Friday, June 13, 2008
S is for Sommer and Sam AND Saving Sara
Well, since S was going to originally be about my precious cousins Sommer and Sam, I must still post a photo of the two cutest and coolest children in the universe:
Over Memorial Day WeekendAnd now, on to the requested topic: Saving Sara's Life. If I was not in the middle of the Alphabet Game, this post would have been entitled "Why I Hate Maine," but alas, I shall stick to the rules of the game.
I guess I was probably about 12 years old and our family - whose last name incidentally starts with the letter S also - headed up to Brunswick, Maine to make a vacation out of a conference my mom, the brilliant aerospace engineer, was attending.
We stayed at a place called The Viking Inn. I did not even know I remembered that until literally 2 seconds ago. Strange. I also remember going to a giant L.L. Bean, the flagship store I believe. I remember eating gigantor pieces of pizza and enjoying Ben & Jerry's for the first time. Another first - seeing the Atlantic Ocean and climbing on rocks around it in my bathing suit. I remember the picture of me from that day - probably the only time I thought I looked cute in a bathing suit. My hair was cut like Dorothy Hamill's.
My dad, sister and I took an outing on a boat into the big, bad ocean. I remember that the guide was ugly, but I thought he was kind of cute. Ah, the beginnings of puberty.
Anyhow, one afternoon, Sara and I were playing on a playground close to our hotel. All of a sudden, she slipped and she was choking. Her neck was on one of the monkeybars and she couldn't move. She was terrified.
A lady walked by. I screamed for help. The evil, wicked woman just kept on walking. I hate that woman.
When I realized the situation wasn't getting any better, I jumped up and pushed Sara off the monkeybars. She fell to the ground, gasping for air. I cried and cried and cried. It scared me so badly.
For my whole life, I have hated Maine and all the people that lived there. I decided they were the people who gave Northerners the stereotypes for not being as nice as us Southerners. :) However, in thinking back, if this playground was at our inn, then this woman was likely a visitor. Maybe she wasn't from Maine at all. This is kind of freeing - not having to hate everyone from Maine anymore.
But at least the story has a happy ending. My baby sister and I are alive and well today. Thank God for that.
I guess I was probably about 12 years old and our family - whose last name incidentally starts with the letter S also - headed up to Brunswick, Maine to make a vacation out of a conference my mom, the brilliant aerospace engineer, was attending.
We stayed at a place called The Viking Inn. I did not even know I remembered that until literally 2 seconds ago. Strange. I also remember going to a giant L.L. Bean, the flagship store I believe. I remember eating gigantor pieces of pizza and enjoying Ben & Jerry's for the first time. Another first - seeing the Atlantic Ocean and climbing on rocks around it in my bathing suit. I remember the picture of me from that day - probably the only time I thought I looked cute in a bathing suit. My hair was cut like Dorothy Hamill's.
My dad, sister and I took an outing on a boat into the big, bad ocean. I remember that the guide was ugly, but I thought he was kind of cute. Ah, the beginnings of puberty.
Anyhow, one afternoon, Sara and I were playing on a playground close to our hotel. All of a sudden, she slipped and she was choking. Her neck was on one of the monkeybars and she couldn't move. She was terrified.
A lady walked by. I screamed for help. The evil, wicked woman just kept on walking. I hate that woman.
When I realized the situation wasn't getting any better, I jumped up and pushed Sara off the monkeybars. She fell to the ground, gasping for air. I cried and cried and cried. It scared me so badly.
For my whole life, I have hated Maine and all the people that lived there. I decided they were the people who gave Northerners the stereotypes for not being as nice as us Southerners. :) However, in thinking back, if this playground was at our inn, then this woman was likely a visitor. Maybe she wasn't from Maine at all. This is kind of freeing - not having to hate everyone from Maine anymore.
But at least the story has a happy ending. My baby sister and I are alive and well today. Thank God for that.
posted by Anisa @ 3:16 PM |
