Salamander, Hansel and Gretel the guinea pigs, Charlie Green, my parakeet, a host of hamsters and more fish than I could possibly count. I took accordian lessons while living there, and Gary took saxophone lessons, and we both took piano. Laura was born while we were living in that house. Mom and Dad's friend Bruce lived with us in the garage for a time, and his sister, Janet, was one of our live-in babysitters. We also had a string of other live-in babysitters, one of whom had two kids (Victor and Janice) who also lived with us.

It's weird how interconnected the memory is. Every little memory brings you to another one. I could go on all day, I suppose, but there are very few people for whom these snippets have any meaning besides myself and Lisa and Scott, and even they were pretty young to remember much of this. Guess I'd better bring myself back from my reverie!