Saturday, April 15, 2006

The Formative Years

So, I was just lying in bed pondering how I could solve the photo problem on my blog. As you may have noticed, the photos are very small. I used to post bigger pictures but it takes soooo long and is frequently just an exercise in frustration to even try because the line disconnects before they post, so now I just post the little ones. I don’t know where exactly the problem sits - in my total lack of tech knowledge (very very likely), with the blogger system for accessing photos (probably not since a lot of other bloggers don’t seen to have a photo problem), or with our “home technology center”.

That’s it, the technology hub of Maberga. The cell phone on the side of the computer is our connection to the internet…we don’t have a phone line here in Maberga.





As I was lying there in bed pondering this, a song suddenly popped into my head:

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port,
Aboard this tiny Ship.

The mate was a mighty sailin' man,
The Skipper brave and sure,
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour.

A three hour tour. [ sound of thunder: crack! ]

Yes, that is the theme song from Gilligan’s Island.

So as I was singing and got to this part,


No phone(s)!
No light(s)!
No motor car(s)!
Not a single luxury,
Like Robinson C-ru-soe,
it's primitive as can be.
So join us here each week my friends,
You're sure to get a smile,
From ( For ) seven stranded castaways,
Here on "Gilligan's Isle."

Suddenly it all made sense to me…my life that is.

Let me explain …Sometimes (frequently) I find myself actively, deeply, enthralled in some random situation and I pause for a minute, look around and think, “where AM I and HOW did I get here?!” This happens in the most amazing range of situations – when I’m dancing the tarantella on New Year’s Eve in a warehouse in Taggia, when I’m chatting with women who are cleaning pig intestines in my kitchen sink, when I’m driving to work and it’s the most gorgeous bit of coastal road on the Mediterranean, when I'm hanging from an olive tree on a sunny afternoon with an aching body from too much picking, and when I am standing in it taping the shit tube back together – just to list a few. In fact, probably THE reason I enjoy living here and the way we do is because I find myself asking that question so much.

Flashback with me a minute to 1976, 201 Pearson Dr., Lake Geneva, WI – 4:00pm on a Tuesday:
Here we see a 7 year old Lynn, sitting in from of the tv, one sticky index finger dipping into a package of uncooked orange jello*. After a small argument with big sis, Laur about whether we will watch Gilligan or Emergency (Gilligan usually won because I would promise not to tell mom that we were eating jello again - as if she wouldn't notice our neon-colored fingers when she came home from work!**), and the song starts...


“Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, "

I tuned into Gilligan every day (not “week” like the song suggests - they were reruns at this point). I loved that show. Those 7 folks seemed to have so many interesting experiences, so many things to figure out, problems to solve, there was so much for them to do…and nothing at all. What a way to live!***

Back to Maberga, 2006. So many interesting experiences, so many things to figure out, problems to solve, there is so much to do…and nothing at all. What a way to live.

The formative years.

*For those of you who don’t know, you can eat the jello right out of the pack – it’s exactly like that candy that you can buy with the flavoured powers that you dip a licked sweet-tart into.

**I do not want to give the impression here that my sister and I were some kind of “poor latch-key kids”, neglected and alone to fend for ourselves. We did come home alone and were that way for one episode of Gilligan and one episode of I dream of Jeannie until mom would come home from a long day of teaching and be thoroughly engaged with us, dinner, homework, games, etc.

***Please don’t anyone point out to me that the whole point of the show was that they spent all their time trying to get off the island because, PLEASE, if they really wanted to they would have figured it out.

3 comments:

  1. Anonymous5:24 PM

    ARE YOU KIDDING ME, LYNN?!?!?!? That is the best blog yet. I got to thinkin' I have been fortunate enough to witness a few of your stop in your tracks, blank stares. I've often wondered if you were having a mini stroke or perhaps a gas bubble, but I'm THOROUGHLY relieved that you were simply contemplating life and how you got to who and where you are. WOW!! I always knew you were little more intense than me, but that just goes over the edge. Now I've been thinking, and I've come to the realization that I need a drink, and it's only 10:30 in the am. Thanks!! I wonder how many of those jello packets we went through?!?! I wonder if mom ever wondered what in the world was happening to them. You were a pain inthe ass as a kid!!!! I wouldn't have changed ANY of it for anything!! I think we turned out half way decent-- don't you?

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  2. olive---i agree with anonymous--the best blog you've written--BY FAR!!! can't believe that mom and i produced a child with a personality and/or temperament like yours. i think tho that you get your brains from mom and you get that unbelievable personality from "the boss"

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  3. olive - This description of the formative years is delightful -especially to one who might like to be considered one of the "informers". Eating Jello from the box is not all bad. Good source of protein as well as sugar for the energy required to maintain the busy growing up schedule. Still like the use of the term "viscosity" on the last blog.

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