Pride of the Pack

As long as I can remember, I’ve been a loner and a wanderer.

Since my dad was a career Air Force officer, I got to explore many places across the country.

And what was very cool, as my dad was an artist, the environment in which we lived was always important. It was kind of hard when we lived on base, he didn’t really have a choice, but we did live in the officers housing, which was (supposed to be) nicer.

I was born in Omaha, NE. Dad was stationed at Offutt Air Force Base next to Omaha where he met my mom. My earliest wandering recollections were of at my grandparents’ apartment complex there in Omaha. They had a little black Dachshund named Mr. Chips. Dang, I loved that little fellow who accompanied me on the first of my long treks. I remember, when he was on the leash he was great, but off.. he was on his own and very hard for a four-year-old to catch.

My grandparents, Nanny and Grampa, lived next a small apple orchard that was owned by a crotchety old fellow that would chase us kids out, but we still went back and climbed those trees when he wasn’t looking. I don’t recall the apples being very good.

The orchard and the property my grandparents lived on butted up against the back of Omaha’s famous Boy’s Town. There was a huge, huge field between the chain link boundary and the facility one could barely see off in the distance. I knew it was a home for orphaned boys, and no matter how often I looked or how long, I never once saw a boy or anybody for that matter. I was somehow under the impression that it was a very bad place. I’m thinking it was speculative scary talk by the other kids around. (Reminds me of To Kill a Mockingbird. Oh so scary in a kid’s eye.)

After Mom and Dad (okay, he’s a stepdad, but my “real” dad all at the same time) got married, we lived on base at #7 Fairchild Circle for a year or so (how in the world do I remember that address??).

My mother loved to tell the story of when I started kindergarten there at Offutt. I was so independent, I refused to walk with her the first day (or any day there after). I waltzed way on ahead in an either the pre-prepubescent embarrassment of having my mother with me, or I can do it myself, thank you (which is most likely the case).

I remember only a few things about kindergarten, one was that I had a young, pretty teacher with dark hair. Another was the time I got in trouble for scraping all the mud off my boots in the coat room making a big mess that I had to clean up. I was devastated and embarrassed. I don’t know why that event has stuck with me? I guess I didn’t like being the star of that show.

The other was being line-leader, or rather, not being line-leader. All the children’s names were colorfully printed on separate cards stacked in special boxes. At the end of the day, the reigning line-leaders (a boy and girl) would randomly pick their successors from the respective box for the next day.

I never got picked. I waited so anxiously day-after-day. I never got picked.

My mother keep telling me to be patient. Be patient.

Nobody liked me, I figured. I was the tall, clumsy, cross-eyed girl with the thick glasses that made a fool of herself with the mud in the coat room.

Spring came, and the class was scheduled to go on a field trip to the zoo! (Even way-back-when, Omaha had a zoo, a nice one, too.)

I was convinced there was no way I would get the prestigious position of line-leader for that day. One of the popular girls would get it. I was already putting myself down.

Well, I be danged if I didn’t get picked! ME, in the prominent position of line-leader for the whole day! And for the big adventure at the ZOO! Wow!. How special was that for my very first leadership role?

I don’t remember the zoo part, just the pride of being head of the pack (for once).

But I did learn the lesson that good things do come to those who wait, even to funny looking 5-year-olds.

More to come…

Happy Pi Day!