My friend Melanie may recall some of the creative ways I lived my life when I was younger. She was my partner in crime on more than one occasion and helped me with my plans and schemes.
My father is a former Marine turned Air Force, and for those of you who have lived completely civilian lives, this is a recipe for childhood disaster. My father was not just strict, he was irrational. If my room did pass his cleanliness inspection, I would surely still get into trouble for not vacuuming the hallway to prevent the dirt and dust from creeping into my room.
My dirt was not his only enemy. He was quite sure that teenagers were all evil and up to something. I was not allowed to just go to dances or hang out with friends. I could go to all of my sporting and music events and school sponsored field trips. All of these things were supposed to have adult supervision.
I now see as a parent that I did have freedom to be in safe places, but at the time, I was sure that I was just a trapped little soul. Poor me. So I came up with a plan. My father was a computer programmer for the military so there were always plenty of computers at home. Nice printers and lots of access because he was sure that I would be the next Steve Wozniak or something. My plan did not seem so smart at the time, and I was fairly sure I would get caught, but somehow, I never did. I used my dad's computer to type up detailed permission slips with a monetary requirement. I was only give $40 per month allowance at that time and my adventures were going to cost money. Train, hovercraft, ferry, hotel, food... it adds up
The first time I was just shocked. I could barely enjoy myself as I was constantly looking over my shoulder, certain he would be there. After a few more, it just became normal. If I wanted to do something new, I typed a permission slip to the Natural History Museum in London, or some other plausible place in England.
When I was 25 years old, my dad was looking through my old passport. Surely he had done this before, right? Apparently not. He asked me, "How did you get all of these stamps?"
I didn't really want to answer, as I wasn't sure how funny he would find it, so I asked, "How did you get yours?" He laughed so I told him what I used to do.
Just as a Public Service Announcement...There is NOT a good time to tell your parents some things. Some things are better left behind. My dad didn't even look like he was breathing. Now that I have children, I know why. I'm sure in that moment, his mind flashed to all of the horrible things that could have happened to me as I was traipsing around Europe on my own. He never did laugh about it, and we really don't talk about it now. When I was younger, I really thought I was doing them a favor by not worrying them. Now I just pray that my girls are not quite so creative with their time.
I do not even have that passport anymore. I think he kept it. I would not trade most of those experiences for his vision for my life at that time, but I would go back in time and maybe not give so much detail when he flipped through my passport. Oddly enough, there was one place I really wanted to go and never did make the trip, because he was the only one I trusted to go with me. He was not able to go to Russia with me due to his job. In the '80's programmers just were not able to go to Russia for fun. As the '80's were such a volatile time between the US and USSR, maybe I was playing it safer than anyone thought. I could have gone and made a fortune selling my jeans. It would have paid for several more adventures.
Someday I will go and stand in Red Square and take pictures of St Basils Cathedral. It's a different environment now, but maybe my dad will go with me anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment