Category Archives: Childhood Reminiscing

Little Josiah Cowles

Posted on November 20, 2012 by funnygurl2

I am going to tell you a story.  Don’t judge me too harshly.  My husband does.  He doesn’t see why this is funny at all.  My mother and I find it hilarious, all these years later.

My mom and I have gone to Mackinac Island, Michigan several times in our lives.  One year we went, and it rained the whole time we were on the island.  Because we were tourists and so that we may seek shelter from the elements, we bought tickets and went to tour Fort Mackinac.

I am not big on history, unless it is lighthouse or family tree-related, but Fort Mackinac was interesting.  Their displays showed many aspects of life at the Fort.  As you may imagine, there were weapons, the mess hall, the jail, the store.  But you also got to see where the officers and their families lived.

And we learned about little Josiah Cowles.

This historical sign is displayed at Fort Mackinac, Michigan.


Here is the sign (or a more modern replica) that my mom and I saw that rainy, gloomy day.  Maybe we were low on sugar and caffeine.  No matter the circumstances, my mom read that sign, and translated it as such:

Little Josiah Cowles

Had trouble with his bowels.

AND WE LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND LAUGHED until we cried and then we laughed some more.

Maybe you had to be there.  But it is one of the purely happy memories I have with my mom.  I felt obliged to share it with all of you:)

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

1 Comment

Posted in Childhood Reminiscing, Unusual Poetry & Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Dreams – Part Two (Adventures in Dreamland)

Posted on November 2, 2012 by funnygurl2

To read about the evolution of my dream journal, please read Dreams – Part One (Dream Journal) https://imnotstalkingyou.com/2012/11/01/dreams-part-one-dream-journal/

When I dream about home, I most often dream about the trailer I lived in between the ages of 8 and 23.  The other night I even dreamed that my son was there, which is really weird because that place is long gone.  My son has never been there.  He wasn’t even a glimmer in my eye last time I was there.

This where i am when I dream of home. The saddest picture ever. I came of age in that home, and then it was just pulled out to the curb to be sold for best offer.


I also dreamed I had to grab my son and hide with him under the bathroom sink in the half (more the size of a quarter) bath because mobsters were coming to shoot us.  (The whole time, I kept thinking in the dream, “Was there really enough room for me to hide under that sink?”)  When I woke up, I was scared of the mobsters with guns blazing, of course, but not surprised.  I have dreams of people with guns chasing me every so often.

Illustration from my dream journal about my recurring wrist dream.


The first dream I can ever remember having was also one of the few recurring dreams I have ever had.   That was when I was really young – 4 or 5.  In my dream I was wearing my blue hooded sweatshirt and running away from bad guy sin a big grey factory.  There were big tanks and all sorts of walkways from the ceiling.  The bad guys saw me and shot me. I help up my wrist and there was just a hole through it with black sides.  No blood, not a realistic wound.  I could look right through the hole in my wrist at the bad guys. 

What terrible person would chase this girl through a scary factory and shoot her through the wrist?


Here it is in poem form:

The recurring dream

On a night i no longer remember
i got tucked into bed
covered up my head
and my mind turned on me

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

my blue-hooded jacket
among all the metal
the metal that passed right through me
without me noticing

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

fast-moving among the rafters
their steps echoing on the catwalk
thump-thump-thump
like my little heart

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

ducking behind the giant tanks
doesn’t matter what is in them
maybe it is the blood
that doesn’t flow from me

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

i can’t see their identities
just dark forms ever-moving
why don’t i stop & face them
the faceless

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

i’m scared, it’s dark
i run
but it’s all familiar
deep down
it is all a part of me

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

i’ve got you now
but you can’t protect me
from what only the night can see

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

i still can’t see
who i was meant to
grow up & be
this life is just a blur to me
as i run

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

i have a good life
but it is hard to see
looking through this blackened
hole in me

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

with roots like these
i can’t leave
but still I try to shake free
imagine it all some other way

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

i want what i don’t have
i don’t have all that I want
i’ll never be satisfied
with this empty hole

they are after me again
gun in hand
faster still i run
till this hole in my wrist is done

it’s eating away at me
still i run further
i can see them chasing me
always chasing me
my most vivid unreal memory
–JLS 05/11/06

I guess maybe that symbolizes my anxieties that I can run, but not hide from.  They continue to pursue me.

I heard a kid in school onetime say that his mother had told him that if you dream the same dream three nights in a row, it will come true.

Shortly after I heard this, I had two dreams about my dad in about four night’s time.  I was so terrified I would have the third dream and it would come true that I couldn’t sleep for several nights.  The third dream never came.

The first dream, if I can remember, was my dad came back and we were talking in the kitchen.  (My dad died before I was born.) He thought I should be happy to see him, but I was really mad.  I was yelling at him that, “It was wrong you weren’t here all those years.  I had to grow up without a dad.  Do you know how terrible that is?  You want me to just forgive you?”

But in the second dream, he wanted to take me away with him and I was no longer angry.  I was asking him questions and was really curious.  I never did give him an answer in that dream.  After I woke up, I was afraid if I had another dream that I would say “yes” and I would die in my sleep in order to go with him.  It scared me very much.

I dream about tornadoes every so often.  The dreams reflect my real life feelings about them.  I am scared to death, but also very fascinated by them.  The thought of a tornado coming for me is terrifying (This time, its personal?).  Yet, the thrill of a tornado warning trip to the basement or watching a storm chaser show on TV is exciting.  (Once my husband and I drove through an area that had been hit by a tornado two weeks earlier.  Not a pretty site.  So devastating.  I couldn’t even bring myself to take pictures.)

I am out of the habit of writing down my dreams nowadays, but this dreams was very “powerful” and, once you read it you will see that it just begs to be included in a blog post. I have used it to show the format for which I record my dreams. (Click the picture to enlarge.)

As I come to the end of this post, I am torn.  Do I go back to a dream journal as a means of greater understanding of self?  Or do I face the fact that I am adult with too many other responsibilities in my life right now?

Hmmm…Maybe I will sleep on it.

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

2 Comments

Posted in A day in the life, Childhood Reminiscing, UnProfessional Photography & Artwork, Unusual Poetry & Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Sleeps With Stuffed Animals

Posted on September 20, 2012 by funnygurl2

I sleep with a stuffed animal.

Every night.

There. I said it. And I am not ashamed. Although you probably think less of me now.

Old Barfey in the foreground


Growing up, I always slept with stuffed animals. As I grew up, I consistently slept with Old Barfey every night. (For more on Barfey, click here.) Old Barfey was the right size to wrap my arms around and his ground nutshells provided the perfect amount of weight to prevent him from bouncing out of bed in the night. I loved his aged nappy fur. Touching it gave me a sense of security.

As I got older, I feared I would lose Barfey’s nose one night in a freak boating accident. (I kill me.) So, I admit, I took other stuffed animals into my bed. (Is that considered sleeping around? Does that make me a plush slut?) It was hard to find one that was the right size and softness. A stuffy whose quality was good enough that fur wouldn’t fall out instantly. I found that generic animals usually won out over licensed characters. And cuteness in the daytime did not always equal comfort in the night.

I moved out and got my own apartment. Did I still need a stuffed animal to sleep with? Hells ya! It was lonely and creepy in my apartment all alone at night.

Then my boyfriend (now-husband) moved in. It wasn’t so lonely then. But he didn’t find the both of us sleeping in my twin bed comfortable, so for several years we would take turns, one sleeping on the couch and one sleeping in the twin bed. No boyfriend to cuddle = I still needed a stuffed animal.

We bought a Queen size bed. (My boyfriend said we should have gotten a King. There is no way that would have fit in my apartment. We could barely walk around the Queen size.) Guess what? It turns out my boyfriend was not a cuddler. And I usually went to bed before him anyway. So, I still had a stuffed animal.

I tried on and off for a period of time to go to sleep without a stuffed animal. I could. But it took a lot longer to fall asleep and I didn’t sleep as well. I tend to have panic attacks as I am trying to fall asleep. A lack of stuffed animal seemed to make them markedly worse.

Dave sleeping with a borrowed friend


We moved into our house in 2004 and got a dog. Finally, I thought, I can snuggle with my canine. Dave is furry and orange and beautiful. But my husband instituted a “no dog on the bed” rule. Which stayed in place about 15 months, until my husband got a dog of his own. Two dogs, guess which one sleeps on the bed most nights–my husband’s dog, Parker. He is all legs and he snores. Although I must say, he comes in handy come wintertime. Parker is a short-hair Pointer, so he shares his heat better than Dave, who is a fluffy Lab-Chow mix. She keeps her heat to herself.

Parker Pointer


But even with a snoring Pointer next to me, I find that I still sleep better with a stuffed animal in my arms. My current favorites are larger than I would have chosen as a kid. There are two Build-A-Bears, a Stitch, A Ty Panda Bear (Beckett, created exclusively for Borders), and Max, from the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. My asbestos friend bought me Max while I was in the hospital having my son. I had told her I needed a stuffy to sleep with while I was there. He didn’t help that much. I really didn’t get much sleep while in the hospital anyway.

Current Selection: Adult-Sized


So, there. I have admitted that I am a grown woman who sleeps with stuffed animals. What is there to be ashamed of? So I find comfort in a pile of fur and plastic pellets? A bundle of plush and polyester fiberfill? Isn’t that better than resorting to sleeping pills or alcohol? Isn’t it better than being the crazy cat lady and having a house that smells like ammonia?

Everyone, find a stuffed animal that meets your particular needs and snuggle up with it tonight and see if you don’t sleep better. Plus, you could have fun going to Build-A-Bear! But make sure you take a small child with you, for cover:)

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

6 Comments

Posted in A day in the life, Childhood Reminiscing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

My Life Philosophy (Sitcom Style)

Posted on September 18, 2012 by funnygurl2

Two of the most important people in the personal development of my life were the TV characters of Punky Brewster and Chandler Bing. What have they taught me?

Punky Brewster


Punky

    – Always be colorful.
    – Ponytails improve your outlook on life.
    – Speak up.
    – Have spunk.
    – When you feel trapped, plan your escape.
    – A dog is a girl’s best friend.
    – Growing older doesn’t mean you have to grow up.
    – When life takes away a parent, find your own replacement.
    – Home is where the dog is.
    – Dance like everyone is watching.
    – Be yourself.
    – March to the beat of your own drummer.

Chandler Bing


Chandler

    – If you can’t beat them, make them laugh.
    – Being “the funny one” is a compliment.
    – Embrace your inner geek.
    – Being vulnerable can be more endearing than being strong.
    – Surround yourself with good Friends.
    – When life gives you a transvestite father, cast Kathleen Turner in the role.
    – Dance like you don’t care if anyone is watching.

I’m Chandler. Could I BE anymore charmingly self-depreciating?

For more blogs on Punky Brewster, click below.

Ode to Punky Brewster
You Can Never Get Too Much Punky Brewster

For more blogs on Chandler Bing, please click below:

Three Degrees of Matthew Perry

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

4 Comments

Posted in A day in the life, Childhood Reminiscing, Entertainment Worship & Review and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Barfey

Posted on September 13, 2012 by funnygurl2

Barfey. Other kids have a teddy bear. I have Barfey.

Old Barfey in foreground.


He started off as a little white stuffed dog with brown ears from the Hallmark store in the mall, made by R. Dakin. My mom said she named him after one of the dogs in the Family Circus cartoon strip. My mom bought him for me so long ago that I can’t remember. Barfey was just always there, for as long as I can remember.

I loved him so much he became tattered and dirty. And of course my mom, being the woman she is, resolved this by buying me a replacement Barfey–AND THROWING OUT THE ORIGINAL. She snuffed out a young stuffed animal’s life, just as it was beginning. I was so young that I didn’t know enough to protest. And while the second Barfey was the same dog made by the same company from the same store in the same mall, this one had a brown body and white ears! Leave it to my mom to not even bother to color match.

Barfey was my favorite stuffed animal. I slept with him every night. If we went on a trip, he went with us.

Here if my VHS copy of The Velveteen Rabbit, Hanna-Barbara 1985


There used to be a show on Saturday mornings called ABC Weekend Special. They showed family cartoons and movies. One of my favorites was a cartoon of The Velveteen Rabbit, based on the book by Margery Williams, from 1985, made by Hanna-Barbara. (One of my other favorites was a mini-series called Cougar–I actually managed to find that on DVD!) It always made me think of Barfey. That maybe he loved me as much as I loved him. That maybe he too was on a quest to be real, as was The Velveteen Rabbit.

The Velveteen Rabbit, Hanna-Barbara 1985
[In the nursery closet]
Rocking Horse: Real isn’t how you’re made. It is a thing that happens to you. Love makes you real. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become real. Once you are real, you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always. You can’t be unreal again.
Bunny-Rabbit: Oh, I want very much to be real.

I also imagined that the stress that Barfey went through as I slept with him at night and tossed and turned was probably similar to the torture that The Velveteen Rabbit endured as well.

The Velveteen Rabbit, Hanna-Barbara 1985
[In Robert’s bed]
Bunny-Rabbit: Look out, you’re flattening me.
I can hardly breath.
Ouch, I’m not a football.
Easy now, don’t move. Ooo-ooo.

When I was in fourth grade, I got the Chicken Pox. I was scared because I didn’t really know what that meant. (And they proved to be quite uncomfortable.) I clutched Barfey tightly for comfort during this uncertain time, as my mom called her nurse friend for information. Something occurred to me while she was on the phone, and it scared me more than being sick. Thinking back to The Velveteen Rabbit and the rabbit’s fate after Robert’s sickness, I asked my mom if Barfey was going to have to be burned since I was holding him and I was sick. She laughed at me and told me “no”. I was relieved. And pissed that she would find my question amusing.

As the years past, Barfey got shabbier and shabbier. He was made with ground nut shells. This helped him have more weight and stay in bed at night better than other stuffed animals. But by now his nut shells had turned into nut dust. His eyebrows looked ready to fall off anytime. And my, how his nose dangled from his cute brown muzzle! So, I followed the precedent that had already been set–I bought a replacement Barfey. This one had a yellow body and brown ears. (It was as close as I could find to original Barfey’s color scheme.) My mom’s first impulse is to throw things out the second she no longer has a use for them. My instinct is to keep everything. I kept both Barfeys. From here on out, they would be known as:

All the Barfeys from my scrapbook


Original Barfey = 1st Barfey (no longer with us)
Old Barfey = 2nd Barfey
New Barfey = 3rd Barfey

But New Barfey was not an adequate replacement. Not only because he lacked memories, but also nutshells. He was young and bounced out of bed too easily. New Barfey always struck me more as a stuffed animal, rather than the “real” aura that Old Barfey had. You looked into Old Barfey’s eyes, and he talked to you. Or, at least, to me.

Once I moved out on my own, I developed a fear (remember, I love to worry) of losing my Barfeys, such as in a fire or tornado or volcanic eruption. When I discovered Ebay, I found people who had Barfeys to sell. They were easier to locate when I discovered that his Dakin birth name was “Drooper”. (What a bad name!) I even ordered a few use Barfeys to have as spares. But they are not the same. There experiences were with other children. They are packed away in a drawer upstairs, while my Barfeys have a revered position of honor in my bedroom, on a high shelf, well out of reach of dogs and toddlers. Although, I did finally get a baby “Drooper” that I always wanted and my mother would never buy me. Yes, the design was so popular they even made mini ones.

Barfey is so popular, he was on a greeting card (see far left). Gibson Greetings, Inc.


At the same time I was trying to find a way to keep Barfey with me forever, I was also trying to figure out what tattoo I could get that I would never get tired of. (Do you see where this is going?) So, shortly after my 30th birthday, I had Barfey tattooed on my ankle. I wanted him to look furry and cartoony. I think it turned out wonderful.

My Barfey tattoo


As I continued to age, I felt bad that Barfey had no children in his life anymore. My green-haired friend’s niece, who was fond of me and I of her, gave me a friendship necklace. I put it on Old Barfey, to keep him connected to the wonderful childhood spirit. But, alas, she has now grown to adulthood herself.

The Velveteen Rabbit, Hanna-Barbara 1985
Robert: [to Nanny] He isn’t a toy. He’s real.
Bunny-Rabbit: I’m real. I’m real!

I have never outgrown stuffed animals (that will be a future post). I still find comfort in stroking Old Barfey’s nappy fur and feeling his nose gently rock back and forth. And he probably looks a fright to anyone but me. But I have given him so much loving, that to me, he is REAL. Like The Velveteen Rabbit.

The Velveteen Rabbit, Hanna-Barbara 1985
[By the incinerator]
Nursery Magic Fairy: I watch over all the toys who are worn out from too much loving. I will take you away and make you real.
Bunny-Rabbit: But I am real.
Nursery Magic Fairy: You were real only to the boy. Now you shall be real to everyone.

Fun Trivia Fact: Barfey co-starred in the 1978 movie Long Journey Back with Stephanie Zimbalist.


I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

9 Comments

Posted in Childhood Reminiscing, Entertainment Worship & Review and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.
← Older Posts
Newer Posts →