I've always made up stories. As a kid it wasn't making up stories for attention, but we'd play we'd pretend. There was the time my sister and I got permission to wander into Uncle Stanley's forest...
...but were told to keep an eye out for Uncle's Bull. Apparently the bull was not privy to humans. We crossed the barbed wire fence and picked berries. While we were eating, my sister and I kept a sharp eye out for the Bull. I don't think he was in the same area as we were. I really think if Uncle had a bull he'd have been be kept with the cows which were in a different section of land. I think my mom and grandmother were pulling our legs.
But as young kids, we didn't know any of that.
So my sister and I scouted out a tree or two that we could climb in case the Mad Bull [as we called him] showed up. We timed each other from the tree through the barbed wire fence to see how fast we could run it. We practiced climbing the tree quickly.
And then we sat in the tree on sticky summer days eating what berries we could find and told stories of encounters with the Mad Bull. My stories would get more elaborate with each visit to that pasture. In one story, I had the Mad Bull breathe fire and chomp down the tree we had escaped to. That ended our forays into Uncle Stanley's woods for the rest of that summer.
We built Troll Houses out of sticks stuck in the ground. Anyone recall the original trolls that were all the rage in 1960's? We had one troll each. Eventually we had a few more. But our first trolls had black hair. We loved them and I rubbed my little guy with soot from grandmother's wood stove to make him look more wild.
We played all summer with those trolls. Everywhere we went, they went with us. I'd narrate what my troll was experiencing. We preferred them naked or if we could find a piece of scrap material, we'd make them loin cloths.
The point is, even on a car drive, I'd look out the window on family car trips and imagine a story to go along with the travel. In my mind's eye I could see a unicorn, Pegasus, or dragon alongside the car racing up and down the hills and through the trees. It was a way to stay quiet and busy on long car journeys.
As a kid in school I often got in trouble for day dreaming. I'd look out the window of the classroom and be transported to another place [much nicer! ... not doing math, history, or spelling!]
Sometime around 6th grade I started to pay more attention to school. My parents were happy and my grades went to straight A's mostly. I still played but stopped the day dreaming in classes. Doing well in school was more important than my 'daydreaming' world was.
Summers at the cottage started in June and went to Labor Day weekend. We stayed in a 2 room cottage with cold running water, no TV, and an old radio. No phone. Imagine that? My grandparents had a phone across the way at their house.
We worked the 'truck' garden with my grandparents and mom. We visited our cousins. We read books and we learned to entertain ourselves with just a few toys [like the trolls]. We truly were 'disconnected' from the world in the summers.
My father was a huge influence in my life. I didn't think so at the time. But I recall during the school year when he'd take me to his office on school breaks, I'd get to see how HE worked. He wrote ads for television for Leo Burnett in Chicago. He wrote the fun ones. I recall one time when I was in his office after lunch. Dad said he needed a new idea for a commercial.
He shut his office door and laid out on the floor and shut his eyes. I had a drawing pad, so I just kept quiet and drew some things. [I was not much of an artist]
After about 15 minutes he opened his eyes and got up, he made some quick notes on a pad of paper and said he found his new story or idea for another 30 second spot. His method was quirky. He didn't think of anything and then suddenly some idea would pop into his head.
When doing photography, he was very detailed with the light meter, film speed, f stop, and framing. I think that was his way of relaxing and letting his brain go on chill mode. Often he'd let me do the metering for him and I'd guess at the f stop. I didn't realize what I was learning at the time.
What I learned was that dad was spontaneous in his creativity and imagination.
On a visit to Virginia in 2000, we stopped at a pull out along the Blue Ridge Parkway. Dad pointed to a rock and we both started laughing with the same idea. Dad walked over to a huge rock and said, "Make it look like I am pushing this boulder."
I did. I shot the photo and he walked back to me brushing his hands on his pants. "Well, it was good we stopped here so I could straighten that rock out!"
We laughed. He was a fun partner for my spontaneous adventures.
In 2001 on our final trip together, I had him ham it up for me more than once. He didn't feel silly sitting on a bench and engaging in a conversation with a statue.
Dad said they had a very nice conversation.
Of course you did Dad!
I still find myself daydreaming. I'll be doing something important like doing chores and I'll turn my head and see something ~~ an idea pops into my head and I'll get an idea.
That's just how my brain works.
Rocks and sticks can be fun...especially on very hot days or very cold days.
I suppose some people arrange flowers...
I arrange ... fantasy and imagination...
Maybe it is just my way of dealing with caring for my husband.
