Timeline: Seven Through Eight

1989, age seven
On an October afternoon, my dad leaves work early to drop my sister and me off at home and to stick a blank tape in the VCR to record Game 3 of the World Series—The Battle of the Bay—before he goes to a late-night meeting. I'm in the backseat of the car, reading a library book, and we're just past San Francisco State University when I think my dad is being funny, swerving our car into another lane to the music on the radio. When I say to him, "Dad! Stop! I'm reading!" he swears it wasn't him. When we pull up to the light, the car next to us rolls down their window and yells over, "I think that was an earthquake." We get home to find our TV and VCR have both fallen off the shelf, our TV in tact but our VCR shattered. A few Calistoga bottles fell from the top of the fridge and one single book fell off our bookshelf—a book on how to survive an earthquake. My dad leaves us at home to go out in search of batteries—we're without power. My sister and I stay permanently lodged at the upstairs window, surveying the sidewalk below for the first glimpse of my mom coming up the hill. She works at a law firm downtown and no one has heard from her. When my dad returns he lets us eat the melting ice cream and we gather on the couch and wait. She finally makes it home, after walking much of the way. 

1990, age eight
My sister and I spend afternoons at my dad's office, stuffing envelopes and chasing each other up and down the stairs. We're given a few quarters each afternoon for treats at a convenience store down the block. One afternoon, for whatever reason, we're in trouble and my dad refuses to give us our quarters. My sister works up a plan—she tears my already-dirty shirt and grabs a mug from my dad's coffee station. She tapes a piece of paper to the mug that says some variation of, "I'm homeless. Give me money." I stand in front of the convenience store and make $2.19 and a Snickers bar. A friend of my dad's walks slowly up to his office, trying to stifle his laughter and says, "Scott, do you know what your daughters are doing?" When my dad comes out, he finds me handing over all of the money to my sister—the brains but definitely not the brawns of the operation. She does let me keep the Snickers bar. My dad was either too tickled or too floored to ground us. Later that same year, we'll gather shells from the beach and office supplies from my dad's office and peddle those off the street corner, as well. I distinctly remember trying to sell a broken shell to a young couple for a dime. They gave me a dollar instead.

Comments

[Jess]

The irony of that book falling off the shelf! That's amazing.

[Sarah]

I love it when you do these year by year things!!! You write so well!

[Dianna]

I love these! I kind of wish you were older so there would be more. You two were entepreneurs from the start!

[mommyknows]

Hysterical! At least your dad could have some sense of security knowing you wouldn't go hungry with out his spare change.

[Rachel]

You remember such details that I have long forgotten. Funny how that works. But I do think it was a bag of M&M's, not a Snickers. : ) And I don't remeber eating the ice cream, but I do remember it took mom almost 7 hours to get home and we had a little radio to keep us informed of what was happening while we waited for her in the dark.

[Raven]

I totally would've bought the broken shell from you too. :)

[EmilyPie]

Oh I love the homeless story!

My friend and I once used the after-school care program's supplies to make greeting cards on construction paper for all occasions and sold them at the front door to parents picking up their children! Oh and then we had the girls bring in their own make-up and we charged them to let us make-up their face ;) Ah .. and that one time, we had a lemonade stand and us older kids organized everything, but had the younger ones supply the stuff... and they got a much smaller cut. I think you and I should go into business together ;) hehe...

[Southern Belle]

That's how entrepreneurs get their start. Maybe your bigh break is just ahead for you.

[OMSH]

I sold clothespins with stickers on them to neighbors for a quarter.

I remember even then thinking SUCKERS!

And didn't realize they were thinking, "Isn't she cute?"

heh heh