Welcome Update #63

8/19/2012

 
Rachel Flesch, Artistic Director

This week has been filled with stress for me, and I'm avoiding writing about it at every cost. Instead I'm going to share with you a story from my childhood.

I've been thinking a lot lately how I miss the easy days of school and lazy summers free to do what I want. I grew up in a neighborhood filled with kids, granted I was the oldest by about three years, but I never outgrew the fun! Summers were the absolute best, my parent's had requested that the neighborhood kids not knock on the door at sunrise, so instead they knocked on my bedroom window. Our days were always full of adventures; putting on carnivals, practicing for a Wizard of Oz play that we never put on, Pokémon battles, bike races, water wars, and wars with the neighboring street.

The two streets were night and day, us being day and them being the terrors of night. They didn't have a sidewalk so a lot of the kids would come over to our street and disrupt our turf. This was not taken lightly. What typically started as name calling, and competitive banter typically led to intense Pokémon battles. After which the loser (always the other team; they didn't have the man power and cards we had) would ride off in rage.

Within the hour they were flying back down the street at the speed of light hurling water balloons and firing off water pistols. We would squeal and hoped our costumes didn't get wet before we could hide behind the bushes. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly like that for everyone, maybe it was like that for me. Megan, a girl who is practically my sister, would storm after them in rage, typically managing to tackle someone to the ground that she'd then attempt to beat the crap out of. One of the twins would climb in the tree, rip off his shirt and hang upside down chewing on leaves and beating his chest in what I believe was supposed to be an intimidation strategy. The other one would scream at the top of his high pitched lungs and run after the enemies squealing about how they got his cowardly lion costume wet and were going to pay. My sister typically would head in the house to get mom, and once the wrath of mom was made clear, so were the streets.

Then the sun would begin to set, and our parents would call us inside for the day. The next day as the sun would rise we'd begin it all again. I miss being a kid.
 



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