Summer Memories

Summer is almost here! School is out. I miss having a summer vacation. A lot of my summer memories are of my Granny’s house. My brother, cousins, and I spent a lot of our summers there while our parents worked. Granny lived in a small house, down a dirt road, in Highlandville, Missouri.

Upon arrival I would run in to hug Granny, then drink some of her water. She always had an insulated Cox Hospital mug full of ice cold water sitting next to her. Since she was in the country she had her own well. Her water tasted so good!

“Manda Beth, don’t you drink all Grandma’s water…I just filled that up!” She’d say, then shoo me out to play. Still to this day she occasionally refers to herself in the third person.

Then I’d go outside to play with my cousins. Everyone had to say a curse word, out loud, if you wanted to play. I always said “shit” because it seemed like the least offensive of curses. This was your initiation into our secret club: The Kool Cats. Once you've said your curse word it was understood that you couldn't go tattle... unless you wanted to get yourself in trouble.

We played things like “McDonald’s Drive-Thu” and “The Ghost of Hollers”... but those are stories for other blogs. The point is, we stayed out of Granny’s hair until it was time to eat lunch. She’d feed all us ramen noodles, or mac-n-cheese. It was alright though, because we all knew that Granny made the best of either. Back then we called ramen “long noodles”. She’d put extra butter in them which really made them really creamy. Ramen is a salty meal, which always made me thirsty. So back for more water I’d go. It always got on her nerves because I had a terrible habit of getting a new glass every time. I can still hear her now. Her voice always starts out with a bit of a high pitch when she's irritated: “Manda...*insert sigh and annoyed look* You don’t need a new glass every time you get water!” 

It wasn't that I was trying to be obnoxious, I just didn't think about it. That well water always did me right… 

...until one day, it didn't.

My childhood best friend, Mandi, had came with me that day. We were on our way home, in mom’s minivan, traveling south on the highway. We passed a billboard, and started the descent down the long hill. It was raining. As we gained momentum the van started hydroplaning. Out of control we spun around, tilt-o-whirl style, to the bottom the hill. The entire time we were spinning I was screaming. At some point I peed my pants.

There we were, on the side of the road, my pants stained with fresh pee. Oh, yeah... there was a lot of other stuff going on too, like some kind of damage to the van… but let’s be real: None of that mattered to me at that point. I was freaking out. My thoughts were on repeat, over and over I kept thinking: “I am ten years old and I just peed my pants! My best friend is here, and she’s laughing! She will tell everyone! I can’t stop crying. I’m so embarrassed. Wet pants are so uncomfortable!”

This was before cell phones. My mom actually trusted a stranger to take my brother back to Granny’s house to get help. It wasn't far. Two of my cousins, who were both athletic, ran down to help us as soon as they heard. My aunt and uncle drove down to help, too.

Mom made me wrap my Dad’s reflector yellow Silver Dollar City windbreaker jacket around my waist. My ten year old brain processing it as the equivalent of a sign saying: “I just wet my britches!” Dad’s jacket was huge, but it wasn't big enough to hide from the world! It was like a skirt, and it covered my wet pants well enough to ride in my aunt’s car back to Granny’s.

Everyone had a good laugh about the whole thing, mostly due to the relief that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. My wet pants got a lot of attention, and I blamed it on one thing publicly: fear. In the back of my mind, though, I knew I had learned yet another important lesson: Don’t drink a lot of water before a car ride.

Looking back now, as an adult who is often annoyed by the number of cups and glasses found on my counter every day, I feel like the whole pant wetting situation might have been some kind of karmic retribution imposed on me for my inability to use ONE GLASS. Who knows...

Ahhh, but I love summer time.