Brain Spills

Essence of Camper

2011-09-25T19:46:00.000-07:00

Smells stored in the memory never leave you.

I've lived in a camper, it was my home along with my parents for 9 years. They were migrants traveling around with other migrants who had campers and lived in them. I've been in a lot of campers.

The thing about campers...They all smell alike. They have a common smell, it isn't like a home, where everyone's home has a distinct smell. The only thing that changes the smell of a camper is what was cooked for dinner that night. That smell gradually fades until the next smelly meal is made. The consistency of the smell of campers is amazing...It is like BBQ, you can always smell and identify a BBQ, you can do the same with a camper. If you had a line up of smells and were familiar with the common camper smell you'd guess it was a camper every time. I would go so far as to say, the smell of a camper is probably as desirable to me as a beautiful fragrant flower.

High Priestly Prayer

2011-09-24T15:02:00.000-07:00

A certain prayer recorded is the greatest one I've ever read. It's implications are astounding. Through history it has been a scandalous thing to believe this ever was prayed or that this man ever existed. People from the very beginning have been attributing falsehood, mere fiction to this man and his claims. It denigrates humanity, expels our idea of being independent gods capable of doing whatever, whenever we please. "Its morally unacceptable," say some, " To believe that humanity and nature is a creation from a higher being, it degrades us. It makes us small, unable vessels made for the pleasure of a slave master." History has been critical. I say, its quite dangerous to believe these allegations. It gives us a high view of ourselves that cannot be true. What does anyone of us deserve?
We are all full of bad things that if left to run from our imagination would bring down the entire world from civility. We dream of success sometimes at the expense of someone else. We envy what we do not have and if we retrieved all we envied where would we be? And where would the state of everyone be if this were retrievable by all? Thoughts of malice occur frequently in us. Thoughts we would not dare share or ever dream of wanting others to know or they would utterly disown us. We are capable of hating so entirely that bitterness consumes us, the thought of one we hate makes us fill with fury. Every person knows their heart, knows their innermost parts. If these parts were not harnessed, I dare say, this world would crumble in ruin faster than it is now, all because of ourselves. What is good in us that we can pinpoint that isn't connected to a selfish ambition in some way? Nothing I say. We are consumed with ourselves.
This man has claims, they are intriguing. They accurately portray human nature, the only thing that accurately portrays us, not what we want us to be, but what we really are.
Read this prayer...If these claims offend you, search it out further. I often times find that when offended, that the offense is true or else I would not be offended.

John 17
The High Priestly Prayer
1 Jesus spoke these things; and lifting up His eyes to heaven, He said, “Father, the hour has come; glorify Your Son, that the Son may glorify You, 2 even as You gave Him authority over all flesh, that to all whom You have given Him, He may give eternal life. 3 This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent. 4 I glorified You on the earth, having accomplished the work which You have given Me to do. 5 Now, Father, glorify Me together with Yourself, with the glory which I had with You before the world was.

6 “I have manifested Your name to the men whom You gave Me out of the world; they were Yours and You gave them to Me, and they have kept Your word. 7 Now they have come to know that everything You have given Me is from You; 8 for the words which You gave Me I have given to them; and they received them and truly understood that I came forth from You, and they believed that You sent Me. 9 I ask on their behalf; I do not ask on behalf of the world, but of those whom You have given Me; for they are Yours; 10 and all things that are Mine are Yours, and Yours are Mine; and I have been glorified in them. 11 I am no longer in the world; and yet they themselves are in the world, and I come to You. Holy Father, keep them in Your name, the name which You have given Me, that they may be one even as We are. 12 While I was with them, I was keeping them in Your name which You have given Me; and I guarded them and not one of them perished but the son of perdition, so that the Scripture would be fulfilled.
The Disciples in the World
13 But now I come to You; and these things I speak in the world so that they may have My joy made full in themselves. 14 I have given them Your word; and the world has hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. 15 I do not ask You to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one. 16 They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. 17 Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth. 18 As You sent Me into the world, I also have sent them into the world. 19 For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they themselves also may be sanctified in truth.

20 “I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; 21 that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me.
Their Future Glory
22 The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; 23 I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me. 24 Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world.

25 “O righteous Father, although the world has not known You, yet I have known You; and these have known that You sent Me; 26 and I have made Your name known to them, and will make it known, so that the love with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them.”

Pensive Screams

2008-05-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

Crunching gravel bleeds the color of rocks beneath my traveling shoes.
Remote gas stations have lost their interest in monopoly's jest, they humor me.
Roads barren and hardly used speak their mind to me.
A fall becomes me when I stop.
I need to roll cigarettes and chew tobacco to be noticed here.
The can on the counter is full of brown spit; flies swarm wild like
carnivores with a taste for blood.
The cashier doesn't seem to notice the formidable smell taking
masterdom of the air.
Her hair is pulled back with a black rubber band, I wince as I think
of it being ripped out before bed.
Her shirt is X large, I think to cover what she hopes is left of her
self confidence
eyes stare back at mine, their implication painful.
Time won and time lost.
Repeating...
It ruined her soul

Day 80

2008-03-31T21:08:00.000-07:00

Age 10
We had returned from our last gypsy trip to the south and had made it back to Belmont, Maine. My dad set up the camper on a cement slab that my Cousin Gary had on his land. About a mile away lived My Uncle Ricky and Aunt Donna in the family farmhouse. My mum, Sophie our dog and I would walk there often in the morning and walk back home during twilight. It was Autumn when this particular incident happened. Bird season. We all had some florescent on, even Sophie had a make shift vest around her middle that we had assembled on her that morning.

We had past the old grange hall at the four corners and had begun our journey down the Back Belmont Rd. We had not a care in the World as we walked on. The crisp morning air was warming from the bright sun. The leaves were falling and floating down around us as we walked. Suddenly a series of shots from the woods rang out into the road. My mum and I were standing apart from each other and both of us felt something wind through our hair. Frightened my mother grabbed me and started running farther down the road. We were so stunned from the experience. My mother took me by the shoulders and started looking all over my body to see if I had been shot, as well as examining Sophie. We had escaped the wound of a bullet but the feel of it cruising through our hair would stay with us long after the ordeal was over. Some idiot hunting birds, and illegally shooting into the road with his bird shot almost killed two people that day.

Day 79

2008-02-29T08:57:00.000-08:00

Age 11
My mum, dad and I were on our last gypsy, migrant trip. We had an old ford truck pulling our camper. We were in Florida, this was our last stop before we traveled back home to Maine. We were visiting my Great Grandfathers piece of property in a town called, Glenwood. Big, beautiful houses were all around this parcel of land belonging to our Great Grandfather. There in the middle of this upscale neighborhood stood an old 15 foot camper with a hand built, add-on that slightly resembled a covered porch area. It was hideous looking. This had been plopped here eons ago. While the neighborhood around my grandfather evolved he stayed stagnant. His tiny piece of heaven for him was a bit of hell for everybody else.

Now that Great grampy was gone, it was time for the family to take care of this wretched place. The little camp had been vacant for quite sometime. We opened up the creaky aluminum door opening into the hand built veranda. Smells mixed with the heavy humidity was almost to much to handle. It fought the oxygen out of our lungs. After entering we all began opening up windows, scrambling to get some much needed fresh air. After we could eventually breathe, everyone began looking around, opening up cupboards, and doors. One cupboard was opened and out fell a large snake skin. This tiny place had been infested with everything living outside. Creepy crawlies, mice, rats, snakes had reclaimed the entire camp. After we all had enough we ventured back outside into the bright, exotic sunshine and tropical smelling landscape. This little piece of hideous history would have to go. No body would know an old man named Amon had ever before existed in this very place. His mark on Florida would be erased. Some neighbor's yard would be extended or maybe a three car garage would reclaim Amon Morse's piece of heaven.

Day 78

2008-01-25T10:40:00.000-08:00

Ages 4-10

My small family unit consisting of my mother father and myself lived a gypsy-style life for quite some time. Our home was on wheels, 36 feet of camper hauled by a 1/2 ton truck. My everyday life was far different from the one so many other children were experiencing.

The camper water tank was small. My dad was the water conserving Nazi. Our showers went like this: Step in the tub spray your self for about 10 seconds. Shut the water off, grab the soap and lather everything. Turn the water on for another 10-30 seconds to rinse, and then step out and dry off. Obtaining the water we put in our camper water tank was a whole other adventure. My dad became an expert at finding fresh water springs. We'd drive around on old, overgrown logging roads with our truck loaded with two giant blue barrels and a siphon hose, searching for that ice cold clear spring water. I learned the art of siphoning at a very young age. Sometimes it was to transfer water from the barrels to the camper water tank, or other times to transfer gas in a big blue barrel to a small gas jug. One thing my dad had not let me do from a young age was empty our sewer line. I grotesquely enjoyed watching my father prepare to loose the sewer line. First he would dig a giant hole. Then open the hatch that revealed the sewer hose, he would take this hose out, place the end into the hole he had dug and then pull a lever up near the nozzle and stand far back. This job seemed strangely important. When I reached the age of 10, life had found us in Alabama. My dad had forgot to do the sewer line, and on his way out to the planting field he told me to do the job before he returned home for the night. I was elated that the responsibility finally graced me. I was in the middle of my studies later that morning and all I could think about was digging that giant hole, releasing the valve, and then later covering up the hideous mess with the piles of dirt I had dug. Eventually I reminded my mum that the sewer needed to be done and pretty soon or it would overflow so she let me out of class early for the day. I had a job to do and no one would be there to tell me how, I had free reign over this duty, how wonderful!

Day 77

2008-01-17T10:35:00.000-08:00

Age 7
We often rode bikes with my mum's best friend Brenda and her two children, Misty and Ricky. We would sometimes take a back road from the little town of Shirley Maine to Greenville. It was a logging road, during the summer and winter the road was occupied by truckers but it was a great place to bike, through the woods over looking old woodlots, most overgrown. One day Brenda and my mum decided to take the main road from Brenda's house up through the bustling town of Greenville. This road was always busy, one of the main highways headed up to Canada. We all had our little bike helmets on and prepared for the hilly, busy venture to town. My mum lead our pack followed by Ricky, myself, Misty and finally Brenda. Ricky and my mum started the steep decent down the first hill. I began speeding fast to catch up. Suddenly I found myself somersaulting down the hill with my bike. The helmet made a sickening thud on the tar, the impact sending my face into the ground. The bike and myself might not have been rolling on two wheels any longer but we were still somersaulting together down the tar hill, my face scraping against dirt, tar pebbles and more dirt. The hill was so steep that the energy of our movement was continued far longer than if on flat ground. Behind me Misty failed to stop and bashed her bike into me and my mangled one, scraping me further down the hill. Eventually I am stopped, the sound of my mother screaming trailing through out the sounds of passerby vehicles. Tired and burning from my face I just lay there helpless, not wanting to move for fear I'd hurt more.

Day 76

2008-01-01T15:04:00.000-08:00

Age 5
My cousin Chris had told me about these bubble gum cigarettes. He unwrapped the candy cigarettes and pretended to suck on one side and then blew into the top, an interesting powder puff came out the end. I was delighted, how cool this was! Chris had let me have some of his candy cigarettes because my mum and dad wouldn't have let me have any.

One day at the town gas station I asked mum and dad for some, they rejected my pleas and went on shopping. I suddenly got a very dark sensation inside my belly. It felt sick but exciting as well. I was going to take a pack of candy cigarettes and not tell mum or dad and not pay for them. I sneakily tossed them in my pocket and went on into the car. I waited for mum and dad to come out. In the mean time I was unwrapping the candy I had taken and was puffing on it. My dad glanced in the window on his way into the car to see what I was up to and discovered my dishonest doings. He and my mum said I had to take the candy in the store and tell them that I had stolen it and pay the appropriate amount for it. I was horrified. Someone would find out what a terrible person I was, what would they think of me from now on? I most definitely would have wanted to be dragged to jail rather than go and face my dishonesty.

Day 75

2008-01-01T14:29:00.000-08:00

Ages 9-15
The family farm was situated on about 10 acres of field. Cows dotted the field and if you were walking the field you'd be avoiding cow pattys every foot or so, some fresh most old, sun dried flats of manure. There was something that inhabited these fields that out numbered the cows. A mass flock of Kill Deer birds nested everywhere. They guarded their nests in the field with the utmost energy. They made the most annoying noise. The noise literally could crawl under your skin. At times their cries felt comfortable, like you were at home and other times became tiresome. During the dark hours they were for the most part quiet all except the times when they were forced to protect their young from the foxes or coyotes. Their mad cries were deafening at times but along with their small bodies they were no match for their predators. It was a sad thing to watch at times. They would cry and cry and stay near their nest as long as they could. They would fly away and then fly back trying to reclaim their young. They had to choose between the lives of their young and themselves. Eventually they had to admit defeat and save themselves.

Day 74

2008-01-01T14:00:00.000-08:00

Age 10
I had been wanting a little bow of my own for awhile. My dad had traded his a couple of years before.
My dad and I stopped at a dinky yard sale one day and sitting on a shelf off in the back of a barn was a little, dusty red, compound bow. My eyes immediately lit up, I grabbed the bow and ran excitedly to show my dad. He let me take it home. That same weekend my dad took me to a hunting supply shop. We bought some arrows. We took everything home and began working on my bow. My dad taught me how to properly shoot it. I wasn't doing well and after much trial and error my dad realized I shot left handed. The bow was designed to put the arrow on the right side so my dad messed around with some apoxy and eventually we had a lip on the left side of the bow that an arrow could launch quite nicely from. He took me to our family field where we spent some hours shooting some arrows. My dad was always so good at making me feel smart, even though I might not have shot the mark right every time he'd praise me till I was pro.

Day 73

2007-12-29T20:31:00.000-08:00

Age 4
My dad and I were working on the building of our first house. My mum was gone for the evening. The sun was going down, dusk was slowly settling.I was off away from the house site, trying my hardest to get far enough away so that I couldn't hear the awful hiss of the skill saw. The next thing I remember is my dad yelling. I must have blocked out the rest because I don't remember anything other than when I was walking with my Uncle Bubba who had elected to care for me while my dad was admitted into the emergency room. Mum was acting frightened when we met up with her, my dad wasn't anywhere in sight so I was quite shaken. My mum took me to my dad briefly, he was sitting in a little mobile hospital bed against a wall. He was apparently waiting to be transferred some where else. One of his upper thighs was wrapped in gauze, some spots were red with seeping blood. I asked if he was going to be alright, he assured me he would be fine in between pain tightened lips.

Day 72

2007-12-25T19:47:00.000-08:00

Age 22
Tearing open my Christmas gift anxiously I discover Ryan has gone out of his way to buy me a knife set...The butcher's block would look so good on my counter top. My kitchen was long over due for some functional knives. I don't know who liked the gift more, Ryan or I. We both played with them. I was cutting up some leeks for my stuffed mushrooms. Feeling powerful with my sharp beyond all sharp knives I chopped on feeling invincible. I ultimately ended up cutting myself and yelling to Ryan to grab a band aid. It was a stupid cut, the blade caught on a piece I was cutting and the end of the blade closest to my hand slipped into my thumb. Retarded! Ryan was cutting later, some potatoes after I had raved about how easy they cut. He was chopping in a constant line and I saw the slice coming, I thought he'd realize and correct his upcoming accident but he didn't. It was like watching a tidal way coming closer and closer but not being able to stop it. He evidently wasn't so invincible either.

Day 71

2007-12-24T21:04:00.000-08:00

Age 6
I was taking out the trash onto the porch. It was a summer morning. I was young and was singing and dancing around with the trash. Instant pain coursed through my body, from my foot to the top of my knee. I inspected immediately and saw a giant rusty nail protruding from the bottom of my foot. Screaming at the sight I hop towards my mum. She races me to Hazel's house, my mum wasn't particularly good at these types of things and Hazel was. I was screaming at her not to pull it out. It felt like it was so deep and I just couldn't bear the idea of it being yanked out. She kept on reassuring me that she wouldn't touch it, she was just examining it. I had the childish sense of relief knowing that she wasn't going to touch the problem. Feeling restful instead of fidgety I let her examine me without moving around. The next thing I remember is a yanking of the nail from my foot. It was a more disturbing feeling than a painful one. I felt the flesh give as it was being pulled from my foot. It was the most terrible thing. It still gives me the heeby geebes.

Day 70

2007-12-24T16:13:00.000-08:00

Age 6-7
My first two foster brothers were Billy and David, they were brothers. David was a little thief at the tender age of 8 and Billy had been acting out at school due to his obscene problems at home, which was the reason they were staying with us. Billy was about 4 or 5 years older than I. He was such a great older brother. I enjoyed hanging out with the boys. We rode bikes, fished, swam, and hiked. Billy used to make these blow guns from the bamboo that was over taking our small town. We'd cut a slit in one side of a 4 inch piece of bamboo, after we were done it slightly resembled a little flute. There were also thousands of black-bird berry bushes all around. A game that intrigued us all was shooting these at each other with our homemade blow guns. A neighbor boy down the road whom Billy befriended became an avid fan of the game as well...The boys would even shoot random strangers in the town. Most days around dinner time, The three of us would trudge on home covered in red berry guts.

Day 69

2007-12-24T16:00:00.000-08:00

Age 9
We had just moved to Alabama for some migrant work. We were living in our camper. My dad would head out on the planting field early in the morning and return at dusk. The migrant community attracts some unusual characters; this years planters were no exception. There was this one man, tall and slender. He looked like he had crawled out of a card board box when he first showed up for work. His hair was messy and his clothes disheveled. My father had a sort of deep driven drive to help people, anybody who seems to need it. This man was living in a tent in the small community of migrants. One night the sky let go with some treacherous rain. My dad went ran outside when it first started coming down and inviting him to stay the night in our warm camper. He accepted and my mother began her hospitality routine. She made him tons to eat and got him blankets, and offered him our shower with some fresh, clean towels. The man happily went about his night with us. He stayed in my usual bed and I slept with my parents. It stopped raining the next day in the afternoon. I don't quite remember what happened to this man after he resumed his ordinary life. I do however remember the repercussion of his brief stay. I retracted lice. It was the first time ever having lice and I hated it. I remember my mum telling me that the man who stayed had lice and must have passed it on to us. She didn't in any way acknowledge this as annoying or ever act as angry and him staying and giving me lice. My mum and dad were always happy to help people no matter the cost. They taught me a lot even without explaining things to me, I just knew by their attitude.

Day 68

2007-12-21T11:40:00.000-08:00

Age 7
My mother developed a close friendship with a lady in Greenville Maine named Brenda. She was my Brownie Troop leader, that is how they met. She had a son, Ricky and a daughter, Misty. We were together everyday. My mum and Brenda would attend Weight Watchers once a week for weigh in and our fathers and us kids would have dinner and game night.

My mum and Brenda were quite goofy. I think the small town boredom drove them crazy. One day Ricky and I had found a fallen Robin's nest in our front yard. There were two eggs that had not broken. Ricky and I excitedly ran to our mums and showed them our find. We of course wanted to keep them and watch them hatch. We had no idea that such a thing as incubation was needed, a very complex process wasn't in our minds. Mum and Brenda saw the eggs and decided they'd hatch them. They ended up making it a bet, who could hatch their egg first. Mum and Brenda both put the little eggs in their voluptuous cleavage and continued on their day. Us kids thought it was just the funniest thing and couldn't wait to see the baby birds. It ended up that the eggs were duds but the excitement lasted days until the eggs either broke or started to smell funky. Every time I see eggs I think of their boobs, I can't help it, how horrible!

Day 67

2007-12-21T11:31:00.000-08:00

Age 19
A couple days before Ryan and I's wedding we went ice fishing with some friends with Arizona. It was February, perfect ice fishing weather...The ice was thick and the fish as well...We thought it would be neat to share this with our friends who were used to sweating all year long.
Ryan's one friend Logan ending up hating the cold. He was a big guy, around 6 feet two inches tall. We took four wheelers to the lake. Even though Logan was bundled more so than any holiday Santa Claws he was still complaining about the cold. We reached the lake and began our ice fishing. Basically just walking around talking and waiting. Logan particularly like to stay near the hot chocolate. Eventually after warming up with cocoa he decided to take a friend of ours up with the invitation to get on the back of the sled that was tied to the four wheeler and be hauled around the ice. He was off, holding on the sled with a death grip. His face was priceless...He was having fun...They drove to the other side of the lake so we all sorta forgot about them. On their way back we started to hear Logan yelling like he was happy...Then suddenly up the lake we saw the sled tip over, Logan was still holding on, being dragged through ice and some melted spots. We all erupted in laughter. Logan limped back to the cocoa complaining that he was spent. He had red ice scrapes up his entire right side. His face was bright red, his nose running, and his lips blue. I couldn't help from laughing, he looked so miserable. He wanted to immediately go home so we packed up and began our journey home.

Day 66

2007-12-21T11:21:00.000-08:00

Age 10
My guy cousins and I were over at their grandfather's house. My Aunt's father wasn't a part of my family but my mum and I usually went everywhere with my Aunt Shirley and her three boys. My cousin Ronnie and I were playing around in the front yard and found a bucket of keys. A bucket of keys doesn't sound like an interesting thing, but to us it was finding a time warp. We took the keys home with us. There were tons of different kinds and each one was wildly special to us. We decided these keys were in every avenue of the word, "treasure." Out back behind their house my Uncle Ricky and Aunt Donna's pasture ran. There was a tiny brook running through the valley with some tall evergreen trees dotting the stream. One such tree's root system was exposed making for a tiny cave inlet. We buried our keys in the deepest part. We were nostalgic about our treasure living forever. Anybody who found this would be touching our past. I often remember this and dream about going back to that old rugged tree digging up my childhood treasure.

Day 65

2007-12-21T11:12:00.000-08:00

Age 19
Ryan and I were spending our Honey Moon in Washington State. His family had a cabin on the Puget Sound and that was where we stayed. I grew up on the Maine coast and thought the Washington coast wouldn't be really any different. Our first day there we were walking on the beach and I noticed while we stepped little spurts of water would squirt up from the sand. I was astonished at how high they squirted at times and inquired what this phenomenon was. They were clams! Every time you would step near them and they would feel your pressure they would start moving deep into the sand, their digging journey squirted the water in their way up through a hole in the sand. How interesting. In Maine to dig clams you go to specific parts of the beach, a very muddy part affectionately called, "clam flats." In Washington they were all over the beach. I ran around the camp looking for a shovel. Once I got one I began digging after these little buggers. They were very fast at digging away. It was an adventure, a provoking challenge. Our first day on the Beach left Ryan and I scurrying after clams. After I had managed to catch a few, I rinsed them off and made Ryan fresh clams for dinner. The following 5 days we were there, I was always on the beach after the clams.

Day 64

2007-12-21T11:00:00.000-08:00

Age 18.
Ryan and I had been invited over to his friend Kevin's house for a pool party. They had a great pool with a diving board. Guys will be guys, Ryan and another guy were wrestling in the pool, whoever got dunked under was the loser. They had a couple of rounds and finally tired of the whole deal. We all settled off to the side of the pool chatting. There were many leaves in the pool that had fallen off the arching trees. I tried to take a leave off that had stuck itself to Ryan's chin. It was dark out mind you. I tried to pull it off when Ryan griped in pain. I looked closer and realized that Ryan's chin was busted open, the flesh was hanging off like a dangling leaf. Kevin let us in the bathroom to clean it up. On closer inspection we both realized how deep the wound was. We acquired some butterfly stitches from Kevin and while Ryan lay on the bathroom counter I began stitching up his face as best as I could. Kevin came in to check on the process and began, "what are you doing?" Ryan immediately jumps up and examines my butterfly process and they start laughing at me. I'd never used butterfly stitches before and thought I had been doing an okay job, apparently they said I wasn't supposed to apply the sticky side of the stitches over the wound...I screwed this one up, Kevin took the stitches off and began the process over again. Now I'm not allowed to do anything medical for Ryan, he took that butterfly stitching night to heart.

Day 63

2007-12-17T16:56:00.000-08:00

Age 19
Ryan and I had just moved to Maine. We were on our way to my my parent's property to walk the trails. That day a slight sprinkling of snow covered the roads. Ryan was driving fast like always. It seems that men from the age of 17-28 have a great fascination with reckless driving. If called on it they get all peeved. For some strange reason they feel they are indestructible, king of whatever road they drive over. I proceeded to try to slow Ryan down. We were coming up to our turn and told him he needed to slow up because the road we needed to take was coming. No reply from Ryan. He slammed on the brakes last second and skidded into the ditch. The ditch was deep. The right side of the car was dipped with the back end of the car rising high into the sky. I was so angry that he didn't listen...He had to deal with looking like an idiot when a guy in a pickup came by and winched us out like a real man.

Day 62

2007-12-15T21:32:00.000-08:00

Age 19
My mum, Ryan and I went out on my parent's property, Ryan decided to bring the 22. rifle to see if he could get it sighted in. The rifle had a cheap twenty dollar scope and had been giving Ryan the runaround. Eventually Ryan decided to rest a quarter against a tree. From twenty yards away he began shooting and missing, as well as myself. The scope was crap. My mum finally decides she wants to try. She stands up at the 20 yard mark, neglects the scope and shoots by eye. The second the shot went off the quarter flung off from it's position. My mouth dropped open, so didn't Ryan's. Ryan and I looked and looked for that quarter but never found it. Ryan kept on saying it was a lucky shot. I don't think so, I've seen her do these things my whole life. We were going to set up another quarter but by the time my mum had finally stepped up to shoot it was getting pretty dark. That time of night when the last bit of light in the sky glitz through the tree tops and casts awkward, smoky shadows.

Day 61

2007-12-14T19:05:00.000-08:00

Age 3
Early Christmas morning I woke up in a spare bedroom in my Grandmother Mosher's house. There were a flight of steep stairs to walk down to the kitchen and then the living room where all the presents lie! It was a chilly morning. The smell of a hot burning wood stove, coffee, and cedar trees from the shingle mill outdoors hung heavy in the morning air. I excitedly ran downstairs where my Uncles Horace and Bubba, my dad, mum and everybody else were. My Uncles were in their briefs sipping coffee, standing butt to the wood stove. This is how they were typically clad in the early mornings. I began asking over and over to open presents. In the living room in front of the fire place was a big, black plastic garbage bag hung over something I knew must be mine. I ripped the bag away and there stood the most amazing wooden rocking horse. I energetically jumped up and started rocking away. I'll never forget how special it was to get such a large and beautiful gift. It is my most memorable gift.

Day 60

2007-12-13T19:26:00.000-08:00

Age 15
My first public speech, in my speech and drama class. My turn was coming. I had a knot in my stomach. My head was getting hot. My name was called. I timidly walked to the podium and started my prepared speech. Through the first three sentences I rested my notes on the podium due to the amount of sweat my hands had accrued. The paper was wet on both sides where I had held on. My face must have been beet red. The podium didn't help with feeling better so slowly I stepped away to the side. A few more sentences later I realized my whole body was swaying. I got a lump in my throat when seconds of embarrassing thoughts filled my brain, "Did anyone notice?" It had become almost to much to bear. I drew away from my speech some and allowed myself to finish sooner; hoping I'd feel better back in my desk. When I finished the speech I had an overwhelming sense of something being complete. I felt like I had caught fire and then been drenched by a bucket of chilly water. I sat at my desk and the next person started. The relief was reviving, exciting...I had finished.

Day 59

2007-12-13T09:32:00.000-08:00

Age 10-17
Saint George Lake in Maine was my favorite place to swim. A Big lake, the water cold and clear, just how I liked it. There was a state park where my mum would take me with friends and family. There was a designated swimming area with a rope and buoys surrounding the perimeter. Usually a lot of people were here in the summer. Whenever I'd come I'd swim on the far north side, not many people chose this swimming area. I swam out to my favorite spot, right next to the buoys was a rock pile I had been adding to for years. I loved diving down to the bottom and dragging rocks to build the pile. I loved the feel of diving deeper and deeper, your nose blocking the water from entering, your head feeling the pressure of the deep water and the weightlessness. At this point in the lake it was about 15 feet deep. Under the water the rocks could be big but entirely easy to maneuver under water. I remember many times fiddling with rocks under water and jamming fingers in between them, I'd often times have many black and blue fingers, arms and hands. The end result was what I cared about. Every time I'd come back to the Lake the rock pile would have fallen a little; from people who tried destroying it to currents failing the rocks. Whatever the reason it was just another chance to goof around under water building.

Day 58

2007-12-11T20:39:00.000-08:00

Age 17
Hanging out at the family farm. My mum and Donna talking in the other room and I making a pepperoni and cottage cheese bagel in the kitchen. Chris comes through the door, gives me his, "tickle me till I die" greeting and ransacks the kitchen for some food. He recently had turned 21 and now he could keep liquor in the house and not fight about it. He grabbed some of his coconut rum from a bottom cupboard and starts making himself a little drink. I loved the smell and asked for a taste. Excited I was asking for liquor he gladly let me try. It burned the whole way down my throat and had a severe dry coconut flavor. Chris whispers in my ear, "Go get your mum, we'll tell her to try this coconut juice." We pour a good deal into a ceramic coffee cup. My mother always tips up whatever she has to drink and drinks it fast. This was no exception, thinking it was juice she tipped back. Her face instantly turns white, and her whole body lurches forward and spews the coconut rum everywhere. It was one of those whale, blow hole spews. Chris and I run out of the room laughing hysterically. Love you mum.

Day 57

2007-12-11T20:18:00.000-08:00

Age 11
When I was around 4 and 5, I knew a family with three boys. Dennis, Billy and Jason. I remember having a huge crush on Jason, the eldest. I always liked the older boys, they were smarter and hardcore. Jason never took notice of me, he didn't care; But his brother Dennis had a huge thing for me. He had dark hair and freckles, and the most annoying personality. I didn't like him...After I turned 5 my family moved away so I didn't see these guys for years. My parents moved back into town around the time I was 10 and that is when Dennis came back into my life. Dennis surely never forgot me, I have no idea why he took to me rather than the other girls in church and Sunday school. He was about 2 years older than I. He had grown a lot, was very tall but still had that certain thing about him that turned my stomach.

Our Sunday school group was meeting and of course Dennis was there sitting beside me. The Sunday school teacher asked me to go to another room and get a chorus book she had left there. I went feeling glad to breathe some air that Dennis wasn't exhaling. The door behind me shut and I began my trek across the basement to another room, everything was quiet. Everyone was in the appropriate rooms and so I was all alone. I hear the door open and close while I'm busy looking for the book across the haul...I look up and Dennis is in the room and gives me that sick smile. He gently closes the door and stands in front of it, locking me alone in the room with himself. I instantly get goosebumps, a rush of shock and horror run from my toes up into my face. He proceeds to come nearer to me, the whole time telling me that he has something to say that I should know. Explaining he wants so badly to be alone with me, on and on. I couldn't believe this was happening, how was I going to get out of this one? Fear was tugging at my legs and they seemed not to know how to move. I made an express prayer and ran towards Dennis, at an attempt to get between the door and him. He stops me and grabs my shoulders trying to keep me there, convincing me to stay. The only thing I could think to do was hit him, I did and he let loose. I quickly made my way to the class, he sheepishly followed and we finished our Sunday School class in silence. After that, I made it a priority to be with a crowd of people whenever he was around. But he was so sly...A human cockroach, sneaky and pathetic.

Day 56

2007-12-11T20:10:00.000-08:00

Age 7
I had a great little friend named Heather. She was just as wild and crazy about the out doors as I was. We liked dirt, definitely not dolls. We enjoyed climbing the tallest trees we could. The one in my families back yard was pretty high. I had already climbed up and had come down and was watching Heather as she was climbing to the tip top. On her way down, about 10 feet from the ground; the stick she was holding broke and she fell backwards to the ground. Her back it the ground with a sickening thud. The breath was taken with the hit and so she couldn't talk for a few minutes. When she got her breath back, she instantly jumped up and started moving around like nothing had ever happened. How crazy is that? Every girl I had ever played with would cry the dickens if they were hurt, I hated cry babies. Heather was a trooper, she was named hardcore in my book.

Day 55

2007-12-10T15:57:00.000-08:00

Age 4

This memory was actually caught on tape. Burned into my brain either way it will live forever now.

My mum, what a character. From her loud monkey call that every kid begs her to do to her unconscious ways of making people laugh. Oh the things she has done. Here's todays memory, a tribute to my goofy mum.

Cowens Cove once again. Our four wheeler was not only for my dad's working commuter in the woods but for fun as well...My mum particularly liked zipping around with the ATV. This one day my dad's friend Norman and his girl friend were out visiting us. The camera was on and my mum was driving around on the ATV. There were a couple of alders and she bet the ATV could run them over no problem. She sped up and hit the alders, ended up that the bunch she tried to run over got caught on the ATV's undercarriage, so she had driven directly on top of them and they were suspending the ATV over the ground. She was hovering on top and couldn't get loose. There were a bunch of people watching. Our dog Sophie ran to my mum's rescue. My mum was in the process of getting off the ATV, allowing my father to fix the problem, she sorta rolled off. She eventually made it to her feet after laughing in the dirt. Making a fool of herself was common. She never cared what others thought, as long as she found it amusing...

Day 54

2007-12-10T15:22:00.000-08:00

Age 2-4

It was one of those many summers my dad, mum and I spent living up in northern Maine, camped at a place named, Cowens Cove. A cove on the Moosehead Lake. We had our huge camper, generator, four wheeler and the bright candy apple red Ford truck to haul it all around. My dad worked for Scott's Paper Company. He was a brush cutter, he thinned out the paper companies wood lots so the trees were successful at growing rather than being choked out by all the brush. I remember waiting all day for my dad to come home. Sometimes the sun would be setting just so that when my dad would be walking home his outline would be illuminated by the sunset, it looked like a classic scene out of a war movie where the tired solder is coming home at last. He carried his brush saw on the back of his shoulder like a gun, walking tired and hungry toward the camper. The instant I'd catch a glimpse of him I'd run to him and get a huge hug, and then he'd carry me all the way home. He was sticky with tree pitch and smelling of fur trees. When we reached the camper, the generator would be humming, and the camper lights sparkling. My mum would be setting the tiny table for dinner, she always had dinner on the table when my dad walked in. Dinner was so much fun, a time for laughing and fun. After dinner before my bed time we'd all congregate to my mum and dad's bed and visit.

Day 53

2007-12-06T19:32:00.000-08:00

Age 19

The day before my wedding day. Everybody is at the church getting ready. Ryan's friends from Arizona flew in and were helping us decorate the church before the rehearsal. My cousin Janette was my only bridesmaid and she was late. I was frazzled, edgy and uncertain about the next day. I knew I wanted to get married, I knew I didn't want a big wedding but I was getting one, I knew I was tired, and I knew I was angry that on top of everything Janette was late, I also knew we needed one more extension cord. I was breaking. Ryan's man friend Kevin speaks up and says he had brought an extension cord from Arizona and that we shouldn't worry because he had it in his suit case at my mum and dad's house. We all turn and with confused expressions just stare. His face looks serious but eventually melts into a goofy grin when he realized how geeky that was. Kevin made everybody's evening, especially mine a million times better, with his geeky awesomeness.

Day 52

2007-12-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

Age 19-20

Ryan and I's first apartment after marriage landed us in Phoenix Arizona. We lived on the border of ghetto ville and Scottsdale's rich ville. Our complex was fine. We got a small two bedroom two bath. Everything was small but affordable and comfortable. Ryan had a room all devoted to his geeky computer stuff and I had a small, terrible kitchen devoted to me. All in all we had a great time there. We both were able to work and utilize the one car we had between our two jobs. On the days I didn't work, I slept in, or lets say I tried to sleep in to at least eight am. After I had packed Ryan a lunch and pushed him out the door with a kiss goodbye I'd trudge back to bed and sleep some more. Every morning at 6:25 am sharp, a man in the complex parked opposite my bedroom window, would start his truck. This wasn't just any truck, it was a diesel truck. The idle is so hardcore sounding any other time during the day except for 6:25 in the morning. He would habitually start his truck and stay idling in the parking spot for 10 minutes. He never missed a day, never missed a minute. This man infuriated me and I didn't even know who he was. I'd occasionally whip the blinds back to get a stare but always never had my contacts in so all I could make out was some random shrubbery outside our window. This time each morning for me was a terrible time for patience. I was an ugly mess. I'd simulate things I wanted to do to this man, over and over in my mind. In my fitful, sleepy condition I'd want to destroy this man's truck, tear it to pieces. Run outside in my pj's and jump around like a possessed, raving lunatic and dent his truck in every which way. There were some days I'd fall asleep while thinking all these crazy thoughts and wake up five minutes later checking to see if I had really done it or not. Every thought I'd ever entertained was so perfectly orchestrated in my mind that I surely could have been able to pull the destruction of this man's truck off, for once and for all. I never did anything for the entire year we lived there. I sometimes wish I had;)

Day 51

2007-12-05T13:52:00.000-08:00

Age 13.

My dad was sick of Christmas trees. This particular Christmas he didn't want to go out and cut one down like he usually did. Course, I fought this till I had no teeth left. It was the beginning of December and that's when I began wearing him down. I tried all my sweet daughterly schemes. I began thinking it was hopeless and had declared to him that if he didn't get a tree, I would.

Three days before Christmas. I had returned home from the last day of school till the following year. I walked in the door and as usual the warm savory smell of a home cooked meal ready to eat was drifting through the house. My mum yelled from the kitchen to come and tell her about my day. I made my way to the table and cozied up with some hot chocolate and some molasses cookies she had made. We were talking and setting dinner on the table when the door opens and my dad gives his typical greeting, a high pitched, loud, "Hey." I nonchalantly make my way to the front door and my dad has the tiniest, most pitiful looking fur tree, drenched with melted snow. My dad had a big goofy grin that read, "Okay, you said you wanted a tree, here's your stupid tree." We all laughed a while. Mum dragged out the ornaments and we began decorating our Charlie Brown tree.

Day 50

2007-12-05T13:25:00.000-08:00

Age 11 or 12.

The pastor of a church we were attending had a huge family of seven children. The church youth groups decided to have a big sleep over at their house. My friend Heather and the pastor's son Alden were my closest friends at this church. Most of the children attending the sleep over were younger than ourselves so we sort of split away from the group and did our own thing for the rest of the night. When it was getting late we decided to take a night time stroll, the three of us around the church grounds.

We were walking around for awhile. Eventually everybody that was in the church attending to meetings, choir practice and what not had left the premises. There was one pick up truck still in the church parking lot. We noticed it belonged to a guy in the church named Eric. Eric was a big guy. He was always talking and liked to eat. Recently he had been seeing a certain gal that came to church with him a couple of times. All the lights were out in the church and so we didn't understand where Eric could be. We walked up to the truck and when we reached the back of the bumper we freaked out and fell on the ground. Eric and this gal were in the truck, in the empty, quiet parking lot. The pickup was bouncing even though it was solitary. We saw shadows tossing about in the back window. Eric and this gal were definitely attending to some sort of passionate business. Heather, Alden and I were very amused. We started crawling around the truck and tapping on the sides. All in an instant the truck became as still as death and as quiet. We thought this was a great time to terrorize them further, so we did. Eric flipped out,screamed out the window while he threw his bright lights on, jammed the truck into gear and chased us with the truck into a giant rosebush. We literally jumped into this thorny bush to make way for his angry driving. We sat paralyzed with laughter in the rosebush for about 20 minutes.

Day 49

2007-12-02T19:09:00.000-08:00

Age 11.

My friend Abby was a blast. We'd hang out at each other's houses often. She lived near a cow pasture. She wasn't keen on playing out there by one day I convinced her to join me out in the field. Her older brother Jessie tagged along. I showed them what sort of fun me and my cousins had in our family cow pasture. I found some nice flimsy sticks and stuck crab apples on the end, dipped them in cow patties and, "Splat" got Abby all poopy. Jesse wanted nothing to do with our fun so he ran off. Abby and I continued having a blast. It really was fun. After we were plastered in cow crap we began our journey back to her house. Her dad was home. He was an avid health-food freak as well as a scientist. One look at us and he demanded we took showers immediately lecturing that this was a very dirty and nasty thing to do. He proceeded in explaining why it wasn't good in some scientific lingo but we were laughing to hard on our way to the bathroom to even pay attention.

Day 48

2007-12-02T18:44:00.000-08:00

Ages 11-19

My dad used to collect odd things to use everyday. He somehow acquired a WWII bomb shell and started dumping his end of the day change into it. I remember being fascinated with the huge shell and often times when I'd walk by it during the day I'd nurture the possible stories this bomb shell held. I could have written a completely imaginative memoir for it...My father and I never could wait till this shell was full, so we'd empty it out every so often and roll the change. I loved rolling change, the rhythmic motion kept me spaced out and comfortable. Every new roll of change was different. When I'd look back on my first roll from the start it was mangled and falling apart, my present roll was more accomplished and close to perfect. I liked to see the evolution of my work, but sometimes it peeved me and I'd end up re-rolling everything that looked like a monkey had sat down with us and rolled some coins...This bomb shell was also my, "I need money for school pickings." I'd dip into this often. At school the lunch ladies made these amazing melt in your mouth chocolate chip cookies so some extra coins for these during the day was important. I walked around in school and basically everywhere with pockets bulged with coins while we had this bomb shell. I miss the silly noise I'd make when I walked around, I miss that bomb shell.

Day 47

2007-12-02T16:12:00.000-08:00

Age 9.

After coming through the farm house front door, my cousin Chris habitually jumped up and hung from the door frame leading to the living room. He never missed a beat, he did this everyday multiple times. I watched him everyday, all of the time the secret wish that someday the board would give. What a sight that would be. Sure enough one day...Chris comes home from school, singing some head banging rock song, he slams the front door, and walk/runs to jump up onto the door frame. His fingers catch, he holds on and does one pull up, the middle of the second pull up you hear a screech from the nails finally giving in from all the Chris abuse. As he reached the peak of his second pull-up, with his face near the board, it knocks him in the head and leaves him falling to the threshold floor. While he lay moaning on the floor I was busting another rib of laughter at his expense. I love you Chris;)

Day 46

2007-11-29T09:48:00.000-08:00

Age 7 or 8

I was over my little friend Heather's house. I was at her families house a lot. I had spent the night there and my mother would pick me up at Heather's gymnastic class. While I was coming down their stairs with my overnight bag I felt some sharp pains in my stomach. I thought nothing of it, so didn't say anything. As Heather's mum Laurie packed all of us girls in the van the pains became worse. I whispered to Heather on the way to the gymnastics class that I didn't feel good at all. When we arrived at our destination my mum was there. I stepped out of the van and crumbled in pain. I couldn't stand up straight. The pain was consuming all the energy I had. My mum could tell I was in pain so we said our goodbyes and she took me straight to the emergency room. I remember sitting on a hospital bed raised high off the floor. I was in some painful delirium. The doctors kept asking me what was wrong. The explanation was that it felt like bombs were wrapped around my lower and middle belly area, bursting into fire. I remember asking repeatedly for anything to take the pain away. They gave me a little red pill and within the hour I felt wonderful. The wheeled me to a proper hospital room and throughout the rest of the night ran tests. I received the first IV that night. The girl who was putting in the IV screwed up three times on one arm, moved on to the second arm and screwed up twice before getting it right. I felt much better with whatever drugs they had given me but now my arms were sore and black and blue.

My mother constantly talked with the doctors, I had no idea what was wrong. I had many visitors. My mum's mother, Gram Mosher was on the road in the western United States selling antiques. She heard the news and began driving back to Maine immediately. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but evidently everybody was worried...The next morning I was sent home. From all the tests the doctors still had not figured out what was wrong with me. I was feeling better so I guess they thought I'd be alright. About 4 years after that I had another episode exactly like the first one, and the doctors still couldn't figure out what was wrong. I have not had another one since I was 10 years old. I surely hope I don't have one again.

Day 45

2007-11-28T18:50:00.000-08:00

Age 7

My mum and a bunch of ladies from the church in Greenville Maine used to get together at The Buchman's family home. While the mums had their Bible study all of us kids played outdoors. It was about December in Greenville, and the Buchman's field was covered in ice, an exciting playground for us. I didn't know all the children well except for my best friend Ricky and his sister Misty. Ricky was a year older than I, we fought like enemies but had a pretty close friendship.

It was cold out. We were all dressed warm, several shirts on under our jackets and at least three pairs of socks in our boots. We were prepared to spend the next hour and a half banished from the house in the rigid weather. The ice field was a blast, we were goofing off skating around in our boots. Ricky lost his balance and grabbed on to me trying to correct himself, instead we both began falling. I fell forward with nothing stopping me, nothing to hold on to. My brow bone smashed into the ice along with Ricky's body that fell directly on my head. It was the coldest, most intense sudden head ache I'd ever sustained. After the cold rush over my head a burning sensation followed and made me feel as though hot blood was flowing over my face. Ricky walked me to the house sheepishly. We left the Buchman's early, my eye had grown enormous and needed some attention. I remember Ricky's mum Brenda giving me a frozen piece of pork and a bag of frozen peas. I then took a, "my first black eye" photo, per request of my mum.

Day 44

2007-11-27T14:15:00.000-08:00

Age 16.

High School was a drag for me concerning friends. I lost some pretty close friends my freshman year, none of them attended my school so my Sophomore year I was lonely. My cousin Janette was starting her freshman year and was getting more and more distant, She knew I stood for things and didn't want to trouble me with her, "extra curricular" activities. If it wasn't for her though, I wouldn't have experienced my first secret admirer... A girl's first secret admirer has got to be one of the best times in her life. The mystery of the whole deal is so invigorating.

I was not big into reaching out to make friends, most of the teens I went to school with, I had known for years. They each had their own clicks and social systems, I wasn't about to mess around with that nonsense. I had a couple of friendships with some guys in some classes we took together. They were strictly friends although one called me up one night all nervous asking if I'd be his girlfriend. I didn't want that, just innocent friendship.

One particular day on my way to my Law And You class I had found a note stuffed in my locker and had decided to bring it to class to read what it had to say. I remember reading it and getting warm, my cheeks all flushed. I cannot exactly remember what it said, although I remember random lyrics to a couple of love songs written in a row. Then something hinting around ever so slightly about who it might be that was the author of this wrinkled note. I started analyzing the few guy friends I had sitting around me, were they the culprit? Eventually I could stand it no more and confronted a couple of my guy friends. They took the note and read it, I even made this one guy write so I could see his writing one more time to see if it matched. After a while I realized it was none of them, so who the heck could it be? I never thought myself attractive and knew all the guys in my school because I had basically grown up with them, no body fit the mark. At this point I was clueless and started thinking it may be a joke from some of my girl friends. Depressed, and feeling teased, I went through the rest of my day feeling rather crappy...I cannot for the life of me remember how I found out who it was. However it happened, his name was Brett. A new guy from Oregon. Janette had introduced us at the beginning of the year. I was elated that it ended up being a somebody rather than a joke. It wasn't everyday I got a sweet surprise like that. My young heart was elated to be admired.

Day 43

2007-11-26T21:08:00.000-08:00

Age 9-13

The back Belmont Road in Belmont Maine was a Morse family overtaking. My Uncle Ricky and Aunt Donna lived in the farm, My Aunt Jean and cousin Janette lived at the top of the road following Aunt Brenda, Uncle Ray and cousin Heidi who lived in the next house, and directly in the middle was my Aunt Shirley, Uncle Jack and three cousins, Jackie, Ronnie and Huey. My mum and I would be over to Shirley's all the time. There my three guy cousins, "The Boys" and I would span our adventures all over the family farm's fields filled with cows and three apple trees that we regularly hung out at. I had cousins coming out of the wazoo, and everyone of them ended up playing out in the fields with us. Our favorite thing to do was not at all what most people would enjoy but we got hours of entertainment from it. Our apple trees left us tons and tons of baby apples, some hard, some rotten some semi. We'd grab sapling sticks and stick the apples on the end and then the best part, dip them in fresh cow patty and terrorize each other with these nasty weapons. When the times got boring there was never a lack of apples and cow crap, we were entertained so why not? This practice was our version of paint balling, but way more fun. The apples smarted as bad or worse as paint balls and left big bruises. Some people will never understand our play time at the farm but it is something that lives deep within me that I'd gladly do again!

Day 42

2007-11-26T20:40:00.000-08:00

Age 10

My dad had a great camper that we lived in while we migrant worked in the southern states. If I recall correctly it was 32-36 feet long. My parents had a nice queen bed in the back and up three stairs in the front I had a couch that pulled out into a bed. I lived close to 9 years in all in this camper. It was my home.

We had parked our camper in Rosehill, Mississippi, in a guy's yard. He had a salt and peppered beard and always smelled of a health food store. He let my dad hook up an electric line to his house so we could have power without having to use the generator. This was new for my family and I. I was always used to getting up early in the morning and yanking on the generator until I finally got it to hum. Now I could enjoy myself and forget about filling that darn thing with gas and oil and messing around with the choke button when it was being disagreeable.

I began this particular mornings like all mornings except that it was raining the dickens outside. I had on some pants and I long sleeved shirt, it was cold so I wore some fuzzy tights under my pants. I cannot remember why I ventured outside the camper, but this is what became of me.

There were two steps off from the camper to a makeshift step my dad had made and placed on the ground under the camper steps. I didn't have any shoes on and was going outside with just my tights for my feet. I stepped off the first step, immediately my whole body was slammed up against the door that swung to the left. The first few seconds I couldn't figure out how I was hanging off the door. My whole body went into a type of paralysis, I couldn't move, every muscle in my body felt like they were going to burst. My head felt as though it was expanding and ultimately would implode into itself. I could hear my mother screaming, I couldn't say a word. The next thing I remember is my mother forcing my entire body off the door outside of the camper. I landed in a puddle in the grass and lay until She grabbed me up. I realized after falling into the puddle that my whole body was being electrocuted, it is strange how it actually took and pasted me, free hanging onto the camper door above the ground above. My mother ran over to the neighbors house where our electricity line was plugged and unplugged it. From there she dragged me into the camper on the couch. I remember that I was all wet but mostly I remember my wet tights chilling my feet. I fell into a pain induced sleep. I also suffered severe head aches the following days after the incident.

Day 41

2007-11-26T19:23:00.000-08:00

Age 12.

My friend Heather was fun. She was a couple years older than I. She hated her family so my family invited her to everything we could. This one year we went camping up North at Cowens Cove on Moosehead lake. Whenever we traveled up this way my father made it a tradition to climb Mt. Kineo. A mountain peninsula that appeared as an island. This Mountain is close to my heart, I've climbed it many times with my father, it is also one of he most beautiful spots to take a picture during the fall in Maine. Here's more on the mountain if you are interested.
Mt. Kineo

Heather and I woke up from a chilly sleep, the big rock we had heated in the camp fire lost it's warmth during the night and the tent wasn't much of a shelter. This was in July but what you have to understand is that the Northern morning is fairly chilly. Even though it was cold we put on our swim suits, jumped into the rigid Moosehead Lake, and lathered up with some soap we had brought with us. After we all ate breakfast and were packed we bumped and bounced down dirt roads to the trail that would take us all the way to the top of Mt. Kineo. We drove until the gate that signaled you had to walk from there. We got our things and we all started hiking. The trail starts with a steep hill, with loose gravel and huge pot holes from water run off. It eventually evens out to a beautiful quaint old road that hasn't been driven on since the early 1900's. On both sides there is the lake. Delicate, tiny pebbles grace the North shore. The southern shore is a dead cove, where the water comes up to the tree line, years of eroding has left the roots of trees exposed. The trees roots display a beautiful chaos of tangles... The lake has a slight tide, the waves splash over the surface of the pebbles and darkens their sun dried light colors.

After making it to the base of the mountain my parent's parted ways with Heather and I. We began our climb fast and wanted to experience the whole of Kineo by ourselves. We made it to the top where there is a tower that you can climb to get an even greater outlook on Moosehead Lake. After we bored of that we began our decent. We jogged down the trails and explored a little on the way. At one time we were on the cliffs of Kineo. While we were walking the loose sediment holding some trees suspended slightly over the edge gave way. Without any other trees to hold on to we would have been goners for sure. I remember tasting my heart in my throat, I broke a huge sweat and literally thought I was dying this day. Alas, we made the course safely. We met up with my parents later, savoring the sweet taste of life.

Day 40

2007-11-26T09:52:00.000-08:00

Age 10.

Rosehill Mississippi, fields of cows, with barbed wire fences swallowed up in deep growing grass. Old dirt country roads twirling through giant magnolia trees and patches of field and little farm ponds throughout. This was paradise for me. I'd wake really early and head out to meet a neighbor dog that I had befriended early on when we had moved into the area. This dog wasn't just any dog. It was strange how it catered to me, with many people in our migrant team it followed me wherever I went. A man named Dean in the migrant team had a giant wolf mix dog. This dog named Bruiser was just that, his vicious demeanor scared me stiff. This neighbor dog was female while Bruiser was male, she would protect me like her own. I always knew I'd be alright if this neighbor dog I fondly called, "Keisha," was around.

Early in the morning Keisha would be parked outside our camper. When I finally made it outside she and I would gallivant down the old dirt road. This one farm pond we'd walk by was picturesque. Cat tails and reeds surrounding the perimeter, lily pads floating idly on the surface and thousands of frogs chirping their stories. The sun would be shining just right in the morning between the ancient trees, to transform the pond into nature's looking glass. Early mornings and dusk were my favorite times. During dusk when Keisha and I would pass the farm pond the frogs were chirping their loudest. I always thought it so strange when I'd make noise the frogs would chirp but when I was quiet they would hush. It was as though they knew when someone was listening in on their secrets.

Since arriving in Rosehill and being befriended by Keisha, I never knew really where she came from. At night she'd causally disappear down the old country road. One day while strolling our usual walk she prompted me to follow her further down the old dirt road. She seemed so human like, looking at me to follow, and when I'd stop she'd get behind me and nudge me on. She led me down the road further than I ever had gone. A little gray house was nestled in between some trees with a long driveway. I hesitated going any further, but she wanted me to travel down that door yard. I walked slowly down the yard. She led me to an opening in the garage door, she jumped over a board that was standing about 2 feet high up from the floor level. I peeked over and saw about 6 puppies. They were all waddling around in some hay whimpering. Keisha sat down to feed them as I excitedly jumped in with her to see the puppies. It was strange to see Keisha had a home. She always felt like my own dog, but here she had a whole other family of humans and beautiful puppies. After meeting her family and her puppies she brought me frequently to visit. I remember begging my father to let me have one of Keisha's pups before we left Rosehill. I knew I'd never see her again and I wanted a legacy to take with me. I never got that, but my memories are still fresh from the uncommon friendship I held with this animal.

Day 39

2007-11-22T21:39:00.000-08:00

Age 19

Ryan and I had been married about a month. My parents were off truck driving all the time so they let Ryan and I stay at our family log cabin until we got on our feet. My mum had a cat we called D.C. Dumb Cat. That is exactly what it was, dumb. Always doing stupid things, jumping on the hard wood stove burning it’s feet, jumping over candles and lighting up, this cat was getting old and very annoying.’d Ryan hated cats to begin with, the fact that this cat was superiorly retarded made him loath it even more. Every time mum and dad would come back home from a trucking trip I’d mention to mum that she should think about letting me put the cat up to the human society to find it a loving end of it’s life home. She agreed and told me to do whatever I needed to to get rid of that cat, but if anything ever happen to it, (dying from old age, or Ryan jokingly saying he was going to kill it) then I was never to tell her what happened, she didn’t like to know things like that. She was attached to this cat so this was a hard time for her.

A couple of weeks went by, mum and I came home from shopping, as I was stepping onto the porch my mind suddenly had an epiphany moment. I had realized that the cat hadn’t been in my way for a few days. I walk into the house and confronted my dad. I ask him if he had killed the cat. My dad was taken aback and looked at me like he was hiding something, ” No, what made you say that…I didn’t do it Lydia.” That second I knew Ryan had done something in a fit of rage over the cat. Anger started from the top of my head and ran down my spine. Ryan wasn’t back from work yet, when he would eventually walked through that door I’d decided he was going to get the worst from me. Through these few seconds my mother had been bawling and bawling. She was out in the front yard crying on an old tree stump that cat used to sit on. I had never liked the cat, but I was hurting for my mum. Through her lifetime she had been through hell and back and this was just another thing to put her through…Ryan came home an hour later. So enraged I began pouncing on him with my accusations and words. He admitted to it gladly and said the cat had it coming to it. His insensitivity blew my top even further, he wasn’t paying attention to my mum’s feelings. Eventually my dad tried to defend him saying that the cat was old and sooner or later would have died. I couldn’t believe this! What a terrible thing to do to my mum, kill her beloved cat…I have no idea till this day how my mum ever did this. She had complete grace with the whole situation after she had cried her heart out. She came inside, rocking on her chair and looked at Ryan, ” I’m so sad you killed my cat, she was old, I understand. I didn’t think you’d actually kill her, but I guess it’s better this way.” What??? From that day forward my mum has never griped about the situation. She never held it against him…Wow, that takes grace.

Reading this you must be horrified. The fact of the matter is, the cat was sick and old. It was suffering, and Ryan dealt with it. I’m glad he did, so I didn’t have to. Even though I know sooner or later it would have had to be done I still hold it against him for making my mum cry;)

Day 38

2007-11-22T21:38:00.000-08:00

Age 14

We were stopped at a red light in downtown Bangor. My mum, my cousin Janette and I. We were in the left hand turn lane stopped before the crosswalk. A lady on the right hand side walk making her way to the crosswalk caught my attention. She was black lady, looked to be in her late 30’s. She was walking with an angry stride, beating her fists into the air while she moved, screaming and yelling at something. No one was with her… We were not far from the Mid Coast Mental Hospital, we had just came from there visiting my Schizophrenic Aunt. I had assumed she had a nut loose and just watched in fascination as she was angry about everything, she dropped her bag, started kicking it towards the crosswalk, when she got there she bent down and violently snatched it up on her shoulder once again. Standing up she caught my eyes. She looked into mine. Her eyes went wide with wrath, she locked her eyes on mine and started pointing and yelling, screaming something inaudible through the car window. I was taken aback that she wouldn’t release her stare and finish yelling. He proceeded jumping around and waving her hands in my direction, when I didn’t respond she took off from her location and came running towards our vehicle knocking on the window and screaming all sorts of deranged things, in and out of constant fowl language…I’m the type of person who cannot contain my laughter, it pains my head so I let loose. I was laughing but trying to hide my face, it just made it worse. She continued bouncing around my window and the hood of the car doing her thing until we got our green light. What a great day. At least the lady was able to take her constant frustration out on me, I felt proud;)

Day 37

2007-11-22T21:37:00.000-08:00

Age 19.

Ryan and I were engaged and moved to Maine for our upcoming wedding. After meeting my cousin Chris, Ryan was over at his house often. I was shocked Chris actually liked him, Ryan being a computer geek and all, I wasn’t to sure what Ryan’s hopes were of Chris’s approval, but they clicked and I was thankful. Since my early teens I hadn’t spent much time with Chris anymore and I had missed it. He was like a big brother, one of those brothers that were bad influences but protected you nonetheless.

It was new year’s eve and we were at Chris’s house. His kids were in bed and the guys all sat around the couches playing the X-box. Since I had been really young Chris wanted me to somehow screw up my life; he would have been satisfied if he heard news of my getting drunk, crashing a keg party, or something else close to dumb. I was always someone who didn’t need or want any of those things and it frustrated him that I was so different. On this night he had a drink he wanted me to try. He had bought me raspberry twisted Smirnoff and wanted me to drink it. I did, it wasn’t strong and tasted better than anything else they had. I ended up drinking only three but because I’ve never really had any alcohol it affected me. After the first bottle the room was a bit hazy. By the third bottle the room felt like it was moving without me…I felt like I was in a dream and couldn’t move with the scenery. I was completely aware of what I was saying and doing, I just couldn’t walk well…I remember the trip to the bathroom I almost fell in the tub when I was trying to sit on the toilet, how special that would have been. At about midnight the guys decided to make this homemade bomb cocktail thing and go throw it in a friends yard. With three bottles down in my system Chris drove to the victim’s house and we threw it and spun off. A few minutes later, waiting in dizzy anticipation a huge BOOM, sounded throughout the quiet rural neighborhood. Chris squealed the tires and in seconds we vanished. Everything is just so much more hilarious when you have a bit of alcohol in your system, after that night I don’t think I’ve laughed as hard since.

Day 36

2007-11-22T21:35:00.000-08:00

Age 17

My cousin Chris is and always has been a character; cocky, dirty mouth, outspoken and above all candid. Everything went his way and nobody tested him, usually. You need to know this for the following memory.

My Aunt Donna and Uncle Ricky were letting a friend of the family live with them for a bit, while her parents were in the middle of a bitter divorce. Her name was Debbie and only about a year older than Chris. They were probably both around 16 and 17…My mum and I were over visiting, I was helping Uncle Ricky with farm chores and my mother and Donna were probably inside at the table with Dawn chit chatting over coffee. I remember coming in and sitting down at the table with everybody when Chris comes romping into the room on his way to his bedroom after taking a shower. He had a towel wrapped around his man parts and naked elsewhere. Donna and Mum start whistling,” oooh nice titties…and so on and so on…” Chris hates to be teased so he was giving crap back trying to act all macho in front of Dawn when his towel lets loose. There was Chris and little Chris hanging out for all to see. Of course a burst of laughter from all of us came when the horror of his situation twisted his face. His face was burning red. He grabbed the towel and ran shouting, ” Shut up, shit heads…” That’s Chris.

Day 35

2007-11-22T21:34:00.000-08:00

Age 10.

After moving from northern Maine back to mid coast Maine, my parents and I stayed at my Uncle Ricky and Aunt Donna’s house until we got a place to live. We were staying upstairs in a re-done part of the old garage attic. The chimney rose through this room so during the winter time while we were there we were very warm. I always loved waking up in the morning in my tiny bed set in a little room away from where my parents were. I could smell the hard wood stove through the nearby chimney and yet feel the chilly breeze cracking in from the old rickety windows. It was a glorious place, I loved it. Almost every night at the farm friends and family would stop in to gossip, chat and play poker as well as drinking lots of coffee. They would get really rowdy at times all angry at each other over cheating and what not.

One evening after Ricky finished in the barn, he came in to enjoy the supper he missed out on,topping everything he ate in cottage cheese and Tabasco sauce. My cousin Chris is Donna and Ricky’s son, he was a young teen and a terrible hot head. He never ever showed respect for Ricky and got away with everything terrible he’d tease and say. On this particular night he did something that blew Ricky’s top, it took a lot to blow his top since he had quite drinking years ago. My cousin Chris was a tough kid but Ricky’s farm wrought muscles grabbed Chris and body slammed him on the kitchen floor holding him down and yelled just once in Chris’s face, ” Enough.” Chris had never encountered any sort of fatherly discipline so this sent him in a rage. He hopped up after Ricky let him go, yelled some obscenity and ran out of the room crying. Friends and family were always hanging out at the farm and everybody was there to see Chris get it handed to him and Chris didn’t like that one bit.

Day 34

2007-11-22T21:33:00.000-08:00

Age 10.

Our last year of migrant work my father met up with an old migrant working buddy, Dean, to take on a new job near a little town called Rosehill in Mississippi. Dean was a pot smoking thrills man. His home was his pickup, with a cap on the body he was set to go. Dean’s constant companion was a wolf mixed dog he called Bruiser. This dog was massive, and trained to be very violent. Dean would bring Bruiser with him at the work site and whenever a lone armadillo or some other animal would wander near, Dean would find pleasure in commanding his dog to tear the animal to pieces. Bruiser was a piece of work. I was immediately intimidated by how big and mean he was, sensing this Bruiser kept a constant eye on me and would occasionally try and attack me. I made sure to stay close to my mum at all times when Bruiser was around. He was allowed to roam freely wherever Dean went without any real care for what he was doing. Our dog Sophie was always a one family dog, never encountering really any competition. She was a chow chow, being a Chinese fighting dog she naturally thought she was bigger and badder than anything else. She wasn’t keen on this Bruiser, he stood 3 feet above her and was constantly agitating. Little fights would break out between them but my mother and Dean would always break them up.

On one particular day Bruiser was fed up with not being able to establish power so he fought Sophie. My mother was screaming, I was screaming, and Dean was laughing…Finally Dean decided he’s had enough and pulled Bruiser off our Sophie. Bruiser had been biting the top of her head with excessive force. We were afraid she was hurt badly. After the fight she went and hid under our truck and didn’t come out until it was time to leave. For the next couple of days Sophie was in a lot of pain. She would sit in one area and stare off into space occasionally whining. She had no appetite and would rarely drink her water. Her head was always heavy and would lay on her front paws as she rested all day. After about a week she was back in commission but stayed far away from Bruiser for the rest of our time in Mississippi.

Day 33

2007-11-22T21:31:00.000-08:00

Age 21.

My son was 3 months old. I was still breastfeeding so I had absolutely no time for myself…One night my sweet Mother-In-Law asked to watch him for a couple hours while Ryan and I went out for a much needed get away.

I’m not one for fast food, I always am sorely disappointed with whatever food I end up ordering. After our movie this was just the case. I ordered a burger and while I ate, thoughts of food poisoning swirled through my brain. I’d never had food poisoning before but if anything could taste like food poisoning this burger surely did. I ate a full three bites of this awful food and let Ryan finish, while I explained, the entire time, that I never want fast food on a date again.

The next morning I got up and fixed Ryan’s lunch for work, while wishing him a good day I began to feel my stomach churn thinking it was just hunger. I fed myself then fed the baby and put him down for another two hour nap. Through those two hours I found myself curled up in a ball on my bed, heaving in pain from the pits of my stomach to the top of my brain. Ryan calls from work in the early morning and explains he is feeling much the same and is on his way home. Through the next four hours Ryan and I were out of commission. Ryan could have been thankful he didn’t have boobs so he didn’t have to feed Sylas but he was so out in left poison field that he didn’t care. I on the other hand felt completely miserable but had to feed Sylas, it took most if not all my energy just to sit down and breastfeed him. It was like what stamina I did have was being sucked from me. My whole body ached, my head throbbed in torment, my intestines literally felt like they were twist ties. My throat was burning from all the vomiting, the only relief came with tiny sips of cold water that were going to be turned from my stomach an hour after anyway. This sickness’s horror keeps you in a certain state of mind. You feel at any moment that you would be quite okay with dying and leaving the earth behind, those disturbing thoughts actually pass continually through your mind.

Food poisoning is quite an evil thing, it is something like birth, you never forget the pain. If you have never been through it you know you don’t want to but if you ever have you’d kill never to go through it again…Since this disgusting event, I have never eaten fast food again, even with the constant husbandry peer pressure.

Day 32

2007-11-22T21:28:00.000-08:00

Continuation from yesterday’s memory of Warren Island.

As we all were hauling our camp junk up the docks into the island we were immediately bombarded by mosquitoes, not a biggie in Maine. mosquitoes are a part of life in the Boonies; let me just say these particular mosquitoes from Warren Island were a breed of their own. They followed us like attacking bees, they were big and they were many.

After picking a spot to pitch the tents and after we were all settled, Janette and I set out to explore. By the time we set out for exploration the time was around 6pm. We would be coming back to camp soon for some smores.

We took a trail to the back side of the island, the opposite shore. The sun was getting lower and the sky turning a deep orange color. When we got to the back shore line it was so pretty, and the sun shone off from shells that were laying out exposed from the tide’s descent. Seagulls were out gathering mussels that were nakedly unprotected from the ocean’s blanket. Encountering a beach with the tide far out always evokes a passion for exploration. From small crabs, to giant starfish is exciting to find, its like finding something that no one has seen before. Everyday the sea brings in new things untouched by anyone before.

While having a blast on the beach we made our way to the dark mud to the left that intrigued us, we knew they were clam flats and thought how amused everybody would be if we brought back some clams for a night time snack.

The mud was soupy, and we were sinking in it like quicksand. Our shoes were stuck so we took them off but by the time we got them slipped off under the mud our legs were stuck. The mud was deep and my legs were scraping against all the crustaceans that lived beneath it. I was lifting one leg at a time trying to loose one leg while maintaining my balance with the other. It was a losing battle for both Janette and I’s pants. We eventually had to slip our feet through our pants and take them off and then slither across the clam flats to harder more stable beach sand. We were smothered in black mud. There wasn’t an inch on us that wasn’t somehow blackened with mud. The sky was now getting dark, at least people wouldn’t know we were really in our underwear. We were quite a sight to see. The few campers that were on the beach passed us on our way back to camp. Our tents were located near the water pump, we then cleaned up and sat on the pick nick tables eating our dinner. The campers that past us on the trail came by for water and asked where our cowboy boots went. Confused we looked at each other. Apparently the dusk light masked our muddy legs making them look like cowboy boots. We laughed ourselves to sleep that night.

Day 31

2007-11-22T21:22:00.000-08:00

Age 14.

Warren Island. A small island near Ilseboro Island, off the coast off Lincolnville Maine. This island should have been named, “Mosquito Mass Island."

Dad wanted to camp here, so this particular summer this was our destination. You can only get here by boat. The ferry only took people to Iseboro, so if you wanted to get to Warren you needed a boat that was fairly small. My dad had just the thing, his cheapo boat. He and my mother temped the Lincolnville seas with their small-fry boat…My Aunt Jeanne, and cousin Janette and I went on the ferry where mum and dad would meet us at Ilesboro and from there to Warren Island. It was thundering that day and from the fairy off in the distant I saw my dad’s tinsy winsy boat being bashed by the storm curled waves, I had to smirk, my dad was such a trooper. It was about three miles of stormy waves to Ilesboro, unabashed my father eventually puttered up to the Ilesboro shore…There were five of us, normally we wouldn’t take that many people in that boat but Warren island wasn’t to far off so we dared it. We pulled onto the little island’s dock and began unloading…The adventure hadn’t even started yet.

To be continued in the next post…

Day 30

2007-11-22T21:20:00.000-08:00

Age 13.

My dad is a bargain shopper. No matter what the item it always has to be a low low low price. He bought his first boat. At a low price the boat was a total of 10 feet long, had old crappy seats that didn’t sit right on the boat bed board, and every time we took it out on the lake the motor leaked gas and crap into the water and left a terrible smell.

One summer he had it out in the Belfast Bay area. We had an old sled that we thought would preform well as a water board. So with some makeshift rope tied to the back of his dinky boat we decided to try it. I of course jumped at the opportunity, I lived for cheap thrills like these. First off, I was excited but I had completely forgotten during the fun of the moment that we were in the ocean, salt water. A place where to many Jaw’s movies had caused me to abhor. I have always hated swimming in the ocean. This day though, it was a day for fun and past ocean freak outs were out of my mind…I climbed up on the sled and with the thumbs up symbol we had agreed on meaning, “GO” I was off. The chilly, nasty salt water was eating my face until I got the rope over the sled and pulled myself up with my knees on the board. I could see my dad’s goofy grin, excited that our plan had worked…He turned a wide corner and the slack of the rope snapped into a tightened rope suddenly. Unprepared I held on for dear life to the rope and the board, not wanting to lose either. The board’s tip top bit the water and dragged me deep under the surface… It was like the sled decided that an underwater adventure was far better an idea. It took me with it while the rope was pulling us all deeper and deeper. I finally let go of the rope as scenes of Jaw’s movies swam to my brain. I tore at the water watching the surface of the ocean come closer and closer… Our plan going wrong unraveled my senses and the childish fear of none other, sharks themselves had me swimming like an idiot at the boat… We all had a good laugh, as I choked up salt water and gas. We decided we needed more horsepower, a decent rope and a real water board.

Day 29

2007-11-22T21:19:00.000-08:00

Age 22.

The dawning of my twenty second birthday was such a memorable one. Ryan’s alarm goes off with light cheerful tunes from the classical radio station. In sweet delirium I wake up slightly and realize I’ve a bladder full of, well you know what. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, and gingerly stand up to avoid a sudden black out from standing suddenly. We cannot use the toilet that lays only 10 feet away in our master, it’s plugged and has been on Ryan’s to do list since we moved in, three months ago. So as always I begin my journey to the other bathroom on our second floor. I lumber through our door way and proceed to the hallway that will lead me to my destination. I forget that a couple days ago I had set up a baby gate in the hall allowing for me to watch my boy while I did the laundry. Clueless, I walk right into the gate, my walking is cut short at my waist causing my upper body above the gate to fall forward and ultimately crushing the gate with my body weight. I fall face first into the carpet. All I know is that I have to pee desperately, I’m in pain, and just three feet away from the toilet. I manage to get on the toilet and see the fruits of my fall. A giant egg like bruise on my shin and one on my knee cap. After I’m done I waddle to the hall feel around for the gate and in a fit of anger hurl it in the extra room. I then walk back to bed, cover myself and snuggle up and hear; quite sarcastically I might add, “Did you have a nice trip?”

Ryan, how sweet.

Day 28

2007-11-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

Age 17.

Labor Day weekend my friend Alex invited me up to his families house in Rimrock Arizona. Growing up I was quite the tomboy and because of that dressed very casual, always having clothes on that let me do anything outdoorsy in a moments notice. For college I bought some nicer clothes. Things I could wear for casual dress. No dresses, but a lot of nice shirts and Capri bottoms and what not. Knowing this I packed what I could up to Rimrock knowing that with Alex and his friends and family I’d be doing some outdoors stuff. One outfit I brought was a little bit more dressy and thought I’d reserve it for our bowling or pool night. I woke up on Saturday morning on Nadia’s bed, went and took a shower and we had a quick breakfast. Alex and our friend Eric decided we’d go to some lake they said was really nice. An hour’s drive later I found myself staring wide eyed out the window at this amazing lake. The lake looked as though an underwater mountain was growing out from under it. In island clusters, limestone colored rock was peaking out from the water. People were walking and jumping in some cases from little rock island to another little rock island. I now understand it to be called Watson Lake.
What a wonderful day to have nice Capri’s, pure white shirt and flip flops. I felt like an idiot and yet the real idiocy hadn’t even happened yet. We got out and began our exploration. We were following the leader. Alex was leading, I behind him and Eric behind us. I was hopping from one rock to the other, wobbly with my flip flops but doing okay. In the middle of Alex and Eric making fun of my absurd flip flops I slipped off a rock and straight way into about 4 feet of water. All of my clothes were wet, my shirt was white so I felt as though I was thrown headlong into bare nakedness in front of these two friends. Feeling ridiculous and stripped of my modesty with a see through shirt the matter worsened when I realized Alex or Eric needed to help me. I had no extra clothes so the only alternative was to continue walking and brush it off as a minor misgiving. I pretended everything was fine, explaining I’d dry out soon when really I was horrified. I made it a point to take off my flip flops and walk on anyway. Never have I been so humiliated in front of two men…A day I shall never forget.

Day 27

2007-11-22T21:12:00.000-08:00

Age 5-8.

Living in Greenville Maine was a very high time in my life. I had some great little friends, our house was in a great area, and we had this awesome pond out back. Our pond was inhabited with not only great big blood suckers and some fish, but a family of beavers. Our dog Sophie was very keen on terrorizing them. The pond was surrounded by tall grass and an occasional alder here and there. In the North West corner of the pond there was a beaver den that I used to regularly investigate. It looked a lot like how Tolkien describes a hobbit’s hut; Branches were piled high into a dome like stick structure. A beaver’s architecture used to fascinate me. They had dammed up a little stream off in the north east corner of the pond allowing for them to have a great deep pond. I would sometimes take apart the dam and let the water freely flow into the outgoing stream to see what they’d do. The following day they’d have it rebuilt, like new and better. Crazy little buggers.

I would run down our backyard slate covered hill to the pond everyday. The beavers would be floating around soaking up the sun if it were summer, no where to be seen if it were winter. Our dog Sophie would come with me. She lived to make the beavers angry, and I think somehow the beavers also enjoyed the seemingly unwanted attention. Sophie would waddle in the water barking until her jaws touched the water working to stay afloat she’d swim right for the beavers. They didn’t leave altogether, they sort of ganged up on her all the time and slapped her with their tails. It was a real riot to watch and I spent many hours through three summers laughing at the uncommon situation.

Day 26

2007-11-22T21:11:00.000-08:00

Age 10. Rosehill, Mississippi. Our last year of migrant work landed us parking our big camper behind some old bachelor’s yard, I do not remember his name although it is at the tip of my tongue. He was a quiet old seventh day adventist man. He didn’t eat meat. His house was in constant renovation or was just never finished. The floors were a plywood overlay…His house and himself smelled like a health food store. This old gentleman lived near a dear old women who’s name I have again forgotten. She lived in a brown house with the biggest most beautiful magnolia tree. Her house always smelled of an ancient must. Which I found out later was somewhat due to a dish she cooked up called head cheese. I had never heard of this concept in cooking until meeting this dear old lady. When my mother explained the process to me I was utterly disgusted. After knowing she boiled down whole pig heads in her kitchen I was somewhat satisfied with distilling various horror stories concerning her. Dead pigs hanging in her cellar, or maybe everybody that ever came to visit her that she didn’t like was strung up on some basement beam. When she was lonely she’d walk down cellar and chat with her dead human puppets.

Day 25

2007-11-22T21:09:00.000-08:00

Age 3-17.

My uncle Ricky, not really my uncle, some sort of cousin but I grew up calling him uncle Ricky. He and my aunt Donna live in the family farm, the farm my father grew up in. Ricky and Donna switched homes with my father’s parents once all the kids were grown up. Ricky took over the milking so my grandfather didn’t have to.

During November the days start getting shorter in Maine. The weather is crisp, fresh and chilly. While the sun set I’d scarf down my dinner in a hurry to go and help Ricky in the barn. I’d get all dressed in the breezeway, throw on an old dirty coat and some tall rubber boots. I’d trudge off to the milk house sliding door. The handle was always so cold. I always entered the barn through the milk room avoiding having to hop over the electric fence to get to the wide barn doors. Uncle Ricky always opened up the giant french like doors to the opening of the barn to let in some air while he milked. The milk room was a bright turquoise. My mum and Donna had painted it one summer and picked this awful color that Ricky never did end up liking. When you step into the milk room the big, bright, slightly frosty looking milk tank was centered in the middle of the room.I’d walk to the left to saloon like doors. Whenever I would come out to help, Ricky had never got around to hooking the doors back so I’d take the bungee cords attached to the walls and hook the doors to the side. I felt somewhat useful. Then I’d hop up into the main barn and see all the cows lined up. The smell of manure, grain, hay, and milk all very heavy in the air. Shovels lined up against the barn doors were used for pulling back the crap into the gutter, and then spreading sawdust wherever needed. I’d first go check on whatever calves were there for the night and ask Ricky if they were fed yet. Feeding the calves was always fun. He didn’t use bottles, but buckets so they’d learn to drink normally sooner. We mixed the calf formula with water in the bucket and then I’d stand there with the calf’s head deep into the 25 gallon bucket slurping and nudging me all over the place.

After a while I couldn’t smell anything anymore, noses do funny things…They forget to send the info to the brain that it stinks after a while of being in the stink. The chilly weather would also numb my nose and when I’d breath in or try to smell, my head was filled with cold air, it sort of gave me a head freeze. It felt like my nose and brain was being cleared of all it’s infirmities.

When I was caught up on scraping back the cow’s poop while they were being milked I’d stand there with nothing to do but think of what to do next. I used to like to go and get a rough brush that was kept near the front of the barn. I really liked to take this brush and clean all the stuck on poop pebbles off from the cow’s coat. This was an odd hobby but I enjoyed seeing the results. If the brush didn’t work I’d search the sawdust pile for a piece of wood that had missed being sawed. I’d take it and scrap the pebbles off. Usually when I’d scrape this hair off it would take a lot of hair with it, leaving the under coat exposed, all shiny and clean looking, I loved that.

Sometimes Ricky would stay out later after the milking to clean the gutter. I would attempt to help. He’d be working on one side and I on the other. I’d place the shovel in the gutter and push up all the manure and liquids till my shovel was overflowing. This job might have been my favorite. It was pleasing to see the fruits of my labor when I cleared a significant amount of gutter. When the wheelbarrow was full I’d advance the heavy load to the back of the barn where the crap compacter was. I’d dump out my load and watch as the machine in a deep hole took the crap underground to the poop pit out back. I’d always watch this, many scenarios running through my mind; what would really happen to somebody if they fell in there? After morbidly contemplating possible crap compactor incidents I moved on to fill my next load of crap.

Day 24

2007-11-22T21:07:00.000-08:00

Age 17.

My mum’s mother has dentures. She has lost innumerable pairs of them, and not one set of dentures has ever fit right.

We had tickets on a ferry, we were traveling to Nova Scotia. My mum, my grandmother, my grandmother’s friend Lois and a family friend, Kelli and I. Kelly has a big cleavage, something you have to know to appreciate this story. Kelly also is definitely a laughing stock, she thrives on the humor of any moment. In other words, if shes with you no matter what something is going to happen that will leave a memory. We were all settling down on the ferry ready to endure a 2 hour voyage together. Kelly, grams, her goofy friend and my mum all settled themselves at a table while I went to get drinks. We had not been on the boat more than 15 minutes. I return to the tables just in time to see all the women laughing hysterically, My grandmother loses control of her dentures and with one last belly bursting laugh the teeth fly across the table (there are people everywhere other than our group of freaks). The teeth are flying, it was like a slow motion movie shot, the saliva dripping as they flew…They find their home between Kelli’s welcoming cleavage, like a corner shelf the boobs welcomed the dentures like a vase full of flowers. How exquisite, if it had been a corner shelf with beautiful flowers, but not this day. Wet stinky teeth plastered Kelli’s voluptuous boobs. A typical day had just begun for our clumsy, goofy, freakish group.

Day 23

2007-11-22T21:06:00.000-08:00

Age 6.

A lady from our church lived just down the road from us. She and her husband became very close with our family so that they were like my grandparents. They had a big shaggy sheep dog named Bear that I hardly saw. He had a place of his own out back of their house, and occasionally I’d tag along with Hazel when she’d let the dog on the porch to feed him.

My mother and I were over one day to Hazel’s like we often were, I was bored. Hazel said I could go out back to visit Bear. I went to the back of the house and stepped up on the porch where he was wiggling and whining for attention. He was so shaggy, it was hard to know if he even had any eyes with the shagginess all over. I started petting him, and like most dogs without much attention he jumped up on me, he was very excited. He kinda knocked me back a little and got me all dirty so I decided to turn around and go get some of his snacks. Just when I turned around he jumped on my back slightly tipping me to fall backwards, I tried to get out of the way enough so his chain would catch him but instead I got in his line. By now he was growling ferociously and had me scared. Before I could get out of the way he had sunk his jaws into my left cheek. I was lucky enough to get out of the way this time and while running away he clawed my back with his front paws. Blood was flowing everywhere as I ran. I remember running and feeling air flowing into my mouth but my mouth was closed. I was crying and the salt in my tears stung my face. I could see my cheek hanging from my face; the sight had me queasy. My mum and hazel stuffed towels in my face. I knew how bad it was because my mother was crying horribly, Hazel trying to calm her down. They rushed me to the emergency room. I don’t remember there being a wait, they got me in immediately. My left cheek was hanging off my face from an inch below my eye down to my bottom lip. My left nostril was filleted a half inch up my nose. They got out a long needle and began shooting Novocaine into various areas of the wound. They then started sewing up my face. My mother was holding me while they sewed and was reassuring that everything would be fine. She said if I was brave they’d go to the Indianhill Market after everything was over and get a toy. That is the only thing that was on my mind after that. Not the fact that my face was going to hurt, and eating and drinking would be a chore for weeks, but that I was getting Break The Ice, a game I had wanted for such a long time…My face would never be the same after that. Although the doctors did an amazing job and few people realize I even have a couple scars, I can make out the changed people don’t see. The scars of course, but the left side of my face is slightly thinner and gaunt than my right, the flesh falls off my cheek bone slightly different from the normal side…A couple days after the attack, Bear was gone, for good.

Day 22

2007-11-22T21:02:00.000-08:00

Age 21.

Giving birth. That’s the phrase we use when speaking concerning birth,”you gave birth” I would say that this phrase is deceptively misleading. I would call it, “you died, brought forth life and reluctantly was reborn yourself.” This is the birth process. This is my story of death, or what ultimately felt like death or what made me fancy death, what would have been a sweet relief from birthing pains.

Its one thing to not know the day, the hour, the half hour, the minute, the second you’ll go into labor. Its another to know. I set up an appointment with the hospital to be induced a week before my due date. I’m a very impatient person, and already I wanted that child out of my body even before the induction date. My belly felt heavy, the only relief I got from the constant pressure in my pelvis was sitting on a big work out ball. That is where I sat, if not there I lounged out like a beach whale anywhere that was comfortable. I literally felt like a helpless, fat, ignorant beast awaiting something primal but not knowing what exactly to expect.

Friday came. My mother and father and husband and I all had a big sleep over at our third story apartment. I got up bright and early, who can sleep when they know what the next day holds? It was like knowing the day of my death, and ironically that is exactly how it felt. My desire was to do this birthing thing completely natural all except them giving me a little boost to induce labor. My family agreed to not let them give me drugs even if I was viscously screaming and cursing for them. This is like sealing your fate, like your last Will and Testament, because your family members will by all means follow through with your pre labor agreements. In other words, I was screwed if I ever wanted drugs and I knew it. I thrive off the unknown. I get a sort of rush knowing that I am going to suffer through something and live to tell about it. My life is a constant battle because I choose to do everything the hard way, always wanting what is hard rather than easy. I’m nuts, but its a sort of obsession, a clean stimulant that my whole being lives for.

We get to the hospital, they hook me up. The appropriate dials here, the needle to insert this there, and the anticipation everywhere. 9 am they start the pitocin. 12 pm they break my water. Pain starts right then. The water was cushioning anything painful, with the water gone it was a free for all pain carnival. They stopped the pitocin when I started good labor, about 12:30. This is the first stage of labor, painful but doable.The pain was easing its way to a peak. The first half hour was like deep, incessant period cramps in my lower abdomen. I sat on a work out ball, the only position that felt half way descent. I was okay with this pain, the pain came every minute and then I had a 30 second pain free break. Those 30 seconds were like floating in clouds. The minute of pain was like drowning.

After sitting on the ball for a half hour of labor, I lost track of time. The pain became agony, death was at my doorstep, I swore I was dying. My whole body was flourishing in utter pain chaos. The 30 seconds of break were not break anymore, they were dreadful anticipation for the next minute of torment. I raged with anger. Around my belly and on my finger my heart and the baby’s heart was being monitored. 30 seconds of anticipation was coming and I rushed to the bathroom dragging monitor equipment with me, the nurse the entire time telling me to stop, my husband came in the bathroom with me and in demented delirium I announced to my mother, the nurse my mother-in-law and my husband that I was going to pass a crap before I had this baby because I didn’t want to poop on the delivery table. I think everybody was laughing on their insides at my proclamation, but decided against laughing at me. I hovered over the toilet in between contractions heaving in pain. Unabashed, and having no modesty, nor knowing what that meant at this time in my life; I told everybody that the crap that I so badly wanted to pass was going to be so big that I didn’t know why it wouldn’t come out. I cried for drugs, telling them I was a complete and utter failure and couldn’t live with the pain. The drug guy came in, a very uncompassionate man, telling me that if I wanted drugs I was to sit still for 30 minutes while he took his time to do the job right. I was angry and couldn’t believe he thought for a moment I could sit still. The time now unbeknownst to me was 2:40pm and my cervix hadn’t been checked since they broke my water. I had skipped over the first stage of labor rather fast and was in the second stage full blown. With much effort I tried to sit still while the nurse checked my cervix, I was at a 9 1/2 centimeters. Immediately after her hands left my women area I felt the greatest involuntary urge ever to take over my body. My body shook, I was groaning, something desperately was going wrong down in vaginaville. I screamed…”He’s coming out NOW.” The nurse wasn’t prepared for such a fast labor and hadn’t contacted my midwife yet. I could have cared less but she did, grabbing my head, she put her face in mine and insisted violently that I don’t push. I told her in so many words that she couldn’t stop me and proceeded to have my whole body turn against me and push. The pushing I will never ever forget. It felt like something so huge was going to emerge with every push and with every push it felt as though it was going to rip your entire bottom area into a gigantic hole.

The midwife arrived 15 minutes after I had been pushing. I pushed and pushed for another 15 minutes. The third push to the last I felt myself rip. It was atrocious, like the feeling you get when finger nails run across a chalk board, but this was something far more evil. This is where I allegorically died. Dead to myself… The last push and the baby emerged. Instantly pain left my body and I felt reborn. It wasn’t the joyful feeling of the moment, it was the instant relief of the moment that brought me to life. Never will I forget this feeling of relief, it was as if immediately a raging storm stopped dead in it’s oppression. The clouds vanished, the rain stopped, the sun peaked through the darkness and the birds began singing once again. Life was all new and I was ready for it.

Day 21

2007-11-22T21:01:00.000-08:00

Age 4.

The day before Thanksgiving my mother loads my three cousins, Jackie, Ronnie and Huey in our old Subaru. My cousin Jackie and Ronnie were in the back seat with me where my mother double buckled all of us. Huey was belted in the front seat. We headed off to the local grocery store, Shop N’ Save. After shopping we were on our way home. We were getting close to my Uncle’s. He had a big road side field with cows out and about grazing. Us kids were having a blast in the back of the car, cannot remember why. Abruptly my mother swerved into the side road’s gravel, we were swerving but it seemed we’d recover until the car’s right tire grabbed tight onto the gravel one more time and took us into the fence and further into the field, the car rolled exactly three times. The car came to rest on it’s roof where the double buckles held us tightly.from the ceiling we screamed and screamed. My cousin Jackie who was in the middle sitting beside me unbuckled himself and was so scared he forgot about everybody else. The boys got out fine. I remember my stomach in pain from hanging. Sirens and lights were swarming all around. I was scared for my mother, she wasn’t acting normal. I was behind the driver’s seat and continually tried to wake my mother up, she’d wake up and mumble something and then drift off again. My finger was bleeding so of course I was dying…Another relative who lived in the area helped me out of the car. From outside the car I waited for the paramedics to tell me how my mother was. The Thanksgiving dinner was spread across the field, one cow sipping the milk and the others curiously nudging the other groceries. While my mother was being carried away into the ambulance I cried.

Day 20

2007-11-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

Age 15.

1st year of high school I took a speech class that would forever change my life. I learned a lot of habits in that class. Like counting someone’s refuge word, a word that they fall on when they are confused during a public speech or just a casual conversation. This could be good, so during your own speech or conversations you could learn to avoid using these words. It can also be terribly annoying if you have the habit of counting refuge words all of the time. During lectures, student speeches, even t.v.! It’s like having a giant scab on your knee and trying not to pick it. Focus, focus!

For my Holocaust class we were asked to write a children’s book on the subject of prejudice. We were to present the story books we created to the class. My cousin Aaron was taking this class as well, his turn next. He was a great socialite but he was very nervous about public speaking. His speech could have been titled, ” Oh The Multitude Of Um’s.” Mesmerized at not what his content was about but how many times he said Um, I counted on. He was the last speech of the day, Aaron and I had another class together next and I caught up with him in the hall and handed him a paper I had jotted down a number on. 52. He asked what it meant, ” You said um 52 times in 2 minutes and 40 seconds.” He laughed. He actually thought it quite amusing and told everybody about his awful attempt at a speech.

I still count um’s, ah’s, Mmmm’s, Hmmmm, and iunno’s. I’m such a geek.

Day 19

2007-11-22T20:56:00.000-08:00

Age 15.
My lungs felt as if they were going to burst. My chest was hot from breathing quickly, I felt a 100 pounds heavier. I was running, running myself to exhaustion, but I couldn’t stop, I was close to capture. They were advancing closer and closer. They were forcing me up a steep mountain. I found myself around a cliff that was hugging my trail. Around the cliff I see what appeared to be an old outhouse randomly set near the top of this mountain, for no reason I could think of. I didn’t dwell on the curious situation, I was merely concerned about my life and welcomed this house. I walked through the entrance. It appeared at further investigation that this was an old mine entrance. Boards were hastily thrown on the floor of this entrance, it appeared to have caved beneath the mine, I briefly thought this strange but hurried deeper into the mine. Fatefully The brittle floor boards gave way and I found myself falling. I landed hard. Dust enveloped my vision, coughing and squinting I carefully got off the floor. Pushing my way out of the floor rubble and dirt I saw through the clearing the floor was uneven all over, looking like an old dirt cellar with uneven mounds all over. I stumbled around, holding myself really close with pain. As I walked the uneven cellar rounded a corner, I slipped and fell down a steep mound. The hill I fell down was covered in sharp substance, there was a crunching noise as my body made contact with the ground. In the push up position I got up and my eyes locked with the ground, smothered in dusty grey skeletons everywhere. My heart pumped harder and harder with the discovery, a graveyard of terror. Some sort of evil, vile thing had happened here. A massacre of some sort.

I hear voices overhead, scurrying, ” She’s fallen down there, take the rear entrance…” My screams were silent, making me feel as though I’d explode with fear. I got up and ran, crunching to a pair of staircases, one going up and one going down. I could hear voices still, coming closer and closer. I took a deep breath and ran up the stairs. The opening revealed the cliff of the mountain. Trees lined the steep cliff’s descent. I felt helpless, men laden with army fatigues and guns were closing in on me. As shots fired, I jump.

All sweaty, terrified clearly disturbed I wake up and see my glowing alarm clock. Just another dark dream.

Day 18

2007-11-22T20:55:00.000-08:00

Age 6. My foster brother David Lapoint was about 8 years old. When he first arrived from the child welfare for my parents to care for I thoroughly enjoyed having another kid around my age. The first couple of months we got along fairly well all except his occasional anger tantrums. I cannot remember how long David was with us until this day but after this following memory was near the end of him being with us.

There was a far back room of our house that was home to various misfit belongings intermingled with sewing effects. We would often play in here with our race car set seeing we could set the huge track up in that room. David and I set up the car set and started having some fun. Sometime during our fun David and I began some childish argument, something silly that I do not remember. I remember dialog between him and I, he began getting angry and lounged towards me. I backed up but not fast enough and he slammed my whole body into the wall. I remember thinking that this wasn’t going to be good, mum was outside and couldn’t hear us inside, my screams would be useless. The last thing I remember was David’s hands clutching my throat. I panicked and tried screaming even louder but nothing came out. I began to get all warm, my head felt light, and little white dots started to congregate my vision until they all swarmed into a black mass of nothing. I woke up minutes later with my mother screaming, crying all over me. Everything was cloudy and out of the corner of my eye I saw David’s cloudy mass heaped over sobbing. What I remember most about waking up was that I took in a giant breath of fresh air, it felt like my first breath on earth. After that day my parents arranged for David to leave our home.

Day 17

2007-11-22T20:54:00.000-08:00

From age 12-19. The ages I lived in our home in Morrill Maine.

After a few weeks since move in, we realized we were not alone. We eventually found that little squirrels were nesting in the walls. Through the night when things were quieter, you could hear scratching in the walls, above our shower in the ceiling squirrels would fall of a drop off behind the shower and get stuck, we’d hear them scratching for days. Then from starvation they’d die in the walls and cause a stink. It was disgusting, the only way to get rid of them was to try to find where they were coming in…We never did. All we knew is that we lived in the woods and every winter they nested in our house. My dad tried many things, he even brought the chainsaw in and cut a hole in the floor in our upstairs floor and shoved our cat in there after them.

One evening during a huge get together for Christmas with lots of children and family and friends, we learned just what kind of squirrels they were. My mother and uncle are deathly afraid of rodents so when one of the kids spotted a squirrel of the wall they flipped out screaming and scrabbling to chairs. Never has our home erupted into such terribly loud noise. My mother and uncle making fools of themselves on chairs, screaming, children frightened at their screams, my father and I yelling at them all to shut up and at the same time trying to find the cat. The squirrel finally moved, it jumped across the room by gliding, they were little sugar gliders, like flying squirrels! The whole room exploded once again in noise. Eventually we found the cat and apprehended the squirrel but this wasn’t going to be the end of the squirrels. We had no idea what these pests had in store for our future.

Day 16

2007-11-22T20:53:00.000-08:00

Age 8. This was my first time losing a tooth. It wasn’t really ready to come out. A couple of other little friends had lost lots of teeth by now and I wanted to as well. For a couple of days I yarned on a tooth and it started to get that annoying loose feeling. I was all excited and ran to my dad. The tooth wasn’t ready yet, it was stuck pretty good. We tried of course the many tooth ejection mediums; floss, floss tied to a door handle, floss on the refrigerator door handle, a bunch of things. Nothing worked, my dad resorted to a pair of pliers. He’d bunch up toilet paper around my tooth and then take the pliers and maneuver them around the wadded tooth. My dad was determined to loose the tooth from my mouth, the allure had me all excited about being the center of attention for the next couple of days. This by all means was not painful for me, it was like a great big itch in my tooth, it was like getting a full body massage when my father would simply poke, prod and wiggle my tooth with pliers. It was slightly disappointing when he finally ripped it out, I didn’t know what to do now with a tooth gone, I liked the process of ripping and tearing them out far more than just plain having them gone. At least I had many more to get rid of.

Day 15

2007-11-22T20:52:00.000-08:00

Age 7. We were living near Greenville Maine, a little winsey town called Shirley. The living room had a big wood stove in the corner, the ceilings were very low, the room was claustrophobic but in it’s own way cozy. My mother left me with a couple bags of paper to cram inside the wood stove while she went to our neighbor Hazel’s house to grab something.

I remember it was a Sunday, I was wearing a jumper dress with itchy white plaid tights. My father was outside chopping wood for the rest of that night. The house was chilly. The plank wood floors were cold. I shoved the bags in the wood stove and sat down on our couch, about 3 feet away from the stove and began reading my latest book. The stove was making a funny noise so I proceeded to investigate when suddenly the wood stove blew open it’s front door with a huge bang followed by more explosions. One of the bags I had crammed in the stove ended up being a bag of canned peas my mum had got from the Indian Hill Market. The peas had heated up and burst all over. During this whole ordeal I had been plastered in green mushy peas. It was that moment that something amazing happens and you cannot move but are cemented to your position with your mouth hanging wide. I looked all around me, the couch, the t.v. the ceilings, the walls and everything else was covered in green. Just when I was taking in everything my mother walked through the door and was yelling my name. My feet were still cemented to the floor with awe. The next thing I knew my insides began to rumble and I just fell on the floor in crazy laughter.

Day 14

2007-11-22T20:51:00.000-08:00

Age 6.

My mum and I had just returned from the Indian Hill Market grocery shopping. The day was beautiful, sunny, birds singing, the breeze could be seen dancing in the trees. We open our front door and hear a blood curdling scream coming from our bathroom. The kind that raises the hair on the back of your neck and crawling sensations swarm the torso. We run to the bathroom finding my mum’s friend Tammy had locked herself in there. She demanded we let our dog Sophie out of the house before she would emerge. She painfully walked to the living room and told us she had come to visit and realized we were not home. She drove quite a ways and decided to relax in the house to await our return. Our Sophie being the grand watch dog she is attacked, she got a great mouthful of Tammy butt and chased her to the bathroom where she locked herself in. Suffering puncture wounds to the butt had Tammy all up in a fury. Course we just laughed and mum told her it was her own fault.

She never entered our house from that day on without knowing we were at home. Tammy and Sophie’s relationship would never be the same!

Day 13

2007-11-22T20:50:00.000-08:00

Age 14. My mum, Aunt Tammy, cousin Jacy and I were all headed to Reid State Park on the mid coast of Maine. This beach boasts of long white sandy beaches along with the classic rocky coast. The place is beautiful and great fun. With Tammy we came to Reid about 4 or more times a summer. We came during the week so that the crowds would be minimal, we also came while it was overcast, we were hoping as making the journey to Reid that it would clear up. It didn’t. We still wanted to have fun so we hiked with our big beach bags and giant cooler to a nice spot on the beach. We noticed there were no people except us, we continued thinking nothing of it. Immediately as we laid our beach camp down a scene out of Hitchcock’s own mind descended upon us. Giant Moose flies attacks us from all sides. They literally grayed the atmosphere around us, there were so many. Moose flies resemble house flies, they are a deep brown color and their sting is many times worse than a mosquitoes. After getting bit by one of these you’d pray for a swarm of mosquitoes to replace them. We thought we’d just run to the beach and jump in the water and start our swim to rid of them. The flies followed us and continued indulging themselves on us. We hurried and gathered our things and ran farther down the beach hoping they’d tire and not follow. We soon realized the whole beach was covered in these little wenches, they were flying in from everywhere. Never have we seen nor heard of such vicious Moose Flies. We were forced by these simpleton flies to leave the beach. Red, tired, itchy and defeated we drove the two and one half hours homeward.

Day 12

2007-11-22T20:49:00.000-08:00

12-19 years of age. This is because through those years my family finally settled down in Morrill Maine, in a shabby log cabin. This is a brief memory that evokes inside my being every once and a while. Our cabin was badly insulated so our sources of heat were incapable of making the house warm consistently. Our bathroom was chilly during the winter as most rooms in our house were. There were two doors to our one and only bathroom; one entering from the living room and the other through my parent’s bedroom. There were locks on the inside on the bathroom on each. When I would get up to take a shower in the morning it was usually a consistent 50-60 degrees in the house, sometimes even colder if the furnace failed the night and the wood stove burned out. I would lock both doors and put on a tiny space heater my mum bought after being so irritated that it was so cold in the mornings. I would face it in the corner so it faced the shower when I’d step out all wet and shivering. My father was a huge energy saver, always wanting to conserve water and electricity so our showers were supposed to be short and sweet. I’d hop in, get wet, lather all over and then rinse and jump back out again. The feel of the warm heater bouncing off my wet body gave me shivers, I came to love that feeling. It made me feel fresh and alive. Like I’d been fighting a terrible war and suddenly overwhelmed by all the comforts of a king. This became one of my favorite times during my day. I’d look forward to this every morning. When I went off to college it became odd that I lived easily and didn’t have to worry about heat or what to wear to keep warm, or when to fill the wood stove, or shovel the dooryard. Life became simple but bland. I missed the tiny discomforts that made me comfortable.

Day 11

2007-11-22T20:48:00.000-08:00

6 or 7. We were living in Greenville Maine. My parent’s had decided to take on foster care and give me a little play mate. His name was David Lapointe, and he wasn’t at all little. He was a year older than I, bigger and stronger and a more intense temper. He had a troubled past, although we didn’t know how extent and at 6 or 7 I hadn’t even the slightest idea anything was wrong with him. We got in fights but he was somebody to keep me company.

At a young age I enjoyed running. I took pride in being faster than all other children I played with; you remember how it felt to be better at something at that age. This afternoon we had come home from school and were very restless; being cooped up in a little school house down the road for awhile made us ache for some outdoors. We reached the crest of the hill in which our house laid behind and I pushed David and yelled, ” tag your it.” He hated this game, he became winded easiy and didn’t like to constantly try and catch me. This day he gave in to my whim and viciously tried to catch me. I ran under our porch which was built on a hill. The ground under the porch inclined and the floor of the porch nearly touched the ground at one end. I remember running so fast, the wind in my hair, the giggles that were rumbling from my chest, slowed me slightly. I turned quickly to see how far behind David was and got that instant surge of adrenaline that went from my toes to my head when I saw how close he had come. I turned back around instantly and made immediate contact with a beam I had failed to bend under. It was a crash dummy impact. Forceful energy meets a solid stop. I’ve never felt such pain in my head. I remember my head hurting but my stomach feeling nauseas at the same time. I wandered out from under the porch onto our lawn and fell down. All I could see was the bright sun directly above me and a slit of David’s shadow screaming at me, ” Lydia, Lydia…” It hurt to hear his voice, the sun hurt between my eyes. I closed them.

I awoke later to find myself on the couch under a blanket, my head propped up and a wet wash cloth draped over my forehead. I was shivering, wincing in pain as the light from the living room blazed into my brain.

Day 10

2007-11-22T20:46:00.000-08:00

9 years old. I’ve always remembered having a disturbing nature; when somebody falls, trips, accidentally does something goofy and gets hurt, I have an overwhelming ache inside to burst out laughing. Because of this so many young children my age hated me. The interesting thing is that I’ve always had a high pain tolerance and whenever I fall and it is funny looking I burst out laughing even though it hurts so incredibly.

Our church was having an after service dinner. I was the only girl and all the other children were boys. One of whom was a few younger than myself but one of those young guys that proceeds to be a pain in the butt to literally anybody. He had a temperament that I couldn’t stand. Whenever I was forced to be with him I was tempted to punch him in the face. I let on that I was an innocent little girl, and everybody believed this, you have to realize this was to my benefit, so I could get away with things like beating kids up like this and not getting in trouble for it. Beating kids up my way.

The smell of home cooked potluck dishes was dense in the air. All of us children were excited about the upcoming dinner and were running off all of our steam before we were going to be seated. We had set up a bunch of chairs in a circle, and were running around on top of the seats. This one kid that was a real punk was running around as well. I stealthy pushed and offset one of his upcoming chairs so that when he made it to that chair he didn’t realize that he was going to miss the chair. He proceeded to fall and landed on his chest, hard. At this point I wanted to laugh and actually did at first because he fell so hilariously. But then I got scared because it knocked the breath out of him and his parents were quickly there to tend to him . I was so frightened that he would say I did something. The parent’s interrogated us wanting to know exactly what happened. We all just said he missed on accident. My victim couldn’t talk so I didn’t say anything. No body ever even suspected. Muuhahahaha!

Day 9

2007-11-22T20:44:00.000-08:00

I was working at Young’s Lobster Pound…Age 18. I had flown home to Maine after my first semester of college was over. I had been there a couple of weeks, doing lots of prep work and breading all the seafood to order. The waiters and waitresses came in and out all night long. The kitchen was their spot to hang out or blow off steam from their fault-finding, finicky customers. Sometimes there is that one guy that a women is attracted to and she really can’t logically explain why. They might be utterly incompatible but something bestial lurks, still conscious.

For a couple of weeks there was this one guy who caught my bestial eye, if you can call it that. Involuntarily I was attracted to this guy. I don’t even remember his name. He was a lot older than I and had a very captivating personality, almost mysterious, and very attractive which nourished my fantasy. It is that mystery that caused me to wonder about him more and more. He was everything wrong that I didn’t want in my life; he was a major drinker, found fun in hugging toilets at night; also had some pretty iffy stories he told to others about he and his ex-girlfriend. Still I was attracted but was disgusted with myself for it. He would occasionally strike up conversation with me, actually quite often. I had no idea that he was interested in me, never dreamed it. This memory is from my first and last discovery.

I was doing some prep work. This guy, we’ll call him Andrew, joking struck up some fun by throwing biscuits at me. Next he came up to me and pulled my shirt out enough to throw a huge handful of ice down there. He also took a peek, if you know what I mean. Quite disturbed, I acted offended and he eventually said he was sorry. Next I’m in the huge walk-in refrigerator putting prep food away when I turn around and Andrew is in my face, inches away. By this time I was sort of frightened by how bold he was being. He got even closer and told me that he liked me a lot. Funny how his choice of words ended up sounded very juvenile but I guess older men still have a problem with eloquence. He then persisted to try and kiss me. I then pushed him away and told him I was involved with somebody else and didn’t want to ruin that. He turned away feeling foolish and continued his day. The next couple of days he was a little distant but then turned to being more and more bold. I ended up quitting my job. He still evades my memory, vividly.

Day 8

2007-11-22T20:43:00.000-08:00

Age 4 or 5. Our dog’s name was Sophie. She was a black pure bred chow chow. Pushed up nose, curly, bushy tail and a purple tongue. She was feisty for her little frame. They actually bred these dogs in china to fight. They fight like a pit bull but a chow’s character is honorable.

We lived up north near the Canadian border, around 50 miles from any tar road. The better dirt roads were logging roads, the logging trucks packed the dirt making for a decent drive. There were however side roads, like bunny trails in comparison to the others. These were the ones my father liked to drive on. Instead of driving it was like mowing a path through the closely grown alders. Sophie rode in the back of the pickup and enjoyed fighting the leaves and branches that we would drive through. She would bite them trying to rip them all apart as we drove. On this day we were driving a little faster than usual and Sophie hunkered down on a branch and didn’t let go. We were watching her when it happened. Suddenly this black ball of fury was enveloped in green alders. She was flung out of the truck, we watched as she bounced down the side of the road. We all held our breath hoping she was alright. She stood up, shook herself off and persisted to fight the trees, obviously not very happy with what had just happened.

Day 7

2007-11-22T20:41:00.000-08:00

About 17. I took a sleeping pill. I had not slept in a long time. I was busy with school and friends and worrying about a certain relationship, I was a foolish mess. The last thing I remember was the pleasurable feeling of slipping into crisp clean sheets. The feeling that leaves you utterly satisfied. I had strange dreams; drug induced sleep had always perturbed my brain. This night was no exception, it was as strange as ever. Firstly, I had a sensation of being extremely heavy. I felt as though I couldn’t move; any dream pertaining to running and I would have been running in place driving my brain mad! I was so heavy this night that I hadn’t the gumption to think of running. I was stone cold, a dead semblance. Through this particular night I was feeling heavy as I’ve mentioned but also fitful; a feeling of not being able to sleep and having a subconscious thought that I wouldn’t get the ample sleep I so badly wanted. I must have been distressing so much so about whether or not I would get the sleep that I managed to walk down our spiral stairs to the kitchen, open up the medicine cabinet and take I think 3 more sleeping pills. I woke up with the bottle of pills in front of me and thought about how strange it was that I was down here. Suddenly I became aware that I had subconsciously taken some extra pills. Anyone one in their right mind would have probably been anxious, not knowing exactly how many you’d taken. I was in my own way slightly anxious but above all very indecisive, I had some sleeping drugs packed into my system and everything was really very fuzzy. My skin tingling and my throat dry. I was a mess and knew I just wanted to be in my bed. Again the last thing I remember after that was crawling between crisp clean sheets. I didn’t wake up for a long while after that. When I did come to, I was dizzy, feeling as though I’d just finished twirling about the room one thousand times. I didn’t take sleeping pills much after that. I also started shutting my door to my room at night in hopes having to tug open a door in my sleep would wake me up before I encompassed myself in any danger.

Day 6

2007-11-22T20:40:00.000-08:00

15 years old.

My mum, dad and cousin Janette and I had made it to our destination, Spencer Pond Camps. This quaint camp was nestled in the Northern woods of Maine, surrounded by the big and little Spencer Mountains, as well as Spencer Pond which was really rather large for a pond but labeled so because it was muddy and fairly shallow everywhere.

It was August. Sunny, perfect temperature, and very green and alive! We had always camped with tents and this was our first little cabin camp experience. The camp was delightfully charming; wood planked walls and floors. The kitchen had a little gas refrigerator, a deep, white cast iron sink accompanied with a hand pump painted red, and a gas stove top. The dining table separated the kitchen from the tiny living space between two rooms on each side. Homemade quilted blankets covered the beds and a table with a pitcher and basin graced each room, as well as a pee pot ( for those who didn’t want to walk the 100 yards to the outhouse at night). My cousin Janette and I were clearly in our element. We ran all over the camp’s premises inspecting all there was to encounter there. We learned we could rent kayaks for the day and decided the next morning we’d wake up extremely early to take them out on the pond, and scour the shore for morning moose.

The next morning I woke up bright and early along with my mum and dad who also were heading out on the pond but in a canoe. The morning was chilly; dew from the evening covered everything. Every attempt at waking Janette failed so I proceeded to my kayak without her. Fog hung heavy in the morning air, it congregated to the center of the pond. My parents had set off canoing around the shore browsing the forest for moose. I pushed off and waved goodbye as I disappeared into the fog. I wanted cut to the middle of the pond on to the other side in hopes I’d spring upon a moose unnoticed in the fog. How wrong I was. I’d never been so blind by fog before. I paddled on for what seemed like as much time as it should have taken me to get to the other side’s shore. The fog was so heavy I couldn’t see the front of my kayak. I tried yelling to hear where my echo bounced to but the fog ate up any noise I’d make. It was like plugging your ears and hearing yourself yell that way. The pond was also very deceiving. At times I was kayaking in water that was somewhat deep and other times I was brushing the water weeds from the bottom of the pond. I would get all excited because I thought just a few more paddles I’d be somewhere. Unfortunately I found nothing. I had paddled on for about an hour…Imagine that? An hour without any sign of the shore. I felt like I had been warped into some foggy, fantastical world. Alas the dense fog broke and shore was ahead. I reached shore thinking I would be able to see something that would tell me where I was. Nothing. From the shore I just saw white-grey nothingness. I decided to walk the shore for a bit to see if I might just be near the camps. I walk about 100 yards and stepped hip deep into some black mud. I was livid at this point. Everything was going wrong and yet it all seemed like it shouldn’t be this difficult to just find where I needed to be. At this point I had forgotten about the great moose hunt. All I wanted was to be out of my wet muddy clothes making me feel 100 pounds heavier than what I was.
I got back into the Kayak and paddled around the shore. Eventually I made it to a little river running out of the pond. I discovered that it ran through a culvert under a logging road. I slid onto shore and decided I’d just walk back to camp and we’d pick up the kayak later. I proceeded to walk up the dirt road and on a side trail there was a clearing with one lone camper and jeep park in the middle. This was in the middle of no where, logging truck Ville, what was this camper doing here? After contemplating what to do I found myself knocking on the camper door and asking a rusty looking man who answered the door if he knew which way on this road was Spencer Pond camps. Without asking me if I wanted a ride he pointed up the road and grunted, ” Thwart WAY, BOUT 7 MILES.” interestingly enough I didn’t much care for his help and turned my muddily clothed and wrangled self around and squeaked on.

I walked for about 4 miles and came to a tiny sign, nailed to a tree, ” Spencer Pond Camps This Way, 3 miles.” Veering left I started my next three miles of walking, wet, chaffed and hungry.

This whole walk I was fitfully angry. Everything always seems so unlucky for me, only this would have happened to Lydia. I was thinking and talking to myself out loud and cresting a hill when I looked up to a cow moose and her baby in my way. Angry that the only reason I was in this predicament was because I was searching for none other than these mangy beasts. I gave a gurgling Brave Heart scream and sprinted towards them. With the moose gone and my raged appetite quenched I could suffice to go on quite happily. To conclude this memory, yes I did make it back. Tired, hobo looking and fogged out.

Day 5

2007-11-22T20:38:00.000-08:00

6 years old.

My mother’s childhood friend came occasionally to visit us in Greenville Maine. Tammy was gorgeous; I wanted to look just like her when I grew up. Long dark hair, perfectly tanned skin, beautiful legs, not to mention the fact that she had the hottest looking car I’d ever seen. She was single and her independence appealed to me. It was tradition that when Tammy came to visit we went to the lake’s beach. This visit was no exception so we packed up her sporty car and began our journey to the lake. My mom had decided we’d try a new lake we’d never been to. Once we arrived we unloaded everything and started a hike deep into the woods. It was a bright, beautiful sunny day. The tree’s were letting in bits of sunshine making things sparkle.
We arrived at the lakes edge. Flat rocks were in place of sand or pebbles, these rocks slid into the fresh lake. While swimming in any lake in Maine we always carried a shaker of salt just because occasionally there would be a leech, or as we called them, blood suckers. This day was no exception, we had brought our trusty salt. Aside from that we all dashed in the cool water after sweating so from our trek. We played around for awhile, I showed off my swimming tricks and eventually Tammy said she was done and wanted to lay under the sun. We all decided we’d take a break and eat some lunch and began our swim to shore. While swimming I felt a shiver on my leg thinking nothing of it until I realized it was something touching my skin in the water. I casually looked down and saw what looked like a 2 foot snake swimming near my leg! Naturally I panicked and quickly made my way to the shore. My mother and Tammy also saw what I saw and in a jiff we all reached the shore looking back to see if it followed us. Tammy screams pointing at my mother and I and we look and see the largest bloodsuckers we’d ever encountered all over us. Tammy had them on her as well. What a horrifying quandary we found ourselves in! We doused them all in salt which fatefully didn’t remove them all. We then turned to sticks to pry the suckers off killing them all passionately! Crudely disturbed, we concluded our day earlier than anticipated and ran back to the car and furiously returned home.

Day 4

2007-11-22T20:37:00.000-08:00

13 years old. My dad buys me a bargain .410 shotgun from my uncle Ronald. Of course I’m absolutely excited I have my own little shotgun; so excited in fact that I didn’t notice what a piece of crap it really was. The next morning I’d know. My father woke up around 3 am in the morning when he wanted to go hunting. It was a cold Maine, November morning. I slipped on my long johns ( yes I grew up wearing long johns) and put two pairs of thick socks on. I then covered up with a couple more layers of clothing including a fashionable fluorescent orange felt hat and vest. I remember we took to the back woods behind our house where a bog thick with brush and deep with peat moss was awaiting. My dad loved to hunt in bogs. I would tip toe behind him, careful not to make any noise trying to step where he did avoiding little sticks that screamed when they cracked. It was so cold your exposed face felt hot. The brush was thick we had to crawl when we reached the bog. Cold branches would cuff my face feeling like bee stings. Although annoying I have to admit I loved roughing it, so every smack and prick was just another gruff crusade of adventure. We eventually were at the point in this bog that we were basically having to crouch and hop from one bog bush to another. This was to insure we didn’t fall into and sink in the wet peat moss. Thorns and burdocks adhered to our clothes, we trudged on. Now my dad picked a dry spot on the bog’s far edge and we sat quietly while shivering as the sun came up. Something incredible happens when its cold and dark and then the sun comes up, my father and I swear it drops a couple of degrees. Sitting on my butt for a while in the cold makes for terrible butt aches and today I had a great one! I wanted to shift about to loosen up the cold charlie horse in the rear, but on a hunt absolute quietness and non movement was essential to ensuring the deer didn’t see nor hear you. . My dad perked up, this only could mean his deercernment was on and one was close. He nudged me with his arm construing I was to release the safety. my dad had schooled me for the 100th time before we left the house how to turn the safety on and off. The only problem was that the safety was at times unyielding, the gun was so old and the day so cold it was a recipe for disaster. I finally got the gun to release it’s hold on it’s precious safety mode but it made a remarkably loud snapping noise. In an instant a deer sprang in front of us and dashed from sight immediately. My father all up in a fury, angry he had missed his own opportunity. I then thanked him for his great bargain. Amused at our circumstance we decided we were hungry and that we’d dared the cold long enough. We crusaded home once again, unlucky but happy.

Day 3

2007-11-22T20:36:00.000-08:00

I’m 11 or 12. For the past few months I had been building a grand fort out behind my families house. I had hammocks set up in the trees. I had taken the liberty of recovering an old hotel rug my dad had scavenge and left outside. The heart of the fort was an alder that had leaned over. On this alder I placed multiple brittle branches all around, making it appear as a fleshy rib exposed carcass. Over these base ribs I put fallen leaves and under brush. After a while it looked like a humble hobbit hut. With the finishing touches of a tarp above in the trees, I had made myself a little kingdom. I was overwhelmed with the childish glee of having my own exclusive place. I decided it was time to spend the night out in my hut. I invited a friend over and she and I left the house with blankets, food, drink, a lantern, and a couple of other things. This hut was nestled pretty deep into our back woods so it wasn’t like camping on the front lawn. Because of this that night we hardly slept. It started to rain and then a deer was walking about our fort for a while; we swore we heard somebody say something, which only could mean that hobo we spotted a few days ago was there to murder us. All in all we survived the snarling darkness and when the light shone though the trees we trudged on home.

Day 2

2007-11-22T20:35:00.000-08:00

I often drove to work down a back road in my home state of Maine. It was called the Moody Mountain Road. This road weaved up into a little mountain, actually nothing more than a big hill. To understand this memory you have to picture this road. It was winding up into the middle of no where, lined with pot holes and had a steep ride and equally winding going down. At the base of the hill coming down there was a 4 way cross. No signs, this is the boonies of Maine mind you. People sort of dashed down this hill not minding the fact that there possibly could be oncoming traffic coming right or left. Never minding that danger there was also something else waiting to attack at the bottom of this hill. A huge frost heave was present in the winter and in the summer a huge hole. This bump was at the very bottom of the hill and was somewhat hidden, you only knew about this if you drove this road all of the time. I was of course one of these people. I was 16. I was driving an old white Ford Tempo ( you know the car). I had reached 70 coming down the hill. This day of all days my brain did something marvelous, it had completely forgotten about this inevitable bump. I was airborne for a second, The bump took me like a homemade flimsy bike jump. I then crashed again onto the road and my whole body was thrown up into my car ceiling, the rear view mirror came undone and pounded me in the head with what definitely felt like 70 MPH of force. I never forgot about this bump ever after that.

Day 1

2007-11-22T20:33:00.000-08:00

The earliest memory I have
I’m sitting on a ribbed lawn chair. The ribs are white and blue. They feel chilly on my legs. All I have on is my diaper. The chair isn’t settling right on it’s foundation. It is setting on all kinds of little pebbles. The chair is shaking and I feel extremely unstable. I look up and see my mum, she insists she’ll be right back. She heads off towards the camper. I suddenly feel extremely uneasy emotionally. I’m all alone, just me, this chilly chair and these thousands of pebbles. I feel a tightness in my chest and my eyes start to water. I start to cry but my mother appears with a camera. Every time she has this I am prompted to smile, suddenly I’m feeling very light and happy. She has come back, now I smile.