Mome reads Mommy, My daughter's way to spell it when she was younger... It stuck. My son calls me Mome... just like it looks. I now sign all my notes to them "Love, Mome". It's our inside secret and makes them smile. I always want them to smile.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Summer of '83 was the Best Summer Ever

Reading blog posts the last couple days has brought back such memories. A recent reminder of fashion such as Mork suspenders and stirrup pants (years later) has me reflecting on my past with such fond memories. I'm also amazed with how much things have changed. Everyone is way more cautious these days and none of this would be possible now but...Oh the fun I had.

When I was 14 years old I moved in with my bachelor father and 18 year old brother. Shortly after my brother moved out and while my dad was hardly ever home while my brother lived with him, he had a revelation that a teenage girl needed more...something. He started coming home at dinner time and spent less time out at night meeting friends at bars. He also wanted more information than I was willing to give. After a few months I think he either became aware of my independence and trustworthiness or he was bored always being home and went back to his old routines. I enjoyed the freedom and quiet.

In the summer of '83 my father had won a trip for two to Australia for two weeks. He had a lady friend he was wooing and decided to extend this trip by spending two more weeks in Hawaii on the way home. I was slated to stay with another friend of his who lived a couple miles away. I think I stayed one night. I'm not sure what happened but I didn't want to stay with this woman. I packed my bags and moved back home. Thankfully I had friends who helped me get a months worth of clothes back to my house. We were on bikes. I remember my girlfriend and I and two boys were hanging out at my house when the "babysitter" came looking for me. I told her I would not come back to her house and she left. That was it. No call from my dad insisting I go back, at least I don't remember one, and I didn't go back. I was home alone (with friends) for about 10 days before my brother decided he would move back in. There we were. An 18 year old boy and a 15 year old girl, living alone. We had (my brother mostly) some incredible parties. The age difference was perfect. My brother encouraged his friends to "hit on" my friends and even took to some himself. I, however, was closely monitored and if anyone got too close they were told to leave. Gotta love big brothers.

There was smoking and drinking and god only knows what else (no one shared with me). No police were ever called. My dad didn't cut his trip short. No one paid any attention or came by to check on us. I don't remember my brother going grocery shopping. What did we eat? Did we have a months worth of food in the house? Some of the details are blurry but that was the Summer my brother and I actually started getting along. We actually became good friends. It was a totally different time. No one worried about children getting abducted. We weren't worried about diets that work . We weren't even worried about dad being upset. Maybe he trusted us? Maybe he was having too much fun.

My children are exactly the same age difference as my brother and I. You can bet Hubster and I will not be taking any month long vacations. Experience has made me too smart for that.

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