FRIDAY FIVE July 4 / Happy Fourth

Friday, Jul. 04, 2003 - 1:03 a.m.

This week's Friday Five: (Questions are boldface, my answers appear beneath.)

What were your favorite childhood stories?

A: Stories about friendship, mostly about strong women, and funny stuff.

What books from your childhood would you like to share with [your] children?

A: Amelia Bedelia, Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, The Little House series, A Girl of the Limberlost.

Have you re-read any of those childhood stories and been surprised by anything?

A: I recently re-read Charlotte's Web, and was surprise at the insight.

How old were you when you first learned to read?

A: I can't remember not reading. My parents claim that I was recognizing words before my first birthday, but I think it was just wistful thinking on their part.

Do you remember the first 'grown-up' book you read? How old were you?

A: The Stars, by H.A. Rey. It was an amateur astronomy book for people of all ages, by the author of the Curious George series. I was around five or six.

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Okay. Now, if you have a Diaryland journal, and wanna play Friday Five, go here.

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(Additional entry here at 8:17 pm on the same day....)

This is one of the few times of the year that I really and truly miss the city I grew up in.

Yuba City is located over in the Central valley here in California, about fifty miles north of Sacramento. I spent the first two thirds or so of my life there.

Right now, the temperature is still probably in the low 80s (F), and there is probably low or no wind.

Familes are gathering out in the streets and sharing and shooting off their fireworks.

Then they'll all head in the direction of Riverfront Park, located between Marysville and Yuba City, along the banks of the Feather River. That's where the big fireworks are set off.

I miss the smell of sulfur. I miss the smell of Off. I miss the citronella candles, and the garden hoses that are used to drench the spent 'works before being ladled up into the trash bins. I miss the inevitable smell of Medi-Quik, as it's being sprayed onto the bottom of the foot of whoever just stepped on that spent sparkler.

San Francisco is home now. We're finally part of each other.

But sometimes -- like tonight -- there's a deeper hunger and a nostalgia, and a pull from the past.

Happy Fourth of July, all. And remember...

Be kind to your web-footed friends, for a duck may be somebody's mother.

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