Brain Spills

Day 81

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Mon, 12 Aug 2013 17:09:00 +0000

Age 15

My cousin Janette was so good and still remains the best at getting under my skin; whether the reason is the polar characters between us or the fact that we are as close as sisters, I will never know. Whatever the reason I know the feeling well. This one evening remains at the forefront of my memories of this particular feeling toward her and the result.

My whole body felt as though I were buzzing on the inside with a hot fury that consumed me. We sat down for dinner, she on the opposite side of the table as myself. Even though sitting I felt as if rage were suspending me above my seat like 'The Force.' She knew the look in my eye and she relished that she had affected me, therefore I could be sure she wouldn't stop until I snapped. Snapping meant I got in trouble and she remained, in all public accounts innocent, she and I knew the truth all to well.

My eyes didn't leave her face until I slightly scanned over my plate and my significant glass of milk. Although few seconds had passed Janette had managed to supersede my own self control. Faster than any lightning I had seen cross the sky, a screaming internal lightning rushed from my toes to my head and then warmly streaked to my hand which grabbed the glass of milk; forgetting all sense of decency at our dinner table, I violently emptied my glass of milk over her unsuspecting face. A malevolent grin spread across my face and I sat satisfied with her milky doused face.

Those seconds passed fast. The satisfying feelings of revenge never stay long enough to appease one's self. Parents and Aunts horrified at my actions took to railing verbal punishments at me. I ran from the dinner table and through the front door with a drenched Janette after me.

It was raining that day and the driveway was slushy with mud. I remember being barefoot and had no idea why I was running, an exhilarating feeling was swallowing my reason. Finally, I reached the end of the driveway and stooped down just in time to missed a handful of mud hurled at my head. While I was down I grabbed a handful myself and met my target in the middle of the chest, excited and shaking with anger and something else I didn't quite understand I stood evilly laughing over her appearance. She tried again and she didn't miss that time, hit in the thigh with mud I rushed at her and we tumbled in the mud and puddles. eventually laughing our injuries away after we were too cold and tired to care about the original dispute any longer. These incidents between us occurred too often to take note of yet somehow enriched our childhood memories with foolish hilarity.

Essence of Camper

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 02:46:00 +0000

Smells stored in the memory never leave you.

I've lived in a camper, it was my home along with my parents for 9 years. They were migrants traveling around with other migrants who had campers and lived in them. I've been in a lot of campers.

The thing about campers...They all smell alike. They have a common smell, it isn't like a home, where everyone's home has a distinct smell. The only thing that changes the smell of a camper is what was cooked for dinner that night. That smell gradually fades until the next smelly meal is made. The consistency of the smell of campers is amazing...It is like BBQ, you can always smell and identify a BBQ, you can do the same with a camper. If you had a line up of smells and were familiar with the common camper smell you'd guess it was a camper every time. I would go so far as to say, the smell of a camper is probably as desirable to me as a beautiful fragrant flower.

High Priestly Prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 22:02:00 +0000

A certain prayer recorded is the greatest one I've ever read. It's implications are astounding. Through history it has been a scandalous thing to believe this ever was prayed or that this man ever existed. People from the very beginning have been attributing falsehood, mere fiction to this man and his claims. It denigrates humanity, expels our idea of being independent gods capable of doing whatever, whenever we please. "Its morally unacceptable," say some, " To believe that humanity and nature is a creation from a higher being, it degrades us. It makes us small, unable vessels made for the pleasure of a slave master." History has been critical. I say, its quite dangerous to believe these allegations. It gives us a high view of ourselves that cannot be true. What does anyone of us deserve?
We are all full of bad things that if left to run from our imagination would bring down the entire world from civility. We dream of success sometimes at the expense of someone else. We envy what we do not have and if we retrieved all we envied where would we be? And where would the state of everyone be if this were retrievable by all? Thoughts of malice occur frequently in us. Thoughts we would not dare share or ever dream of wanting others to know or they would utterly disown us. We are capable of hating so entirely that bitterness consumes us, the thought of one we hate makes us fill with fury. Every person knows their heart, knows their innermost parts. If these parts were not harnessed, I dare say, this world would crumble in ruin faster than it is now, all because of ourselves. What is good in us that we can pinpoint that isn't connected to a selfish ambition in some way? Nothing I say. We are consumed with ourselves.
This man has claims, they are intriguing. They accurately portray human nature, the only thing that accurately portrays us, not what we want us to be, but what we really are.
Read this prayer...If these claims offend you, search it out further. I often times find that when offended, that the offense is true or else I would not be offended.

John 17
The High Priestly Prayer
1 Jesus spoke these things; and lifting up His eyes to heaven, He said, “Father, the hour has come; glorify Your Son, that the Son may glorify You, 2 even as You gave Him authority over all flesh, that to all whom You have given Him, He may give eternal life. 3 This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent. 4 I glorified You on the earth, having accomplished the work which You have given Me to do. 5 Now, Father, glorify Me together with Yourself, with the glory which I had with You before the world was.

6 “I have manifested Your name to the men whom You gave Me out of the world; they were Yours and You gave them to Me, and they have kept Your word. 7 Now they have come to know that everything You have given Me is from You; 8 for the words which You gave Me I have given to them; and they received them and truly understood that I came forth from You, and they believed that You sent Me. 9 I ask on their behalf; I do not ask on behalf of the world, but of those whom You have given Me; for they are Yours; 10 and all things that are Mine are Yours, and Yours are Mine; and I have been glorified in them. 11 I am no longer in the world; and yet they themselves are in the world, and I come to You. Holy Father, keep them in Your name, the name which You have given Me, that they may be one even as We are. 12 While I was with them, I was keeping them in Your name which You have given Me; and I guarded them and not one of them perished but the son of perdition, so that the Scripture would be fulfilled.
The Disciples in the World
13 But now I come to You; and these things I speak in the world so that they may have My joy made full in themselves. 14 I have given them Your word; and the world has hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. 15 I do not ask You to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one. 16 They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. 17 Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth. 18 As You sent Me into the world, I also have sent them into the world. 19 For their sakes I sanctify Myself, that they themselves also may be sanctified in truth.

20 “I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; 21 that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me.
Their Future Glory
22 The glory which You have given Me I have given to them, that they may be one, just as We are one; 23 I in them and You in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me. 24 Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world.

25 “O righteous Father, although the world has not known You, yet I have known You; and these have known that You sent Me; 26 and I have made Your name known to them, and will make it known, so that the love with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them.”

Pensive Screams

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Mon, 19 May 2008 20:21:00 +0000

Crunching gravel bleeds the color of rocks beneath my traveling shoes.
Remote gas stations have lost their interest in monopoly's jest, they humor me.
Roads barren and hardly used speak their mind to me.
A fall becomes me when I stop.
I need to roll cigarettes and chew tobacco to be noticed here.
The can on the counter is full of brown spit; flies swarm wild like
carnivores with a taste for blood.
The cashier doesn't seem to notice the formidable smell taking
masterdom of the air.
Her hair is pulled back with a black rubber band, I wince as I think
of it being ripped out before bed.
Her shirt is X large, I think to cover what she hopes is left of her
self confidence
eyes stare back at mine, their implication painful.
Time won and time lost.
Repeating...
It ruined her soul

Day 80

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 04:08:00 +0000

Age 10
We had returned from our last gypsy trip to the south and had made it back to Belmont, Maine. My dad set up the camper on a cement slab that my Cousin Gary had on his land. About a mile away lived My Uncle Ricky and Aunt Donna in the family farmhouse. My mum, Sophie our dog and I would walk there often in the morning and walk back home during twilight. It was Autumn when this particular incident happened. Bird season. We all had some florescent on, even Sophie had a make shift vest around her middle that we had assembled on her that morning.

We had past the old grange hall at the four corners and had begun our journey down the Back Belmont Rd. We had not a care in the World as we walked on. The crisp morning air was warming from the bright sun. The leaves were falling and floating down around us as we walked. Suddenly a series of shots from the woods rang out into the road. My mum and I were standing apart from each other and both of us felt something wind through our hair. Frightened my mother grabbed me and started running farther down the road. We were so stunned from the experience. My mother took me by the shoulders and started looking all over my body to see if I had been shot, as well as examining Sophie. We had escaped the wound of a bullet but the feel of it cruising through our hair would stay with us long after the ordeal was over. One careless hunter, hunting birds, and illegally shooting into the road with his bird shot, almost killed two people that day.

Day 79

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 16:57:00 +0000

Age 11
My mum, dad and I were on our last gypsy, migrant trip. We had an old ford truck pulling our camper. We were in Florida, this was our last stop before we traveled back home to Maine. We were visiting my Great Grandfathers piece of property in a town called, Glenwood. Big, beautiful houses were all around this parcel of land belonging to our Great Grandfather. There in the middle of this upscale neighborhood stood an old 15 foot camper with a hand built, add-on that slightly resembled a covered porch area. It was hideous looking. This had been plopped here eons ago. While the neighborhood around my grandfather evolved he stayed stagnant. His tiny piece of heaven for him was a bit of hell for everybody else.

Now that Great grampy was gone, it was time for the family to take care of this wretched place. The little camp had been vacant for quite sometime. We opened up the creaky aluminum door opening into the hand built veranda. Smells mixed with the heavy humidity was almost to much to handle. It fought the oxygen out of our lungs. After entering we all began opening up windows, scrambling to get some much needed fresh air. After we could eventually breathe, everyone began looking around, opening up cupboards, and doors. One cupboard was opened and out fell a large snake skin. This tiny place had been infested with everything living outside. Creepy crawlies, mice, rats, snakes had reclaimed the entire camp. After we all had enough we ventured back outside into the bright, exotic sunshine and tropical smelling landscape. This little piece of hideous history would have to go. No body would know an old man named Amon had ever before existed in this very place. His mark on Florida would be erased. Some neighbor's yard would be extended or maybe a three car garage would reclaim Amon Morse's piece of heaven.

Day 78

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 18:40:00 +0000

Ages 4-10

My small family unit consisting of my mother father and myself lived a gypsy-style life for quite some time. Our home was on wheels, 36 feet of camper hauled by a 1/2 ton truck. My everyday life was far different from the one so many other children were experiencing.

The camper water tank was small. My dad was the water conserving Nazi. Our showers went like this: Step in the tub spray your self for about 10 seconds. Shut the water off, grab the soap and lather everything. Turn the water on for another 10-30 seconds to rinse, and then step out and dry off. Obtaining the water we put in our camper water tank was a whole other adventure. My dad became an expert at finding fresh water springs. We'd drive around on old, overgrown logging roads with our truck loaded with two giant blue barrels and a siphon hose, searching for that ice cold clear spring water. I learned the art of siphoning at a very young age. Sometimes it was to transfer water from the barrels to the camper water tank, or other times to transfer gas in a big blue barrel to a small gas jug. One thing my dad had not let me do from a young age was empty our sewer line. I grotesquely enjoyed watching my father prepare to loose the sewer line. First he would dig a giant hole. Then open the hatch that revealed the sewer hose, he would take this hose out, place the end into the hole he had dug and then pull a lever up near the nozzle and stand far back. This job seemed strangely important. When I reached the age of 10, life had found us in Alabama. My dad had forgot to do the sewer line, and on his way out to the planting field he told me to do the job before he returned home for the night. I was elated that the responsibility finally graced me. I was in the middle of my studies later that morning and all I could think about was digging that giant hole, releasing the valve, and then later covering up the hideous mess with the piles of dirt I had dug. Eventually I reminded my mum that the sewer needed to be done and pretty soon or it would overflow so she let me out of class early for the day. I had a job to do and no one would be there to tell me how, I had free reign over this duty, how wonderful!

Day 77

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 18:35:00 +0000

Age 7
We often rode bikes with my mum's best friend Brenda and her two children, Misty and Ricky. We would sometimes take a back road from the little town of Shirley Maine to Greenville. It was a logging road, during the summer and winter the road was occupied by truckers but it was a great place to bike, through the woods over looking old woodlots, most overgrown. One day Brenda and my mum decided to take the main road from Brenda's house up through the bustling town of Greenville. This road was always busy, one of the main highways headed up to Canada. We all had our little bike helmets on and prepared for the hilly, busy venture to town. My mum lead our pack followed by Ricky, myself, Misty and finally Brenda. Ricky and my mum started the steep decent down the first hill. I began speeding fast to catch up. Suddenly I found myself somersaulting down the hill with my bike. The helmet made a sickening thud on the tar, the impact sending my face into the ground. The bike and myself might not have been rolling on two wheels any longer but we were still somersaulting together down the tar hill, my face scraping against dirt, tar pebbles and more dirt. The hill was so steep that the energy of our movement was continued far longer than if on flat ground. Behind me Misty failed to stop and bashed her bike into me and my mangled one, scraping me further down the hill. Soon my body stopped scraping and the sound of my mother screaming trailed through out the sounds of passerby vehicles. Tired and burning from my face I just lay there helpless, not wanting to move for fear I'd hurt more.

Day 76

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 23:04:00 +0000

Age 5
My cousin Chris had told me about these bubble gum cigarettes. He unwrapped the candy cigarettes and pretended to suck on one side and then blew into the top, an interesting powder puff came out the end. I was delighted, how cool this was! Chris had let me have some of his candy cigarettes because my mum and dad wouldn't have let me have any.

One day at the town gas station I asked mum and dad for some, they rejected my pleas and went on shopping. I suddenly got a very dark sensation inside my belly. It felt sick but excited as well. I was going to take a pack of candy cigarettes and not tell mum or dad and not pay for them. I sneakily tossed them in my pocket and went on into the car. I waited for mum and dad to come out. In the mean time I was unwrapping the candy I had taken and was puffing on it. My dad glanced in the window on his way into the car to see what I was up to and discovered my dishonest doings. He and my mum said I had to take the candy in the store and tell them that I had stolen it and pay the appropriate amount for it. I was horrified. Someone would find out what a terrible person I was, what would they think of me from now on? I most definitely would have wanted to be dragged to jail rather than go and face my dishonesty.

Day 75

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 22:29:00 +0000

Ages 9-15
The family farm was situated on about 10 acres of field. Cows dotted the field and if you were walking the field you'd be avoiding cow pattys every foot or so, some fresh most old, sun dried flats of manure. There was something that inhabited these fields that out numbered the cows. A mass flock of Kill Deer birds nested everywhere. They guarded their nests in the field with the utmost energy. They made the most annoying noise. The noise literally could crawl under your skin. At times their cries felt comfortable, like you were at home and other times became tiresome. During the dark hours they were for the most part quiet all except the times when they were forced to protect their young from the foxes or coyotes. Their mad cries were deafening at times but along with their small bodies they were no match for their predators. It was a sad thing to watch at times. They would cry and cry and stay near their nest as long as they could. They would fly away and then fly back trying to reclaim their young. They had to choose between the lives of their young and themselves. Eventually they had to admit defeat and save themselves.

Day 74

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 22:00:00 +0000

Age 10
I had been wanting a little bow of my own for awhile. My dad had traded his a couple of years before.
My dad and I stopped at a dinky yard sale one day and sitting on a shelf off in the back of a barn was a little, dusty red, compound bow. My eyes immediately lit up, I grabbed the bow and ran excitedly to show my dad. He let me take it home. That same weekend my dad took me to a hunting supply shop. We bought some arrows. We took everything home and began working on my bow. My dad taught me how to properly shoot it. I wasn't doing well and after much trial and error my dad realized I shot left handed. The bow was designed to put the arrow on the right side so my dad messed around with some apoxy and eventually we had a lip on the left side of the bow that an arrow could launch quite nicely from. He took me to our family field where we spent some hours shooting some arrows. My dad was always so good at making me feel smart, even though I might not have shot the mark right every time he'd praise me till I was pro.

Day 73

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 04:31:00 +0000

Age 4
My dad and I were working on the building of our first house. My mum was gone for the evening. The sun was going down, dusk was slowly settling.I was off away from the house site, trying my hardest to get far enough away so that I couldn't hear the awful hiss of the skill saw. The next thing I remember is my dad yelling. I must have blocked out the rest because I don't remember anything other than when I was walking with my Uncle Bubba who had elected to care for me while my dad was admitted into the emergency room. Mum was acting frightened when we met up with her, my dad wasn't anywhere in sight so I was quite shaken. My mum took me to my dad briefly, he was sitting in a little mobile hospital bed against a wall. He was apparently waiting to be transferred some where else. One of his upper thighs was wrapped in gauze, some spots were red with seeping blood. I asked if he was going to be alright, he assured me he would be fine in between pain tightened lips.

Day 72

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 03:47:00 +0000

Age 22
Tearing open my Christmas gift anxiously I discover Ryan has gone out of his way to buy me a knife set...The butcher's block would look so good on my counter top. My kitchen was long over due for some functional knives. I don't know who liked the gift more, Ryan or I. We both played with them. I was cutting up some leeks for my stuffed mushrooms. Feeling powerful with my beyond sharp knives I chopped on feeling invincible. I ultimately ended up cutting myself and asked Ryan to grab a band aid. The blade caught on a piece I was cutting and the end of the blade closest to my hand slipped into my thumb.Ryan was cutting later, some potatoes after I had raved about how easy they cut. He was chopping in a constant line and I saw the slice coming, I thought he'd realize and correct his upcoming accident but he didn't. He evidently wasn't so invincible either.

Day 71

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 05:04:00 +0000

Age 6
I was taking out the trash onto the porch. It was a summer morning. I was young and was singing and dancing around with the trash. Instant pain coursed through my body, from my foot to the top of my knee. I inspected immediately and saw a giant rusty nail protruding from the bottom of my foot. Screaming at the sight I hop towards my mum. She races me to Hazel's house, my mum wasn't particularly good at these types of things and Hazel was. I was screaming at her not to pull it out. It felt like it was so deep and I just couldn't bear the idea of it being yanked out. She kept on reassuring me that she wouldn't touch it, she was just examining it. I had the childish sense of relief knowing that she wasn't going to touch the problem. Feeling restful instead of fidgety I let her examine me without moving around. The next thing I remember is a yanking of the nail from my foot. It was a more disturbing feeling than a painful one. I felt the flesh give as it was being pulled from my foot. It was the most terrible thing. It still gives me chills.

Day 70

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 00:13:00 +0000

Age 6-7
My first two foster brothers were Billy and David, they were brothers. David was a little thief at the tender age of 8 and Billy had been acting out at school due to his obscene problems at home, which was the reason they were staying with us. Billy was about 4 or 5 years older than I. He was such a great older brother. I enjoyed hanging out with the boys. We rode bikes, fished, swam, and hiked. Billy used to make these blow guns from the bamboo that was over taking our small town. We'd cut a slit in one side of a 4 inch piece of bamboo, after we were done it slightly resembled a little flute. There were also thousands of snake berry bushes all around. A game that intrigued us all was shooting these at each other with our homemade blow guns. A neighbour boy down the road whom Billy befriended became an avid fan of the game as well...The boys would even shoot random strangers in the town. Most days around dinner time, The three of us would trudge home covered in red berry guts.

Day 69

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Age 9
We had just moved to Alabama for some migrant work. We were living in our camper. My dad would head out on the planting field early in the morning and return at dusk. The migrant community attracts some unusual characters; this years planters were no exception. There was this one man, tall and slender. He looked like he had crawled out of a card board box when he first showed up for work. His hair was messy and his clothes dishevelled. My father had a sort of deep driven drive to help people, anybody who seems to need it. This man was living in a tent in the small community of migrants. One night the sky let go with some treacherous rain. My dad ran outside when it first started coming down and invited him to stay the night in our warm camper. He accepted and my mother began her hospitality routine. She made him tons to eat and got him blankets, and offered him our shower with some fresh, clean towels. The man happily went about his night with us. He stayed in my usual bed and I slept with my parents. It stopped raining the next day in the afternoon. I don't quite remember what happened to this man after he resumed his ordinary life. I do however remember the repercussion of his brief stay. I retracted lice. It was the first time ever having lice and I hated it. I remember my mum telling me that the man who stayed had lice and must have passed it on to us. She didn't in any way acknowledge this as annoying or ever act angry. My mum and dad were always happy to help people no matter the cost. They taught me a lot even without explaining things to me, I just knew by their attitude.

Day 68

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 19:40:00 +0000

Age 7
My mother developed a close friendship with a lady in Greenville Maine named Brenda. She was my Brownie Troop leader, that is how they met. She had a son, Ricky and a daughter, Misty. We were together everyday. My mum and Brenda would attend Weight Watchers once a week for weigh in and our fathers and us kids would have dinner and game night.

My mum and Brenda were quite goofy. I think the small town boredom drove them crazy. One day Ricky and I had found a fallen Robin's nest in our front yard. There were two eggs that had not broken. Ricky and I excitedly ran to our mums and showed them our find. We of course wanted to keep them and watch them hatch. We had no idea that such a thing as incubation was needed, this complex process wasn't in our minds. Mum and Brenda saw the eggs and decided they'd hatch them. They ended up making a bet, who could hatch their egg first. Mum and Brenda both put the little eggs in their voluptuous cleavage and continued on their day. Us kids thought it was just the funniest thing and couldn't wait to see the baby birds. It ended up that the eggs were duds but the excitement lasted days until the eggs either broke or started to smell funky. Every time I see eggs I think of their egg laden bosoms, I can't help it, how horrible!

Day 67

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 19:31:00 +0000

Age 19
A couple days before my wedding Ryan and I went ice fishing with some friends from Arizona. It was February, perfect ice fishing weather...The ice was thick and the fish as well...We thought it would be neat to share this with our friends who were used to sweating all year long.
Ryan's one friend Logan ending up hating the cold. He was a big guy, around 6 feet two inches tall. We took four wheelers to the lake. Even though Logan was bundled more so than any holiday Santa Claws he was still complaining about the cold. We reached the lake and began our ice fishing. Then we began ice fishing, which consists of waiting for fish. Logan who hates just waiting and was cold was staying near the hot chocolate. Eventually after warming up with cocoa he decided to take a friend of ours up with the invitation to get on the back of the sled that was tied to the four wheeler and be hauled around the ice. He was off, holding on the sled with a death grip. His face was priceless...He was having fun...They drove to the other side of the lake so we all sorta forgot about them. On their way back we started to hear Logan yelling like he was happy...Then suddenly up the lake we saw the sled tip over, Logan was still holding on, being dragged through ice and some melted spots. We all erupted in laughter. Logan limped back to the cocoa complaining that he was spent. He had red ice scrapes up his entire right side. His face was bright red, his nose running, and his lips blue. He looked so miserable. I doubt ice fishing will ever catch on for him.

Day 66

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 19:21:00 +0000

Age 10
My guy cousins and I were over at their grandfather's house. My Aunt's father wasn't a part of my family but my mum and I usually went everywhere with my Aunt Shirley and her three boys. My cousin Ronnie and I were playing around in the front yard and found a bucket of keys. A bucket of keys doesn't sound like an interesting thing, but to us it was finding a time warp. We took the keys home with us. There were tons of different kinds and each one was wildly special to us. We decided these keys were in every avenue of the word, "treasure." Out back behind their house my Uncle Ricky and Aunt Donna's pasture ran. There was a tiny brook running through the valley with some tall evergreen trees dotting the stream. One such tree's root system was exposed making for a tiny cave inlet. We buried our keys in the deepest part. We were nostalgic about our treasure living forever. Anybody who found this would be touching our past. I often remember this and dream about going back to that old rugged tree digging up my childhood treasure.

Day 65

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 19:12:00 +0000

Age 19
Ryan and I were spending our Honey Moon in Washington State. His family had a cabin on the Puget Sound and that was where we stayed. I grew up on the Maine coast and thought the Washington coast wouldn't be really any different. Our first day there we were walking on the beach and I noticed while we stepped little spurts of water would squirt up from the sand. I was astonished at how high they squirted at times and inquired what this phenomenon was. They were clams! Every time you would step near them and they would feel your pressure they would start moving deep into the sand, their digging journey squirted the water in their way up through a hole in the sand. How interesting. In Maine to dig clams you go to specific parts of the beach, a very muddy part affectionately called, "clam flats." In Washington they were all over the beach. I ran around the camp looking for a shovel. Once I got one I began digging after these little buggers. They were very fast at digging away. It was an adventure, a provoking challenge. Our first day on the Beach left Ryan and I scurrying after clams. After I had managed to catch a few, I rinsed them off and made Ryan fresh clams for dinner. The following 5 days we were there, I was always on the beach after the clams.

Day 64

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 19:00:00 +0000

Age 18.
Ryan and I had been invited over to his friend Kevin's house for a pool party. They had a great pool with a diving board. Guys will be guys, Ryan and another guy were wrestling in the pool, whoever got dunked under was the loser. They had a couple of rounds and finally tired of the whole deal. We all settled off to the side of the pool chatting. There were many leaves in the pool that had fallen off the arching trees. I tried to take a leave off that had stuck itself to Ryan's chin. It was dark out mind you. I tried to pull it off when Ryan griped in pain. I looked closer and realized that Ryan's chin was busted open, the flesh was hanging off like a dangling leaf. Kevin let us in the bathroom to clean it up. On closer inspection we both realized how deep the wound was. We acquired some butterfly stitches from Kevin and while Ryan lay on the bathroom counter I began stitching up his face as best as I could. Kevin came in to check on the process and began, "what are you doing?" Ryan immediately jumps up and examines my butterfly process and they start laughing at me. I'd never used butterfly stitches before and thought I had been doing an okay job, apparently they said I wasn't supposed to apply the sticky side of the stitches over the wound...I screwed this one up, Kevin took the stitches off and began the process over again. Now I'm not allowed to do anything medical for Ryan, he took that butterfly stitching night to heart.

Day 63

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 00:56:00 +0000

Age 19
Ryan and I had just moved to Maine. We were on our way to my parent's property to walk the trails. That day a slight sprinkling of snow covered the roads. Ryan was driving fast like always. It seems that men from the age of 17-28 have a great fascination with reckless driving. If called on it they get all peeved. For some strange reason they feel they are indestructible, king of whatever road they drive over. I proceeded to try to slow Ryan down. We were coming up to our turn and told him he needed to slow up because the road we needed to take was coming. No reply from Ryan. He slammed on the brakes last second and skidded into the ditch. The ditch was deep. The right side of the car was dipped with the back end of the car rising high into the sky. A Mainer guy who fit the part in every way parked up beside us in an old truck with a winch. Needless to say, I think Ryan felt pretty silly next to this gentleman pulling us out from a needless wreck.

Day 62

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 05:32:00 +0000

Age 19
My mum, Ryan and I went out on my parent's property, Ryan decided to bring the 22 rifle to see if he could get it sighted in. The rifle had a cheap twenty dollar scope and had been giving Ryan the runaround. Eventually Ryan decided to rest a quarter against a tree. From twenty yards away he began shooting and missing, as well as myself. The scope was crap. My mum finally decides she wants to try. She stands up at the 20 yard mark, neglects the scope and shoots by eye. The second the shot went off the quarter flung off from it's position. My mouth dropped open, so didn't Ryan's. Ryan and I looked and looked for that quarter but never found it. Ryan kept on saying it was a lucky shot. I don't think so, I've seen her do these things my whole life. We were going to set up another quarter but by the time my mum had finally stepped up to shoot it was getting pretty dark. That time of night when the last bit of light in the sky slits through the tree tops and casts awkward, smoky shadows.

Day 61

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Sat, 15 Dec 2007 03:05:00 +0000

Age 3
Early Christmas morning I woke up in a spare bedroom in my Grandmother Mosher's house. There were a flight of steep stairs to walk down to the kitchen and then the living room where all the presents lie! It was a chilly morning. The smell of a hot burning wood stove, coffee, and cedar trees from the shingle mill outdoors hung heavy in the morning air. I excitedly ran downstairs where my Uncles Horace and Bubba, my dad, mum and everybody else were. My Uncles were in their briefs sipping coffee, standing butt to the wood stove. This is how they were typically clad in the early mornings. I began asking over and over to open presents. In the living room in front of the fire place was a big, black plastic garbage bag hung over something I knew must be mine. I ripped the bag away and there stood the most amazing wooden rocking horse. I energetically jumped up and started rocking away. I'll never forget how special it was to get such a large and beautiful gift. It is my most memorable gift.

Day 60

noreply@blogger.com (Lydia Hamre) — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 03:26:00 +0000

Age 15
My first public speech, in my speech and drama class. My turn was coming. I had a knot in my stomach. My head was getting hot. My name was called. I timidly walked to the podium and started my prepared speech. Through the first three sentences I rested my notes on the podium due to the amount of sweat my hands had accrued. The paper was wet on both sides where I had held on. My face must have been beet red. The podium didn't help with feeling better so slowly I stepped away to the side. A few more sentences later I realized my whole body was swaying. I got a lump in my throat when seconds of embarrassing thoughts filled my brain, "Did anyone notice?" It had become almost to much to bear. I drew away from my speech some and allowed myself to finish sooner; hoping I'd feel better back in my desk. When I finished the speech I had an overwhelming sense of something being complete. I felt like I had caught fire and then been drenched by a bucket of chilly water. I sat at my desk and the next person started. The relief was reviving, exciting...I had finished.