Sonya Renae, the younger years

When smacked in the face with your own mortality you start doing a lot of thinking.  I have been going over my life and shaking my head at some of the decisions I made along the way and applauding myself for others.  We do what we can with what we have at the time.  I always had good intentions, sometimes my own naive young mind got me on the wrong path, sometimes it was my alcoholism, and sometimes I was just foolish. But all those experiences, the good and the bad made me who I am right now.  

So many memories have started coming back to me. Not sure if that is just what happens with a diagnosis such as this or if my slower pace of living, gives my brain time to remember.

  I can remember the smell of my grandma Inez’s house.  I remember her cupboards and how they smelled of wood varnish. I remember her baking what seemed like endless apple pies from scratch using apples off her backyard tree.  I remember my aunt Melanie’s room like I was just there yesterday.  It was my favorite room in their house.  She was still in high school when my grandma would take care of me, so as soon as she left, I would go in her room and look at all her things.  Her makeup was the most fascinating.  She had this waterfall dresser with the big round mirror and the drawers were full of so many eyeshadows, brushes, and mascara. I  don’t think I ever put any on, I just carefully admired it and then rearranged all her drawers, because I am helpful like that. Melanie and I have stayed close my whole life even after all my unwarranted organizational assistance. 

Grandma And Grandpa Jensen’s  house smelled like coffee and  Pine Sol.  On my occasional visits, she played cards and games with me while grandpa worked at his tv repair business downstairs. (Chet’s TV) Grandpa Chester would come up for lunch; I recall buns with liverwurst and chicken noodle soup on at least one occasion.  After lunch, grandpa would go sit in his 1970s green recliner and take a cat nap for around 20 minutes and then he went back to work again.  Grandma Ruth’s house was fun because people were always stopping by.  Playing with my cousins Krista and Cinda were the best times.  Well, usually…I am still traumatized by the year all my girl cousins had long red Christmas dresses and mine was green.  I always have sort of done my own thing…so maybe I picked it.  Who knows? 

Fast forward a few years to the dreaded preteen years.  Lonny Gilberts.  This “bad boy” I met in 6th grade at LE Berger middle school. He smoked cigarettes, swore like a sailor, and was a complete 12 year old badass.  I had a huge crush on him, so obviously the next step was to have my friend Tressa call him and tell him I liked him.  Then the big question..the one that had me holding my breath.  “Do you like her?” His reply, “She’s too straight for me”.  (Straight back then meaning walking the straight and narrow, being a goody two shoes.) Couldn’t have been more than a week later, Tressa, Shelly, and I were stealing Kool Milds out of my dad’s cigarette pack he hid in his darkroom.  We went promptly to Eastwood park in West Fargo and set out to teach ourselves how to smoke.  I also had to enhance my vocabulary with some carefully placed F bombs.  Well, it was all worth it folks…Lonny was my first kiss at Eastwood park, which had became our smoking hideout for the summer.  Things never did go any further with Lonny.  We became good friends and would drink a lot of Old Milwaukee down by the river the next few summers.  He taught me how to swing and jump off the rope into the nasty ass Red River without getting into the mucky spot.  It was up to your waist in some spots. Ewwww.  Our group of hooligans, (Darin Leopold, David Lenzmeier, Richie Lovelace, Randy Rourke, Petie Rohrick, Shelly Gustafson, Tressa Backer, Connie Smith) would go to the Town Hall bar, get someone to buy us a couple cases of nasty Old Mil and run from there on Main all the way to the river by the sunflower plant.  A bunch of kids running down the street with cases of beer and no one ever said a word. We would build a fire and sit around drinking beer and talking until curfew, sometimes later. One day we all decided to go see if we could get into the old Armour building.  Big old factory that had been boarded up.  We easily pried a board off an old window and we were in.  It was very dark and all we had for light were our cigarette lighters which will quickly burn your thumb when held ignited too long.  As we were running along doing our best to stay close together while climbing up to higher and higher floors,  my foot landed right in the center of a gap in the floor and down went my entire right leg getting cut pretty badly on a big old nail on the way down.  Lonny and David grabbed me and pulled me out of that hole so damn fast I barely had time to process what was happening.  The worst part..my tan big bell corduroy Levi’s from County Seat were ruined.   

More to come…if you dare.  Parental discretion, (like, that’s you, Mom and Dad), advised.  You may be shocked and amazed and then shocked again. 😎  I’ll keep it PG13 and you can sell the unrated version when I have become a tree.  We shall discuss those plans soon also.  Thanks for reading and being part of my self coping therapy.  Love to you all. 

Also, Special shout out in memory of Darin Leopold, Leo.  Many memories, my friend.  He reached out to me one night on Facebook after not talking to him for 20 years.  A week later, he was gone. Overdose.  May our spirits meet in whatever comes next.