EY #6: Tell about "running away" with your cousin.

Not exactly sure why I chose this topic today.  I had every intention of writing this post on her birthday, but maybe the fact that I have a nephew and a sister-in-law who share her birthday has something to do with it.  Maybe I'll be inspired to write about them on June 17th!

So... Beth Ann Kaetzer was my "little cousin."  Not too sure why I felt that way about her.  I was only 15 months older than her, but I guess the fact that I was so much older, made me feel protective of her.  I looked on her Facebook page to see if I could find a picture of her from when she was a kid, but not everyone shares their past quite the way I do so this was the best I could do:

My beautiful cousin, Beth with her children

Now, Beth's older brother, Jimmy was eleven months older than me, so as you can guess, we were all pretty close.  Especially since the rest of our cousins seemed quite a bit older than us; or at least that's how they made me feel.  Anyway, we also only lived about 6 miles apart. Beth's family (her mom was my Aunt Marge, my dad's younger sister) lived in a house behind my grandparents in Oswego, Illinois and my father was in the process of building a new house for them across the street from Grandma & Grandpa.

Occasionally, my mother would babysit for Aunt Marge and I had the fun of having other children my age at our house.  (They also had a little brother named Tommy and I think Aunt Marge was pregnant with Timmy.)  Anyway, on this particular day, we had gone to Oswego to pick them up, but Jimmy decided he wanted to stay home and watch "Uncle Ray" work on their new house.  I'm not sure why we wanted Jimmy to come with us so much.  We really should have enjoyed having some fun without him, but we missed him.

Beth and I were having fun in my bedroom, using my bed as a trampoline when I came up with a brilliant idea!!! Let's walk to Oswego and get him!  Now, I don't know if Beth was smarter than I was or if she was just a chicken, but she didn't seem quite as excited about the adventure.  She told me that we didn't know the way (remember I said it was about six miles?), but I assured her that I did.  After all, I would be starting kindergarten in just a few weeks!

So, we planned our escape. (Or I did and she just went along with my insanity... I really hope she'll comment on this post and share a bit of what she remembers!)  The plan was that we would ask my mom if we could go for a walk around the block.  She let us do that sometimes and the world seemed so much safer back then.  Anyway, we got permission and set out on our adventure.  Except when we got to the end of my block we didn't turn, we kept on walking and walking and walking.  We walked past my soon-to-be elementary school and said hello to Miss Lonergan, the principal who was outside. I knew all about Bardwell School and Miss Lonergan.  My mother was a long-time room mother and PTA member/president, so I was frequently at the school in my "younger" years.  I'm kind of amazed now that Miss Lonergan didn't call my mom.  She did ask what we were doing when I introduced her to my little cousin, but I told her we were just out for a walk.  (Is it wrong that I can still remember some of these details?)  Anyway, she bought our story, so we continued on.

The road to Oswego (at that time anyway) took us past some rural areas and at one point we walked past a wooded area.  Beth was a bit apprehensive of the woods, but instead of trying to reassure her, I compounded her fear by telling her that lions, tigers and alligators lived in there, so we needed to hurry and stay on the road... yeah... no sidewalks by this point.  The road to Oswego followed the Fox River and at one point we had a very good view of the river... and the hobos that were hanging out by it!

We had walked about halfway and made it to Montgomery, Illinois and came upon a little picnic area with a small parking lot that had those tire bumper things; you know the things that show you where the parking places are and prevent you from pulling into the grass?  Well, I always loved to walk on those things, pretending they were balance beams or something I guess. So, we started walking on them.  Until I fell and hurt my knee on the gravel!  And I started to cry.

Suddenly, an elderly woman came out of the house across the street and started calling us to come into her house.  Visions of Hansel & Gretel and the wicked witch came to mind and I hesitated to go into a stranger's house.  But, practical Beth convinced me that it was the right thing to do since I was hurt and we didn't have any bandaids. So, we watched for cars, I held Beth's hand and away we went.  I think the old lady was a little surprised when I could tell her that 63849 was my telephone number, but she promised she would call my mother right away.

Before she went to make the call, she cleaned up my knee and patched me up and then offered us a dish of chocolate covered peanuts.  Beth dug in and grabbed a handful! I was horrified!  "Don't you know you're not supposed to take candy from strangers?!?!?!"  Beth just looked at me and popped a couple in her mouth.  I'm not sure what made me think it was okay to be in a stranger's home, but that it wasn't okay to eat the candy.  I just knew that my mother told me to NEVER take candy from strangers.  So I didn't. But I sure envied Beth for having some. We left home before we got to eat lunch! 

So, Beth munched on candy; I glared at her and sniveled about my sore knee and the lady called my mom, who arrived within minutes.  I was so excited to see her, but didn't get the comforting greeting I expected to make my knee feel all better.  In fact I got no greeting at all. Just an order to get in the car while my mother thanked the lady.  

I never knew what "the silent treatment" was, but I should have been glad that's what I got, because it didn't last long enough.  Once we got home and my mom parked the car and we all got out of the car, I received swats to my rear-end, all the way into the house while my mother asked me if I had any idea how worried she had been and how lucky I was that all I got was a scraped knee and how inconsiderate I was since my mom still had Tommy to look after and how could I put Beth in that much danger and what was Aunt Marge going to say.... and on... and on...

Had the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, Bad Day been written by then, I think I would have agreed with Alexander and decided to move to Australia!

Moral of the story to any grandchildren who may read this post: No matter how smart you think you are, you do not know everything!  Listen to your parents (and your little cousins-or siblings) when the speak with the voice of reason!  And, while adventure may be fun and sound like a good idea at the time, there is nothing better than the safe haven of a loving home and parents who care enough to swat your rear-end!

Moral of the story to my children or any other young parents who may read this post: Don't forget that your children have their own ideas about the world and how it operates. Protect them but don't smother them. And be willing to look beyond their actions to discover the reasons behind them.  They may just be missing someone (or something) they love.