I’ve been thinking about how to start blogging my memories ever since I wrote about them last week. Today I was chatting online briefly with a friend from High School. We’ve actually gotten to know each other better since we graduated than we ever knew each other as classmates. I mentioned that I blended in with the walls pretty well in school because I was so shy. I suppose his response shouldn’t have surprised me but in a way it still did to read that he remembered that about me. I guess that part of me is so changed into the person I am now that I’ve always hoped others would forget it too. But it’s part of me and it’s what’s on the brain right now so I’ll share a few memories of that quiet kid I used to be.

I have to preface all of this with a constant question in my mind. It’s one of those “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop? The world may never know.” kind of questions. I’ve always wondered how my life might have been different if I’d lived in different places, or more specifically not moved when I was a young girl. You see, when I was born and up to the ripe old age of 7, my family lived in Preston, Idaho. Now if you’ve seen Napoleon Dynamite you’re going to be laughing your backside off about my internal struggle but I’ll share it all the same.

My parents owned and operated the Plaza Motel which was right next door to the Popp’n Pins bowling alley. My mom and dad are probably amazed right now that I pulled that name out of the archives so easily. But I actually remember a lot about those years in Preston. I especially remember Kindergarten and first grade. I remember that I was a cute little girl that was well liked by her classmates. I didn’t have any enemies or kids that were mean to me. In fact, I remember very specifically laying our coats down against the wall of our first grade classroom during the winter as there were no hooks on our wall. Several boys had a habit of burying mine with theirs. One day, I remember Ricky coming up to me and asking me if I knew why so many boys put their coats on top of mine and when I said no he explained they did it because they liked me and thought I was cute. I blushed as deep a pink as my dress but inside I glowed like a thousand watt bulb with the compliment. I remember catching him looking at me with a big grin more than once and loving every moment of it. I have a similar memory of Kindergarten and my mom switching from the half day every day to the all day every other day program for a short time. When I went back to my half day class I was grabbed up in the biggest bear hug by one of the girls who exclaimed with glee, “Oh goody, goody gumdrops!” over and over. I can still hear her in my head. Further, my peers perceived that my family was rich because they owned the motel. Which was one of like four businesses in the entire town. Okay maybe more than four but again, have you seen Napoleon? The point is, the perception, or at least my interpretation of it, was that I was one of those popular kids - well liked, privileged, etc. If we had never moved I may have been a smug Summer Wheatly (sp?) kind of girl.

As it turns out, my parents sold the motel and moved to a small farming community after my first grade year. The closest town was Rexburg, about 8 miles away. While I was delighted that we finally had our own home everything changed. No one knew me or my family, they didn’t own any landmarks and consequently big changes were in the cards. I was a nobody, a new kid, an outsider. While the kids of my “neighborhood” readily accepted me and were kind with fun friendships forming, the kids at school were not. For a child who never experienced a move, doing it for the first time at age seven was brutal. Most of the kids at school in my class were mean and made no bones about not accepting me as the outsider. I got ‘new girl’ sneers and jeers to my face as well as behind my back, and I was excluded from circles of friends along with their games and activities. I was too young to know if I had tough or weak skin, I just knew I was very confused because this was so opposite of what I’d known in school previously. I wasn’t a totally ninny because I remember yelling one day to most of the class that maybe I’d move back where I came from anyway and then they’d be happy and so would I! It wasn’t until I broke the ice playing the coveted sport of soccer at recess that I was accepted as one of the group. For the record, one aspect the movie got right about Preston is the sport…tether ball was the only thing outside rollerskating I’d had exposure to. But the good news is I had a knack for it and I was pretty good, comparatively speaking, so from that point on things took a positive turn.

By the time I was my daughter’s age, in fourth grade, things were much closer to the life I’d known in Preston and I was happy. I even had a boyfriend, and he was one of the popular and privileged, “rich” kids whose daddy was a big name farmer in the area. Remember how association acceptance worked? When you’d be accepted in different social circles just for who your friends were? Oh wait, that’s not a thing of the past. Never mind. Anyway, aside from the petty girl games that come with the age and a few rough patches with it, life was good. That’s when the next blow struck. I was uprooted again when all the kids my age were combined into one big sixth grade class at a middle school in town.

Sixth grade changed everything…again. I was now another face in a classroom of kids I’d never met, this time things were more equal but still really intimidating. Most of us were new to each other. However, that year largely defined the rest of our school experience, reputations and friends. Worse was I lost my association powers because my friends and I were separated into different homeroom classes. In fact, after a few weeks of school my best friend informed me that she’d found a new best friend and so couldn’t be my friend anymore. It was a sign of things to come because I never again associated with those early friends from grade school. I’ve always regretted that. But I fell back into a pattern of quiet uncertainty. I met one new friend that became my bosom buddy through the worst years of my life - a.k.a. Junior High. But the pattern of quiet was set and wouldn’t budge much until I got involved in drama my last couple years of High School.

It’s funny looking back because I see a recurring pattern of starting new, rising to the challenge and starting over. I’m not the shy, quiet and insecure girl I was in school anymore but I remember her very well. There’s a lot more to me being quiet than I can share here and this is already a book so I’ll close and save the other thoughts for another day. Suffice it to say there are good things about being quiet too.

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