More from Cali

I've been trying to think of some more stories about Ft. Ord that I want to include in a personal history, but what I remember are bits and pieces so I'll toss them around here...

I went to a friend's house for a sleepover. I didn't know her very well, but her family was great. Tons of kids. We sat down to eat dinner around a picnic style table and a bowl of soup was placed before me. I have never been a picky eater, so I started right in. I was thoroughly enjoying the meal when I asked what kind of soup we were eating. Her dad informed me it was rabbit stew. One of the children informed me that dear-old-dad had shot it yesterday. I swear I pulled a pellet out of my mouth during dinner, but the mind can play tricks on you (especially one aging like mine). After dinner we spun on the tire swing again and again. The following morning I puked again and again. Cause undetermined.

There was a park down the hill from our house that was situated in a "bowl". I LOVED rollerskating and chipped two teeth in at the bottom of this bowl. Good times :)

My best friend lived in the same duplex we lived in. She was black, her name Jewell Dunlap. Every other Saturday she'd have to spend half the day inside while I paced, to have her hair washed and braided. Those Saturdays were the longest of my life. She and I would put on talent shows incessantly. We'd deliver invitations to the neighbors who'd show up during dinner and we'd jam to Wham!, Michael Jackson, and Whitney Houston.

My mom threw a baby shower for our tiny,enormously pregnant, Filipino neighbor, whose water broke during the shower. My mom finally discovered what she thought was a bladder control issue and proceeded with her to the hospital to coach her through delivery since her husband was overseas.

I'll NEVER forget the day I discovered my third grade teacher, Ms. Cornell was a smoker. I was so disappointed in her. :(

I had an enormous ?cloth? poster of Michael Jackson in a white and yellow suit hanging above my bed and a Burger King poster of the Jackson 5 on another wall.

I played "Lucy" in a Charlie Brown play in 3rd grade. I had to dig deep to get into a an annoying, loud-mouthed, boy-crushing girl like "Lucy".

More from Cali

My dad is a born and bred Utahn, and a cowboy. So, it goes without saying that he loved his farm dogs. He loves heelers. So, when we moved to Cali we got a Queensland Blue Heeler. We named her Jesse...and Jesse 2.



This is how it all went down. We drove to Utah for a mid-summer visit. It must have been aroun '84. We always had fun in Goshen because nearly all the cousins lived there and they had horses and trucks you could drive around the field, and hay to stack, and Grandma Mary had a family room the size of Jason's ugly new (old) Cadi that we held talent shows in. We brought Jessie with us.



Grandpa Henry and Grandma Virgie lived in the house across the driveway from Grandma Mary's House in what my mom affectionately calls "the compound" (3 homes within 40 feet of eachother sharing the farm). Grandpa Henry was in the haze of alzheimer's. We'd catch him peeing on the tires of the cars (we thought it was so cool), and my Uncle Brent would lock and re-lock and re-purchase locks for the cellar Grandpa Henry was always tyring to get in to get coal and such. He would tell us the greatest stories of his time playing baseball (was it semi-pro?), and all sorts of stuff that happened many moons ago, but he couldn't remember anything recent.



My parents elsewhere, my awesome, eclectic Aunt Kathy (Dad's Aunt), was sitting with me at Grandma Mary's when Grandpa Henry came in with Jessie's collar. I thought irritatingly, she had gotten away from it and now we'd have to search for her. Luckily, my fears were put to rest when Grandpa Henry asked, "Does this belong to anyone here? I just hit the dog." He said it like he was talking to the neighbors and honestly, after growing up on a farm, maybe that's how you'd say it to your grandkids too. Grandpa Henry made roadkill of our dog and what good did it do to be mad at a sweet old man with alzheimer's? So we moved on to Jessie 2. She had 3 puppies in the backyard dog run and my dad cropped their tales with our butcher knife. Another reason you are so cool if you grow up on a farm.

I have used my Christensen butt/thighs to bring to pass much good in my life. Not the least of which is becoming the all-time Chinese jumprope and "bars" champ at George S. Patton Elementary School in Ft. Ord California. *Which is why I didn't get beat up for wearing the Strawberry Shortcake knicker set my Aunt Chris made me, or the ribboned barrettes, complete with dangling star-ish shaped beads.

I jumped from ankles to ears when that rubberband rope (which I constructed), was pulled from my backpack. Though many a transient army brat tried, I was undefeatable. And, when I got bored with my Asian pastime I moved on to "the bars". Utah doesn't have bars like California has bars. We had rows of bars parallel to eachother about 5 feet apart and rising about 4 feet off the ground. We'd face eachother and gossip while we did our genie drops and various other death-defying tomfoolery. I could do anything you asked, and I did. Genie drops were a drop in the bucket. Within a couple of weeks of "the bars", I was doing everything with no hands. I shudder to think.

I got this picture from an ABC News article detailing the bacteria found on playground equipment across America. Really? Why are kids obese? Heaven forbid they get germs on their hands.

Once, while waiting for my brainiac brother to conference with his teacher (sans parents even, show-off), I decided to try the bars at the kindergarten playground on for size. Too small. Guess how I found out. Oh, the simple warm-up of a genie drop turned into a minor concussion that I was much too proud to tell anyone about. Imagine the full force of your body (starting in sitting position), being shoved back, in order to swing ones legs beneath oneself and land upright, hitting the ground at the base of the skull on sand covered asphalt. It was yummy. Maybe the concussion wasn't minor.

I wasn't dropped on my head as a baby. I was genie dropped at age 7.

I LOVE the 80's!

And now, more about me.

While I'm nearly going to get carried away in the details of my s-i-l's wedding, I must pause and remember...

1983

New address, 411 Hayes Circle Fort Ord, CA

You could have called me at (408) 384-6666

We'll be here for a while. This was a good time for me. I remember a lot about Cali.

My dad was stationed in Cali before we could all leave WA. So, we took advantage of a school break (most likely- my madre was never one to spontaneously remove us from our curriculum), and drove down the coast to Monterey to visit dear old dad.

We were in the habit of "K-mart hogie picnics" :) and so it goes, we seized our samiches and headed to the shore. New in town, we just searched for a place to park near the sea and hiked down the sand-built mountain to the beach. As my father's daughter, it was my duty to need to do my duty immediately upon arrival.

Big Dan graciously volunteered to take me to a potty (surely having to go himself), and Colton tagged along. We did our business and headed back to our feast. I was looking down at the sand as I ran (you'd have thought we were from a landlocked state with our enthusiasm for all things ocean. We didn't get out much), when I heard Colton yell, "DAD!" I glanced up and to my delight, I saw my first naked man.

Oh mama, he was a sight too. Rushing away from the tide. Broad smile, jogging posture, "80 year old balls..." *Big Daddy* sorry, I had to say it. Yes. He was OLD. OLD. And happy as any of the clams beneath the sand on which he chased the sea water. Mid-his-own-jog, my dad scooped us up by the head, fingers pressed against our eyeballs and ran for home. By the time we found a beach that was not nude, our hogies were soggy. Oh, and we saw humpback whales migrating.

And that's how sex education should be done.

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