There was a frog in the road
I got to spend some time with a childhood friend this weekend. One I hadn't seen in many, many years. We met at Wildcat's Den in Questa, picked up lunch to go, and drove out to the property and had a picnic lunch with his son, my mom, Brandon and my son. We talked about everything, literally.
But, during our conversations, we talked about what we did as kids. He said he used to run home immediately after school to make sure he caught Duck Tales and Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers. I mentioned that I usually took the scenic route home and missed those shows. He laughed and said that I often took the scenic route to school too. Then he told a story about how I was about 40 minutes late to school one day. The teacher asked where I was and all I said was "There was a frog in the road." I didn't elaborate any further than that. Brandon laughed and said that that sounded exactly like me.
I got to thinking about what Brandon said later. He was right, that did sound just like me. But It wasn't just about seeing the frog that made me late. Nor was it my fascination with creatures that lures me to them like a magnet. It was the whole frog universe, everything that encompassed that frog, that made me late.
My whole childhood was like that, and much of my teens and early 20's. I spent my life completely fascinated with the intricacies of the world around me. I didn't pay much attention to the detail of the modern world. Color of shoes someone was wearing? Who knows. What was the latest and greatest band? I might be able to tell you. Latest fashion? No clue. Latest anything? Nope, couldn't tell you. Who said what when? Nope. Not that either. Which celebrity was dating another celebrity? Nope. The best dance routines? Nope. The latest and greatest toy or gadget? Other than the NES, I had no clue what was out there.
I could tell you about the way that ants formed lines and stuck to them when returning to their ant hill. I could tell you about the designs that leaves made in the mud in the fall after it rained. I could tell you what the wet leaves smelled like. I could tell you about the different designs the clouds made on calm versus windy days. I could tell you about the different sounds the wind makes when it is a high wind versus one that is closer to the ground. I could also tell you how the wind sounds different in different seasons. I could tell you how the rain sounded on different types of ground. I could tell you the sounds a deer made as it made its way through the grass eating. I could also tell what a small bug looked like as it zigzagged across the street through the tiny rivets in the asphalt. I could tell you about the heroic struggle a tree caterpillar made in attempt to not get eaten by the pack of ants that found it when it hit the ground. I could tell you about the designs that the bark made on different trees, but I couldn't tell you the names of those trees other than Ponderosa, Aspen and Cottonwood. I could tell you about the mine we thought we discovered behind my house. I could tell you about how I thought the tree above it was slanted because of the mine. I could tell you about how Mallette Creek flooded below the park every spring. I could tell you what the world looked like through a mirror as I attempted to "walk" on the ceiling. In college, I could tell you about how the plants on campus smelled differently during the rain, and when it had been too long since it had rained. I could tell you about the fantasy world that my imagination created.
I was an ethereal child. One that had no clue what was going on with the people around me. One that got made fun of a lot, even by family members. One that some family members thought wouldn't succeed in life because I was just "too out there." My imagination was considered over active and odd. But, I had a connection to my world that most did not apparently. I was odd, maybe not of this world. I heard that quite often - that I was an odd child. I lived in my own world, one not bound by the restraints of reality. Unfortunately, that doesn't work so well in today's society. And I paid the price, by being made fun of, by being late to school, by being told I needed to get my head out of the clouds.
Somewhere along the way, I lost that magical connection to the natural world around me. And, it's only been recently that I've realized just how much of my life I was shutting off. This is my world, my life source. And, in attempt to fit into the box society wants me to fit into, I shut myself from a fundamental spiritual side of myself that was necessary for me to grow. I had begun to make this realization before my friend came to visit this weekend, but it was what he said, and how my husband responded to it that made me realize just how important this side of myself was to my development. I thrived on this connection. It sheltered me from the world around me. It made me who I am today.
But, during our conversations, we talked about what we did as kids. He said he used to run home immediately after school to make sure he caught Duck Tales and Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers. I mentioned that I usually took the scenic route home and missed those shows. He laughed and said that I often took the scenic route to school too. Then he told a story about how I was about 40 minutes late to school one day. The teacher asked where I was and all I said was "There was a frog in the road." I didn't elaborate any further than that. Brandon laughed and said that that sounded exactly like me.
I got to thinking about what Brandon said later. He was right, that did sound just like me. But It wasn't just about seeing the frog that made me late. Nor was it my fascination with creatures that lures me to them like a magnet. It was the whole frog universe, everything that encompassed that frog, that made me late.
My whole childhood was like that, and much of my teens and early 20's. I spent my life completely fascinated with the intricacies of the world around me. I didn't pay much attention to the detail of the modern world. Color of shoes someone was wearing? Who knows. What was the latest and greatest band? I might be able to tell you. Latest fashion? No clue. Latest anything? Nope, couldn't tell you. Who said what when? Nope. Not that either. Which celebrity was dating another celebrity? Nope. The best dance routines? Nope. The latest and greatest toy or gadget? Other than the NES, I had no clue what was out there.
I could tell you about the way that ants formed lines and stuck to them when returning to their ant hill. I could tell you about the designs that leaves made in the mud in the fall after it rained. I could tell you what the wet leaves smelled like. I could tell you about the different designs the clouds made on calm versus windy days. I could tell you about the different sounds the wind makes when it is a high wind versus one that is closer to the ground. I could also tell you how the wind sounds different in different seasons. I could tell you how the rain sounded on different types of ground. I could tell you the sounds a deer made as it made its way through the grass eating. I could also tell what a small bug looked like as it zigzagged across the street through the tiny rivets in the asphalt. I could tell you about the heroic struggle a tree caterpillar made in attempt to not get eaten by the pack of ants that found it when it hit the ground. I could tell you about the designs that the bark made on different trees, but I couldn't tell you the names of those trees other than Ponderosa, Aspen and Cottonwood. I could tell you about the mine we thought we discovered behind my house. I could tell you about how I thought the tree above it was slanted because of the mine. I could tell you about how Mallette Creek flooded below the park every spring. I could tell you what the world looked like through a mirror as I attempted to "walk" on the ceiling. In college, I could tell you about how the plants on campus smelled differently during the rain, and when it had been too long since it had rained. I could tell you about the fantasy world that my imagination created.
I was an ethereal child. One that had no clue what was going on with the people around me. One that got made fun of a lot, even by family members. One that some family members thought wouldn't succeed in life because I was just "too out there." My imagination was considered over active and odd. But, I had a connection to my world that most did not apparently. I was odd, maybe not of this world. I heard that quite often - that I was an odd child. I lived in my own world, one not bound by the restraints of reality. Unfortunately, that doesn't work so well in today's society. And I paid the price, by being made fun of, by being late to school, by being told I needed to get my head out of the clouds.
Somewhere along the way, I lost that magical connection to the natural world around me. And, it's only been recently that I've realized just how much of my life I was shutting off. This is my world, my life source. And, in attempt to fit into the box society wants me to fit into, I shut myself from a fundamental spiritual side of myself that was necessary for me to grow. I had begun to make this realization before my friend came to visit this weekend, but it was what he said, and how my husband responded to it that made me realize just how important this side of myself was to my development. I thrived on this connection. It sheltered me from the world around me. It made me who I am today.
I was like that. Probably still am to a large extent. I once followed a shrew for hours (and wrote about it years later). I've always loved to stick my face into a Ponderosa pine and smell the sweet vanilla scent of the bark. I need lots of nature to be healthy.
ReplyDeleteI probably would have followed the shrew too. I love the smell of Ponderosa too.
DeleteWow, Sara, you could be describing me as well. I guess when I was growing up, this type of behavior was more normal, as I was never described as odd, but then I had a mother who was just as fascinated with the magic of nature as you and I are. Mother was always showing me and teaching me the names of flowers, rocks, trees, and was always pointing out how the ants were interacting with their ground world, and how the birds were eating certain types of seed. She was quick to point out the sound of a squirrel chattering in the trees above, and loved to watch the chipmunks run and play. Not only did she point out these amazing life forms that share our world, but would also tell me the names of things in Spanish or some other language .
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing such a heartwarming microcosm of your life, it makes me feel like I am not alone in the fact that my mind works much like yours. No wonder we are friends.
Didn't realize that this reply above wouldn't identify me with more information s to who I am. So suffice it to say that I am your friend from Sunshine Valley and who has helped you identify plants on your land on occasion. Should give you enough of a clue who TJ is. Loved your story!
DeleteI do know who you are, and I knew we were kindred spirits on a certain level. I can't wait to show you what we did with all the wildflowers when they come up this spring.
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