So over Christmas break, Sara and I did some hardcore organizing and sorting. It was pretty awesome- we threw some stuff away, got some stuff out that we forgot that we had, and cleared some more space in our 900 square footish place. I know, I know- you're impressed.
During all this sorting, I came across a treasure trove of old writings and musings and papers I have written over the years. Some of it (quite a big chunk, actually) is emo-driven babble from early 2000's relationship limbo. Don't worry, I won't subject you to (much of) that. But there was also some stuff that I'm pretty proud of...and since they don't do real life show-and-tell, the next best thing is to blog it!
I'll actually do a pseudo-series of this- and I'll call it "Writings from the past #". Now, I realize that I have taken the good name of "series" and basically treated it as though I was a whaling vessel- but I think that if I can come reasonably close to writing every day this year...I should be able to keep at least some vestige of consistency....I think. Plus, this series is, like, already written- I just have to type it into the computer. How awesome is that!
Anyways, without further ado (which, interesting aside- I used to think was further adieu), here is Writing from the past #1. It is a paper I wrote for a correspondence writing course (for childrens books) that I took back in 2003 (I finished about half of the course before I just stopped submitting work. Are you surprised?). I know it's past the holidays, but since there is still snow on the ground, we'll call it close enough. It's called Rudolph the Red-nosed Radio Tower, and it is a piece about my childhood memories of Christmas Eve at my grandpa and grandma's house.
Rudolph the Red-nosed Radio Tower
Growing up, Christmas Eve meant going to Grandpa and Grandma's house. Grandpa and Grandma Parks lived in a white ranch-style hou(for childrese in Shepherd. Shepherd is smack dab in the middle of the "Mitten", as lower Michigan is affectionately known as. It was in a rural, but not isolated, area surrounded by rolling hills and endless pine tree forests.
We would knock on the door around 4 o'clock. The laundry room was the first room in the house. The faint aroma of baked ham and scalloped potatoes mixed with the odor of Tide and driveway dirt filled the air. The outside chill met the warmth of the furnace head on. Waves of cousins would run out and give us big bear hugs.
As we made our way through the kitchen to the living room, I would always make sure to grab a snack. Usually there were carrots, celery, and lots of other yucky vegetables, but there would also be cheddar cheese with Ritz crackers. There were also popcorn balls. A popcorn ball is just that: a ball of popcorn. You mix Karo Syrup with water and food coloring, boil until hard-ball stage (260 degrees F.), which is between soft ball and soft crack on a cooking thermometer, then pour over the popcorn and shape it into little balls.
The living room was where the adults would hang out. Uncle Jody would always ask about my grades. Aunt Kathy would comment on how much I'd grown (Aunt Kathy was roughly the size of a dwarf, so I was always taller than her anyway) and the dull roar of adult chatting and laughter congested the air.
To retreat from the madness, I would shoot down the fuzzy orange stairs to the basement. The kids congregated here after tearing away from the poking, prodding adults. The dim lights, musty smell and cold, concrete floor created more of a dungeon atmosphere, but that didn't break our spirits. We would engage in epic battles of pool and Monopoly, as well as the arcade game, Mr. Digg. The reserve snacks and pop were in the basement, too. I didn't go upstairs except for dinner food and Santa.
Dinner consisted of juicy ham, lumpy mashed potatoes, fresh corn, biscuits and all the pop we could drink. Santa would show up soon after the meal and hand out gifts. we got to sit on Santa's lap and get our picture taken with him. Santa would bring each kid a gift and we would all open them and compare them with the other gifts.
It always seemed that just when we were starting to have the most fun, it was time to go home. It was sad to leave, but happy because we knew that we were going home to bed and wake up to a tree overflowing with gifts! On the ride home, we would always see a tiny, red light off in the distance. Mom and Dad said that it was the nose of Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer, and that we had to hurry home and get to bed so Santa wouldn't bypass our house. Later on, I learned that the light was actually from a radio tower. I've grown up a little bit since those magic Christmas Eve nights, but I will always cherish those popcorn balls, Mr. Digg, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Radio tower.
Tomorrow, I tear the roof off of health "information". I think you'll love it.
We would knock on the door around 4 o'clock. The laundry room was the first room in the house. The faint aroma of baked ham and scalloped potatoes mixed with the odor of Tide and driveway dirt filled the air. The outside chill met the warmth of the furnace head on. Waves of cousins would run out and give us big bear hugs.
As we made our way through the kitchen to the living room, I would always make sure to grab a snack. Usually there were carrots, celery, and lots of other yucky vegetables, but there would also be cheddar cheese with Ritz crackers. There were also popcorn balls. A popcorn ball is just that: a ball of popcorn. You mix Karo Syrup with water and food coloring, boil until hard-ball stage (260 degrees F.), which is between soft ball and soft crack on a cooking thermometer, then pour over the popcorn and shape it into little balls.
The living room was where the adults would hang out. Uncle Jody would always ask about my grades. Aunt Kathy would comment on how much I'd grown (Aunt Kathy was roughly the size of a dwarf, so I was always taller than her anyway) and the dull roar of adult chatting and laughter congested the air.
To retreat from the madness, I would shoot down the fuzzy orange stairs to the basement. The kids congregated here after tearing away from the poking, prodding adults. The dim lights, musty smell and cold, concrete floor created more of a dungeon atmosphere, but that didn't break our spirits. We would engage in epic battles of pool and Monopoly, as well as the arcade game, Mr. Digg. The reserve snacks and pop were in the basement, too. I didn't go upstairs except for dinner food and Santa.
Dinner consisted of juicy ham, lumpy mashed potatoes, fresh corn, biscuits and all the pop we could drink. Santa would show up soon after the meal and hand out gifts. we got to sit on Santa's lap and get our picture taken with him. Santa would bring each kid a gift and we would all open them and compare them with the other gifts.
It always seemed that just when we were starting to have the most fun, it was time to go home. It was sad to leave, but happy because we knew that we were going home to bed and wake up to a tree overflowing with gifts! On the ride home, we would always see a tiny, red light off in the distance. Mom and Dad said that it was the nose of Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer, and that we had to hurry home and get to bed so Santa wouldn't bypass our house. Later on, I learned that the light was actually from a radio tower. I've grown up a little bit since those magic Christmas Eve nights, but I will always cherish those popcorn balls, Mr. Digg, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Radio tower.
Tomorrow, I tear the roof off of health "information". I think you'll love it.
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