Well...the age of three must have been of no consequence because the next memories I have don't surface until the age of four. That age gives me the only real memory I have of my Grandmother. ..who passed on shortly after. It's quick but it's treasured. All I can remember is being at my Grandparents house around Christmas time; Laying on the floor, right on the seam where the brown shag-carpeting stopped and the linoleum tiled kitchen began. They (my Grandparents) had bought a little battery operated Santa that played electronic Christmas tunes. He had little rollers on his feet that made him appear to be shuffling along in an awkward little way and every so often he would stop his journey to ring a little bell that was in his hand with feverish conviction. This novelty apparently delighted me and I was having a whore of a time watching him scuffle along inch by inch across the kitchen floor. My Grandmother, sitting at the far end of the room at the kitchen table seat closest to the off - the - kitchen pantry, got a kick out of watching me getting a kick out of this silly mini Santa. I remember her laughing and clapping and just having a wonderful warmth about her, a genuine warmth. I remember her smile. It's a great memory I hold very dear. I'm glad it has stayed with me.
DISNEY WORLD; HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH...FOR MOST.
Whether or not the next memory was before or after the previous one is again very hard to calculate. All I know for sure is that it was a milestone in my life - as I'm sure it would be in any child's life.
My trip to Disney World.
That trip ran the gamut from wonderful and delightful, to horrific and terrifying. Indeed.
I remember contemplating how my first plane ride would go. I practiced the whole scenario the night before..sitting on the couch and then leaning way back - simulating, of course, what the airplane would be doing. If I practiced this enough I would be an old pro at this whole flying thing by time of the actual flight. Sit up, lean back for take off. Repeat. Repeat again....and again. This will be a piece of cake.
It was. The plane ride went off without a hitch. My brother, sister and I played card games to pass the time..not like poker or anything, but I think I got the concept of the game "war" at that age - being a relatively simple game in it's objectives.
In no time we were in the happiest place on earth. Walt Disney World. Not only that....but we were fortunate enough to be staying at the splendorous, state of the art "Contemporary Hotel and Resort" in which the one and only monorail sailed right through the middle of the complex itself! This was luxury, that was certain. The future had arrived.
I remember going to breakfast with all my favorite Disney characters and having them sign my little autograph book. I remember the Magic Castle in all it's fairy tale glory, emblazoned against the bright blue Orlando sky. The Electric Light Parade at night, the Small World ride, The Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki room....but, most of all...I remember the Dumbo ride. The terrible, terrible, damned, sadistic, hellish torture chamber that is the Dumbo ride.
I did not perceive it as such upon first sight, I was quite excited about it. I loved Dumbo...at home I would curl up on the couch with my can of peanuts, (Dumbo, you understand... as all elephants naturally do; loved peanuts and I always felt I had to identify with the characters I was watching) and proceed to watch the movie over and over. So this looked like it was right up my alley. Upon careful observation of the mechanics of this ride; I concluded that seemingly, you pressed a button, and the flying Dumbo would move up and down...well that's pretty neat, I can do that! I got in line with my family, I couldn't wait to try this out. This was going to be great.
However everything was about to change for the worse, and life as I knew it would never quite be the same again. I went into the Dumbo ride an innocent four year old. I came out a jaded, terrified child, scarred for life, changed forever. I was under the assumption that my Brother or Sister would be accompanying me on my fantastic escapade, which really isn't that far fetched seeing that I was all of FOUR years old. But come zero hour I was made to understand that I was to go on this flying death trap alone. Me. By myself. No one else. Alone. Hurtling into the great wide open at dizzying speeds, uncontrollably spinning off into the universe never to be heard from again.... Good bye cruel world. I will never make it out of this one alive....Surely I was gonna press the button and the Dumbo would get stuck, suspended high above the Magic Kingdom for the duration of my life. Or maybe just whirling around forever. Never getting out. No, not a chance of that. They would have to send a helicopter to bring me my meals, if I was lucky.
I would be left to fend for myself at night. Just hanging there forever. Nobody would ever be able to rescue me. No way. Or maybe, I would just fall to my death...no scenario ended in a good way.
In a frenzied, desperate attempt I begged for My brother to please come on the ride with me.
"Jeanine, you're old enough to go on this by yourself!" he replied.
Seriously? The way he said it you would have thought that four year olds were applying for jobs and driving cars, starting families.
Four years old and Jesus! You are that immature that you can't go on a giant ride the likes of which you have never seen before in your life that may potentially trap you in mid-air forever by yourself? Wow, what a baby.
My attempts at recruiting either my brother or sister were futile, and the next thing I knew I was sitting in this giant Dumbo....trembling....scared for my life...thinking this is where it all ended. In the bowels of a fiber-glass elephant. The next two minutes were the most terrifying of my young life. All of which I spent howling at the top of my lungs, not even thinking for one second there was any chance in hell of me pressing that button that could potentially send me plummeting to my death. I circled round and round in a nightmarish daze - holding on for dear life...surely this is the scariest ride ever made in the history of all human engineering. Thankfully, however, it did end...and I was still in tact - in the physical sense. Mentally I would never be the same again. This ride had altered me for the rest of my days. I still hold firmly to the belief that this experience was one (the other to be explained later) of the things that prohibited me from getting my drivers license until I was 22. Also why I wouldn't ever dare go near those damned old fashioned cars that you can drive, even though they are on a rail, at Canobie Lake Park in N.H. - or anything like it that involved mechanisms that you had to be in control of for that matter.
I have been back to Disney World twice since that first fateful trip. Needless to say I never ventured near that hateful, demonic ride again. I steered quite clear of it as a matter of fact. I shudder at the sight of it. Space Mountain...Splash mountain..the Tea cups...Journey into the Imagination with Figment....Tower of Terror... Test Track...the People Mover in Tomorrow Land.... Mr Toad's Wild Ride....sign me up. I'll ride those rides till I puke. Just don't ever try to force me on that fucking Dumbo monstrosity, cause it aint gonna happen.
A PEN AND SOME PAPER....
Well, the last thing to come out of the fourth year of my life was was the beginning of my relationship with drawing. Art. Expression. As soon as I had the coordination to hold a writing utensil confidently, I utilized it to every extent. Though obviously crude and abstract - my earliest drawings are not all that bad. My love of animals, specifically horses or dogs or birds already established, pretty much since I came out of the womb, is clearly evident in my work as most everything that came off of my pen or crayon and onto canvas was from the animal kingdom. I didn't like pencils, I do not know why. I actually still prefer a pen to draw with if given the choice....it's funny how these little quirks stay with you.
I was always a child that was very self sufficient. Self reliant. I guess I've always been a loner Dotty, a rebel. I did not need others to entertain me, my imagination was vivid and creative enough that I could be left by myself, lost in my own labyrinth of thought for hours, playing alone...or drawing. As it were, I much would much rather be left to play by myself, to draw by myself...all I needed was Kiss 108 fm on the radio in the back round...I think that can be chalked up to my A.D.D. - always needing things humming around in the back round...I still can't work on anything in complete silence, even as I type this I have the television chattering away and my playlist going - to keep me sane. Some things never really change.
My drawings would soon take a literary twist....illustrations with captions I guess would be more accurate, but that didn't come till a bit later.
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