Thank God for the Mid-90s

So a friend from my church youth group growing up tagged a bunch of old photos on myspace and I was cracking up laughing at these. Thought I'd share me and friends, circa 1994 or so.

That would be me and good ol' Mattie V, a friend since (gulp) Kindergarten. Wow. He's now the Area Director in Winchester, VA. And is married with two kids.

A youth group sleepover in Maryland, when the boys were supposed to use a giant tent that Kelly brought but she forgot to pack the poles so they used it as a tarp over a picnic table. It was quite funny. Holly, Kelly, Erica, Brandon, Matt, Rachel, and me in the very back. I had braces and wouldn't smile because I hated them. I didn't smile for 4 years. I think is also the trip where Matt and I played guitar and with Rachel sang "Kid Fears" by the Indigo Girls cuz Matt could sing Michael Stipe's part. Awesome.

Calm Down, Make a List

When I was in high school and all sorts of shit was hitting all sorts of fans, my friend Megan Mackin and I made list of things to be happy about. This was 1996 or so.
I still have this list.
The original copy.
I still read this list periodically.
It calms me.
When I was in college, in the midst of another storm of fecal proportions, I continued to work on this list of things to be happy about. I was looking for a quote in one of my journals yesterday when I found that list from college (the quote was, “Facts are not pleasant things to rub into your dreams when you're dreaming, but they are mighty pleasant things when you're living.” --From Enos Mills' “Adventures of a Nature Guide” and it was in an entirely different journal). It was astounding to read that list—it's a little over seven years old, but so much of it I still believe. I thought I'd post a portion of it for you all. Even if you don't know everything that's referenced, it's all things to be happy about, I assure you.

Things to be Happy About, as written 10.9.00:
The Law 404 mix tape * Equipment Room keys * Donna the Buffalo * Artie the retarded cat * ESF Stumpies * Cloudless, hot, sunny summer days on the water * Lotus Designs PFDs * Rapelling into a cave * War wounds * Skinny Dipping * Amy McNally * Campfires * thermarests * New gear * Woodchuck Raspberry Hard Cider * Syracuse University Outing Club, SUOC * Mini-fridges * Down comforters * carabiners * nalgene bottles * dry fleece * Overalls * Hank the 1987 F-150 Pickup Truck * Eddie From Ohio * Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's “Fishin' In the Dark” * Boland 2 * Front porches * People laying around in people puddles * Sunny mornings * New guitar strings * Mud wrestling * My laptop * magnetic poetry * Emilie Cole * being tired because you did something big, hard and cool that day * homemade pie * Northern Outfitters, Syracuse NY * Exit 315 off I-81 in VA (it leads home)* Surprising someone with an unexpected gift * Grilled cheese and tomato soup * The Adirondack Mountains * Stab's Pizza-- “Ehy! TWO SLICES!”* Big round hay bales * West Virginia * Finishing writing a song * Josh Marshall * ESF Mugs * Smartwool Socks * Bedhead * Brushing your teeth with all your favorite people in the bathroom doing the same thing * Having a sit-down dinner * Indigo Girls * Small towns * Silence * Allergy medication * Canceled classes * My own bed * Nick Bantock and all his books * Snowshoeing * ESF's Huntington Lodge * Topo maps * Biscuits & sausage gravy, the southern way * Finishing the Daily Orange crossword * Folding camp chairs * New CDs * livetoplay.com * Amelia Pipkin * Jeans that give you a good butt * Big piles of dry leaves to jump in * Really cool stationary * Webbing belts * Napster * Campfire sing-a-longs/concerts *The Jukebox at Edna's in Franklin, WV * Girl Scout cookies * Mini-golf * Sleeping in a tank-top for the first time all season * The occasional cat-call* headlamps *

Some of the things are distinctly Syracuse. My college was actually called, to be long winded: The State University of New York—College of Environmental Science and Forestry at Syracuse University, or ESF for short. Each new student was given an ESF travel coffee mug, and that was the only cup they had for every on-campus event. We didn't use disposable cups at all. If you didn't bring your own, you didn't have one. Boland 2 was my frosh year floor, a group of girls I still talk to at times. Law 404 was my room sophomore year. Amy was my roommate. Amelia was my best friend from high school, who is still the wisest and most godly woman I know under the age of 35. Franklin, WV is where SUOC would go for spring break every year, and Edna's was literally someone's living room that was converted into a bar in the evening hours. It was awkwardly awesome. I guess Edna has since passed away, but that jukebox ruled. Stab's Pizza is a sketchy pizza place/grocery store in Westcott Nation that can't fully be recalled in the blog setting, but is fully worth a visit. Especially after a few hours at Taps next door. Josh Marshall was my boyfriend at the time, and still retains a spot on my current list of things to be happy about. Napster: well screw you, knowledge of pirating music.

Aged, Old, Classic, Bold

My father got a cool little gadget that scans old slides and can make them into .jpegs, which is one of the better little gadgets I've seen in quite a while. Being on holiday here, I hooked the gizmo up to my lappy 9000 and scanned in a few...from 1981 to 1983. Thought I'd share 'em. The problem is for Christmas I took a bunch of old slides and had them printed and framed for both my parents, then I get home and discover my father can basically do it himself. Oh well.
The first photo is my mom with my older sister, and she's about 7 months pregnant with me at the time. I love it. She was so hippie-tastic.
This is my Boppa and my namesake on our annual Canadian camping trip in 1983. I've always thought he very much looked the part of a grandfather, pipe and all.

My sister and I brushing our teeth during a rainy day in Canada. My sister's hair is so short she looks like a boy. And if you look closely, you'll see my yellow raincoat's hood is duct-taped smaller to fit my head. Thanks parents. I love this shot.Same rainy day, Bubby and I sitting next to the kitchen tent, cold metal mugs in hand. Also a funny shot. I guess my dad was having fun with the camera that day. I only vaguely remember parts of the trip. Like what my bathing suit looked like (navy blue with a giant red crab on it), and that little blue hoodie I'm wearing, and that I was sick and on antibiotics and it was very cold.
Napping in the tent. That rabbit that's sitting on top of me? That's Hop-Hop. My oldest sister gave him to me on my 1st birthday. As I write this that very same rabbit is sitting on my bed in my house in Asheville, as I still sleep with him somewhere near me. And I think I still sleep like this. Guess my sleep pattern peaked at age 3.

My two older sisters and me and my Boppa relax on a bench my dad had built and my Uncle Pete had covered in sheep skins from Chile. When we go to Canada we go for weeks at a time, so the family sorta moves into the place. Build shelves, furniture, etc. All out of dead wood of course.

Seriously, I was a cute kid. Who liked rocks and fire. Some things never change. And there in the background is my Boppa, whom I miss terribly. He died five years ago.

Oldies and Irish Drinking Songs

I woke up this morning with "Charlie on the MTA" by the Kingston Trio in my head. I haven't heard the song in at least a year, so it was a surprise to find its barres running across my brain, but all day it was a still quiet voice singing "...but will he ever return? No he never return and his fate is still unlearned...."
What?
I am bat shit insane.
"Charlie on the MTA" is one of those songs where I know all the words to it and have no idea why. It's like oldies songs, where you know all the words to these really odd songs and you have absolutely no idea why you know them. It's not like you seek out the oldies. You don't scan the stations hoping to catch that classic hit by Jan and Dean. You don't say, "Oh boy! It's the Beach Boys!" But when they come on, you just sing along like a little kid. Are we born knowing the basic words to "Leader of the Pack" or "Rockin' Robin"? Is it part of our duty as Americans? Can we find a way to use this brain power for something else?

And then there's my weird Irish thing, where I subconsciously turn songs into Irish drinking tunes, like "Charlie on the MTA" which is, let's face it, not an Irish song. At all. And then Bob Dylan's "Times They Are A-Changin'" makes me want to hold a frosty pint and swing my arm, singing it like, "Da tiiiiiimmmeees dey arrrr a chaaaaannngin'" for no apparent reason.

Apparently the only way I've found to communicate lately is through music. Seriously. It's a very strange place to be.