K-R-A-P

This is one of my favorite pictures that elicits one of my favorite childhood memories. That is a picture of me and my dad on a slide at a ‘special’ park. I’m not sure why the park was so special, maybe because we had to drive to get there. I don’t know.

Anyway, from what I remember at the ripe old age of three, is as me and my dad were sliding down, my dad’s jeans got a hole in them. For a three-year-old, that was the most funny thing that could ever happen and it just tickled me to no end. And for the 38 years or so that I’ve been looking at that picture, it makes me smile every single time.

As for the park itself, the last time I remember going there is when I was in sixth grade or so, and my dad brought me and my brother to the ‘special’ park to tell us that he and my mom were getting divorced. They ended up getting remarried (TO EACH OTHER) two and half years later. So, why did they get the damn divorce anyway? I think it was because they thought me going through puberty and starting Jr. High wasn’t stressful enough.

As for the title of this post: K-R-A-P. Yeah, another great dad story. The four of us were sitting at the kitchen table having dinner. My dad starts to tell my mom that after dinner we should go to the K-R-A-P, and then he starts making a circle with his finger in the air. My dad was being real clever with spelling where he wanted to go, and knowing that my brother and I could spell, he was using some sort of code. My mom was NOT getting it. So he just keeps spelling KRAP, and making a circle in the air with his finger, over and over and OVER. My brother and I were laughing because my dad wanted to go crap after dinner. It was hilarious. And….

It was getting him NOWHERE.

All he wanted my mother to do, was reverse the letters (hence the circle motion in the air).

K-R-A-P   =   P-A-R-K

Walking in a Winter Wonderland [with used crap]

My grandmother was a very thrifty woman. Hell, who am I kidding? She was cheap as hell. I remember eating government cheese in her house even though she could afford the good stuff. One winter, I was lucky enough to get a winter coat that she had garbage picked out of her alley. Yeah, my mom had it dry cleaned, but I still didn't like it. I was in 5th grade and it was the late 70's and those awesome Eskimo coats were the RAGE. They were a navy blue parka and had this snorkel hood that could extend out past your face and was trimmed with synthetic fur and they looked sooooo warm. I wanted one, bad. Does anyone remember these? I was stuck with the garbage picked coat. It was a rust red, and it wasn't suede, but maybe a fake suede. I hated that sucker.
One day, during recess, there was huge patch of ice on the playground, and all the kids were lining up to take their turns.... You would get a running start, and then at the edge of the ice patch, you would land on your belly, and slide for hours (minutes? seconds?) to the end of the ice patch. Awesome, right? The parka coats had a lining that was made of some nylon type of material, and those suckers slid really well. Can you see where this story is going? I lined up to take my turn for a slide on the ice patch. I had my running start, hit the edge of the ice and went to my belly. Thud. I was like the rough Velcro ball on a Velcro wall. I stuck like I was dipped in super glue. That damn garbage picked coat with its fake suede didn't slide. Not even an inch.

That day, recess sucked.