This is a picture of me from 1975, up on a Fourth of July float in the local parade dressed as a little flower, protesting the environmental damage being done to the world, represented by one of my dad's VWs. With the fenders taken off, completely unironically I assume, to make it look 'junky'. Had no sense of anything, that father of mine; he used to serve, quite enthusiastically, on the local Conservation Commission, with no stirring whatsoever of consciousness or conscience, given the 55-gallon barrels of parts cleaner &c. he had rusting out in the yard.
And there I am, doing a job I surely did not volunteer for, with what can only have been a distinctly uncomfortable and crowdy flower headdress, holding a sign saying HELP.
Sums up my childhood quite prettily, doesn't it?
2 comments:
Oh Thalia, you precious flower, you! How I wish I could pluck every innocent child (and every helpless animal, too) from the dreadful environment of the hoard and transplant them into a warm, safe, clean and loving home. I bear the pychological scars from my childhood but today I live in a clean uncluttered home and thanks to sites like yours I can be grateful I survived and am even able to see the humor in spite of the sadness. Thank you for sharing yourself with us, your family of "hoard survivors".
How thoughtful of them to dress you in a (likely) used pillowcase.
I note the knees-yep, there surely WERE "long standing plumbing problems." Along with his participation on the Dirt Board, he knew the "value" of "CYA" by Pre-empting the Opposition.
Including you kids. And YES, I do hold your "Mother" equally responsible.
Gawd love ya.
Tundra Woman (TW)
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