Tell me another story

It really hasn’t taken me as long as I thought to catch up with French speakers. More honestly, it ebbs and flows. On our first weekend here we went to Disneyland Paris. During the pre-show on the Tower of Terror, I’m pretty sure they were saying “Le Quatrième Dimension (the Fourth Dimension)” instead of “the Twilight Zone”. When we see anything that we “can’t explain” (like the picture of the Le Tour Eiffel a la gauche), we’ve entered “Le Quatrieme Dimension”.

However, today I did speak with the twin’s prospective soccer coach — he spoke less English than my French, but were able to arrange an appointment at 5pm tomorrow. I had left him a message earlier, spelling out where I got his name, the age of children, etc. We’ll keep you posted…I’ve got numbers (mostly) down; now I must learn the days of the week…

For a couple of weeks, mostly on Sundays while we’re walking to the train station, Julian has asked “tell me another story [from my childhood].” Yesterday, I told him two: The Incredible Lies of Chris Prysock and The Ice Cream Incident of 1978 (also known as The Day I Lost All Respect for Frank Warren). Pour vous:

Chris Prysock lived across the street from us; he was 1 year older than me. They were not the atypical Ewers Drive family: divorced mom and 2 boys living with grandma. This made them “weird” as everyone else was the standard 2 parent, 2 kid, 2 car family. As a child, we often vacationed for a week in Florida. Upon our return one year, we learned what we had missed from Chris Prysock: “a Salvation Army tank went down the street” (we knew good and well that this was BS). When I started the story, I asked the kids if they knew what the Salvation Army was; they really didn’t know.

If you recall, the Miami Dolphins of the early 70s were the best football team. As a result, Chris had also told us that his mom was dating BOTH Bob Griese (quarterback of the Dolphins) AND Mercury Morris (besides the fact that this was untrue: she commuted to Miami?, it was also outrageous as he was African American). Interesting differences between the 70s and today…at least half of the nation grows out of it…

Ewers Drive was a flat, straight street. Garber Road, the adjacent street, had a slight incline above Ewers and and steeper incline below it. We would ride our bikes up the slight incline and glide down no-handed. One summer day I was doing this on my Schwinn Santa Fe WHILE eating an ice cream cone – going about 1 mph. Outta nowhere, like a bat out of hell, comes Chris Prysock. About 7 feet out, he says “watch out” and clips my back wheel, knocking me flat on my back. I start yelling at Chris. Because of Chris’ “weird, sub-standard” upbringing, Frank Warren did all he could to “support” Chris. I explained that I was going 1 mph and that Chris hit me. Frank points out, “well, you were eating an ice cream cone.” I’m sure I spent about 5 minutes asserting that I was wronged, but Frank defended Chris, as he always did. That was enough for me.

Categories: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

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3 thoughts on “Tell me another story

  1. Karen Hoffmeier

    I hope you are okay after the terrible things that happened to you in your childhood. Do you know what happened to Chris and Frank? I don’t remember those names on the wedding invitations. Always good to hear from you. Hope the soccer team works out for the kids. Should be an interesting couple of weeks ahead for all of you!!!

  2. Kelley

    We have been hearing these stories, off and on, all day (for me, years). It’s funny what we can get passionate about. Now, if I could only get Julie and Kathie to believe that I did NOT steal the Barbie doll wedding dress.

  3. Colleen Hartman

    This reminds me of a story that happened in my childhood but to Jack’s friend who was also named Jack. Our farm home was a good deal higher than Hwy 25 below so there was a very steep bank to play on. It seems that Jack ( the friend.. so let’s call him Jack W.) Anyway, Jack W. had in his back pants pocket, fire crackers and matches, both of which neither boy should have had. Jack W. was sliding down on his rear, the steep bank at a rather rapid rate and became afraid that the matches would ignite and therefore set off the firecrackers so he took his jeans off in the middle of Hwy 25. No butt burn and firecrackers intact. too bad, it would have made the story more interesting. I did ‘t have such an exciting life. Have Karen tell you about lighting fire to the cat’s tail tale. It’s much more interesting. :>) You had some unique neighbors. :>)

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