Me too!

Wednesday was Cathrynn's first day of first grade. She was almost late b/c Olivia tried to upstage the whole thing by refusing to walk down the stairs, insisting to either be in the pix, or that I take the same solo pix of her. I so deserve this - I made quite the scene when my sister left me to go to school. The story goes that I laid on the sidewalk and sobbed. My mother consoled me by taking me to the store for a treat and the cashier asked "why isn't a big girl like you at school?" Oh the drama.

When I was little, I barely spoke - my only words, "Me, too!" in response to everything my older sister Kim did or said. A few years ago I found this book at the pediatrician's waiting room and gasped. A fragment of my childhood. The story that illustrated my little life. I requested to buy it and insisted to pay for it even when they told me I could have it (maybe I was misty eyed and they were afraid!), cause we all know you just can't take a book from anywhere you want when you have 2 kids in tow 'cause that'd be stealing!

I could not wait to call Kim and mom. Kim was floored that I'd found THE book. Mom, well, she had a mom moment - "really, there was a book...? I don't remember". Here's a bad scan of a scrapbook page I did a few years ago about me and Kim:

My journaling:

Can you hear the echo? I'll bet you can. I bet I said that a billion times...and my adorable little toddler words are still bouncing around the universe. No matter waht Kim did I was tagging along behind her and announcing "ME TOO" to anyone who would listen. My parents doubted my speaking skills since the only thing I said for many years:
ME TOO!"
I was a wanna be from any early age. I wanted to be my big sister. She was all the stars in my little sky. I couldn't keep up with her, couldn't ride a two-wheeler when she could. She was two years older and always stepping off my little world into a whole other world. The story is that she broke my heart when she left me and went to school. Me, too!

Mother Guilt

I'm feeling it. Cathrynn's school gave out a label to send a postcard from where they spent their summer vacation. Which makes me feel like I need to take her somewhere exciting in the next 6 days before school starts. We've done some fun stuff this summer - Pirate's game, zoo... lots of quality time, park, pool, crafts... but no where exciting from which to mail an important postcard. She wants to. I want her to. I used to feel the same way about Vince, even a trip to NY was better than going to school and saying you sat home all summer while your mom was stuck in the office. But, it just not going to happen this summer vacation. I'm wondering what will she remember most about summer?

And that gets me to my own childhood memories. My Grandparents' cabin at Pymatuning Lake. This is one of my all time favorite scrapbook pages - a few years old but with classic Chatterbox papers - it's timeless, just like my memories.
And here's my journaling:

I love this photo of my grandfather. He's holding up the catch of the day, in front of his boat. He's every bit Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond (one of my favorite movies).

In the 1970s, my grandparents built the 'cabin' at Pymatuning Lake. Their cabin spoiled any future camping excursions for me. I thought roughing it was wall to wall carpet, a modern indoor bathroom, a brand new two bedroom Ryan home.

Our whole extended family gathered there on a few occasions in the early days, when it was still being built. But I don't recall it ever becoming a family retreat. I'm guessing my parents were too busy working to take days and weekends off to vacation there. Most of my memories are of just my grandparents and Kim and me. I'm pretty sure they took turns taking all us kids, but my childhood memories are pretty self-centered - if it didn't have to do with me, I pretty much don't remember it!

What I do remember most is the peace and the meandering pace of our days at the cabin. (although, I can't imagine Kim and me weren't continually squabbling, nor Grandma & Grandpap, either!). The only time I remember rushing was to the water's edge.

I think it was in the mid 80s that my grandparents sold the cabin. It was too much of a drive for my grandparents, and too much upkeep during the dormant seasons. It was bought be a local family - as their real home. That always made me happy - the cabin would be loved, and lived in year round.

I close my eyes, and this is what I remember:

The deafening noise the crickets made at night.
The steep drop off on the right side of our tiny beach.
Catching minnows in the ditch adjacent to the cabin.
Waking to the smell & sound of bacon cooking, my grandfather at the stove.
Days, sometimes weeks, with out a phone call.
Fishing without a hook (to my grandfather's teasing & feigned dismay).
Endless card games around the table, while the lightening crashed around us.
The excitement of running down the path and being welcomed by the lake.
Kim and Grandpap getting up in the pitch dark to take the boat out.
Always feeling uneasy and vulnerable on the boat.
Huge mosquito bites.
Lazy days spent reading in the sweltering heat.
Walking down the street to the little store for a treat.
Chicken loaf, pickles & mustard on white bread.
Static on the old b&w TV.
Digging in the sand.
Wading up to my knees in the tepid, murky water.
The cool mud oozing between my toes.
Other people's litter on the tiny beach.
Picking berries at an Amish Farm.
Homemade strawberry jam on white bread.
Finally being old enough to walk down to the water by myself.
Days that seemed to last forever.
Days I thought would last forever.

New Friends & Really Old Memories

So, I was watching Cathrynn & Liv play with Mallory, a sweet 10 y/o girl from around the block. They love, love, love the attention. And adore her. So, I try to keep out of they way of their games of childhood. It's like a glimpse inside my own backyard. Chasing, hiding, drawing, biking, no planned fun - everything just evolves.

Tonight I was in the laundry room, keeping an eye on them & glueing some beads to a box in a hobby that Frank thinks is ridiculous while there's still cleaning to be done. It's my sanity these days. I like the focus of it. And it's such a forgiving craft - no tearing out stitches... my oh-no's become part of the design. And more importantly, it's a time to process my thoughts, remember details of the hospital visit with Gramm, venture into the next few weeks and the end of her life & suffering.

So, in the middle of all that, I'm watching the girls and realize that Mallory and Cathrynn are the exact ages that Dee and I were when she was hit by the car. And, I'm suddenly trying to put the two of them in the same roles and make sense of it all. I really don't think about it anymore. The pieces are fuzzy. Why did we, the younger siblings, walk Kim to her friend's house? Why was Glady there right after it happened? Was she supposed to pick us up and babysit us? Where were mom & dad going that night? Why don't I remember mom and dad at the accident scene? Did they blame me and I've blocked it out?

I remember walking back to the house. It seemed like slow motion and there were people everywhere - parting the sidewalk to make room for me. To stare at me. Was Kim with me? Was I alone?

I saw Terry, the teenager from next door, and saw her tears for Dee. I don't think I cried though. Was I in shock? I remember going up to the house to pack and seeing the bathwater in the claw foot tub. Clean water, ready for someone.

I know mom came to visit us that night (was Kim with me?) at Glady's house and listening to the accident report on the radio the next day. It was either here or in a newspaper article that I learned that I was almost hit too.

When Frank was going to Pat for dental work and they were having fun, comparing notes about dating me, Pat told him that I was messed up b/c of the guilt I was carrying around about Dee and the accident. I was floored. I guess that was around 1990 and her life was really a mess. I carried my guilt way too long. It wasn't until she met Mikey and got married and started a somewhat normal life that I was able to accept that her life and decisions weren't my fault anymore.

I want to call Kim and ask more about what she remembers but no need to dig this all up now. Although she'll be thrilled to talk about anything that was wrong in our childhood. For now, there's enough crap rising to the top. Maybe later I'll ask and see what happens.