Sundays When We Were Kids





It’s Sunday and lately I’ve been trying not to work on Sundays.

Saturdays either.

So yesterday, in a house with five children and seven adults, I did these things:

  • Lay on a dock with a four-year-old, gazing down at a world of little fish wiggling their hipless hips in water the color of bright blue Jell-O. (That’s what you see in the photo, Berry Blue Jell-O with genuine Gummie Fish trapped inside.   
  • Went out in a little motor boat driven by a first grader.
  • Took pictures with my  crappy little camera, the crappy one rather than the good one just in case it landed in the drink.
  • Made Smoky Black Bean Soup, the killer Weight Watchers recipe that takes only 20 minutes to throw together if you have frozen corn, a couple of cups of black beans and a jar of salsa in the house. (Just throw in  dash of cumin and a sneeze of chili-powder and you’re done!)

I also:

  • Underlined a bunch of passages in my summer reading assignment.
  • Wrote many cheery tales in my diary.
  • Fell asleep doing the crossword  and, most important….
  • Swam for a solid hour in that lake that was every bit as cool as the Jell-O of our childhood, half of that time towing the small child I had started the day with who kept saying “TT your hair looks crazy!” Turns out those wild curls from my babyhood are still with me, even after all that cruel yanking, blow-drying and flat-ironing.

At some point in your life you suddenly notice the line of your recent life start to curve, then reach clear around and touch the line of your life at its beginning, when you too were a very young child just starting out and every single day was like a weekend day.

me at three in a play one long-ago summer

my grandchildren having their own weekend summer fun

4 thoughts on “Sundays When We Were Kids

  1. You are a really, really nice person, which is kinda surprising when I consider how genuinely gifted you are! I have just finished reading Alexandra Styron’s “Reading my Father,” about the literary great, who was a veritable tyrant around the house. My sister in law suggested that a new book by Erica Heller about her father, Joseph, seemed similar, judging from the reviews. I asked her if she could think of any tremendously gifted writer, painter, or musician who was just a nice, normal guy/gal. I await her answer.

    1. Joan I don’t know what I have done to deserve this piece of kindness but if I remain nice it might be because I never tried to make money at this aside from that brief fever-dream time when I produced all those books without recouping any of my costs.) That taught me I was just meant to give away my stories, and what a privilege to be able to do that here, and to people like you!
      Now to look up the books about those two dads, ratted out by their survivors 🙂

  2. Poignant issue in the above…both savoring a Sunday and writing about fathers. Regarding that, those children had a chance at 1) revenge 2) capitalizing (especially in terms of money) on their fathers’ fame, and 3) trying to still live up to their fathers, I suspect. I find I have no interest in such tales. I become more like my mother who just wishes now as twilight gathers that all she need see is the good, kind, gentle and benign in life.

    1. you speak about children trashing their poor dead parents as in this William Styron book – it took me a second! When my mom died I had all her diaries to read in the long quiet time after, diaries going back too her broken-hearted teen years just after her second mother died… I couldn’t be mad at her for anything after the first 30 volumes even if I had wanted to. Jacquie yoru mother has the right idea!

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