My parents managed to provide their children with the somewhat unlikely combination of the stability of home with dreams (and reality) of adventure, which was a wonderful gift.
While we lived in the same brick-trimmed rambler from the time I was 3 until my sophomore year of high school, several times a serious discussion arose around the possibility of a move--not just any move, mind you, but a move filled with major life-style changes and excitement.
|Photo: Me standing in front of my childhood home, on a particularly snowy day (for our area)|
One time, we pondered over purchasing the small, isolated town of Princeton, Oregon (population 5, if we bought it) and learned that the "local" high school was actually one of the nation's oldest public boarding schools, located miles away.
Another time, my dad interviewed for (and had my mom also been a teacher, would have gotten) a teaching position on one of the islands in the Kodiak Island Archipelago. Dinnertime discussion focused on bears and how we would have to take a boat or plane just to get to church each week.
When I started my sophomore year in high school, we moved a mere 15 miles away, but the adventure we began was just as exciting as Princeton or Alaska would have been; we moved into a passive-solar, underground (or at least set into the hill) home that Dad imagined and built, proving to us all that dreams do come true!
|Photo: The east side of Dad's dream house, where my parents still live.|
Thanks for dreams and stability, all wrapped up in one childhood.