(no picture for today. )
Tonight my husband told me a story of when he was a little kid --7-years-old.
His little friend had gotten in trouble and wanted to run away. He talks my husband into coming too. My husband packs a little suitcase (I don't exactly know why but --that's so him.). They start walking. They decide to walk to this one town (It's a good ways away.).
Halfway there, they see a guy cutting a dead oak into slices for tabletops (very popular in the 70s). They cross the freeway (only two lanes then), and ask him for water. He gives them some but says the container had gas in it earlier so they should only swish it around to wet their mouths. He probably spies the suitcase (by this time it's getting dark), and asks where the two of 'em are headed. The friend pipes up, "My grandma's." The guy offers them a ride.
They get to the town. The friend picks out a house at random. They get out of the car, go up to the house and knock. The guy waits in his car and watches. A little old lady answers the door. They say, "Grandma!" She says, "Do I know you?" So close. They each call their parents. The guy drives them home. The friend gets in a whole heap of trouble this time. My husband's dad had been scared out of his mind. . . Crazy.
Staind, "Epiphany"
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=eVFlJrtKV6k
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3 comments:
This story reminds me of my father and the crap he put my mother through. When my Dad was little he roamed around a lot (think age 5), at the time they lived in Washington and the lumber industry was still big. My Dad often got picked up the lumber semis and they would drop him off at the house. But it just got worse, he would get picked up by the police who then bought him ice cream and then tell the police the wrong way to get to his house so that he would get more ice cream. My poor grandmother had to deal with this as her first child.
I know that must've been hell for your grandmother, but I think that's a great story. . .
Ha ha, both of these stories are great! :)
I never ran away. Seemed like too much work.
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