I grew up poor.
The kind of poor where you had to get creative with everything.
While other kids played with shiny metal play sets from K-Mart, we had to play in a ditch behind our low rent apartment complex.
While other kids were decorating their pink plastic Barbie houses, I was decorating a shoe box that would have to do. I remember finding a great treasure one day in this lush green mossy ground covering. I could cut squares of it, lay it in my box, and for a day or two pretend my Barbie house had the most awesome green shag carpet around.
Then it would turn brown and back out to the woods I'd go in search of my carpet supply.
And there was no such thing as a week long beach vacation. We had beach days. Since we lived in Florida, the beach was never more than a couple hours drive. So, we'd pile into the unairconditioned red Pinto with the black, plastic, leatherette seats and head to the shore.
Equipped with nothing but hand sewn bathing suits and a big bag of Doritos for each kid, we'd spend all day jumping the waves and digging in the sand.
The drive home was one of my most favorite memories. There ain't nothing like the way sandy, salty, sunburned skin sticks to black plastic leatherette seats... hot, unairconditioned, black plastic leatherette seats.
Strangely, I don't remember feeling deprived one bit.
For what we lacked in resources and convenience we more than made up for with our imaginations.
I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.
Who wanted a metal playset when you had a ditch. Some days it was the Grand Canyon that we dared each other to leap across. Other days it was the place we could set up house and serve high tea. On rainy days it was a swimming pool with a rich supply of mud bombs.
Who'd want a store bought Barbie House with confining plastic rooms when you could have the flexibility of the shoe box variety. One day Barbie was in a one box ranch. Then the next day she married JR Ewing and had a four box mansion. Bummer on the third day when someone shot JR and she had to settle in a two box split level.
And who would ever want to spend a whole week at the beach? I was so burned after one day I couldn't fathom any more than that. Those poor people that had to go sleep in motels. We got to load up in the pinto, blast our 8 track Commodores music, and let our hair whip every which way as we sped home.
Then after my bath and hearty dinner of boxed macaroni and cheese, I'd slip into my Holly Hobby sheets and dream up what my ditch could become tomorrow.
The kind of poor where you had to get creative with everything.
While other kids played with shiny metal play sets from K-Mart, we had to play in a ditch behind our low rent apartment complex.
While other kids were decorating their pink plastic Barbie houses, I was decorating a shoe box that would have to do. I remember finding a great treasure one day in this lush green mossy ground covering. I could cut squares of it, lay it in my box, and for a day or two pretend my Barbie house had the most awesome green shag carpet around.
Then it would turn brown and back out to the woods I'd go in search of my carpet supply.
And there was no such thing as a week long beach vacation. We had beach days. Since we lived in Florida, the beach was never more than a couple hours drive. So, we'd pile into the unairconditioned red Pinto with the black, plastic, leatherette seats and head to the shore.
Equipped with nothing but hand sewn bathing suits and a big bag of Doritos for each kid, we'd spend all day jumping the waves and digging in the sand.
The drive home was one of my most favorite memories. There ain't nothing like the way sandy, salty, sunburned skin sticks to black plastic leatherette seats... hot, unairconditioned, black plastic leatherette seats.
Strangely, I don't remember feeling deprived one bit.
For what we lacked in resources and convenience we more than made up for with our imaginations.
I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.
Who wanted a metal playset when you had a ditch. Some days it was the Grand Canyon that we dared each other to leap across. Other days it was the place we could set up house and serve high tea. On rainy days it was a swimming pool with a rich supply of mud bombs.
Who'd want a store bought Barbie House with confining plastic rooms when you could have the flexibility of the shoe box variety. One day Barbie was in a one box ranch. Then the next day she married JR Ewing and had a four box mansion. Bummer on the third day when someone shot JR and she had to settle in a two box split level.
And who would ever want to spend a whole week at the beach? I was so burned after one day I couldn't fathom any more than that. Those poor people that had to go sleep in motels. We got to load up in the pinto, blast our 8 track Commodores music, and let our hair whip every which way as we sped home.
Then after my bath and hearty dinner of boxed macaroni and cheese, I'd slip into my Holly Hobby sheets and dream up what my ditch could become tomorrow.
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