Remember When Wednesday

Figuring out how to make a button is 100% beyond my skill level. I am trying though. If Officer Hottie weren't so irritated with me for having him reinstall Microsoft Money on the computer after I promised I'd try something else, and for spending a little bit too much money, and for letting him believe we had the money to spend, I'd ask for his help. But, for now, I'm ashamed and on my own, which means ... no button. I'm sure I'll get it eventually.

Anyway, that was a way too long way for me to say that I've decided on Remember When Wednesdays. I really have been having a great time writing about stuff from my childhood; my memories of Grandma, Mom, Dad, my brothers and sisters, and even the geese. It just gets me excited and gets my creative juices moving so I'm setting Wednesdays aside as an official day for me to reminisce. It won't all be old memories either; I may not dig very far back. I'm just going to write about whatever suits my fancy that day. It's my blog and I can do what I want. Right??

Dear Spud, remember when I told you I was going to run away? And you snitched. I was lying anyway.

In third grade we read the book, The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

I loved that book. It was full of adventure and naughtiness. If you haven't read it, it's about a brother and sister who run away from home (a perfectly functional home if I remember correctly) and go to New York city and live in a museum. They get money out of a fountain and live in the displays and try to find out if a statue the museum purchased is real or a fake. It was thrilling for me. I should read it again.

The part that really stuck out to me was not the fact that they ran away from home, but how they did it. They were super sneaky and that appealed to me so so much. They sat in the back seat of the school bus and when the bus parked in the bus barn, got off and headed out to New York. For days I pondered if I'd be able to do it. Not get off the bus, not get caught ... go live somewhere fancy. I knew there were plenty of fountains out there with enough cash to supply all my needs.

I decided I didn't have enough guts to actually run away from home. My parent's still ate pasta at the time and I wasn't willing to give that up. Still, I liked the idea of running away. So, I wrote my brother, Spud, a sweet little note and left it on his bed. It said something like,

"Dear Spud,
Tomorrow I am running away from home. I will get on the school bus and hide and not get off. Don't tell Mom and Dad. And if I die, tell Kory Hanson how much I liked him."

Or something like that.

Then I snickered and went into my room to listen to Milli Vanilli on the tape player.

And then my dad came in and asked me if I had something to tell him.

"Me?"
"Yes. You."
"Umm..."
"Are you unhappy here? Is everything OK at school? Has someone hurt you?"
"What?"
"Did Kory Hanson hurt your feelings?"
"What?"
"Why are you running away from home?"
"What?"
"G Ann (only giving you first initial and middle name. Sorry. Gotta protect the guilty and all) ... you wrote your brother a note telling him you were running away from home. WHY are you running away from home?"
"That? That's a joke."
"No, it isn't."
"Yeah, it is. I was reading this book, The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, and that's part of the book. I thought it was funny. So I wanted to trick Spud."
Sigh. "That's not a nice trick. Your brother is very worried about you."
"Oh."

I'm pretty sure my parent's thought I needed therapy at that point. I can only imagine the conversation they had while psycho-analyzing the world in bed that night. Crazy daughter and her crazy ideas. That book learnin' ain't no good for her. Or something like that.
Thus ended my escapade as an elementary school escape artist. I don't know if Spud has forgiven me though. Actually, I'm sure if Spud remembered this incident, he would forgive me. He is a man now, after all. With three young boys and one child on the way. He has more important things to remember. Like keeping his own children from escaping his own home. I like to think that I just helped to prepare him for fatherhood. Right?

Anyone else have any running away/escape stories they feel like sharing??