Pack Your Stuff - It's Time to Go

The day the state social worker showed up at the foster home and said to my brother and me,"Get in the car, it's time to go," we had no idea what he was talking about. No one explained to us that we were being adopted. Or maybe they did and we didn't understand it. If they did, I don't think it counts since it went right over our heads. Sort of like just because you explain the birds and the bees once to your child, doesn't mean they have a clue what sex is. I wouldn't stake the possibility of my future status as a grandparent on one conversation, especially if the sex education lecture was delivered by a stranger, not someone familiar to my child.

Anyway....for all of you hoping that adoption was a step up from the foster home for Ezra and me, here is where we landed in Eugene, Oregon, 110 miles south of Portland:

The only thing I will say about this house is it wasn't a positive place for Ezra and I.

 What saved me while living with our adopted family in Eugene, was the field across the street. Amazingly enough, 40 years later, it is pretty much the same: 

The big tree on the edge of the field is a weeping willow. When I was 7, it was a majestic specimen. It looks like the years have been hard on it, but it is still standing. The tree and I have a lot in common on that front. All six of us kids in our adoptive family spent hours playing in that tree. The climbing skills I learned on the streets in Portland were honed to perfection in the weeping willow. There was no fence around the empty field when I was kid. In the summer the field was only mowed once or twice. Most of the time the grass was tall enough we could easily hide without ducking down. The field was our playground because we were allowed to be outside after our chores were done, but we needed to be close enough that we could hear when Virginia stuck her head out the screen door on the covered driveway and yelled our names. When that happened, it was usually bad news.

The other best thing of my childhood was the white building on the right side of the photo. This the back side of it, but on the front side, facing Hwy 99, was an auto parts store that gave out free STP oil stickers if we asked for them. So of course, we kids asked for stickers every day. The clerks were polite to us kids, but you could tell we were a pain in their sides.

In the far distance of the photo, in the center, is a building with pointy roofs. Somewhere in there is the sweet part of childhood; a Dairy Queen store where if Virginia felt generous, we could get a chocolate- covered Dilly Bar for a quarter.

Ahhhh.....the Good Old Days.