Once Upon a Mickey.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows. ~John Betjeman, Summoned by Bells

Mickey Mouse and Disneyland were never big highlights in my life. Wonder Woman and Bruce Lee, well that’s another story if you know me. I didn’t actually set foot in Disneyland until I was 28 during a vacation with my fiancé in California.

But yesterday, when I walked into a thrift store to scour shelves for books, comics, or geek toys, (my regular pastime), I found a vintage Mickey Mouse piggy bank and I didn’t even realize that I missed it until I saw his cute self on the toy shelf.

I had a similar 1971 Mickey bank as a child in Massachusetts. I recall that when my dad left the Army for life back in Guam, that bank made it home with me. I can’t tell you when Mickey left my life, but I’m quite sure I had him throughout my grade school years. I remember collecting my coins from chores and birthday gifts into that Mickey. I remember my grandpa on the hard floor and me earning a dollar for walking on his back to relieve his sore muscles (a Guam thing). I would fold each dollar neatly and use smelly masking tape to wrap my cash, wrote the date on the tape and pushed my earnings into the back of Mickey’s head. I recall the smell of the bank’s plastic, the red shirt and green button and his smiling face. So much of that bank reminded me of some 30+ years ago and simpler times.

I was glad to bring home vintage Mickey for $3.99. Considering, this bank goes from $15.00 to $275.00 online; I’m thankful to have found a piece of my childhood.

Is There a DENDROLOGIST in the House? Day 3 of NaBloPoMo.

“That tree whose leaves are trembling: it is yearning for something. That tree so lovely to see acts as if it wants to flower: it is yearning for something.” ~Diego Hurtado De Mendoza

<-------This tree!****This tree I found as I walked my morning walk yesterday, pretending to be a jogger, with my daughter talking away in the stroller. <-----This tree****what is it? Name, please, anyone? I’ve wanted to know for the last 30 years. Googled it to no avail….anyway, the story of this beautiful tree begins when I was the same age as my son is now. <-------This tree holds special significance to me because it was THE TREE I was going to build my first tree house in. When I was 6-years old, my parents bought a home in the village of Ordot back in Guam, my home island. I was excited to have my own room and not be renting (at that age, I felt the power and excitement of owning something). My mom was eager to start gardening. My dad was happy to start building. In our front yard, my dad and mom planted this short plant, and I didn’t know if it was just a flowering bush or a tree. My dad said it would grow big and become a tree. I was fascinated by its butterfly looking leaves and beautiful pink orchid like flowers. I remember the perfume of the pink and white petals. I remember sitting on the poky Chinese grass, which was vibrant green and carpet-like. The thin blades of grass poked through the thin material of my shorts, but I didn’t mind. I was trying my hardest to enjoy the “shade”, sparse as it was of MY tree.

My childhood home, Ordot, Guam. Wish I had a picture of the tree, but it's to the left of the shot.>>>>>>>>>>. ************I wondered every year if my tree would get big and strong enough to actually hold a house. My father would watch me from our front door as I insisted on sitting in the grass to read a book. I must have been eight or nine, and the tree was now slightly taller than me, guessing about four feet tall. “When is this tree going to grow, dad?” He would say, “soon”. So, instead of watching this tree grow, that afternoon I perfected my cartwheel. My dad was proud and proceeded to cheer me on to do more. I must have done a hundred, at least that’s what my child memory logged in, sure felt like it. I was happy to make my dad laugh.

***********When I moved out of my childhood home to a home of my own in another village, that tree was grown, but not strong enough for a tree house. By that time, I had given up on that dream. And, the beautiful grass was replaced with concrete for a basketball court, which doubled as a parking spot. ***********In 2009, I visited Guam again. I had just sold my Mangilao home and did a drive by to see the first home I purchased. Then, without question, my mom and I drove to Ordot. We visited the tenant who had made this her residence for almost ten years. She raised her children in my old home and was now a grandmother. My tree was now taller than the house. It was still not ready for a tree house, and would never be. The nature, structure and delicate branches could never hold my dream. But, now, I’m okay with that. It is a reminder of a time when my dad was healthy, young and attentive. This tree that I see every morning on my walk will still be special to me. It will still be a place I can hang my hopes for something big.

I ♥ Music. I searched "Screaming Trees" & "Treehouse Song" for music...Ane Brun won. ESTA LATER!