Funny Farm: Bits of a Childhood

There are pieces of my childhood that seem stolen from a novel. Pieces that have overwhelmingly shaped my existence in ways I still have yet to understand; they tend to fade into the background, but on occasion the right song will play, or a scent will come over a field, or someone makes a reference, and everything comes rushing back.

When I was much younger, probably Aurora's age, when my parents were still married, my mother was a bit of a musician. She played guitar and oh my could she sing. And we had friends who were involved in our lives in so many ways. The Hunts. They owned horses, like we did, and Glenda gave riding lessons and worked with my dad at the hospital, and Jack shod our horses. And they had two girls that were almost identical ages to Chelsea (Erin) and me (Lindsey). And Jack also played and sang.

And somehow a party was created. I was far too young to know many details but I've pieced some things together. One summer we headed to Coeur d'Alene, to Parker's place, and met up with the Hunts and lots of other people from Washington and Oregon and California, like Marty and Dan, and hung out in barns. and danced around camp fires, and stayed up late listening and singing.

And, oh, the dirty jokes. Not that I got most of them, but I got enough. And Dan, Dan the harmonica man.. I tend to crush on harmonica and banjo players, to this day. And we sang. We sang things like:







Songs that define my childhood also are from our weeks long jam sessions, like Tracy Chapman's Fast Car, Puff the Magic Dragon, and The Judd's Grandpa Tell Me Bout the Good Old Days.

And then we built a house out in Parma. And a couple of years later new neighbors moved in, and they raised sheep. And one wild summer we invited all our musician friends to the "Funny Farm Jam Session".

Lots of late nights, lots of drinking, and lots and lots of singing. And breakfasts! oh, I love getting a mini-screwdriver in the morning and feeling so grown up as my 8(?)-year-old self firted shamelessly with the cute men (I'm pretty sure mom still has a picture of me in Dan's hat and sunglasses, one of my crowning moments of "Funny Farm").

It was also the first time I learned about the worm in the bottom of a tequila bottle. And I don't think I will ever forget the amazing feats of trickery and dancing around as so many adults tried to Not get that worm. It was Denny, by the way, that eventually accidently drank it and then spit it out into the mud while I stood nearby giggling and shuddering.

I only now can appreciate what my mother, at the time "slightly" anal retentive, must of gone through to allow so many untameable crazies in her house.

We had rules, you see; very important rules. Rules that included no shoes in the house and no food in the living room. But we hosted this 2 week long drunk fest anyway. And they followed the rules. Really they did.

And so November 8: today I am grateful for all the interesting experiences I was allowed to have as a child, which helped create my fun-loving, music enjoying, dancing no matter who is looking or where we are self.