Less then a mile from my house was the roller rink, bowling alley and on down the road a place we called the Pony Farm where for a few dollars you could ride horses all day.  We had a neighborhood mom and pop store where we cashed in our glass cola bottles to buy  penny candy and a junk yard (we weren’t supposed to go there) where we managed to find all sorts of interesting things for building projects.  My friends and I were forever trying to build cars and airplanes.  Dayton, the birth place of the Wright Brothers had a big influence on us.  And when we weren’t constructing  something to ride we were building forts in the woods.  We had clubs, one being the Monkey Club.  In order to join you had to climb one of the  tall spindly  trees and crawl out on one of the limbs until it bent low enough for you to jump to the ground.  If you couldn’t do that you grabbed one of the many hanging vines and swung until it started to break and down you came.  I don’t recall that any of us ever broke any bones, but there were plenty of scratches and bruises.

By the time I was a teenager a new high school was built within walking distance and a soda shop called the Falcon Inn (school mascot was a falcon) on the same street.  I spent many hours at the shop with friends sipping cherry cokes  listening to the juke box and trying out the latest dance moves.  I didn’t realize it then, but I really did have the best of both worlds.

I planned to stay with my daughter in her dorm since all the motels were full.  They won the tournament and planned a huge after party.  Declining to go with her and her team mates I decided to drive to Cody and find somewhere to eat.  I had lived in Cody years ago, but hadn’t been back for ten years.  Driving towards South Fork I stopped at Cassie’s Supper Club.  It was packed and a long line stretched to the door with customers waiting to be seated.  Just as I decided to leave and find somewhere else to eat a couple of older cowboys sitting at a table motioned me over and invited me to join them for dinner.  I declined, but they insisted they had room so I found myself surrounded by jovial, local cowboys that wanted to know what I was doing out by myself.  We ordered and they kept me laughing with tales of ranching and finding out I used to live in Cody they caught me up to date on local news and changes.

The band was playing in the adjoining room and  I found myself enjoying the meal and the company.  Excusing myself to find the ladies room I walked through the bar area and passed a man that smiled and said hello He seemed kind of familar.  Back to the table I found the man that said hello talking to my new friends.  Taking my seat the cowboys introduced me to Henry Winkler…The Fonz!  I could hardly speak.  Fonzi had been with my new friends part of the day touring the Sunlight Basin area looking for possible real estate investments.  My new  friends got a kick out of seeing my surprise and confusion.  Two other men were with Fonzi.  They stayed in the background and weren’t introduced.  Maybe they were his body guards.  Anyway, before the evening was over I found myself slow dancing with the Fonz.  He was such  a gentleman.  He asked me questions about my family and shared his love for the Cody area and fishing.  The whole evening was surreal.  Before I knew it the club was closing and people were leaving.  I hadn’t intended to stay out so late.  I had 25 miles to drive back to the campus so I said goodbye to my new friends and thanked them for a great time.  The Fonz gave me a hug and wished me a safe trip home.  I floated out of the club!

It was close to 3 am when I got back to the dorm.  My daughter met me at the door firing questions at me.  “Where have you been?  I’ve been so worried.”  I couldn’t help smiling and started telling her about dancing with Fonzi.  She looked at me like she thought I’d been drinking.  I didn’t drink at the time and I had a flash back to all the time my teens had missed curfew with far fetched tales about why they were late.  It took me a while to convince her that I really had been having dinner (and a dance) with Henry Winkler.  It took forever to go to sleep and I think I must have been giggling like a school girl.

The next morning my daughter and her team mates quizzed me about Fonzi.  Was he really that cute?  Was he tall?  Was he friendly?  Yes to all, well, maybe not the tall part.  Actually, he’s quite short.  I’m 5’2 and even though he had on tall boots (so did I)  he was not that much taller then me when we were dancing.  I told them it was a wonderful evening and that I would keep the shirt I was wearing forever…never washing it since his hands had rested on my shirt while we danced.  Did I ask for his autograph or a picture?  No.  It just seemed like too much of a groupie thing for a woman my age.  Did I want to?   Yes!!!  But no regrets.  I still have the memories and the shirt.

I was always glad I chose to stay away from drugs especially when my six kids were teenagers.  They prodded me with questions and I could always honestly say drugs were not part of my younger years.  So…imagine my daughters confusion when she came to visit  and found me rocking out to Bob Marley and this plant growing beside my front deck.

 This beautiful green plant just popped up in my flowers last month.  I had no clue what it was or where it came from, but I loved the leaves and the colors.  So, I decided I must have planted it earlier using some of the seeds I’d found in the shed.  The previous owner had left quite a few things behind when he moved.  I’ve been cleaning and tossing things all summer.  I can’t throw away anything that looks like a seed so I just add them to my flowers.  Actually, once this plant started growing I was hoping it would reseed and come back every year.  I told my daughter I didn’t know what it was.  She smiled and said maybe I should find out.

As luck would have it our local paper printed a picture of  marijuana plants that had recently been discovered growing in one of our national forests.  I freaked!  They looked just like my plant that was growing in my front yard for everyone to see.  My daughter, bless her, went home armed with a picture of my plant and surfed the web for plants that look like pot.  She found one and saved me from digging up my whole flower bed.  It’s a Cleome also known as a Spider Plant.  It has purple, spiked  flowers when it blooms.

 I  hope it comes back next summer.  It kind of ups my status with the teenagers that cut through my yard as the older, cool lady that lives in the neighborhood.   I’m sure that with my plant and Bob Marley tunes blaring my image has forever changed.

So, now I’m back and going to back track and try to fill in all the blank months. I’m anal that way.  I have the obsessive need to put things in order. A lot has happened since March 2010 the last time I posted anything.  And I’ve decided to share my blog.  By that I’m no longer afraid to have people read what I’m writing.  When I started my blog I needed to vent, sometimes to rage about the embarrassment and  humiliation I was going through.  I also needed to remember the goodness of my friends and family and yes, remember the good times with HIM.  I laughed while I was writing and I cried.  Writing is theraputic.  It’s better then a pill in a bottle.

Marge and I spent so much time together that people often said we looked alike. I think she’s beautiful so I was always flattered when someone got us mixed up…and that happened a lot.