I'm feeling chatty today, so I thought about another entry.
I've been called Bee for as long as I can remember. I hazily recall sneaking out from my room (sort of?), to sit under the table early, while mom made coffee and busied herself in the kitchen, and dad drank coffee and read the sports page. Sitting under the table, I remember making noises, though I don't recall what. Did I chirp like a bird, or buzz like a bee? I was 6! How am I to remember. All I can recall is that mom and dad acted surprised. They talked amongst themselves about the weird noise, looking all over to find the source, and suddenly dad would look under the tablecloth where I was sitting under the table, giggling uncontrollably.
Bee has always been my nickname. I've worn a bracelet on my arm for many years that says simply "Bee". Pat calls me "Little Bee". It's something special between us, that warms my childlike heart.
I've always been scared to death of bee's, though I reacall no particular event where I was stung.
I do recall a few things, from when we lived on Doliva Drive in San Diego, and we drove a white buick.
I recall watching a video where dad asks the three kids to say hello to grandpa. The three of us run around like maniacs actually looking for Grandpa, instead of realizing that dad means to say hello to the camera! How crazy we were.
I recall when mom and dad smoked. Mom and her friend (Linda I think it was? We watched the Mother Goose parade with her family...she always smelled funny), were smoking outside, and put out their cigarette, and me, being a good little girl, imitated them stamping out their cigs, but only, with my bare feet, and on the butts that were lying there. I remember mom fussing over my hurt foot, though I don't recall the pain.
I recall falling from our Red Flyer wagon onto the hill that enveloped our backyard fence, and being bitten all over by red ants!
I recall Bob Hood riding my dad's moped and crashing the mirror into the fence!
I recall scaring my Aunt Becky to death by showing her my hamster at the time, named Fuzzy Wuzzy. Mom and dad always laughed over that one. Aunt Becky never let me talk about it without telling me to be good and not talk about it.
I recall eating pumpkin seeds, and milk! While watching The Munsters. If you didn't drink milk after eating so many pumpkin seeds, something bad would happen. Though I don't recall if it was having your ears, or nose grow. I remember Bartles and James Wine Coolers, and dad would let us have a sip of forbidden adult drinks. I also remember buttermilk. I tried it a few years ago, with salt, as I remember dad drinking it. Dad, what in the world were you thinking? YUCK!!
I remember my hamster disappearing. Beth and Nathan told me once that Fuzzy Wuzzy run away, and mom and dad had burried him across the road, not wanting me to continue looking for him.
I remember vaguely, Vacation Bible School at the church across the street. I only remember some kid named Keith really, that chased me around during recess.
I remember the high school across the street, and flying kites during the summer in the baseball field there with dad.
I remember T-ball and how I hated it. The kids were snobs, my parents were my coaches, and though they taught well, I'd have rather been doing something else. It was a good experience I guess. I learned not to punch other kids when my parents were looking.
But all through it I remember one constant. I have always been Becky Bee. I guess I always will be. I don't know if it was because of my name and initals? Rebecca B.? Or if, because my aunt's name was Becky, it was to distinguish it, though I never got that impression. Bee has always been who I am. I hope it always will be.
Many years ago, during a trip to Disneyland I got a bracelet that was etched with the name "Bee" and a tigger pin pushed into it. I lost it, long after. Though I wore it day in and day out. During our trip to Walt Disney World in January, I saw the same bracelet stand, and ordered another, this time with Tigger and Tinkerbell. I wear it every day. It's almost as much a part of my as my engagement ring. What a trip!
Off to make sure the house looks nice for when Pat arrives home. I remember that from growing up too! And rabbits at the Elgar plant where dad used to work.
