A few minutes later, still on the bumper, after having been driven up Leland Ave (busyish street with yellow line) at 30 mph, clinging to the top of PingPong (name of Toyota mini wagon) by this insane woman who was not acting at all like a normal suburban mom but instead seemed quite willing to kill us, I was offered an ice cream at High’s. Mind you, there was a voice in the back of my head, sounding quite a bit like my biological parents, or perhaps the fish in Cat in the Hat, screaming ‘No! this is bad! No! And no ice cream from strangers!’ Instead of listening, I copied my friend Laura again, and had a creamsicle while the shaking stopped. Now I don’t really like creamsickles at all, but my thinking wasn’t terribly clear.
Of all the goods, and all the bads in my life and character, I owe so much to the friendship that developed from this time forth. First of all, I learned not to dare people to do things. But more importantly, I found my other family and home. Sides of me got to develop including love of adventure, love of trivia, love of outsiders, push authority (balancing some of the gifts of good and bad from the biological family and the fish).
I too learned to leap on to furniture at the sound of dog toenails. And when asked what flavor ice cream I would like, I quickly say, chocolate please. For all the grief (minimal to be honest, though truthful) that Newby now gives me about being a boring suburbanite, caught up in + whining about raising kids etc, teaching them to go no where near cars that have drivers, and NEVER take candy from strangers, I hope they too manage to ignore me at the right moment. (as opposed 99.9% of the time when they had better listen!)
Unfortunately, I have no idea where any old pics are, so am just sending a couple recent. Some I would send if I could: Laura as St George, slaying Ernie’s snow dragon; decorating easter eggs all night, and delivering them dressed in odd bunny outfits; the drunk men and the moving van; snow by the cottage in the woods; phrenology at Nag’s Head, where I was declared a serial killer due to my beady close set eyes and lumpy head (ironically since I was never the one with the knife); ultimately dear Ish, and Camber; dressing Eileen; so many yard sales; so many picnics and high teas; and one of my favorite recent memories: that crazy animal park over the mountain where things with 6 foot horns tried to climb in my minivan to eat purnia wildebeast chow (likely the beginning of William’s phobia of almost everything, and continuation of Abby’s love of all mammals).
Happy Birthday. Love, Helen
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