Swimmin Frog

Thursday, November 09, 2006
Feathered Hair and SMACKING
Dee Dee was my mom's sister. She was stubborn as a grass stain, opinionated to a fault and had a scowl that is still with me today. I can see her vividly in my mind wearing a sleeveless shirt, a pair of jogging pants hiked up her legs, blond feathered hair, thick rimmed glasses in the peach eighties tortoise shell she always wore and her arms folded on top of her breasts - hands buried in her armpits. She had amazing legs that were always tan and looked fit even when the rest of her body gave in to the excessive Dorito/Chicken McNugget habit she had. She had an amazing heart as well. Growing up in a single parent household would have been unbearable without our extremely generous 'second mom' there to help with things other kids took for granted, like new school clothes or family vacations.

We used to drive to this lake to go swimming. It was 'out in the country', so it was a special treat to be able to go. I remember the back roads leading there being just as fun as the actual lake. The road had some steep 'lose your belly' hills that Dee Dee would always make sure to take extra fast provoking squeals of delight from the three girls in the back seat. We would pass llama farms, elk, and buffalo. It would make us feel far removed from the rest of the world. After spending what felt like hours swimming and jumping off the dock we would prepare for the journey home. This is where the greedy child would come out in my sisters and I. You see, the lake was a destination reached by either driving the back roads or by going through Waupaca. Waupaca was a 'big city' that had… a Dairy Queen.

Sarah, Shannon, and I would sit in on the edge of our towel covered car seats with fingers, toes and arms crossed hoping the car would turn left to Waupaca. Sometimes it did and we would grin from ear to ear as we took the path to the Promised Land. We were elated and eager to get our hands on the cool creamy soft serve, to treat ourselves to this summertime luxury. Elation was mixed, however, with anxiety over the fear we all faced as children riding in the car eating with Dee Dee. The fear of… SMACKING. Sometimes her radio would be blaring some country song or she and Mom would be discussing some adult topic and we were lulled into a false sense of security. We would slurp into our cones with fervor and forget the NO SMACKING law. Since she obviously possessed super hearing, we never got away with it for long. The radio would suddenly go quiet, the feathered head would snap around and the scowling face would peer right at the culprit. The unfortunate victim would let out an audible gulp and from behind eyes blinking away tears would utter a pathetic little, "Sorry". Then we would get our first warning, "the next time I hear you smacking, the cones go out the window". Remembering that one time (the ONLY time) we all lost our cones, we immediately slow our pace on devouring the cones and concentrate on not making a sound. To this day, I hardly make noise when I eat and I am irrationally disgruntled when I hear others SMACKING.

I miss her so much. I miss her honesty when I asked her opinion about something. I miss the way she used to eat her fries (to describe this would be impossible). I miss her posture. I miss one of my biggest fans. I miss her vocabulary: "Quit your SMACKING", "Chew with your mouth closed" and "Take a picture it lasts longer" were all phrases that up until a few years ago was sure she coined. I miss her car, my heart aches for just one more ride in her black Monte Carlo with the T-tops off listening to Garth Brooks.