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vanillafluffyI was not just the youngest person in my family as well as the youngest person in the house; until I was nearly five, I was the only child who lived on our street at all. Very much a "seen and not heard" environment.
It instilled in me an intense fantasy life. I played with dolls, with an ever-expanding collection of ceramic dog figurines, and I lived in my own head a great deal. Sometimes I was a super-being from another planet, or Elsa the lioness from Born Free, or some other wonderful secret entity hiding among the people I lived with. I didn't have imaginary playmates, *I* was imaginary.
And it nearly got me killed.
To backtrack a bit, my mother's parents divorced when she was young. This was back in the 20s, when it was still something of a scandal. She actually lived in an "orphanage" for a few years, then she was taken in by two old-maid aunts who lived in Miami. She stayed there through high school, and was working as a nanny for one of my aunt's sons when she met my dad.
When I was four, we drove down to Miami to visit them. (I was intimidated. They were the oldest people I'd ever met and I was really creeped out.) After a few days, we flew from there to Puerto Rico---my folks had made friends with a couple who left Cuba around 1960 and lived near us for a couple years before relocating to PR.
I don't have many memories from that visit, maybe because of the language barrier, but I do remember the incident at the beach.
I was playing in the shallows, as my parents and their friends stood out a ways, chatting. I had read or heard about St. Bernards rescuing people from snowdrifts, and I decided I would go out and 'rescue' them.
Except for the relative size issue, namely water that was chest-deep on them was well over my head.
So I plowed into the water, walking out toward where I'd seen them. Cartoon images of people in Jules Verne-style diving helmets came to mind, except of course, I didn't have that either.
Fortunately for our story, my sense of direction was good, and our host noticed my long blonde hair floating on the water like seaweed and pulled me up by it. I spent the rest of the day lying down in the shade, and I was the only member of the party who didn't get sunburned.
Unfortunately, I swallowed a lot of sea water. We were leaving the next day, and stopped at the airport cafe for breakfast. I yarked up my cornflakes, and spent the next few days in Miami in bed.
We went back for another visit to PR when I was 8, and that was when I learned to swim. These days, I can float for-damn-near-ever; it would take a harpoon to bring me down.
But it was a close call.
.
It instilled in me an intense fantasy life. I played with dolls, with an ever-expanding collection of ceramic dog figurines, and I lived in my own head a great deal. Sometimes I was a super-being from another planet, or Elsa the lioness from Born Free, or some other wonderful secret entity hiding among the people I lived with. I didn't have imaginary playmates, *I* was imaginary.
And it nearly got me killed.
To backtrack a bit, my mother's parents divorced when she was young. This was back in the 20s, when it was still something of a scandal. She actually lived in an "orphanage" for a few years, then she was taken in by two old-maid aunts who lived in Miami. She stayed there through high school, and was working as a nanny for one of my aunt's sons when she met my dad.
When I was four, we drove down to Miami to visit them. (I was intimidated. They were the oldest people I'd ever met and I was really creeped out.) After a few days, we flew from there to Puerto Rico---my folks had made friends with a couple who left Cuba around 1960 and lived near us for a couple years before relocating to PR.
I don't have many memories from that visit, maybe because of the language barrier, but I do remember the incident at the beach.
I was playing in the shallows, as my parents and their friends stood out a ways, chatting. I had read or heard about St. Bernards rescuing people from snowdrifts, and I decided I would go out and 'rescue' them.
Except for the relative size issue, namely water that was chest-deep on them was well over my head.
So I plowed into the water, walking out toward where I'd seen them. Cartoon images of people in Jules Verne-style diving helmets came to mind, except of course, I didn't have that either.
Fortunately for our story, my sense of direction was good, and our host noticed my long blonde hair floating on the water like seaweed and pulled me up by it. I spent the rest of the day lying down in the shade, and I was the only member of the party who didn't get sunburned.
Unfortunately, I swallowed a lot of sea water. We were leaving the next day, and stopped at the airport cafe for breakfast. I yarked up my cornflakes, and spent the next few days in Miami in bed.
We went back for another visit to PR when I was 8, and that was when I learned to swim. These days, I can float for-damn-near-ever; it would take a harpoon to bring me down.
But it was a close call.
.
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 03:31 pm (UTC)Hope you're having a great weekend!
XO
Donna
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 06:29 pm (UTC)Glad you're following along!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 04:37 pm (UTC)And I had no idea you'd been to PR not once but twice. My parents have been there and it seems such a beautiful place. Not so much with the near-drowning, though!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 06:36 pm (UTC)Three times, actually. I went solo when I was 16. It was supposed to be a summer job at our friend's factory, but that didn't work out. It ended up being a 3-week visit and I was back home in time for a friend's 4th of July wedding.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 04:40 pm (UTC)how awful for your mom. that's a terrible thing to do to a kid.
I see Jeeves and Wooster on the TV and think it would be kind of fun to live in the 20s and then I hear phrases like "old maid". eurgh.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 06:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-24 07:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-09 05:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-08-09 11:42 am (UTC)