A Picture's Worth a Thousand Memories

So the other day I was going through old pictures and I come across this one of the house I grew up in outside of Lincoln Nebraska. It was an old farm house on 13 acres of land, with another 13 or so open to ours from our neighbor. Around 3 acres was separated from the rest by a 100 year old tree line to the North and West, this was our immediate yard, meaning it was the part we had to mow and we played/ran around in. We had a pool, volleyball court, vegetable garden, expansive herb garden, picnic table and a really sweet club house, needless to say, we had a lot of space.

But most of you know I now live in Orange County California, which pretty much means everyone's homes are crowded and no one really has a yard. Certainly no one has huge tree lines or 3 acres of grass in their yard. Maybe the have a pool that takes up what small 'yard' they might have, or maybe just a gazebo. Where we are we have no yard, we just have a green strip which is really just a 2 1/2 foot wide glorified flower bed that goes around our house.

So I decide to show this photo to my kids thinking that they'll maybe find it interesting, maybe just think it looks weird, who knows, since they've grown up only in Southern California and probably haven't seen anything quite like it. I couldn't have underestimated their reaction more.

I show them the photo and say, "Look guys, this is the house I lived in when I was a little girl."

They both got really wide eyed and said almost in unison, "YOU LIVED IN THE PARK?! COOL!!!" It was really hysterical to have them think that because of all the space and trees it must be a park.

I talked to them about what it was like to live there. About having a pool, horses and other animals, a big tire swing and a hammock, lots of dogs and so many kids. They were so excited and kept going on and on about me living at the park and how neat that was. It was like I was their version of "Julie of the Wolves" growing up in this wild park. The excitement on their faces was astounding and I guess I just didn't want to ruin it for them; so I didn't tell them the truth. The truth that there are places in the world where boys and girls get to have huge trees to climb, swings, horses, swimming pools, least of all grass to run around on right in their own back yard. So I just laughed and said, "Yes, I guess I did live in the park."

As I went to a picnic today and I told this story to a friend, I looked around and realized that it looked strikingly like my yard in the photo, a tree line all the way around, with lots of grass and a picnic table off to the side. No wonder my kids think I lived at the park, that park alone easily could have had the tot-lot traded for my house in Photoshop and no one probably could tell the difference!

Of all the people I talk to that are California natives or at least "big city" natives, it never ceases to amaze me at how bizarre my life experiences must seem to them. I came from such a different world, living bare feet in fields of grass, riding bareback on horses, helping animals give birth, mowing a baseball field into our pasture during the summer so the neighbors can come over and we can all play ball. I was growing up in a country culture but with a big enough city near by that I didn't come out of it with a red neck. I can see as an adult how much those experiences and that environment played a role in who I would become and what I would value as an adult. That time, place and that way of life are still very much a part of me. My silliness, carefree attitude, love for the outdoors and of course, my aversion to shoes.

I look at that picture everyday now and when I think about where I am, how far away I am from home, and what I've left behind it makes me a new kind of lonely. Lonely not just for the simplicity I suppose, the "who cares when you got your last tetanus booster..." attitude but most of all just the "go forth and laugh out loud all the way" kind of fun where you make every moment count, and it sure does add up to a lot.

I look at the people around me and realize more and more that most of these people, if they knew my story, would probably agree with my kids, and it's probably true;

I did live in the park, and the park still lives in me.