Isn't That a River?

The closest park to our childhood home in Durham had river running through it (At least I always thought it was a river).  We would race sticks and leaves down it occasionally, but one summer day a new and very significant idea burst upon us.

First of all, let us confirm the party involved. I believe that it was Truly, Whitney( Basically another sibling judging by the time spent with our family), Me, Dusty, and Zach. Somehow, we all decided to play marco polo in the stream. It was hot and we needed to cool down. Home was too far of a walk, and we needed something new and fun to do. No one could stop us. This was a park! Isn't everything in a park something to play with?

Well, after playing for a good while in our new favorite part of our neighborhood park, our dad drove up. He ran out of his truck, apparently very disturbed by our wetness. The reason for his anger was soon discovered. "That is NOT a stream! It is SEWER water!" Dad took ONLY Zach home in the truck (because we stunk!) and demanded that the rest of us walk home immediately. Walk we did, in shame and growing self-awareness of the terrible odor emanating from our bodies.

When we arrived home, Zach was already starting his bath, being freed from the shameful scent of our terrible decision. We thought we would be next, but no. We were all sprayed mercilessly with the hose by Breklyn, forced to give a preliminary blow to the sludge that was sinking into our pores and destroying our clothing. I felt like the time we spent outside, dripping, crying, and waiting for our turn to be cleaned properly was endless. Somehow, playing with water had lost its charm, at least for that day.

The Worst Easter Egg Hunt Ever

Mom Rose loved Easter. She loved the dresses and the food, and she especially loved Easter egg hunts. Every year, after church, we would make our way to the Rose's house to eat lunch and partake in one of these festive events. I always loved how particular her placement of eggs was. There would be one in the bird bath, one near the frog sculpture, one balancing in the iron designs of patio. This year, however, was different.

Jesse and Jackie (at this point about 15 or 16) were give the honor of hiding the eggs. They must have started with good intentions, placing some eggs in the typical, cutesy places. When the children were released, though, what we found was a mess. There were eggs in the road, some in the woods across the street, and far too many in the ivy patch in the back yard. It seems that after hiding a few dozen eggs carefully (Some to the point where no human being would lay eyes on these eggs for years), the boys decided that lobbing the eggs in any direction they fancied was a more efficient method.

Mom Rose saw all of this, and she was disappointed. Maybe more than the punch bowl, the songs, the under or over cooked asparagus, Mom Rose's disappointment was the hallmark of her parties. Seeing all of her lovely eggs with candy pouring out of them due to the lack of care was a shock. I don't remember what happened to the boys that day; I was too busy trying to win a chocolate bunny by gathering eggs. I do know that Jesse was never put in charge of the Egg Hunt again.