hoppin' through our dreams

I awoke this morning from a dream of hopping on a pogo stick from my home town to Grants Pass, Oregon. It was a difficult trek. The springs didn't feel very pliable. I remember it was raining. During the dark night, the streetlights would cast it's red and amber and green reflections against the puddles as I hopped in one place waiting for the light to turn. It was a lot of hard work and I was so not enjoying my travels up north.

In my dream, I chatted with my mom who had just accomplished her pogo-journey to Grants Pass. She said it was so easy. She hopped all along 1-5 except for about 30 miles, she had to hop along a rural road. But, she reminded me, she hopped on a brand new pogo stick. I tested it and the hop was much higher and easier to obtain. But still, I was amazed at her age she could do that, and I was determined to do it as well.

I kept on hopping. All night long. On this very old ancient pogo stick.

The pogo stick in my dream was the one we had when I was six years old.

I wonder why we dream these dreams we do. (Did I have a tummy ache while I slept?)

The photos reflect the same era that we hopped on our real pogo stick that I dreamed about this morning.

The pogo stick was red. We'd hop around our block. We'd time ourselves. And count the hops. And turn it into a game how many hops it took and how quickly we made it around the block.

I can't imagine doing that now. But. This morning, when I awoke, I think for a moment, I felt as if I had really hopped my way to Grants Pass, Oregon. I felt so sleepy. I felt I could sleep another two hours.

The photos are of me and my sister and brother visiting my cousins in San Leandro.

Every once in a blue moon, we would pile in our family station wagon and travel down to the East Bay to spend the day with my aunt and uncle and cousins. It really was a rare occasion.

Bobby had the coolest glasses.

I always played-pretend that he was a blond-hair version of Ernie on My Three Sons. He sure could work his glasses. He'd pull them off and tilt his lens in such a way onto the leaves inside their waste container as if he was holding a magnifying glass.

"Watch this!"

And I would. I'd stare down at a half-brown leaf wondering what was going to happen next. It would eventually burst into a ploom of smoke and catch fire. It would frighten me, but he'd wave his arms around it in the air or pull it out and step on it and it would get smothered out. He seemed smarter than his years. He also knew how to pull apart a transistor radio and fix it. And, if that wasn't enough ... he also had his own paper route.

His dad always said, "Bobby is going to have more money than the rest of us. Just you watch and see."

I still believe him. And, maybe he already does.

These photos were taken in the backyard of their home in San Leandro. (I'm in the stripped shirt along with my sister and brother). It felt like a long hour-and-a-half drive to their home from our home in small town Santa Rosa, sucking on lemon drops to prevent me from being car sick.

I had a speech impediment and couldn't pronounce my errrs and my mom and dad would rehearse with me over and over again.
"Squirrel."
"Skoyluh."

"Squirrel!!"
"Skoyluhhh!"

"Squir-rul!"
"Skoy-luh!"

I used to love rolling down the back-seat window halfway and stick my face out a bit and the wind would cause me to suck in my breath. Then after several moments, I'd roll the window back up gasping for the breath I had lost.

My cousin Debby (the tallest one in the picture) was born with one blue eye and one brown eye. I thought that was the coolest thing. I asked her if she saw only blue through one eye and only brown through the other eye.

She looked at me and said, "Do you only see green through both your eyes!?"

I was extremely bashful. They lived in a giant white house with many rooms on a busy street. The older kids listened to music I had never heard of before. Their bedroom doors were adorned with beads. Friends on motorcyles were parked out in the front.

II'm happy I didn't really hop on my pogo stick up north like I dreamed. But I'm happy for my dream. And I'm happy that in my dream I believed I could do it.

Because I know I could if I tried. And so can you. If it's worth it. Even if it means hopping your way in an old vintage pogo-stick.