Traditionally, my family celebrates holidays with board games and dominos. As soon as we finish eating, we pull out the games and play for hours on end. It has been this way since before I was born. Naturally, we have our favorites: at least one round of “chicken foot” is a requirement at any family function; “clue” has and always will be a family favorite; “family cranium” has grown slowly grown on us over the years. However, just as any tradition, we have to spice it up every year to prevent the transition into boring routine.
I would barely sleep throughout the night because at every little noise I would want to get up and catch Santa in the act; Although, my parents were very good at hiding his identity and it took me many years to finally catch "Santa". At around six in the morning, when the sun would finally start peaking over Sunrise mountain, my older brother would run and jump on me in excitement, it was something I looked forward to. My brother made the holidays the best experiences. He would tell me a story on how Santa was just there and how I missed him, then we would proceed to look through our stockings and try to guess what the presents were. It was always a magical experience to walk into our beautiful front room, all decorated with twinkly lights and gifts that were not there the night before, and see what was left for us.
Next on our list is to get my dad’s 1998 Ford Windstar serviced to make sure that it will transport us our desired destination, because it would be catastrophic if we did not make it. As was almost the case on year when we had van trouble, fortu... ... middle of paper ... ... dad’s family in Indiana, I know that there is nowhere else I would rather be. To see the sights, to smell the smells and to live the moments is something that is very dear to me. Maybe it is the fact that I can go the entire week without a shirt on and not be looked down upon; maybe it is only having to eat, sleep, and live; or maybe it is the time that I spend with my dad’s side of the family. I do not know the exact reason why, but I know that the time spent at the Graver campout is something to behold and cherished by all.
One of my fondest memories was every summer we would rent a house in Avalon and my whole Moms side of the family would go down; Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents, you name it and we were all there. My Moms youngest brother, my Uncle Rich, was always making everything we did ten times better and ten times more fun. He was one of us, a kid at heart. For every time my Mom said no to something, he’d always be the one to say go ahead Noelle I’ll cover for you and then catch up. We would play for hours upon hours just the two of us and I felt like I was on top of the world every time.
Two years later after the company went bankrupt, and yet he's still not happy. Imagine that. There really is no end to the event that changed my life. Everything from that point on I can remember it like my own phone number. I could recite so many things that my mom has told me, but I will spare you, it's not that important anyway.
My sugary images of sweet-smelling muffin day smiles and chocolate colored ponytails bouncing on Dad’s knee were burnt when my husband took out a stopwatch. Over and over again he pressed them on weekly spelling words. This is muffin day? This is fun? I told him it was “unfun” and sad.
About the only fun the church ever had were lotteries, but even those were rare. Also the town liked one-upping each other with outrageous pranks. Phineas Taylor, who was Barnum's grandfather, was one of the most notorious jokers in Bethel and also one of the richest men. His longest running joke would be on Barnum. At the boys cresting, he deeded Barnum a piece of land called Ivy Island.
There would always be a couple of cars that drove by but they never stopped. Mr. Grouche never ran into problems in the three years he was dumping the barrels in and around old Johnson creek, which runs through one of Atco's biggest residential areas, and he didn't suspect Mr. Hazal would be a problem he was just trying to make a few extra bucks. Many years later, October 16th, 1992 "Well Mrs. Jones, I don't like to be the one who tells you this but the test are back for your son Chris and it is not good news. It seems he is full of cancer and he doesn't have very long to live." Dr. Holly says very concerned.
I was only six or seven at the time and I would watch as he and my brother, three years my elder, spent a lot of time in front of the computer staring at this pretty blue and green map with blinking pictures that did things which were largely incomprehensible to me. Naturally, I was rather jealous of the attention my brother was getting and I quickly decided I was going to play, too. No matter that I had no idea what I was doing. Over the years, with my father’s help, I eventually came to understand the game and I haven’t looked back since. In the years since then, though I’ve on occasion tried some of the sequels, I’ve always come back to CIV I.
It’s all about time, and sometimes it can’t be controlled. Our whole lives, from the time we are born until now, has revolved around the concept and thought of time. No matter how much we’d hate to admit it, we truly depend on time. Even if we try to escape time, it will always come back to haunt us. It can’t be stopped; it is the reason why we age and always have the stress of being and turning things in on time.