Bev at the Top of the World

It's my sister, Brave Bev's, birthday today! A few years ago, she was daring enough to climb up on top of this pyramid of family, including dad, brothers, brothers-in-law, and cousins.

Would she do it again today?

Why, yes, yes, she would.

Have you ever been in a pyramid of people? If so, did you manage to get down in an orderly fashion?

Or was it a free-for-fall? 

My Family When I Was Seven Years Old

While going through some boxes of my old papers, I found this picture I drew of my family when I was seven years old. 

How do I know I was seven? Because Carolyn isn't in the picture, and she came along when I was 8 years old.

My just older brother, DellRay, is on the far left holding a bucket on his head with an impossibly long arm. (He needed the arm to hold the bucket, don't you see? He was really good with his chemistry set, so maybe he turned himself into elastic man for a day.)

His other (impossibly short) arm is extended to hold my hand. (Maybe he had the secret ability to pull his arms through his body, like a pipe cleaner through a hole.)

Awww, look at that. We're ALL holding hands! My awfully curvy seven-year-old self is holding onto bikini Bev, who was five going on six. (She still loves to tan.) Then there's four-year-old Greg, who usually matched DellRay when we were kids, but he's got a red suit that summer for some reason. Loraine, the only one with stylish stripes, was turning three that summer.

Behind us is 11-year-old Rebecca, also in a red suit, holding onto 15-year-old Melinda's hand.

Now I've got to wonder why I drew Melinda in a dress and socks and shoes instead of a swimming suit? I don't know. Maybe she swam in a dress. Maybe it's because her legs were broken. (I mean, LOOK at them! She should be walking with  crutches at least!)

It also appears that she's saying, "Down!" (Written in blue above her head, with little blue talk lines radiating from her mouth.)

What does that mean?

I forgot to write an explanation.

Then it looks like my parents are dancing in the middle of us all. (My father loved to dance.)

   So now you'll be able to recognize all of us on the street.

You're welcome.

What's your favorite summer activity?

Missing My Dad

I'm missing my father, Dell B Anderson, lately. 

(If you noticed, his middle name, "B," does not have a period after it. That's because it's not an initial, it's his middle name. Originally, his parents intended to give him his mother's maiden name, Bell, but before putting pen to paper, they reconsidered how "Dell Bell Anderson" might affect him his whole life. Then they just went with the initial.)

I've heard it said that dying is like passing from one room to another, which is what my dad did on August 1, 2002. This last little while, my heart aches from missing him. So I have to wonder, why is it that we can't just stand in the doorway of the two rooms to have a nice chat now and then?

Love you, Dad.