Monthly Archives: September 2012

In the same painful dimension

As I was saying, there were times when my brother and I appeared to be in the same very painful dimension. I clearly remember swinging from a tree with a rope around my waist. A rope my brother had tied around my waist (in a slip knot, I might add) just before pushing me out of our tree house to study the effects of gravity on a kid sister.

There was also the time he talked me into playing catch with a brick (I have the scar as a reminder) and the horrifying day he left me in the little red wagon in the middle of the chicken pen to let the cackling beasts peck my eyes out. Luckily for me they only got as far as looking at me sideways before I risked life and limb in a mad dash for the gate. I’ve never had much to do with chickens, except for eating their legs, since.

All these pale in comparison,however, to the time he tossed me out of a moving pickup. Okay, he didn’t physically pick me up and throw me out, but I landed on my back in the pasture nonetheless and he was driving. We were trying to catch my horse, who was a wily one, and just the click of the truck door opening would send her running. Soooo, I was just holding the door unlatched, when my brother stepped on the gas like he was in a drag race or something, and I went flying.

To his credit, he was mortified, but that didn’t help my back any.

Alternate Dimensions

I was one of two kids, my brother being a year and a half older than me. We lived on a farm, but as it turns out, we actually lived in alternate dimensions of the same farm. I’ve only recently begun to put together this theory, but the clues I’ve been gathering seem to point in that direction. They are as follows:

1. In college, whenever, anyone would ask where we were from, I would say Alma, and Tim would say Republican City. It’s true that our mailing address was Republican City, but we went to school in Alma, went roller skating in Alma, bought wads of purple and orange gum in Alma, and traded tiny little bits of metallic silver and blue nagahyde in Alma. We only passed through Republican City on our way to the lake, or shopped there if Mom needed emergency feminine hygiene products.

2. Tim insists that our parents never let us watch Lost in Space. Well, I don’t know where he was, but I remember watching that stupid family let yet another alien leave them stranded on that “uninhabited” planet week after week without so much as relating their plight to the nearest spacecraft wrecking service. And how about that inane robot? Didn’t you want to take him and Mr. Smith out for laser practice?

3.We had different parents. His mother was over emotional and bewildering. Mine was a deep feeler with the sensitivity of an actress. His father had unrealistic expectations. Mine was on a pedestal as high or higher than Capt. Kirk.

There were times, however, when we appeared to be in the same dimension–painfully so. I clearly remember…well I’ll tell you about that next time.

My Life–writing it down

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I’m not sure how to begin this narrative or where it will lead. I only know I feel driven to it. I’m watching my life whizz by–so many eras gone–high school gone, college gone, life with kids at home, gone. If I don’t write this, my life will be gone forever as soon as the last person who knew me is gone.Oh a few photos may linger on in the family photo album, but after all, what can you tell from a picture? I know, I know, “a picture’s worth a thousand words,” but whose words will they be? Probably my great great great great grand daughter with gold and green tattooed breasts (pierced or course) who looks up the ancients to check out the weird styles.

So what am I going to say to shake up the world–make my mark for all eternity? Hell if I know, but follow along–it might be worth a chuckle or two.