And You Thought You'd Heard It All

This blog could very well be called "Life As I Knew It" with all of the stories I tell you about my past. I have been thinking about that lately. Should I be more focused on the here-and-now?

Here's my conclusion: Nah. I can write about whatever I want.

I have had a few people tell me I should write a book about my childhood and teenage experiences. Well, you'd have to buy a book, but my blog? It's FREE! (Now, that's priceless.)

My sister-in-law's sister (got that?) has apparently written a book which includes one of my experiences. You could go buy her book when it's available - or read all about it here. For FREE!

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago... (fade to past)

Soon after I graduated from high school, my friends and I went on a weekend trip. We returned on a Sunday afternoon, refreshed and ready to get back to school and jobs and whatnot. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I returned home.

Nothing.

We lived in an upstairs apartment, #6 to be exact, of Bay Village Apartments. I unlocked the door and walked up the stairs, my red backpack slung over my shoulder. As I reached the top of the stairs, I wondered if I had somehow entered a vacant apartment... everything was gone. I mean, everything. There were no pictures on the walls, no couches, no tables, no television sets. (Yes, I said sets. My parents each had their own, and they were watched simultaneously.) I walked around the apartment, wondering what thief could possibly steal every single item from our home, unnoticed.

I was in shock.

I wandered around - no bikes on the balcony. No food in the refrigerator. No discarded popcorn kernels hiding in the corners of the kitchen floor.

Wait a minute. The thief took the time to clean up afterwards? This was getting seriously freaky.

I immediately thought of my personal belongings - my bedroom! I ran toward it and noticed something strange - it was the only door in the whole place that was shut. And there was a note taped to the door.

It read:

Dear Gerby,
We moved to a house in Gardena.
Here is our phone number: 555-1234.
Call us when you get home.

Loves, Mom and Dad

I stood there, frozen. They moved? I slowly twisted the doorknob, afraid of what I would find.
My bedroom was exactly as I had left it. It was eerie, like walking into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Posters still covered the walls. Clothing was still strewn about the floor. My bed remained unmade. I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, to let it all sink in...

They moved. Without me.

I thought to call my friend Julie who lived just down the court.

No phones.

I walked to her apartment, filling her in on the details of what had just happened. Julie's mom, (my 2nd mom, incidentally) suggested: "Why don't you just move in with us?"

So I did.




And that's the truth.