Growing Up Ivy - Part 1

I am stealing ideas. I got the above title a long time ago from FTS . He suggested it to me for something - I can't remember what - but I liked the title and it got stuck in the back of my mind (and also in my draft posts). I just didn't know what to do with it until today.

I got another idea from Carlos, who posts a "Memory Du Jour" below many of his entries. Since I haven't felt much like writing lately, I'm just going to relate a childhood memory each day until I get out of this funk. Only I'm going to cleverly disguise mine with a slightly different title so I won't be a complete copycat.

No guarantee that anything I remember will be hilarious, or even funny. Especially no guarantee that there will be a point to the story. I'm just recording random childhood memories, that's all.

Today's "Memory of the Day":

We lived in Bossier City, Louisiana. I think I was in the second grade, which would have made my baby brother about 4 years old. Granny and Grandpa let us ride in the back of their camper up to the department store with them. Leaving the Gibson's parking lot, I pointed out the back of the camper, and said to my brother, "Hey, isn't that mom and dad?" I knew full well that I was tricking him, but had no idea what the consequences would be. He ran for the back door to look out at the same time that Grandpa stepped on the gas and pulled the truck out onto the road. Little brother hit the door handle, kind of like a storm door that you just push the latch, and the door flew open. Mikey fell out onto the pavement as Granny and Grandpa drove on unaware. I banged on the window between us, but there were really TWO windows. That of the camper, and the one to the back of the pickup. Apparently they could hear me, because Granny turned around with an evil glare and told me to shut up and sit down. I read her lips. Oh yeah, and her arm pointing at me violently indicating that I should sit.

But someone managed to get their attention (I guess some other driver) because they pulled back in to the Gibson's parking lot to collect my baby brother from the ground, shrieking and wailing.

We took him home for mom to clean him up, and it turned out that he had two busted lips with little bits of gravel embedded in them. I remember that what amazed me the most was that even though his jaw trembled with the crying and sobbing, every now and then he would chomp a bit more on the chewing-gum that had managed to stay in his mouth.