The course of day to day life when I was small was usually quite pleasing. To say that the world was my oyster would be accurate. Whimsy and mimsy were to be expected. Our sidewalks, leading toward the red Governor's Mansion, were red Slate. So when my little brother rode on his bullet-shaped vacuum cleaner/train each joint in the sidewalk made the appropriate clackety-clack sound and the wheels sort of created train-on-the-track noise as he went. David was usually deeply engaged in whatever endeavor he chose, a wrinkle of concentration on his brow as he imagined his role of engineer.
Mary Beth, my beautiful big sister had curly chestnut brown hair and a matched set of beautiful dimples. She was old enough to take the bus to her tap lessons at the YMCA. As with my brother, I was fascinated and in awe of her beauty,capabilities and accomplishments. We must have walked to school together although I remember that I walked home from pre-school and kindergarten alone.
My birthday came in late November, but because at the time, Colorado allowed enrollment from Jan-Dec of the year you were born, I was allowed to start preschool at age 3 and kindergarten at age 4. To say the least, many of my classmates were nearly a year older than I. It was some 7-8 blocks but I don't remember feeling lost or afraid, because I knew the street signs and landmarks.
Our proximity to the Capitol put us in prime seats for some excellent side shows. The sounds of a marching band drew me outside one spring morning, and I ventured to the corner east of us on Washington Street to look toward Grand Street, about 5 blocks away, where the parade was taking place. The green canopy of trees momentarily blocked my view but instead of a parade toward the north, just to the south I caught the astonishing vision of an Indian--that is, a Native American--in full War Bonnet and sitting atop or a beautiful brown horse. His horse had undoubtedly become nervous with the brash sounds of the band. Several yards behind him were two more of his tribe, less regally dressed and sitting motionless on their horses waiting for this one to calm. They all looked steadily, silently at me.
Even at 4, I thought to myself, "No one is going to believe this." After a moment I turned on my heel and ran to get my brother, calling his name as I went--and alerting the horsemen that trouble was surely coming. By the time I returned with him they had vanished, and I was left with an indelible, incredible memory.
Our mother took every advantage of the resources close by. We were enrolled in Brownies and Girl Scouts as soon as eligible. School field trips included the Colorado History Museum, Molly Brown's Museum, a trip to the Denver Mint. One special class trip was to the Hull House Museum, privately owned by the grandfather of a classmate. I was impressed to see baskets woven so tightly by the Native Americans that they held water. A beautiful white doeskin dress was displayed. Sadly, at the Museum of Natural History at that time, the bodies of Cliff Dwellers were still on display,including that of a child, and I remember thinking if I were dead I would not want my body put on display.
The Girl Scouts took us to the Supreme Bakery where Girl Scout Cookies were made. We went from room to giant room where great rollers cut quilt-sized sheets of dough into shapes with delicate impressions. In one room the creme was added to sheets of crisp wafers in various colors from a plastic tube descending from the ceiling. A woman with a hairnet controlled the flow of the white goo with a foot press.
Our guide was droning on about something and the other Brownies had their heads turned and listening attentively but I was quite interested in the goo dispenser, which had, to the consternation of its operator, stopped dispensing goo. It was just at a level with her head. She stooped beneath it and attempted to dislodge a clump with a wooden tool. Still nothing came out, so she placed her face beneath it to look for the problem just as....well,I don't have to write it, do I? I elbowed the Brownie standing next to me with her head pointed toward the boring tour guide.
She hissed at me while I kept my eyes fixed on the exasperated goo operator who was mopping her face with a rag. I looked around and not one of the other girls had seen! Why was I always the only one who noticed things??!!
The Museum of Natural History was so familiar to me that I could anticipate which room was coming up next. How could our eyes see enough of beautiful amethyst and rose quartz? The 12 foot long core samples that lay in the floors showed an amazing array of geological formations. Crystals in abundance, collections of staggering proportions all lay before us to absorb.
We lived in a wonderful world where there were so many insects, particularly beetles, moths, and butterflies, that Victorian collectors had sorted and classified them by rooms full. Our parents loved to take us there, and to the Denver Zoo. On one visit I observed a polar bear walk out in the summer heat to perch on a rock, but as soon as his bottom hit the surface of the rock he sprang up and jumped into the water. No stranger to cartoons at the age of 4, I burst into laughter and explained what had happened: "The bear sat down on the rock, set his hiney on fire, and made his britches smoke!"
T-Rex was a companion who followed me to the mountains. When we went to Evergreen for breakfasts with our extended family, my siblings and I climbed on and around him, his flesh frozen in rock formations, his bones displayed at the museum below on the prairie. During those years the sounds of the mountains were that of wind through a thousand trees, and water rushing over rock. From Red Rocks you could see a grassy expanse that led to a distant city. But we were within the walls of the mountain fortress, where granite and quartz made climbers of otherwise sane men, and where roads wound in predictable, tight turns, taking you higher and higher, past buffalo that spoke of days not long ago and streams that turned into rushing rivers below.
We ate and drank of the feast before us. Anything was possible.
No wonder, during my early years in Texas, you said that Colorado was home and that it was beautiful and magical. I remember the sparkle in your eyes as you told me of the magnificence of the mountains and the longing in each story.
ReplyDeleteThat is hilarious that the gal got goo all over her face! I would have laughed out loud!!