Tell Me A Kid Story

[Dana Jean]

Tell me a story about you from your childhood. Do you have a favorite? Something that sort of sums you up, even as an adult?

I've told this before, but here is mine. Kind of lets you know I've always loved to learn new things.

When I was little, a movie came out called Harry In Your Pocket.


James Coburn ...
Harry
Michael Sarrazin ...
Ray Haulihan
Trish Van Devere ...
Sandy Coletto
Walter Pidgeon ...
Casey


It was about Van Devere and Sarrazin, two-bit pickpockets who are discovered by James Coburn. A more professional and slick con artist. Great movie.

Now, in this movie is a scene where Coburn is teaching the two to be better pickpockets. He does this by hanging a men's suit of clothes suspended from the ceiling and he puts a man's wallet in the breast pocket. He then places a bell on the lapel. If the bell rings, they didn't do it right. So they practice over and over again.

Well, I went to my dad's closet, took out a suit, hung the hanger on a line from a light in the ceiling and placed a bell on the lapel. (one of those bird seed shaped bells that had an actual bell hanging from the bottom. Minus all the bird seed.) I put an old wallet in the breast pocket and started practicing.

Why? I don't know. I was intrigued. And I don't remember my family asking me once what I was doing.

I was a quirky kid and they just let me be. To this day, I am full of quirk. And for the record, I didn't grow up to be a world-class pickpocket. Damn.

 

[PatInTheHat]

I loved that movie, and what kid would'nt practice
Hmm, let me give it some brain wave.

 

[Dana Jean]

I loved that movie, and what kid would'nt practice
Hmm, let me give it some brain wave.

I know you have a great story in there! Would love to hear it.

 

[PatInTheHat]

I know you have a great story in there! Would love to hear it.

Did ya miss the one where I piddled myself..and hey it involved a Cary Grant movie
Don' t know where it's at, can't recall the thread, some game

 

[Dana Jean]

Did ya miss the one where I piddled myself..and hey it involved a Cary Grant movie
Don' t know where it's at, can't recall the thread, some game

I did not read about any piddling.

 

[DiO'Bolic]

I’ve told the story before, but here goes anyway... It was 1969 and I was 12 years old. My best friend Jimmy’s older and much wiser (he did just recently graduate from high school, you know) brother Marty and his friend Keith had 4 tickets to the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. But Jimmy’s parents were away and Marty had to watch over his younger brother. He decided to take us to Woodstock which still fulfilled his requirement. I asked my parents beforehand if I could go. I told them there would be lots of art there, and I was interested in art at the time. They had to think about it as they didn’t really know much about it. The day drew near and news reports were coming out of the Armageddon the Woodstock concert was causing in New York. My parents said there was no way they were going to let me go. I told them my cousin Joey was going and he’d be there, so there was nothing to worry about. It was still NO! My powers of persuasion were not up to snuff I guess. Well, the four of us reasoned that I could stay over at my friends house the night before, and we’d leave early in the morning and be back that evening so nobody would ever know. Ironclad, baby! Anyway, I was 12 and almost a man. Things were going rather well in our scheme until we got across the New York border. No interstates at the time, and traffic stopped dead! There was no way Marty and Keith decided they were going to miss out on the concert, even if they had to hitchhike, but at least had the smarts enough to determine that it might not be the greatest of ideas to do with two 12 year olds who would just run wild. So they turned around and drove back to town. When we got to the front of my house they kicked us out and drove back to Woodstock, hitchhiked the last leg and stayed the duration. For me, the jig was up. The best-laid plans of mice and boys does go awry. My butt was on the receiving end of a large wooden spoon administered by a crazed Irish mother. I couldn’t sit for days. (At least I got a Tee Shirt for my pain and suffering when they came back -- that was too big.) Up until the day my mother passed away, some 45 years later, whenever the topic of Woodstock came up, I managed to in trouble all over again.

 

[KingAHolic]

Not to be a downer, but my story is this -

My brother and sister tormented me and blamed me for everything since I was the youngest, my dad left when I was 5 and my mom couldn't cope so she was on Librium all the time, so, this basically taught me I couldn't rely on anyone but myself.

I know you were looking for a fun/interesting story, but, that is mine.

 

[Dana Jean]

I’ve told the story before, but here goes anyway... It was 1969 and I was 12 years old. My best friend Jimmy’s older and much wiser (he did just recently graduate from high school, you know) brother Marty and his friend Keith had 4 tickets to the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. But Jimmy’s parents were away and Marty had to watch over his younger brother. He decided to take us to Woodstock which still fulfilled his requirement. I asked my parents beforehand if I could go. I told them there would be lots of art there, and I was interested in art at the time. They had to think about it as they didn’t really know much about it. The day drew near and news reports were coming out of the Armageddon the Woodstock concert was causing in New York. My parents said there was no way they were going to let me go. I told them my cousin Joey was going and he’d be there, so there was nothing to worry about. It was still NO! My powers of persuasion were not up to snuff I guess. Well, the four of us reasoned that I could stay over at my friends house the night before, and we’d leave early in the morning and be back that evening so nobody would ever know. Ironclad, baby! Anyway, I was 12 and almost a man. Things were going rather well in our scheme until we got across the New York border. No interstates at the time, and traffic stopped dead! There was no way Marty and Keith decided they were going to miss out on the concert, even if they had to hitchhike, but at least had the smarts enough to determine that it might not be the greatest of ideas to do with two 12 year olds who would just run wild. So they turned around and drove back to town. When we got to the front of my house they kicked us out and drove back to Woodstock, hitchhiked the last leg and stayed the duration. For me, the jig was up. The best-laid plans of mice and boys does go awry. My butt was on the receiving end of a large wooden spoon administered by a crazed Irish mother. I couldn’t sit for days. (At least I got a Tee Shirt for my pain and suffering when they came back -- that was too big.) Up until the day my mother passed away, some 45 years later, whenever the topic of Woodstock came up, I managed to in trouble all over again.

you werethisclose to going to Woodstock! Oh man! How cool would that have been? Sorry it didn't work out but great story.

 

[Dana Jean]

Not to be a downer, but my story is this -

My brother and sister tormented me and blamed me for everything since I was the youngest, my dad left when I was 5 and my mom couldn't cope so she was on Librium all the time, so, this basically taught me I couldn't rely on anyone but myself.

I know you were looking for a fun/interesting story, but, that is mine.

Nope. I was looking for a story that might give a little insight into the connection between child and adult. I am so sorry you had a tough childhood. That's not right because all kids should have the best.

THanks for sharing.

 

[Out of Order]

I had the biggest crush on Rosy McDowell when in grade school. She's the one who bopped me with her pinwheel when I tried to kiss her on the playground. Anywho.. she lived near to me, but across the busiest road in our neighborhood and I was absolutely forbidden to cross it. FORBIDDEN! But my second grade lust had the better of me that day. I had to see my little Rosy. So I did. I crossed the road and hid in the bushes next to her driveway to get a glimpse of the girl I would surely marry by the fourth grade. I can still see her.........yellow dress.....carrying her school books.....skipping home with her friend Perry Reese..... I was sure to get my first real kiss that day and be immortal with the tale of triumph to my friends. My bike gave me away. I didn't tell you I rode it to her house to beat her home from school, but I did. She saw it and my Keds sticking out of the Forsythia or whatever darn bush it was next to her driveway. I could hear her yelling Mom(!) as she and Perry ran for her front door. I hopped on and sped home on my Schwinn chopper. The phone was ringing as I pulled into my drive. I needn't tell you what two Moms were going to have a very interesting phone conversation about a little boy.........My Dad wasn't due home for another couple hours, but I could feel the belt already.....

Probably why I never hit my kids......

 

[Dana Jean]

I had the biggest crush on Rosy McDowell when in grade school. She's the one who bopped me with her pinwheel when I tried to kiss her on the playground. Anywho.. she lived near to me, but across the busiest road in our neighborhood and I was absolutely forbidden to cross it. FORBIDDEN! But my second grade lust had the better of me that day. I had to see my little Rosy. So I did. I crossed the road and hid in the bushes next to her driveway to get a glimpse of the girl I would surely marry by the fourth grade. I can still see her.........yellow dress.....carrying her school books.....skipping home with her friend Perry Reese..... I was sure to get my first real kiss that day and be immortal with the tale of triumph to my friends. My bike gave me away. I didn't tell you I rode it to her house to beat her home from school, but I did. She saw it and my Keds sticking out of the Forsythia or whatever darn bush it was next to her driveway. I could hear her yelling Mom(!) as she and Perry ran for her front door. I hopped on and sped home on my Schwinn chopper. The phone was ringing as I pulled into my drive. I needn't tell you what two Moms were going to have a very interesting phone conversation about a little boy.........My Dad wasn't due home for another couple hours, but I could feel the belt already.....

Probably why I never hit my kids......

hahaha! Love. Wasn't that fun though? Don't you think back on that and smile (except for the belting part of course.)

This reminded me of the time a friend of mine and I spied on my boyfriend. We dressed in black! Parked our car, crossed 4 lanes of highway on foot! ran down a hill towards his house and jumped in a ditch, just to see his car wasn't home. God forbid we actually just drive by. And we were so exhausted by all that, we just stood up and walked back up the street to the car under the freeway overpass.

 

[Out of Order]

Yes, it was fun. I'll have to tell the story of my first kiss sometime..........

 

[Dana Jean]

Yes, it was fun. I'll have to tell the story of my first kiss sometime..........

my first kiss was sad. I'm such a loser.

 

[PatInTheHat]

my first kiss was sad. I'm such a loser.

First one doesn't matter for nothin', it's the last one that might just mean everything.

 

[KingAHolic]

My first kiss was awesome! And most every kiss after that as well. I'll never understand why someone doesn't like a good long French kiss.

 

[Grandpa]

I told the real formative story in the "Personal Stories" thread of my childhood friend Curt. It took, what, seven long posts, and you don't want to go through that again.

Hmmm.... I could run fast. Not far, but fast. I won the grade school championship meet for 50 and 100 yard dash and came in third on the long jump. Got the stumpy little legs to move, I guess. And I won the school spelling bee and then crashed at the regional on the stupidest word ever. And I never leveraged the track and mental prowess of that age into anything worthwhile.

 

[SusanNorton]

The first time I was asked out on a date was my freshman year of high school. My yellow princess phone rang, and when I answered it was John Messman calling to ask me if I was going to the upcoming dance. I said no, that I wasn't going. He said, "Okay. I just wanted to know, because I've asked another girl and am waiting to hear if she can go with me. But if she can't, would you go with me?" I said "No," and hung up. Really - was this the way guys operated? I wouldn't have gone with him even if it was a proper invitation, but surely I deserved a better introduction into the dating world than this, I thought. Surely, I should be the first choice for someone calling to ask me to a dance, especially someone who washed his hair once a week, right? Or was this some kind of joke? A friend of mine was dating a guy in my homeroom, and one day this guy came up to me and said, "My friend Steve is very shy, and nervous about asking you to the dance because he's afraid you'll say no. If he asked, would you say yes?" Well, I'd fallen into this trap before and wasn't about to fall into it again. "No," I said. I was really proud of myself for not being gullible and saying yes. Surely, if this Steve wanted to ask me out, he would do it himself, like on television. He'd call me on my yellow phone, and I would smile and twirl my hair like Marsha Brady, and say, "Yes, Friday night sounds great! See you then!" My friend called me that night, surprised that I'd turned Steve down. Oh, I said, was that a real thing? Why didn't he ask me himself? "Because he's super shy, like you," she said. "He sits at home reading all the time, like you, listening to Beatles records and staring into space, like you." Oh, I said. Can you tell him I'd like to go with him? "He's already asked Laura, because they're friends, but he really wanted to go with you." Did I mention that Steve looked like a young Donald Sutherland?

This was the first of many things I have done/not done that caused me regret later in life. I have many regrets. Most of them about situations that didn't live up to my Brady Bunch expectations.

 

[DiO'Bolic]

My funniest sports story was when I was in baseball little league. It was the final game of the year and a monster sky high hit came into the outfield. Ray (who could have been Elvis’s son, and since he was adopted by an ex executive in the music industry, it was rumored... but I digress) was in center field. I was in right field, the position dedicated for the worst player. Ray got under the ball, had his glove in place, and a little gust from the gods moved the ball’s trajectory. The ball went over his glove, bounced off his forehead, back up in the air, and fell into my glove. Out number three, the top of the ninth, and we where ahead by one run. We won the game... I won the game, sorta. I was carried off the field while Ray remained laying on the ground out cold.

 

[Dana Jean]

I told the real formative story in the "Personal Stories" thread of my childhood friend Curt. It took, what, seven long posts, and you don't want to go through that again.

Hmmm.... I could run fast. Not far, but fast. I won the grade school championship meet for 50 and 100 yard dash and came in third on the long jump. Got the stumpy little legs to move, I guess. And I won the school spelling bee and then crashed at the regional on the stupidest word ever. And I never leveraged the track and mental prowess of that age into anything worthwhile.

What was the word?

 

[Dana Jean]

The first time I was asked out on a date was my freshman year of high school. My yellow princess phone rang, and when I answered it was John Messman calling to ask me if I was going to the upcoming dance. I said no, that I wasn't going. He said, "Okay. I just wanted to know, because I've asked another girl and am waiting to hear if she can go with me. But if she can't, would you go with me?" I said "No," and hung up. Really - was this the way guys operated? I wouldn't have gone with him even if it was a proper invitation, but surely I deserved a better introduction into the dating world than this, I thought. Surely, I should be the first choice for someone calling to ask me to a dance, especially someone who washed his hair once a week, right? Or was this some kind of joke? A friend of mine was dating a guy in my homeroom, and one day this guy came up to me and said, "My friend Steve is very shy, and nervous about asking you to the dance because he's afraid you'll say no. If he asked, would you say yes?" Well, I'd fallen into this trap before and wasn't about to fall into it again. "No," I said. I was really proud of myself for not being gullible and saying yes. Surely, if this Steve wanted to ask me out, he would do it himself, like on television. He'd call me on my yellow phone, and I would smile and twirl my hair like Marsha Brady, and say, "Yes, Friday night sounds great! See you then!" My friend called me that night, surprised that I'd turned Steve down. Oh, I said, was that a real thing? Why didn't he ask me himself? "Because he's super shy, like you," she said. "He sits at home reading all the time, like you, listening to Beatles records and staring into space, like you." Oh, I said. Can you tell him I'd like to go with him? "He's already asked Laura, because they're friends, but he really wanted to go with you." Did I mention that Steve looked like a young Donald Sutherland?

This was the first of many things I have done/not done that caused me regret later in life. I have many regrets. Most of them about situations that didn't live up to my Brady Bunch expectations.

Well, the first dance I ever went to was one of those where girls and guys just show up, no dates. 8th grade. Parents dumped off the kids for the dance.

I was the joke dance. Guys were dared to dance with me. For all the wrong reasons. Makes me a little nauseous even thinking about that.