Category Archives: My Childhood

If the Glove Doesn’t Fit

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I’ve always thought OJ Simpson and I had a lot in common.  Wait, that’s not what I meant!  Let’s start over.

From time to time, I come across a family photo that perplexes me.  This is one of them:

Ice Climbers

You’re never too young for adult male gloves. Unless you’re a 3-year-old girl.

Growing up in scenic Alaska, it wasn’t uncommon for my dad to stop the car and snap a quick photo of the great outdoors.  Apparently he didn’t believe a photo was complete unless it included one of his children or a wild animal.  Or both.*

Let’s go back to February 6, 1988, when little CC was just 3 years old.  This is how I imagine the conversation leading up to the taking of this photo went down:**

Dad:  “Wow, Carly!  Look at those guys ice climbing!  We should pull over for a picture.”

CC:  “But I don’t want to get out of the car, it’s so cold outside!”

Dad:  “Don’t worry, Carly, it’s only 10 below zero.  You’ll have fun!”

CC:  “Hmm that sounds pretty cold.  If I do it, will you buy me some orange Tic Tacs?”

Dad:  “Sure.  Let’s go!”

Mom, sitting in the front seat rolling her eyes:  “Ok, Carly…let’s put your entire snowsuit get-up on again.”

Dad:  “Great!”

Fifteen minutes later…

Dad:  “Ok, Carly, smile for Dad!”

CC:  “Dad, are we poor?”

Dad:  “No, we’re not poor.  Why did you ask that?”

CC:  “Because my gloves are made for a grown man.  Why can’t I have child-sized gloves?”

Dad:  “We can afford gloves.  Those were the ones we had in the car.  Carly, do you want to be an ice climber when you grow up?”

CC:  “Of course not, that’s dangerous!  What if they fall and crack their heads open and get hit by a passing truck and their ice picks fall onto their faces and they get wedgies from their climbing suits and a family of bears comes and eats them?!  Alaska is so scary!”

Dad:  “You’re not seeing things rationally.  Have they not covered mountain sports on Sesame Street, yet?  If you don’t want to be an ice climber, what do you want to be?  A park ranger?  A hunting guide?  A professional whitewater rafter?”

CC:  “No, I’m gonna be an accountant!  Counting is fun!  1, 2, 3, 6, 10…this is boring.”

Dad:  “I guess that’s cool.  Ok, stand right over there…perfect!”

CC:  “Dad, I feel that I’m freakishly tall for a 3-year-old.  Am I taking growth hormones?”

Dad:  “No, honey, you’re not taking growth hormones.  What exactly are they teaching you on Sesame Street, anyway?”

CC:  “Dad, why do I look like a Care Bear?”

Dad:  “Sweetie, this is the ‘80’s.  That’s what people do.  They dress their kids like Care Bears.  When you’re older and have kids of your own, people will live vicariously through their daughters and turn them into mini pageant queens.  Promise me you won’t do that?”

CC:  “Ok, I promise.  Um, Dad?  When I’m grown up, will I have an aversion to things touching my neck because the top of my snowsuit is tied so tightly around my neck right now?”

Dad:  “Probably.  Smile!”

CC:  “I have to go potty!”

Click.

*See future posts.  Wow, we have so much to talk about.

**Awful sentence structure, I know.  Eh, don’t care.

That Time I Was In a TV Commercial (Video Included!)

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Yes, it’s true.  Yours truly was once a STAR!

It was an exciting time in my life.  How exciting, you ask?  Well, exciting enough that I barely remember it.  And while I’m being honest, I wasn’t really a star.  Nope, not even close.  You guys, I didn’t even have lines.  Sadder yet, my part wasn’t even live action!

But the level of non-glam gets even better.  The commercial was a local anti-domestic violence public service announcement sponsored by the Anchorage Women’s Commission.  Please, take a moment to let that sink in.

Before we go any further, I hereby confirm that domestic violence never took place in my home.  That’s assuming we’re not counting all the times my older siblings hit me in the face with snowballs, whacked me in the legs with dowel rods at the hardware store or inflicted emotional abuse by threatening to look at me funny.

Back to the commercial.  Apparently my dad knew someone working on the production of the commercial and he agreed to let them photograph us.  The photographer asked us to look sad.  Easy.  I had a knack for looking sad on cue.  I was the youngest child, after all.  Seriously though, I think someone had just cut my nap short because I look more angry than sad.  I’m not sure any of us really looked sad.  I knew we should’ve taken acting lessons in case we were randomly asked to be in a local PSA.

Please take note of my killer Christmas sweater, Toughskins jeans and…hair curler?  What’s up with that, Mom and Dad?  My hair was already curly.  Why make a bad situation worse?  Or maybe that was part of the act?  Neglected child’s parents can’t even remove her curlers when going out in public?  Brilliant.

Here’s the commercial.  Be sure to turn up the volume.  I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the poor quality audio that was salvaged from the VHS.

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Some of you keen observers probably noticed that my brother was missing from the commercial.  That’s because he had to go to school on the day of the photo shoot.  But, don’t you worry.  He got his very own commercial.  Not only was his live action, but it also included a real actor.  Lucky.

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Hope you enjoyed the videos.  If anyone is currently producing a PSA and needs a highly qualified actress who can frown on command and not say any actual words, I’m your gal.  I’ll be expecting your call.

Witchy Woman

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With Halloween coming up, I think it’s safe to say we’ve all been thinking about how much we dislike witches.  Well, I know I have.

Contrary to popular belief, witches weren’t always so feared.  For centuries, they fulfilled their witchy duties in peace.   Potions were concocted, spells were cast and brooms were flown into power lines without the slightest interruption from the common people.  This likely would have continued for many more centuries, but then this happened….

“I’ll get you my pretty!”  “Oh, thanks for the compliment!”

Yes.  The Wicked Witch of the West.  Somewhere around 1988, this woman selfishly stole my ability to sleep soundly.  Before watching “The Wizard of Oz,” I enjoyed a carefree childhood.  You know…the type of childhood where you thought the worst thing that could happen to you was missing out on dessert.  Well, that, and thinking that your babysitter would eventually sit on you, smothering you to death.  Turns out, the word “babysitter” is a bit of a misnomer.

Anyway, my life was forever changed after watching this horror flick.  I don’t recall being afraid of monsters or boogie men, but the Wicked Witch haunted me nightly.  I just knew this freak was going to kidnap me and hold me captive in a cold dungeon with flying monkeys.  And this is how it would go down:  I had a habit of leaving my bed at night and begging to sleep in my parents’ bed.  Between my room and their room was a break in the hallway.  As I ran past that spot, she would grab me, throw me on her broom and laugh that evil laugh.  I hated her.

I wasn’t the only person in my family with such worries.  During a trip to Texas, we caught sight of a relative’s female neighbor who was dressed in black.  While I knew it was polite to keep my fears bottled up inside, my very vocal sister did not.  Without hesitation, she screamed at the top of her lungs “It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!  It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!”  Let’s hope that poor woman was hard of hearing.

Now, the Wicked Witch wasn’t the only reason this movie scared me.  Shall we discuss the other, more frequently overlooked reasons?  We shall.

  • Dorothy lived on a farm, which was likely occupied by poisonous spiders.  I hadn’t gotten caught up in the “Charlotte’s Web” hoopla, so I wasn’t buying all that “Awww, spiders are nice!” garbage.
  • Dorothy was an orphan and lived with a mean aunt and uncle.  This one isn’t scary, but I was an empathetic kid and this really bothered me.  Don’t even get me started on the thought of losing little Toto.  It’s hard being so compassionate.  :(
  • The cyclone scene.  Obviously.
  • Droves of little people who looked like they were the test subjects for tanning beds.
  • Dorothy and her friends embarked on a journey without a solid game plan.  Would they have enough food?  Where would they sleep?  Did they each bring a light jacket in case there was a breeze?  Planning is everything, you guys.
  • The Scarecrow:  A walking fire hazard.  Also, he attracted birds that could peck out one’s eyes.
  • The Tin Man:  Hello, Tetanus!
  • Dorothy was friends with a lion.  I don’t care what adjective you attach to it.  All it takes is one bite.
  • Winged monkeys.  Everyone’s least favorite kind of monkey.
  • The Wizard.  What a weirdo.

Parents: please don’t make your children watch this movie.  I know it held a special place in your heart growing up, but that’s only because you were able to erase the frightening parts from your brain.

That’s what I think must have initially happened to me before the bad memories resurfaced.  Why else would I have chosen this as one of my Halloween costumes?

Just as scary as the original witch, but for different reasons.

Perhaps I was conquering my fears?  Maybe subliminal messages within the movie brainwashed me into believing I was the little Wicked Witch reincarnate?  Or, could this have been the only costume left in my family’s bin-o’-costumes box?  We may never know.

Happy Halloween, everyone!  Don’t forget to steal some of your kids’ candy!