Sunday Drives and Bicycles

1. Come and Get It by Badfinger

2. Tighter, Tighter by Alive 'N Kickin'

3. Ride Captain Ride by Blues Image

4. Spill the Wine by Eric Burdon & War

5. Who'll Stop the Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival

6. Didn't I Blow Your Mind by The Delfonics

7. Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse

8. The Thrill Is Gone by B.B. King

9. Arizona by Mark Lindsay

10. Reflections of My Life by Marmalade

11. Lay Down by Melanie

12. Band of Gold by Freda Payne

13. Easy Come, Easy Go by Bobby Sherman

I am serenading my patient father.

I wish I could get a closer look at his face as I'm sure it was horrendous.

Alas, they insisted I learn to play the violin.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before or not, but my father loved the institution of the "Sunday Drive." While we lived in Pennsylvania we would traverse all sorts of back roads just to see what's "going on down here" or "where this takes us." He would weave us and wind us until we lost all sense of direction, singing the whole way and stopping now and then to perfect our deer-calling skills (I'll just have to demonstrate this some time.) Well, imagine his delight in having an entire new state to explore! And we did! He took us through reservations, across deserts, and, to be quite honest, it all kind of looked the same. But one particular Sunday he took us on a Sunday drive to end all Sunday drives - and, now that I think about it, it did. We loaded up into our maroon station wagon and headed out. We were having a great time and this time we were heading into some mountainous areas. We drove and drove and drove and drove and pretty soon our tummies started grumbling. For myself, my tummy wasn't grumbling as much as it was gurgling. Remember my problem with getting car sick? Well, nobody thought to grab the dramamine as it was just going to be a little drive. So I was more sick than hungry. And, wouldn't you know it, it appears that some of my siblings were also prone to the motion sickness. My parents were discussing something in the front seat and it wasn't long before the rest of us figured out that something was up. Or down. The problem was 1. we were almost out of gas and hadn't seen any evidence of human habitation for quite awhile and 2. we were lost. What to do? The curvy, mountainous roads had really done a number on those of us who were battling the nausea and all of us sickies had been sent to the back area of the station wagon so we could lay down and keep our spew in one general area. I'm pretty sure we had a word of prayer that we would at least be able to find a gas station. But, wait - this was 1970 - back in the day when stores weren't open on Sundays! What a pickle we were in! So there we were, lost in a state we knew little about, half the car throwing up, the other half straining their eyes for any sign of life. After our prayer, though, we eventually came upon this tiny little town which happened to have a gas station - but alas, the gas station was closed. Hmmmm. What to do. Well, we needed help so my father parked the car at the pumps and then set out for a home nearby. The home either belonged to the owner of the gas station or a friend of the owner of the gas station. When dad explained our predicament and apologized for intruding on their Sabbath, the gas station owner came and opened his pump so we could get some gas. He also shared some valuable information with him - like where in the heck we were! In further evidence of their kindly ways, they came out with handfuls of snacks for us all! With a full tank of gas, food in our bellies, and a sure direction of how to get back home, we left that little hamlet and headed for home. After that, Dad had a very hard time getting us to voluntarily climb into the car for a "short" drive. We'd quiz him as to his knowledge of the territory into which he was taking us, how long it had been since he'd last been there, and how inhabited it was. Oh - and how much gas was in the tank!

Another memory of Arizona is a sort of traumatic one. Like I said, we used to ride our bikes to Primary on Wednesday afternoons. I didn't really have a bike of my own, so often my friend, Marcy Gardner, let me use one of her brothers' bikes. On this particular day, this is exactly what I was doing - using one of their bikes. Except that she didn't tell me right off that the brakes weren't working very well. As we hopped on and rode off she sort of called back to me that the brakes hadn't been working well. They were handle bar brakes, which I had never used before. So I gave them a little test and, sure enough, they weren't working really at all. We were talking back and forth about how I was going to be able to stop and we had decided that I would just coast to a stop. Well, I don't remember exactly what happened, but I was following behind her and had crept up too close behind her. She had to brake for something and I simply couldn't brake in time and I seemed frozen. Why didn't I swerve? I have no idea. But my front tire hit her back tire and I never knew that one bike could flip another like that. The front of my bike flipped way up, flipping me up even higher. Keep in mind I was quite a little runt - it wouldn't take much to flip me! I remember being airborne. I remember screaming. I remember Marcy screaming. It seemed I went up, up, up into the air. Then I came down, down, down. And, wouldn't you know it, when I landed, I landed right on my head. And, wouldn't you know it, my head hit right on the part of the road where there was a manhole cover. Lights out. I don't remember much after that. It's just snippets. I woke up and I was in somebody's home, in a bedroom I didn't know, with people I didn't know around me. There was conversation and I could tell that they were tracking down my parents. Lights out. My mother was there with our next door neighbor man, who picked me up off of that bed and carried me out to his car, my mother right along with me. I complained that my head hurt something awful. Lights out. I was being placed on a gurney at the hospital and I cried because it felt like they slammed my head down on that table. I think my dad was there. I told them I had to throw up and tried to turn my head to do so. The nurse scolded me and told me to be still. Lights out. X-rays were being taken. Again - the screaming headache and the nausea that followed. It made me cry out in pain. Lights out. I was being carried into our house and placed on my bed. Mom carefully undressed me and put my jammies on me. The house was unusually quiet. Lights out. I woke up and heard the family out in the other room. Lights out. I woke up and my father was kneeling beside my bed in earnest prayer. I was in so much pain. My head felt like it would fall off the bed because it felt so huge and it hurt so bad. Lights out. It was the next morning. I tried to get up but my head wouldn't lift. The rest of that day was in and out of awareness. Over the next few days, it was much of the same. Then I started feeling better. I wanted to get up and do things but my mother explained I was supposed to stay down and very quiet, orders of the doctor. My schoolwork was picked up by my friend, Toni Collins, and dropped off each afternoon. I'm not sure how long I was out of school but I'm thinking it was about two weeks. One day, when Toni made her stop, she brought along some of my friends from class, and with them a bunch of get well notes from my class. I was so happy! Being the new kid in class I was afraid that they'd all forget about me! But they hadn't! As a matter of fact, after that, I seemed to have even more friends! After they left, I took my get well cards to my room and secretly searched among them to see if one in particular was there. I had had a huge crush on a boy in my class. His name was Daniel, and, much to my sweet joy, he had sent me a get well card as well! I prized it above all else and kept it close to the top of the stack. I was very happy when it was decided that I could once again return to school. I didn't ride a bike again for a very, very, very long time. And if I did, I made sure it had foot pedal brakes and that those brakes were in good condition!

Although I was there for only one grade I still remember the names of my friends and wonder all the time what ever became of them all. Marcy was probably my best friend. We were both very little in size. I spent alot of time at her house after school. I remember thinking her mom seemed so young and pretty (whereas my mother was young and Doris Day beautiful.) Toni Collins lived near me and so we walked to and from school together often. If I didn't walk with Toni I walked with Sarah Harris or Frances Kelly. Kelly Penrod and I were either getting along or we weren't. Can't remember what the drama was about - probably boys - I was entering that stage of my life, you know. Other friends were Fred Jackson, Craig Rusk, and Russell Bernard. There was this kid in my class, Sid King, who was hysterical. We were sitting in class one day doing quiet desk work when, all of a sudden, you started hearing someone making beeping, robotic noises. Mind you, this was waaaaaaay before computers. But, there was Sid, making these noises. Kids started giggling and the teacher asks what all teachers ask, "Who's making that nonsense?" Nobody is going to give him away so we all shrug. He stops for a bit. Then, just when we're all getting back into our work, he starts again. This time the teacher stands up and starts tracking the noise. Does Sid stop? No!! Which I thought was crazy daring! She marched up to him, arms firmly folded across her chest, and asked the obvious "Is that you, Sid, making that noise?" Well, one dumb question deserves a ridiculous reply, right? He answers her with a new series of robotic noises - bleeps, squirts, clicks. Now her hands are on her hips and she says "Sid, you need to stop that noise immediately!" Sid, walking on thin ice, replies in a monotone voice "That does not compute." bleep, click, bleep. Again "Sid, I'm telling you now to stop that noise or you'll be going to the principal's office." Sid, not even seeming a little fazed by the threat of the prospect of being sent to the principal's office, says "That does not compute!" bleep, bleep, bleep. At this point the teacher is hoisting him up out of his seat and pulling him across the room, and all the while he doesn't break character for one second. You hear him all the way to the principal's office, bleeping, clicking, whirring, and saying "That does not compute!" I was dumbfounded! Why would anyone defy authority like that? Forget about what the principal would do. What about what would happen when you got home? I wasn't sure if I thought him stupid, brave, or brilliant? Right now, I'm kind of thinking he was all three - not that I'd want my kids to disrespect their teacher's like that, but, I am really curious as to what sort of teen he was and what kind of adult he turned out to be. I'd love to know where all of those friends are and what they're all up to. I went to my first slumber parties with these kids, had my first seances where we tried to call up Geronimo (Ok, I'm really giggling over that now!) and where I interacted with lots of other LDS kids on a daily basis. We went to school together and church together. That's alot of time together!

Taking the Girl Scout promise.

I'm the one on the right, next to the leader.

I told you I was a runt!!

I am standing next to Sarah Harris.

Kelly Penrod is on the other end in the red shirt.

My parents continued with their fostering child care while we were in Arizona, only this time she wasn't so much of a child. I'm not sure how old Marlene was, she just seemed much older than Cheryl. She was also a recovering drug addict who had been strung out on LSD. She was extremely intelligent. For fun, she would sit and read encyclopedias and the dictionary. Being a bit of a nerd myself, this wasn't too far out there. But, that's all she did. The thing about LSD, though, is that it doesn't necessarily leave you when you leave it. She tended to have flashbacks. One night I woke up to a commotion coming from her room. I could tell my parents were already on the scene. Marlene was having an acid flashback in which she was sure that there were spiders all over the walls in her room and were making their way towards her. She would scream when they'd fall onto her and she'd try to brush them away from her. Of course, no one else could see these spiders. They were her trip alone. But it was terrifying to me and left a big imprint on my psyche about the dangers of drugs. On another occasion, us kids had all gone down to the school to play tag or hide and seek or kick the can at the school playground. Suddenly, Marlene stopped what she was doing, got white as a ghost, turned to - well, nobody - pointed and screamed "Narcs!!" and took off running. We followed in pursuit to see where she was going. She kept running and running and she was soon past the point where I could go. My older brothers' had a much larger range of freedom than I did so they kept in hot pursuit while I ran home and informed my parents about what was going on. They tracked her down and brought her back home again. She didn't stay with us long after that. She needed professional help, I think. And besides, we had found out that we were going to be moving back to Pennsylvania at the end of the school year. She needed to be someplace where she could put down some roots. I wonder about her now and then - wonder if she was ever able to let go of those demons and resume a normal life.

Music is becoming more and more important in my life at this point. I was noticing its importance in society more. I was starting to develop my own likes and dislikes and being more influenced by my older brothers than by my parents. Lyrics, which seemed nonsensical to me, apparently had double meanings as I would catch my brothers giving each other a "look" when some songs were played. I was growing up in the era of hippies, peace, free love, and drugs.