Posted in book, faith

Out of the River, Onto the Raft – Where I’m From

Reason for the Book – Part 3

I’ve divided the rest of the book into 5 parts: An All About Me, Meet my Mom of the Last 3 Years, Unveiling the Mirror of My Life, My Relationship with my Mom before August 2016, and Lessons I Learned Along the Way.

Today we are going to begin the section of the river where we get a more in depth look at my life.

As you climb aboard your raft, please make sure you have on your life jacket. Even though this river is smooth with no ripples and whitewater, you never know what the river might present. Drink in the scenery of a brilliant blue sky with no clouds. Enjoy the reflections of the brilliant green trees that line the bank of the river.

It’s pure nirvana. However, you only see the surface of the water. Underneath is a torn and twisted world unseen by the naked eye. This is the metaphor for our lives.

It certainly a metaphor for my life. I often only allow people to see the surface level and not the real me. Very few people have been allowed to enter my underwater world.

Instead of staying on the surface of the river, we are going to dive into my underwater world as you begin to get to know the real me.

1 There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,

    a time to plant and a time to uproot,

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-2

One of my favorite parts of most blogs is the about you page. It allows the reader to have a glimpse into the lives of the author or authors of the blog. Later in the book, I’m going to share a more in depth autobiography of my childhood. Right now, I’m sharing where I’m from.

I am from lots of tomatoes and bananas because that is what my parents could afford, from the land of Hershey chocolate and the Abigail, my Cabbage Patch doll, who still resides somewhere in my house.

I am from the house next to a dam with lots of green grass and an apartment in a house that had three floors with a spooky door that intrigued me. I am from a home that had a magical forest where we never roamed and a giant side yard where we played cricket and learned our Rainbow ritualistic work. I am from the hill way in the back with a metal fence where I sledded and broke my leg.

I am from the black walnut tree that splattered walnuts onto the driveway – such the mess and the tomato plants my Great Uncle fertilized while we were at my aunt’s wedding. We had tomatoes coming out of our ears in the summer of ’88.

I am from eating olives and white salad at family reunions at the farm with the Willow trees. Photography, family history, always having chocolate, coffee, obscure driving, Word Power, and faith in God from Uncle Corky, Grandpa, and John.

I am from talking a lot and a Masonic tradition, something I passed on to my oldest. I am from big hips, thighs, and butts, and thick hair.

From “You have long legs,” “quit standing like that,” and random vocabulary words, I was told to look up in the HUGE dictionary.

I am from the United Methodist Church. Grandpa was a pastor and insisted we go to church. As a teen, I discovered Clayton UMC that changed my life. The Dukes will be my forever family.

I’m from Hershey, PA, pretzel sticks with cream cheese, Fat Rats, and pickles.

From our trip to Walt Disney World, where I told my mom that Thunder Mountain was not a roller coaster. She closed her eyes and wished it was over while on the ride. The time I got carsick while riding on the Blue Ridge Mountains on our way to Harper’s Ferry, where we saw Betty and the independent plane ride at 10 to see my aunt in Colorado. It was my first and only time seeing the Rocky Mountains. I discovered my love of olives on that trip and my sense of adventure.

I am from my mom’s oral storytelling of people long ago. I am from the special scrapbook my aunt made of my grandpa’s time as a tail gunner during World War II. I am from the plastic tubs of photos and other mementos of my family. I am from the family recipes my grandma sent to me while I was in the College Program at Walt Disney World. I cherish those because she hand wrote each of them with her love for me.

I am from the many miniature golfing trips, trips to Downtown to eat lunch in the food court of the Arcade, and shopping at Woolworth and the bookstore. I am from summer trips to Virginia, where I learned American History at Monticello, Stratford Hall, and George Washington’s birthplace. I am from many years in Rainbow, learning how to be a proper lady while messing up my temporary room in only 2 days. I am from the youth group, where we went on Mission trips. Ambo, the traveling hobo, “I don’t like Chinese food,” making the boys pretty, and becoming a family at Myrtle Beach.

To be continued . . .

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