Random memories

Herein lies some random memories in no particular order. These are some of my earliest memories, so they took place at our first house in Hot Springs. 

The above photo (why am I always half-naked?) shows me and Jon picking some beans at our neighbor's house. I recall they went on vacation or something and we picked some of their produce. This really made an impression on me, as I still recall the strange feeling of being somewhere we normally weren't allowed to go. That was probably my first experience with a garden. I was the only one in my family who had a garden growing up. I was very responsible and took care of it, watering it every day and weeding when necessary. This is something I've come to realize about myself: I've always taken care of things. Had my life been a little different, I probably would have been an even more nurturing person, but I still do take care of things.
 

A lot of old pictures, I am marching to the beat of my own drummer. The above photos show me completely unfazed as my mom (I assume) takes a photo of her boys. I am picking at the flowers, which is another one of my early memories. I loved, loved, loved taking apart dandelion heads, even splitting the stems. I always wanted to know what was inside everything. For me, what was inside was always more important than what was outside. Also, I believe that dog's name was Dusty. You can barely see her/him in the horrendous shadow of the top photo. 

  
We had a sprinkler thing (water came out its "hair") that we hooked up to the hose and ran through during summer. I was probably in my underwear. I'm not sure what happened to that photo that gave it a magenta streak. And some unlucky passerby got to witness three nearly naked boys having fun on their front lawn and was forever ensconced in history as a result. 

In the next photo, we are with two girls who were friends of the family. I think my mom went to college with their mom. Anyway, they were good friends. Our shirts say, "Wurst is Best," which was the tagline for my family's Christmas in the Hills booth where we sold bratwurst (which is where we got the wurst part), German potato salad, baked beans, kuchen, etc. I'm in the box. Josh in the box. I don't recall much about Christmas in the Hills except we always sold out.

More random photos. The top one is at Storybook Island in Rapid City, which still exists with many of the original fixtures intact. I think the little sign on the house says "The Crooked Man," and that guy looks straight-up creepy. It should say, "The Creepy Man." No wonder I have recused myself from the group photo. That's one thing about me. If I don't feel comfortable with something, it ain't gonna happen. 

The bottom photo was taken at Angostura when I was, I think, one year old. Presaging later photographs, I ruined this one by having my eyes closed. I could always be counted on to ruin photos. Haha. I recall after my oldest brother had their first child, I went to visit and they took literally a million photos and videos. I called it "the most documented event in history," and true to form, I ruined many of those photos. I know this because they sent me all the photos I ruined. I guess they didn't want them? It's a rare talent. 

This last picture I didn't ruin. I am, for once, paying attention to the camera. I think my grandma took it. Maybe she thought the weird bench was a member of the family so should be included. This was my dedication, which was done at Easter the following year. The pastor was Sam Saylor (sp), who appears to be the only one smiling. I remember he came to our house a lot when my dad wasn't around, which was alarming to me at the time. That's something, though. I was in the age range of 7-10 years old, and I knew that wasn't supposed to go down. I had the feeling he was there to talk about my dad, as my parents were having trouble. One time when our pastor was at the house, my mom embarrassed me by asking if I needed to have my butt wiped when I called for help from the bathroom. No, Mom, I'm out of toilet paper. I have been potty trained for years, remember? I still recall feeling angry and mortified by that. It was embarrassing for many reasons. Many things seemed highly improper. And I will probably never know all the answers. An interesting note about this pastor is he officiated my brother Jon's wedding. How he tracked him down, I have no idea.

They say if you don't remember your childhood, you probably had a good one. I don't have a whole lot of memories. So maybe I really did have a good childhood. Let's go with that. 

Thanks for reading, and God bless.