The Gift

So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us. ~ Gaston Bachelard

A recent email enumerating characteristics of growing up in the (cough) 70's (cough) reminded me just how much I LOVED to watch Little House on the Prairie. My favorite items in my wardrobe at one time were the handmade dresses that resembled those worn by my idol, Laura Ingalls. They were fondly referred to as my "Laura dresses". At the time I thought they were so novel. Now, during my cynical adult years, I realize that these wardrobe essentials were more of a money-saver than anything else. It still doesn't matter. I loved each and every one of those things, made with the loving hands of either my mom or nanny (grandmother....not babysitter - I was wearing homemade dresses for goodness sake!). I was not the only fan of Little House. My circle of friends deemed the show as wonderful and so, to us in our sheltered world, it WAS, as they say now, "All that". Embarrassingly enough, our love for the show continued into our "tween" stage. This morning, as I lolled in bed recovering from the whirlwind shopping trip to Virginia I made after work with Luscious and Daughter after school yesterday (resulting in my 2 am arrival at home and thus little sleep BUT some new SMALLER clothes -smiling face), I lazily used the guide button on the remote to peruse my viewing options. There it was. My old friend from youth: Little House. Even better was the episode that brought us immense joy...the one where Albert (the adopted son of Charles and Caroline aka Laura's adopted brother) is addicted to morphine and goes through the DT's coming off it. A gem. This, if I recall correctly, was a special prime time episode...perhaps after the regular show was no longer weekly. Laura was grown and married to Almanzo. Charles and Albert were visiting Walnut Grove. Albert was a drug-crazed freak, stealing drugs and wild. Let me interrupt this tale with some background info. My mom was my Girl Scout leader for most of my years in the program. We basically had the same group of girls the entire time and these chicks were my best friends. Girl Scout camping trips, sleepovers, seances, GIGGLES, Little House, etc. (realigning with initial story) Well, unfortunately for my mom and the other leader, this episode aired right before an overnight trip to a house our council owned and let troops use in the winter for overnight trips. How these women stood it I will never know. During the episode, Albert goes through this whole scene where he is "coming off the morphine". The highlight is when he pukes (up front and personal - directly in front of the camera) a milky-white liquid. Fortunately, since we were still a bit naive, we did not make any crude, "Rod Stewart and the Soccer Team" analogies. However, we were like a crazed pack of wild dogs. We re-enacted the scene many times that weekend, evening spitting milk. The adults probably wanted morphine by the time we were done screaming, "Morphine!" and spewing milk all weekend. I have since lost touch with every one of those girls....after moving from NJ to NC at 14, it was inevitable. But, boy, do those memories still put a smile on my face and a warmth in my heart. I guarantee you that if I bumped into any one of those chicks and just uttered the word 'morphine', a smile would curl our lips upward slowly until we finally burst into laughter. I am smiling now thanks to my trip down memory lane. I am viewing this mental journey as a special Mother's Day gift from my own mom. When I turned to the show, hoping I had not missed the BEST part of the whole episode: the expulsion of milk, I was delighted to see that it was only moments away. I watched as Albert violently and uncontrollably shook on the bed in a sweat, begging for Pa to help him. Pa, with all his strength, held Albert and consoled him....telling him to "let it all out". Albert, obedient son, did as instructed: BLAH! MILK! How excellent to have the opportunity to see this childhood favorite on Mother's Day weekend. Knowing Mom, who - by the way - ended up laughing as hysterically as we did, this was one of her cherished memories as well. Thanks for the fabulous gift, Mom. I love you.