my favorite doll

Editors Note: The story I am sharing today is not meant, in any way shape or form, to offend anyone, it is simply to tell a story about the way I was raised.

When I was about three, I asked my mom and dad for a black baby doll for an upcoming birthday present. I had see the commercials for a black cabbage patch doll, and I desperately wanted her.

My mom happened to casually mention this to one of our neighbors at the time. Said neighbor was shocked, and appalled, telling my mom she shouldn't buy it for me because it would "give me the wrong idea". I'm not exactly sure what my mom's response to this, but I'm going to guess it was an eye roll.

I got the doll. And I loved her just as much, if not more, than my other dolls. I'm not even sure if I named her, but I pretty much named all of my dolls Emily, so we'll go with that. This is Emily and I.

Years later my mom told me the story about our neighbor and I felt my veins fill with rage. The wrong idea? What exactly does that mean? 

Because I have always been under the impression that each of us are created equal, no matter the color of our skin. That not one of us is better than the other. That we were placed on this earth to love and accept one another. Just as shocked as this neighbor was that I would want a black baby doll, I was shocked that she cared, or that it mattered at all.

 I'm still shocked. I can feel myself getting angry as I sit and type this now. I was born in 1987, so this whole situation went down in the early 90's. THE EARLY 90'S! Racism was that strong in my very own neighborhood in the early 90's! And even today, is still exists. I still hear comments about race, religion, equality, almost every single day. When is it going to stop?

Maybe it's just me, but that's just not how my parents raised me. I was kind and loving to everybody. So wanting a black baby doll meant nothing special to me. I just wanted to play with her.

This past Holiday weekend my parents were doing their big summer cleaning. Every year they clean out every closet, cupboard, drawer, and bookshelf. They donate unwanted items to food banks and Salvation Army stores. I got a text from my mom on Thursday that they were on my room. The text read something like

We're doing a room to room. Yours is next! Everything must go!

In a quick panic, I texted her back Don't get rid of any pictures or yearbooks! As the queen of nostalgia, my pictures, yearbooks, and boxes of letters are very important to me.

Later that day, she called to tell me their progress. "Oh, and we put all your dolls in a bag to give a way".

"NOT MY BLACK BABY DOLL!" I yelped.

She laughed, and sent my dad to go save my doll from the bag. I didn't care if they got rid of every other doll (well, besides my American Girl Dolls), but they could NOT get rid of her. She's way too special to me.

I was at my parents house this weekend to seek out the damage. Upon walking in my room, there was my doll, perched up on my bed, in the exact outfit you see her in the picture above- an old, ratty pink onesie with a hood. (Pacifier is gone, tho).  And, at almost 26 years old, I grabbed her and hugged her, tightly, and proceeded to take a nap with her in my arms.

I know. Creepy.

But I love that doll. And instead of leaving her at my parents house, I brought her back to my house with me.

Sam took a picture to prove it.

I know. Also creepy.

I guess she serves as a reminder of my childhood, and of my parents. Of standing up against hate. She is a reminder of the gratitude I have for God for putting love and acceptance in my heart at such a young age.

I know I said I don't remember if I named her, but I'm just gonna go with Emily. And I'll never get rid of her.

To our neighbor who thought I'd get the "wrong idea": I certainly hope that you have opened your mind a little bit more. And if the "wrong idea" means you were worried I'd grow up to be accepting of people of other colors, well, you were right. But I'm pretty damn proud of that.

Zip Codes

Dorothy tells us "There's no place like home". True. But where is home? I have many places I can call "home".  Being at home is all about being surrounded by love and support.

Today I am going to tell you about some of the zip codes I have been lucky enough to call home.

48098

Troy, MI. This is where I lived from birth to age 12. I still have our full address and phone number memorized  because in Safety Town we learned that you should always have that information ready for a police officer but never share it with a stranger. I took that stuff seriously. I adore the house I grew up in. We had a good sized yard, a couple big trees to climb, a swing set and a basketball hoop. Plus, that was the kind of neighborhood that was infested with friends. All we had to do was walk out our front door and we could enter into adventure land. We had this huge black porch that was perfect for summer bbq's and picnics. We'd also usually have an inflatable pool in our yard during the summertime. There's a pretty fabulous home video of my brother, probably at age three or four, "accidentally" dropping a golf ball into the pool and then reaching in to get it. When he saw that everyone was watching him and laughing, he went back in- twice, with a sly little smile on his face. That neighborhood was so perfect. I had an amazing childhood  and a large part of that is because of that house and the friends on the street. We went outside at breakfast and came back for dinner. We went on bike rides to the school in our neighborhood and played wiffle ball or played on the playground. We picked raspberries on the trail leading out of our neighborhood. It was so perfect. 

I was actually just in that neighborhood this past Saturday. My sister, her husband and my little nephew live there now. My dad and I took Clancy, their dog, and Ryan, my nephew on a walk. It was so fun to take a little stroll down memory lane. I could almost see us, our pack, running from house to house. 

On that walk I told my dad "we were really lucky to have this place as kids". Because we were. I tend to forget that not everyone has that. Honestly I would give anything to go back to being my 8 year old self, riding my bike to chase down the ice cream truck. 

48304

We moved to a neighborhood in Bloomfield Hills when I was going in 8th grade. It was similar to Troy, but at that point I was "too cool" to go outside and play with my friends all day. But it was convenient. It was close to the school where I was going and my mom was teaching, close to Church, and it was full of families from our school and church community. I had a few friends living in there, and we'd take long walks around the neighborhood at night, singing our favorite songs at the top of our lungs and talking about boys.

One of the coolest things about that neighborhood is the swim club. Right there, down the street from our house, is a clubhouse and a pool. Let me tell ya, it makes the summers that much more fun. I was on the neighborhood swim team in 8th grade. We had so much fun. It wasn't super competitive and I loved being in the water. I didn't love the early morning practices and the 2 mile runs we did, but hey, I loved to swim. 

It was a tad difficult to live there in high school, but only because my school was a good 35 minute commute and all my friends were spread out. I didn't have many friends that lived near me. But I still loved the house. I had a big room, and while my Troy house is where I spent my childhood, I really grew up in Bloomfield. I spent all my high school years there and had my graduation party in that backyard. I played with my dog Seamus out in the open yard, helped my parents with yard work  and spent a lot of my time in the basement, instant messaging my friends doing homework. ;-)

Eventually, Alex, my best friend that I've mentioned in several of these blogs, moved into that neighborhood. That made life even more exciting. We drove together to numerous events, parties, softball games, dances, etc. Then there were the few times where we'd get a "free water" from Wendy's and go play on the playground at the preschool in the neighborhood. I spent a lot of time with Alex, whether it was in the car or at his house watching a movie. We came up with so many ideas, jokes, and plans. We were invincible. 

I continued to call 48304 "home" until February 2012. (More on that later). My parents still live in that house, though. I tend to call it "my parents house" instead of "home". But really, it is home. Because I know I can always go back there. And I do,  often. It's only about 15 minutes from my house now. I will go visit them on a Sunday afternoon or a Friday night. Sometimes I spend the night and I adore waking up to Seamus running up the stairs or my dad getting us Tim Hortons. The house is fully decorated with pictures of our family, and again, I say, I am lucky to be part of such a loving, caring family. You can see it through the pictures, and you can feel it in the house.

49009

College. I actually think I had two zip codes at Western (one at the dorms, the other at the apartments) but for the sake of sanity, let's just go with 49009. Good ole Kalamazoo. As I mentioned in my Western blog, I adore that city. It's small, but full of treasures. I lived in three different apartments my sophomore-senior year, but all in the same apartment complex: College Park. It was SUCH a good deal to live there. A lot of people forgot about it because it was further from campus, but what they didn't know was that it was significantly cheaper than most of the other apartment complexes, but also about 10 x nicer, and the only ones that came fully furnished. Plus, there was a free shuttle to campus. There was really nothing to complain about, and I had a really good experience with the management. 

It was also directly behind a movie theater  Starbucks, Target, and Hobby Lobby. C'mon. Jackpot! My friend Megan and I used to walk to the movie theater every Thursday because they had a $3 movie and popcorn deal for students. The place was always packed. I remember specifically when we saw Stomp The Yard. Life changing experience.

I had all the shortcuts of Kalamazoo down to a science. I knew which hills to avoid in the winter. I knew the best route to Grand Rapids, another fun town. I knew where to go for a quick getaway or for a drive with a friend. I have put blue ribbons on trees all around the city to represent Child Abuse Prevention. I've lost my phone at the State Theater. I've seen Taylor Swift play live at Western's auditorium. I had a secret coffee shop downtown where I would go to study, and no one ever found me or knew about my secret place. I spent many a night at the piano bar. I can tell you every single house in Greek Village and what order they are in on the street. I know where to go in the "student ghetto" and I surely know the best places to order food after a late night. And, where NOT order. 

I miss Kalamazoo more than I can express. It is such a wonderful place. My roommates and I are planning on going back for Homecoming this year and I just know we are going to have an amazing time.

48216

So, to make a long story short, after I graduated from Western I did a year of service through Mercy Volunteer Corps. Even though I was from Detroit (although not really from the city itself), I wound up being placed there too. Typically you are not placed in your hometown, but the way the cards landed, I called Detroit home for a year. I lived in Corktown, which is the oldest neighborhood in Detroit. Everyone around me was nervous. They couldn't believe I was going to be living in the city. I heard comments for weeks, and even now when I tell people I lived there, I get quite a reaction.

I loved every moment of it, I can count only one time that I actually felt scared. 

We were in a safe spot. Our neighborhood was full of young couples and families, retirees, and nuns. Our friend Dean lived two streets over, and we often walked back and forth to his house. We kept our front door open when the weather got warm and became close with several of our neighbors. On Sunday mornings we walked a few blocks over to church at Holy Trinity, a very Irish Catholic parish. We walked back and made brunch, and then we all did our thing for the day. It was perfect.

I can't say enough good things about Corktown. There are so many local businesses and a very rich history. We lived right across the street from the Old Tiger's Stadium. In fact, we were living there when the last of it was being torn down. We could walk to the Detroit River and look over at Canada. We could smell the food cooking over at Slow's BBQ, a restaurant so good that there was often a 2-3 hour wait to get inside.  We could ride bikes to Honeybee Market, our favorite place to go grocery shopping. 

Corktown is sort of sandwiched in between Mexicantown and Downtown Detroit. Mexicantown is a tough area. I worked there while living in Corktown, at a high school. Even though it's tough, and there's a lot of bad things that go on, I once again never really felt scared or threatened. I never walked alone and was careful with locking doors, of course, but I wasn't scared. Probably the best part of Mexicantown is the food. Authentic Mexican food every few steps. People from the suburbs drive down there just to get some good Mexican food. I still say the best place is E&L. It's a grocery store that sells taco's at their meat counter. And they are the BEST taco's you will ever have in your life. I promise you that.

Downtown Detroit is also fun. You can get tickets to Tigers games for pretty decent prices, see a concert at one of the famous venues, hang out at Campus Martius, go gambling in Greektown. I could go on and on and on. All I'm saying is: Give Detroit a chance. It is full of incredible places. I absolutely loved living there. And that's all I have to say about that.

48009.

I now call Birmingham home. I live in a little 900 sq foot ranch house with two of my best friends. It's the perfect location for us right now. It's close to downtown Birmingham, which has shopping, two movie theaters,  bars, coffee shops, etc. We can also walk to a drug store and a hardware store. It's almost too good to be true.

Our neighborhood is mostly families. Everyone is very friendly. There's a school right down our street and you can often hear kids playing soccer or lacrosse. It's a very safe neighborhood, very lively and exciting.

Birmingham has a reputation of being "snotty". When I tell people I live in Birmingham they roll their eyes and say "ooooh. Fancy". That's the cool thing about my neighborhood, though. We don't live by all the mansions that most people think of when they hear "Birmingham". We live in an eclectic neighborhood. Some houses are huge, some are tiny. And no one really cares. Everyone is really laid back.

I have no idea how much longer I'll be living in this house. Our landlord is in Texas which makes it kind of difficult to get things fixed or questions answered quickly. But other than that  I do love the place. It's a good size for the three of us. Who knows what the next 9 months will hold for us. Maybe one of us will get a new job and have to move our meet our Prince Charming. I'm not really sure. I try not to think about that because I am the kind of person who totally freaks out when I have to think about my future. So for now, I just really enjoy where I live, and take it all in. For now, this is home. 

Well, kids, this is it. The end of the A-Z Challenge. I've had a lot of fun and met so many other bloggers. I plan to continue to hop around to the blogs I found. Thanks for reading my memories.

Years.

I realize I did not write an "X" post and I have no real excuse other than I flat out did not have a clue what I should write about. When it comes to memories, I have none that start with "x". I already wrote about X-Men two years ago, and I hate copying posts. So, I just skipped it.

So now here I am, trying to desperately come up with witty "y" and "z" posts. I got nothing. I'm sure I could post some lame-o memory if I really really thought about it, but I've already been digging my brain for ideas and I've got a rough work week ahead of me.

My point in all the above chit chat was to say this: I apologize if these last two posts are totally stupid.

For my "y" post, I ended up posting on twitter and asking my followers to throw out a year from 1987-2013. I gathered up 5 of those years, and have written some memories/thoughts for each one. I hope you enjoy.

1990
I was three years old. I had big eyes that were extremely noticeable. We had a favorite little restaurant and so often the waitress would comment on my eyes. I hated it. I hated the attention. I was dangerously shy. I liked pink, Barney, and playing with my brother. I was happy. I liked macaroni and cheese, drinking juice out of a sippy cup, and I was learning how to use my left hand. I preferred it over my right. I was in preschool and had best friends that were boys.

1995
I was 8 years old. Still dangerously shy. Still had those big eyes. Dance at Borgo Sisters. I got my first pet, and then gave it away. I loved being with my family, and spending the night at my grandma's house. I read chapter books like it was my job, was terrified of math, but overall enjoyed school. I was in Brownies. I liked my teachers and wanted them to like me. A boy named Grant was in love with me and made me a heart out of snow on the playground. My mom subbed for our class when our teacher was out and I loved every minute of it.

1999
12 years old and learning about friendships, popularity, crushes, and music. Obsessed with N sync  Backstreet Boys, The Spice Girls, and Hanson. Wrote notes to all my friends in school, trying not to get caught while passing them. I would have been in 7th grade, so I was going to Barn Dances and having sleepovers with my friends frequently. We made up dances. I had big crushes on cute boys in my class. I was learning about my options for high school, even though I pretty much knew I was going to Mercy. I was playing volleyball, basketball and softball. I learned about grief, I learned how to comfort my friends. I worried about clothes and good grades.

2003
Sweet sixteen. What an awkward age. All you want to do is be around your friends. My friends were my lifeline. I loved being at school, it was my very favorite place to be. I loved to learn, but hated certain classes. I listened to bands like Something Corporate and Dashboard Confessional, plus my very favorite band, The Spill Canvas. I was learning to drive, and therefore gaining a little bit more freedom. I was discovering who I was and who I wanted to be. I had issues with lying, and issues with social anxiety were starting to really come out more.  I had really strong feelings for a guy who pretended to share them but he was lying to me. I admired my teachers, my parents, my siblings, and Oprah. I hung out with friends on weekends, read Harry Potter and laughed as much as I could. I was hurting a lot, too, but if I could be with my friends, I could forget about that for a little while.


2007
This is one of those really interesting years. For the first few months, I was miserable. I was in a really bad living situation. I was depressed. I felt stuck and was worried my "friends" would dismiss my feelings so I never talked to them about it. And then, one night, I heard Melinda Doolittle singing "There Will Come A Day" on American Idol, and I started to change. I grew a little stronger. I made friends with Sam, who was good for me and helped me to get past all the other challenges in my life. That summer, Sam and I became best friends. We discovered a mutual love for so many things and became passionate about living life to the fullest.   2007 wound up being a great year. In the fall I was living with Sam and two other girls and we had so much fun. We'd have Rockband and movie days, we'd go shopping together, get drinks, go out to dinner. We made each other laugh and pushed each other through. I learned how to be happy again. I learned how to help myself, how to heal myself. I also met Melinda this year, and with that became incredibly close with a group of people known as "the backups" but also known as "some of the best friends I'll ever have in my life".

2009
Hands down the best year of my life so far. For the first half I was wrapping up my senior year of college, living with my two friends Lauren and Jess. Lauren and I were pretty much inseparable and she managed to make my senior year amazing. I was also doing my internship with KCAN. I got to go to so many concerts/events that year for some of my favorite people and artists. I graduated from college. I took a trip to Vegas to visit backups. Then, in the fall, I began my year of service through the Mercy Volunteer Corps, where my life was forever changed. I was working at Cristo Rey High School, living with three beautiful people, and becoming reconnected to the Sisters of Mercy. My faith was strengthened and my life found meaning. I tip my hat off to 2009, it was honestly, the most life changing, exciting year I have had so far.

Every year of my life has taught me a lesson. I've had my heart crushed, but I've also had it full of happiness and gratitude  I have an amazing family, fabulous friends, and incredible life experiences that I am proud of and that I embrace whole heartedly. It's no secret (or maybe it is, to those who don't know me as well) that I have had some issues with anxiety, and a little depression, but I am here, and I am in love with life, as hard as it can be sometimes. I keep pushing on. I gather up all my memories from all these years, and it gives me strength to keep going.

I can't wait to see what my future years are going to bring me.

Volleyball

I had a really hard time with my "v" post. I could have written about volunteering, but I've done that about a zillion times by now. Or Vegas, but I've only been there once and don't remember much of it. Or Valentine's Day. But I've only had one really good Valentine's Day, and Mr. Romeo who made it so great is no longer in my life and I don't really wish to talk about him.

It was only last night, after coming home from my volleyball game, that I realized what I could really write about.

Volleyball.

Duh.

I started playing volleyball in 5th grade. I fell in love with it pretty fast. I liked that it didn't involve a lot of running, that it required strength, and that it is so focused on teamwork. I was never one of the best players. When it comes to sports, technique is not my strength. I just play.

I played volleyball at St. Hugo every year, and participated in volleyball camp over the summer. Coach Sopko is really to blame for my love of the sport. He was always in charge of the camps, and I learned so much from him. He'd reward us with gummies if we did well. I tell ya, it worked. We loved those gummies. It was a sport I truly enjoyed playing. In 8th Grade I was on the "B" team, but hey, I was captain of that "B" team. So there. It was my first real leadership role. I liked being able to motivate my team and encourage the 7th graders. I laughed while we made up cheers and passed out awards at the end of the year.

For me there was no doubt that I would play volleyball in high school. It just seemed like the natural route. And I did, my freshmen year. Again, I was not one of the best players. But boy, did I love playing. I especially loved our tournaments. We'd get to hang out with each other all day, play volleyball from morning till late afternoon. We would start to get crabby with each other but we always laughed a lot. I still look at pictures sometime of one of our first tournaments, when we were still getting to know each other and just goofing around the whole day.

 I remember my coach would rotate me out of back row. She didn't think I could serve well enough and she preferred me to be in the front so I could try to block hits. One tournament, though, she let me serve. And I remember the deep satisfaction I got when I served about 5 in a row, without the other team returning them.

The summer after my freshman year I went to a hitting camp and the school volleyball camp. I was preparing to make the JV team. Except...I didn't make the JV team. I was absolutely crushed. Volleyball was something I loved, adored, and the fact that I couldn't play devastated me. It took me a while to get over it, but I found other things to be involved with, and I started to branch out and make new friends. I found new things to love and adore.

Volleyball didn't come back into my life until I was at Western Michigan University. I joined a sorority and one of my sisters, Jess, asked if I wanted to gather up some girls and play volleyball in a rec league. I agreed, and in the winter months, we played about once a week. the season didn't last long, but it was at least a way for me to sneak in my favorite sport. Senior year was far too busy with internships, jobs, job interviews, and school, so we didn't play. And, once again, I missed it.

When I worked at the high school doing a year of service, I frequently went to the girls volleyball games to support them. I'd hear myself yelling out things to them "TIP!" "WATCH IT!" "OVER!" "CALL THE BALL!" I couldn't help myself. I'm surprised I didn't run out on the court and hit the ball myself.

The next year, my sister asked me to play on her rec league with her friends. I was finally old enough-over 21. I agreed and had so much fun. The league was not competitive at all, so for the most part was just had a lot of fun and I was relieved to discover that even though I had not played in a few years, I was still decent.  If you learn the skills and can keep up with the pace, you can play.

Our rec team was visibly better than the other teams in the league, so we moved up a notch to the competitive level. For the past two years, from January to March, we've been playing in that next notch and while we don't win every game and it's a little more competitive, we still play hard. I can't say it's extremely fun, because I'll be honest, some days it's not. Sometimes people take it just a little too seriously for my liking. After all, I am playing for the love of the game, no other reason.

I went the extra step this year and signed up as a "Free agent" for the rec league for the March-May time frame. I was asked to join a team and have been playing every Wednesday night since.house. My team, whom I had never met before our first match, are all really cool down to earth people. We get along well, we teach and help each other, and we have fun. 

Who knew I could talk so much about volleyball, huh? But I really do LOVE. THAT. SPORT.. I'm telling you, I could play year round if I could. In fact, I'm trying too. I am desperately looking for an adult rec league that plays indoors in the summers. So far I have only been able to find sand volleyball leagues, and to that I say "No thank you".

I love it because it's exciting. You never really know where the ball is going to go. I love it because it requires you to speak up, call the ball, yell for help. I love the satisfaction of spiking it, or blocking someone elses' hit. I just love it.

From the little 5th grade girl in her blue St. Hugo Viking volleyball uniform to the 25 year old in sweats and an old tshirt, volleyball is still one of my very favorite things in the world, and has given me many memories.

Up North

You know how in the movie Now and Then, there's a group of four girls that are completely different from one another but somehow remain inseparable? I can relate. Jamie, Lindsay, and Sarah were my three best friends for most of my teen years. I met Jamie and Lindsay in a tree house eating turkey sandwiches, and we became fast friends. I met Sarah a few months later, through Jamie and Lindsay. Sarah and I had an instant, undeniable bond.

Every year for about six or seven years, I took a trip Up North with these three girls. We went to Jamie and Lindsay's dad's cottage in Gaylord, Michigan.  there were a few summers we also went to their mom's cottage in Grayling, or there was the time we went to Traverse City. Once in a while we also made a trek out to Macinack Island. It didn't really matter where we were in the Great Lakes State, we always had fun.

I couldn't wait for Up North weekend to roll around each year. It was always around my birthday weekend, which made it that much more exciting. I was literally growing up with these girls. When we were younger, we'd agree on a CD to pop in the minivan CD player and play it for the whole trip, making up dances in the car and singing at the top of our lungs. It's funny how quickly our music tastes changed. One summer we were all about 98 Degrees and Aaron Cater, the next we matured to John Mayer. Gravity, baby.

When we arrived at the cottage we'd plop our stuff down in our rooms and make our beds. It didn't take us long to get outside. We'd sit at the picnic table looking over Heart Lake or hop in the paddle boat.

Most of our days Up North were spent playing Ponce. Ponce is kind of like solitaire, except you play in a group. It's addicting and intense. We were always laughing hysterically while we played and yelling at each other. We kept score and celebrated when we won. We'd all look at each other after we finished a game, and one of us would ask "again?". Duh.

While we played Ponce we sipped on Orange Pop, ate snacks and watched Nick Gas. That's a station that played old school Nickelodeon shows, including our favorite, Guts. We loved watching all those shows again and holding onto a piece of our childhood.

When it got to be close to dinner time, we'd all take turns in the shower and getting ready for dinner. We had several favorite restaurants up there. One of our favorite places to go was Big Buck, simply because of the cream soda drinks. Or Gobblers, famous for their turkey dishes. We'd all go to dinner, once in a while catch a movie, maybe visit the Elk Farm.  And, of course, we'd go putt putt golfing at least once a trip. Plus, when we arrived back at the cottage for the night we had a bonfire, cuddled up in our hoodies and making s'mores.

I have countless hilarious memories of our trips Up North. Like the time we jumped on someone else's trampoline for just a second before scurrying back into our paddle boat. Or the time our paddle boat broke down and got stuck in the lake, forcing us to swim and push it all the way back. Or when we decided to have a talent show. The events of the weekend shifted a bit as we got older. We started keeping our eyes open for boys, we could drive ourselves around, we wanted to go out on the town.

One of the last times I can remember being Up North is being at Jamie and Lindsay's moms place. At that point, Sarah and I were 20, Lindsay 19 and Jamie 21. We were all in college now, and our lives we clearly starting to take different paths. On one of those nights, Jamie and I went for a drive. She shared things with me she had never said before, about her past and some of her fears. I will never forget that drive, and feeling so silly for never knowing these things about her. How had I just let it slip by me? We ended up at an A&W, and ordered root beer floats, continuing our conversation from the car.

That trip was, honestly, one of the last times I've seen Jamie, Lindsay, and Sarah. Sure we've seen each other over the years here and there, but nothing like what we had before as kids/teenagers. We always say we will, and try to make plans...and it's not that I don't want to see them, it's just we all have totally different lives. I blame myself, I know I can and should have tried harder to keep in touch with them.

I watched Now and Then this past weekend, though. Twice. And the entire time, I was thinking of my friend. Because we were Roberta, Sam, Teeny, and Chrissy, with our own adventures and special summer memories. So girls, if you're reading this, let's create some new ones. I mean it this time.

Thirteenth Birthday

For my sister's thirteenth birthday, my dad surprised her by taking her on a trip to Chicago. It waw just the two of them. And get this- they traveled by airplane. It was her first airplane ride, because my mom is terrified of flying. We didn't take too many big trips as kids, just our annual trip to Florida. The Chicago trip was a BIG DEAL.

My dad then continued on the tradition- all three of us got to spend our thirteenth birthday on plane to Chicago, running around the city and then flying back home.

When it was my turn, I was so excited I could hardly sleep the night before. I could not believe I was actually going to get to FLY ON AN AIRPLANE. Nearly all of my friends had flown dozens of times, but not me. I was a little scared, but for the most part I think I was just amazed at how planes worked. The flight only took about 45 minutes, tops. Chicago isn't too far from Detroit, especially when flying the friendly skies.

When we arrived, my dad ushered me through the airport and toward downtown Chicago. We hit up the aquarium, Hard Rock Cafe, Garret's Popcorn, Navy Pier, and this one place that I can't remember, but it was a lot like a Dave and Busters.

But the best, and I mean the BEST part, was the American Girl Place.

I had been an avid American Girl fan most of my childhood. I had a few of the dolls courtesy of my Grandma, read all the books again and again, and had a collection of outfits. I could not WAIT to go to the American Girl Place.

My dad and I first went to the store, and he let me pick out a new outfit for my dolls back at home.  Then we bought tickets for a play in their theatre. I think that the play highlighted each American Girl and told her story. I don't remember. I just remember my dad was the only male in the room. And I was so happy that he was right there next to me as I enjoyed every moment.

It was the best birthday gift I've ever gotten from my parents, and the time I got to spend with my dad was truly special.  I don't know if I realized at the time how lucky I was to get such a cool birthday gift, but I do now. It beats any Sweet Sixteen party they show on MTV these days.

What's the best birthday you've ever had?

Recess

Who didn't love recess? Because my elementary school was K-8, I was able to have recess until I graduated from 8th grade. Many of my neighborhood friends got "cut off" in middle school. I felt sorry for them. Recess was the best part of the school day!

I stayed pretty consistent with my group of friends through elementary school. I don't remember much about recess when we were young, but I imagine it contained a lot of playground time. Except I never went on the swings. They made me sick. I was more of a slide kind of girl. Mostly we just kind of ran around, though. We played tag, hop skotch, and jumped rope. Recess was all about taking a much needed break from learning reading lessons and math problems.

One thing I do remember about my younger years are the "recess weddings".  Everyone had those, right? Two kids in the class would decide they wanted to get married, and we'd all participate. The bride would march across the field and there'd be the groom, anxiously waiting to put Ring Pop on her finger. Or there was that one time a kid stole his mom's ring and tried to use that for his bride-to-be. He totally got in big trouble for that.

Recess started to change when we were in 5th grade. It wasn't really that cool to "play" anymore. So instead we'd lean against the school and talk. The boys would play sports and we'd watch, although some of the braver girls would jump in and play with them.

Middle school took a turn. It was always drama filled. Someone was mad at someone else, someone had their heartbroken, so and so didn't answer the note so and so wrote them in English class. Drama, I tell ya. Looking out on the field you'd see boys running around playing some kind of sport and girls in groups of 5-10, sitting in circles, talking. My crew was always on the lawn when it was nice outside, in our uniforms, pulling grass and chit chatting about the day's events. Rumors flew during recess. Did you hear that Katie kissed Matt? Ew! We were so preoccupied with gossip. It was all we knew.

In 7th grade, I took on a new duty at recess- Kindergarten watch. This was set up so that the kindergarten teachers could eat lunch between the morning class and afternoon class. A group of 7th grade girls would greet the little ones as their parents dropped them off, help them get all their stuff in their cubby, and do an activity with them until the teachers came back. It took up our entire recess period, but was actually quite fun. There wasn't as much drama when you were reading a book to a 5 year old. I loved doing that, and remember being super freaked out in later years when I realized they were old now and going onto high school. Somehow I just thought they'd always stay little.

There came a time in 8th grade when suddenly, we had all these couples in our class. It was weird. It was like they just decided to pair off, out of nowhere. It was hard to keep up with who was "going out" with you. You'd see the couples holding hands walking around the football field, and the rest of us talked about how stupid it was, not wanting to admit that we wanted that too. Although, looking back, it IS pretty stupid.

I actually particularly enjoyed "indoor recess". It was especially fun in 8th grade. Most of my friends were in my homeroom. So indoor recess meant we marched from the cafeteria back up to our homeroom and pulled our desks together. Most of the time, we played cards, spoons being our favorite. Other times we'd write each other notes or do homework. But mostly, we played cards. And we had a blast doing it.

Overall, recess was fun. I wish we had a "recess" at work, although I suppose our lunch hour is our version of recess. We all eat together and try not to talk about work.

Did you have recess? What kinds of things did you do?

Nibbles

Note: I posted a blog late last night about the Boston Marathon tragedies. I am also going to go ahead and post my "n" post for the a-z challenge. Feel free to read the Boston Marathon post here: http://www.m5carolin.blogspot.com/2013/04/boston-marathon.html

When I was 8, I decided that I despretly wanted a bunny for Christmas. I wrote a letter to Santa, dropped hints with my parents, and prayed every night. I was determined to get a little brown and white bunny.

Sure enough, Christmas morning came and there he was. A brown and white bunny in a steel cage, hopping around. In the home video you can hear my dad sarcastically saying "I can't believe Santa actually bought a bunny". Good ole dad may have been hesitant, but I was thrilled. I named the bunny Nibbles, and I immediately picked up the phone to call my grandma. Without taking a breath, I spit out "Hi Grandma it's me Megan I got a bunny he's brown and white and he's little and he's a boy." My mom and sister helped me take him out of the cage and showed me how to hold him. He was precious.

For a few weeks, I was head over heels for the little dude. I was so proud, telling all my friends about my bunny and wanting them to come over to see him. I was holding him, feeding him, even had a little leash for him. He was my pal and I was so happy that my Christmas wish came true.

 But the honeymoon phase did not last long. I started to forget to let him out and then his cage would smell. Then, I'd let him run around my room and I started finding bite marks on my books and dolls clothes, which made me angry. I also don't think I realized how skiddish a bunny would be. I was a nervous child, and having him jump around everywhere made me even more anxious.

One day I came home from school and noticed that Nibbles was gone. My dad gave him away to a repair man that came to our house to fix a leak in our basement. I deserved that-I didn't take my responsibility seriously, and my dad gave Nibbles away to someone who may. I'm sure my little 8 year old heart was crushed, and guilty. But it was also kinda, sorta, funny.

For the next few years we would see a bunny that looked like Nibbles and joke that maybe it was him. And my family exaggerated and tells me it took me WEEKS to discover Nibbles was gone. Nah. Days, maybe, but not weeks. To this day, when I see a rabbit, I think of Nibbles.

I learned a lesson there. Aside from hermit crabs that ended up a hermit crab homicide scene (I'm not kidding, one of my hermit crabs ATE the OTHER HERMIT CRAB), I never had another pet all on my own. After our first golden retriever died, we begged our parents for a second one and we did get him, but he belongs to all of us. He's still around and pretty much the best dog in the entire world.

So Nibbles, wherever you ended up,  I hope you lived a happy little life and that you were taken care of by another little girl. But I'll never forget that moment of excitement when I turned the corner into the family room and saw you for the first time.

Jonathon...and Sara.

I wanted to sneak stories of my siblings within my memories, but then I figured...hey, why not just dedicate an entire post to them? So J is for my brother, Jonathon. Watch in a few days for M, for my sister Maureen. And I'll sneak in some little tidbits about my sister in law Sara and brother in law Dave.

Jonathon is two years older than me. As kids, we were inseparable  He was my best friend. We came as a pair. when I was really little, I couldn't quite pronounce his name, so I called him "Jonshin". Now, he's decided to go by Jon, but I still call him by his full name, Jonathon. Thinking about childhood, Jonathon is the first person I think of. He was, after all, by my side through most of it.

 He's lucky I wasn't a total girly girl. Sure I liked dolls and Barbies but I was also into Ghostbusters, X-Men, Power Rangers, and Ninja Turtles. He taught me about all of them and we played with his action figures for hours. We'd also pretend to be them in our backyard. Our backyard was our stage. We could be whoever we wanted to be.

My brother could, and still can, make me laugh harder than anyone I have ever known.  We always went out to breakfast after church-a little family traidtion. One time, I was eating jello, and he said something ridiculous. I spit out the jello and it went flying across the room and landed at another table. I was so embarrassed, but he could not stop laughing. To this day, he finds it hilarious to try to make me laugh while I'm eating or drinking to see if I'll spit it out. Just last April, when we took a sibling trip to Florida, he made me choke on Orange Crush, and he thought it was the funniest thing of the trip.

He is also the mater of impressions  He'd have us all keeled over at the dinner table doing an impression of my  Grandpa or one of our teachers. He loved to make us laugh- you could just see how much joy it brought him. It still does. He will still call me and do impressions or send me a text message of a clown picture because he knows how much I hate them- but he also knows it will make me laugh.

Jonathon also used to love Pro Wrestling, and I'd watch it with him. Soon I was hooked, too, and we closely followed the story lines of characters like The Rock and Kane. It was something we talked about together and enjoyed watching. Eventually we grew out of that little phase.

My brother has an obsession with Notre Dame football and Detroit sports. He was a Red Wings nut- still is, but even more so as kids. He and his friends would have a Stanley Cup game of street hockey- they even constructed their own Stanley Cup Trophy out of tinfoil and water bottles. Now, at his home, he has an entire "man cave" dedicated to his loves of Notre Dame, Detroit Sports...and I won't lie, you'll find some X Men and Ninja Turtle things in there, too.

We were not super close in high school.....we each did our own thing and we probably fought more than we got along. But, when he moved away to college, I was very sad. Jonathon went away to University of Indianapolis and has lived there ever since. He came home for a summer or two, and always came home for the holiday's, but now he is married to a wonderful gal named Sara, and his life is in Indiana. I miss him terribly, but I am so incredibly proud of him. He has a real heart for other people, and still gets great joy out of making people laugh.

Recently, my favorite memory of Jonathon is watching him at his wedding. It was the happiest day of his life and anyone would be able to see that by the look on his face. He was surrounded by people he loved, and people he cared about. Plus he was marrying the girl of his dreams. It was the perfect night.

Sara is one of those people who just gets me. I can give her a simple glance across the room and she will know precisley what I am feeling. She loves crafts, thrift shops and owls. She finds humor in every situation, just like Jonathon does. She likes to listen to people and hear their story. I have loved getting to know her as my sister in law and can truly call her my friend, and one of my best friends. Sara and I had an absolute blast in Florida last year. At one point we went on a walk to collect shells, end wond up running around the sand dunes acting like we were in the Hunger Games. We were laughing and screeching like little kids- so carefree and letting go of all our worries. It was a blast. Sara is fabulous- and one of the first people I go to in a crisis. I trust her to take care of that big brother of mine.

So, Jonathon, thanks for all those memories of childhood and for making me laugh.

Grandpa Jack.

I have many memories of my Grandpa Jack. He was one of the coolest guys I knew. He was also one of the loudest.

Yes, something that sets my Grandpa apart from most people was his voice. You could hear it for miles. It was loud and booming. Most of us grandchildren (especially me) were terrified of him as babies and toddlers, because it was so loud. But it was also one of the things I loved most about him. It made nearly everything he said funnier. He always answered the phone with a booming "YELLO?" that made you break into a smile when you heard it. One time, we saw him and my grandma in Church. They did not regularly attend our church, they belonged to a different one. So my mom walked over and ask "what are you doing here?" to which Gramps responded "GOING TO CHURCH!" so loudly that I burst into giggles and hysterics.

Grandpa was the kind of guy that everyone knew and liked. He had a rough exterior, but deep down he was a sweet guy with a great sense of humor. He had many friends, and built a very strong leadership with his job at Ford. He cared about his kids and his grand kids, he always wanted to make sure we had fun. On one of our many trips to Florida, I was sitting in his condo and was kind of upset because one of my cousins was teasing me. My grandpa told me I didn't have to go back outside and that I could watch TV with him. He was watching Golf, which was the very last thing I wanted to watch, but I did anyways. 10 minutes in, he changed the channel to cartoons just to make me happy.

My grandpa loved golf. He played bridge, he liked to read and he was one of the smartest men I have ever known. He would help me with my math and science homework when I was in 8th grade, and I sure wish I had him around in high school for geometry. He could calculate things and figure out equations so easily. I have visions of him sitting at his kitchen table, whistling, and doing crossword puzzles. He used to fill them out with those big, black pencils that I'm pretty sure don't even exist anymore. Oh, and he also loved desert. After every big family meal he would put his fists down and say "what's for desert?". He usually wanted the richest item available.

He also LOVED Notre Dame- and that was carried down to the rest of us. One time my brother and I were having a sleepover at their condo and Grandpa wanted us watch a movie about Knute Rockne. My brother loved it and talked with my Grandpa through the whole thing. I was bored to tears, but remember watching their interaction and being so happy that they had that love in common. Grandpa's dream was always for one of his grandchildren to go attend Notre Dame. None of us have, yet. Connor, pressure is on you, kiddo!

Whenever we would sleepover at my grandparents house, we woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. Gramps would cook the eggs in butter and bacon grease, so they were especially delicious. He'd whistle as he cooked and sit down with us as we ate, asking us questions about school and our grades. He always wanted us to do well in school, and he was proud when we should him our report cards.

I think what I loved most about my grandpa, though, was his love for my grandma. She was my favorite person in the entire world. She passed away very suddenly, and that broke Grandpa. He was always the strong one, but suddenly without her he was weak. That's when I really realized how much he loved her. When we were going through all of her stuff, which he made us do immediately  we found all these old cards and letters he had written her. My mom has some of them, and I love to look at them and see his handwriting and to feel the love he had for her. It's one of the most beautiful things I have ever touched.

My grandpa took a slow decline after grandma died, and soon he was very sick. We put him in an assisted living and would all go visit him and try to cheer him up. The aides and nurses loved him. How could you not? I remember when we put him on hospice. His social worker was especially helpful to my siblings, cousins, and myself. Gramps passed in August 2001. Right before the September 11th terrorist attacks. I was at field hockey camp when he died. I can't remember if I really got to say goodbye. I knew that there was a chance he would die while I was gone, but I don't think I was really prepared. I was only 14, and he was the last grandparent I had left. I remember standing on the field hockey field when I found out. My coach approached me and told me that she just got the phone call. My team surrounded me- they barely even knew me, but they were there for me. They brought me s'mores and let me cry. I don't really remember my grandpa's funeral. I think I have blocked it out. I just remember feeling an overall emptiness. Life would not be the same without him.

Last September, my grandpa would have turned 100 years old. My family celebrated him. We ate all his favorite foods- fried kidneys, fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, and pie. Yes, those were his favorite foods and no, he didn't die of heart attack or anything heart related. In fact, as he was dying, his heart was the last organ to shut down. Amazing, huh? After our meal, we sat around and each shared our favorite memory of Grandpa Jack. They were all funny. Like the time he accidentally sat on someone in a movie theater because it was dark and he couldn't see. Or the time he took some of his children to a wax museum and tried to pay the wax figurine that was greeting them at the entrance.

Gramps was an awesome guy, the kind of guy I wish everyone knew. I know that this post is already super long, but I have to admit something that I've never really said before- all through high school I was pretty bitter and jealous of all my friends. I was the only one amongst us who didn't have any grandparents left, and when one of them did have a grandparent pass, I had a hard time feeling sympathetic. I know that makes me sound like a horrible person, and it's something I struggle with and still pray about. I was just...jealous I guess. My grandparents never got to see me graduate high school or cheer me on in any of my high school activities. That always made me terribly sad. But now that I'm older and a little less selfish I know that they WERE with me in spirit. I sure hope I have made them proud. I know I've made mistakes, but I love my all four of my grandparents deeply and I want them to know how much I miss them and wish that I had more time with them.


I love you, Grandpa Jack, and I miss you. Thank you for all the happy memories you have given me.

Dance Class.

My parents signed me up for dance class when I was a little girl. It was at a small studio in Royal Oak called Borgo Sisters. It wasn't competitive   it was truly meant to teach technique. My class was a combination of Jazz, Ballet, and Gymnastics. I only took classes until I was 8 or 9. I then started playing sports like softball, basketball and volleyball, and left dance behind.

I loved dance class. At least I think I did. I have only happy memories, so that must mean I was pretty happy. Most of the time it was on Saturday mornings. On some days, my mom would have errands and appointments so my dad was responsible for getting me ready. Now, my dad is a pretty burly man, so this was quite a task for him. He would slop my hair up in a ponytail and pour hairspray over it. But that was the easy part- the hard part was getting dressed. We had to wear tights and leotards to class. My dad would put my tights at my ankles and tell me to jump in. I jumped, and he'd cue me to keep jumping until he pulled them up high enough. I would giggle as he'd say "okay...1, 2, 3...jump!" I'm surprised we didn't rip through every pair of tights, getting them on like that. It always made me think of Peter Pan gluing his shadow on- couldn't we do that with tights?

Once I was dressed my dad would drive me to Borgo Sisters. I'd put my coat and my adorable little pink monogrammed bag in a cubby and go to my classroom. After class, my dad would be there to pick me up and we'd stop to get a donut or a sticky bun. But that was our little secret. I wasn't supposed to tell mom.

In class, we were taught the basics of ballet and jazz, as well as tumbling skills and handstands/cartwheels. We also learned choreographed dances for a spring recital. Gymnastic was NOT my strong suit (okay, neither was ballet or jazz...) but I made it through and I liked doing it. I remember the most exciting day of class was always when our skirts/tutus came in. They were different each year, and we were anxious to find out what color and style we were getting. The girls in my class would crowd around our teacher as she opened up the box. The best was the sparkly one we got in my last year of dance. Mine was teal. I remember it well.

I remember my teachers well. Miss Carmy and Miss Melissa. I may have had others at times, but I remember those two very well. Miss Carmy taught my sister, brother and I, and my whole family loved her. She was so friendly and outgoing, had a real passion for dance and loved the kids at Borgo's. Miss Melissa was so sweet. She was patient and kind and really wanted all of us to do well and have fun. I adored both of them and can still picture them giving out instructions at our recitals. I am actually facebook friends with Miss Melissa, who is now married with children. She's still as positive and encouraging as ever, and I am lucky to have had her as a teacher and role model. She's still teaching at Borgo Sisters, which makes me incredibly happy.

I tried to find Borgo Sisters the other day. I was in the area, but couldn't remember the exact street it was on so I had no luck. But I know it's still open and thriving. I am so glad that other little girls and boys get to have the same experience I did.

Barn Dances

I don't live in a "farm town" by any means, but right in my own community there is a great little place called Bowers Farm. Year round it is full of activities- corn mazes, petting zoo, sledding hill. It's a great place to take kids and let off some steam.

When I was in middle school, Bowers started hosting "Barn Dances". All of the local middle school kids were invited to attend. If my memory serves me right, they were monthly. It would be about 50 preteens packed into a barn, with a dj and a concession stand. What more could you want at that age?

My friends and I took barn dances VERY seriously. On the day of a barn dance, my group of friends would meet at one of our houses (we had a rotation schedule). We'd change out of our Catholic school unifroms, chow down on pizza, and start getting ready. There was always Nsync playing loudly in the background, and a bathroom full of hair ties, snap bracelets, Baby G watches, and glitter eye shadow. We helped each other get ready and giggled through all of it. Then a parent- sometimes two, depending on how many of us were going that night, would drop us off at Bowers Farm. We'd meet up with our cool public school friends and dare each other to ask some guy to dance. Within our group we each had a buddy or two that we'd stick with the whole night- none of us were ever alone, even if we felt like it in our preteen angst.

Sometimes, we even tried to coreograph a dance before we went to the barn, thinking it'd be so cool if that song played and we broke out into dance. I can't remember a single time we were successful at this....although I do recall performing it for all of my sisters friends at her 16th birthday party in our basement. I'm positive they were jealous of us.

The first time I ever slow danced with a boy was at a Barn Dance. His name was Kyle and I thought he was the cutest boy in the entire world. Besides Justin Timberlake, of course! I remember how terrified I was to ask him to dance. What if he said no- in front of EVERYONE! So instead, my friends told him to ask me. And he did! I have a clear visual of this happening. He tapped me on the shoulder and sort of shrugged while he asked me. We awkwardly slow danced, which basically just meant sort of swaying back and forth and not speaking. But in my mind, it was magical. I have no idea what Kyle is up to now, I can't even remember his last name or really what he looked like (besides that he was signficantly shorter than me), but I will always remember that moment.

When the dance was over and we'd have our heart broken by some jerky 8th grader, we piled into a car and headed to the hosts house. Parents always had snacks ready for us, and we would quickly wipe off the glitter eye shadow and change into our pj's. With our sleeping bags laid out on the floor, we would put a movie on and pretend to be watching it and falling fast asleep, when actually we were whispering and playing truth or dare or cheering up whoever had been hurt the most that night.

Those nights were beautiful for us. We laughed, we cried, we bonded, we grew up a little. We taught each other things and made each other braver. You know that quote in the movie "Stand by Me" that says... I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone? That's exactly how I feel. Friends have come and gone, but there have never been anyone as great as my middle school pack. Kelly, Danielle, Rosalyn, Kim, Katie, Aimee, Christine, Clarissa and Larissa. My pals.

x-men

I know, I know. I'm behind. I can't promise this will be the most riveting blog post for all of you, but it was my best "X" option without cheating.

X-Men...aka, a large majority of my childhood.

My brother was such your typical little boy- action figures were his THING. We have a video of his 5th or 6th birthday party, where he literally got some kind of action figure for every gift. Either Ghostbusters or Ninja Turtles...then came X-Men. He was obsessed with those things, the comic, the cartoon tv show, the video games, and, later in life, the movies. He knew everything about every single character. We played with his X-men action figures for hours. He taught me about the "Bad guys" and the "good guys", their powers, everything. He was like a walking X-Men Encyclopedia. His favorites were Wolverine and Gambit. Mine were Storm and Jubilee (Can I just say Jubilee is so much more BA than the movies make her seem). We were unstoppable with our X-Men obsession. I loved hanging out with my brother. We always had the best time.

My brother has lived in Indianapolis since he was 18, when he went away to college. I miss him dearly, but there is something still so special about our relationship. We protect each other. He can still teach me about the "good guys" vs the "bad guys". He likes to annoy me, only because that is his role as a brother. (He sends me clown pictures whenever he gets the chance). But we understand each other. And I know, if the X-Men movie is on TV, I can call him and say "GO TO CHANNEL ...". He will, and we'll both smile, remembering.

Long live X-Men.