Childhood Joy
I’m sitting here this morning, pointedly refusing to think of anything that could possibly have anything to do with personal growth and internal change. I went to the doctor, what more do you want? Instead of focusing on character and moral development, I want to think about those wonderful things from my childhood; those things that brought me a sense of wonder and amazement.
First and foremost among those happy memories are chocolate chip cookies. They come to mind because of the plate of cookies which are sitting here at my elbow, right beside the mug of hot chocolate dotted with melting mini-marshmallows. Actually, I chose to forego the marshmallows today.
You see, kids, when you get old, you have to make choices. If you’re going to have hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast as a grown up, you have to sacrifice the marshmallows. That’s why you see fat ladies eating pizza and pasta but drinking diet soda. You’ve gotta make cuts somewhere.
Erm, anyway, uh, back to the point.
When I was a little girl of about six, my mother had just put a plate of cookies on the table. I was staring Ambrosia in the chocolate chip-y eye. But, Mom said, “Don’t let me catch you putting a hand on those cookies!” This presented me with a problem. How could I possibly get the warm, chocolate drug I so desperately needed without touching the cookies?
It took me a few minutes, but I figured out that I could just barely reach the plate itself. I was six and short and the table was very, very, very big for me. Still, I was able to skooch the plate ever so slightly closer. I had to be very careful not to touch the cookies, but eventually I did it. I got the plate close enough. I then, gently, placed my teeth on a single cookie, pulled it – even more gently – from the plate, set it on the edge of the table and took a bite. I won. I got the drug AND didn’t touch it with my hands!
To say the least, I was surprised when I got in trouble for this. I’d obeyed the rules!!! Mom didn’t say, “Don’t eat the cookies.” Instead, she told me not to get my hands on them. So I didn’t.
Being a kid was so unfair. Grown ups almost never meant what they said; unless, of course, they just said, “No!” Grown ups always meant it when they said that.
Sigh.
Anyway, I also remember having adventures at Northwest Trek. The problem with Northwest Trek was that the animals tended to hide whenever the tram with people on it drove past. Oh you still got to see plenty of animals, but they were all in pictures at the gift shop. There was one exception to that Northwest Trek rule. The deer walked freely around the entrance/staging area and playground. So, while parents spent their hard-earned money on food stuffs for their frustrated kids, those same kids could be playing leap-frog with real, live, actual, honest-to-goodness deer. That was really cool!!!
Then, of course, there was the Olympic Game Farm. Now THAT was an experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Unlike the Trek where you rode on a tram through the wild-life preserve, you drove through the Olympic Game Farm in your own car. You could also buy loaves of bread which you would then feed to the various animals. Unlike Northwest Trek, the animals at the Olympic Game Farm had equated the sound of motors to getting fed.
I remember, in almost vivid detail, the length and near-triangular shape of a buffalo’s tongue as it reached through the open-two-inches window when Dad didn’t quite feed it fast enough. At first, I was surprised when Dad jigged to the side to avoid the slimy thing, but with age came wisdom.
Think about it. You have an animal that stands over 6 feet tall at the shoulder. This same animal weighs in at about 2,500 pounds. This animal also has horns on either side of its head. In that head is a prehensile tongue that looks like something from Aliens, all dripping and slimy. And, it wants bread; the bread in your hand; the hand that used to look huge and intimidating but now looks frail and dainty in comparison to that HUGE, SLIMY TONGUE!
I understand why Dad jigged sideways, nearly bashing Mom’s shoulder. Of course, Mom’s, “Bill! Drive! Get away from that thing!” probably didn’t help much.
Still, that was an incredible adventure. I’m not sure if the adventure was incredible because of the animals – lions, tigers and bears included – or because of the parents’ reactions to said animals. I don’t think it matters one way or the other. I just remember those times with great fondness.
I’m thinking a trip to the Olympic Peninsula is coming due.
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Please include Northwest Journal in the subject line of all Email. JD_DSVic at Yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
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