I had a perfectly nice childhood, but from my earliest days, I was consumed with the desire to flee my home and travel somewhere, anywhere. This little story might illustrate what I mean.
My parents had old friends named Milton and Roseena, who hailed from sunny California. Once they came to visit us in Illinois, a visit hallmarked by Roseena asking Milton to "Fix me a drink" which he heard as "Peel me a grape" and scrounged around in our kitchen until he found one, peeled it, and brought it to her.
"What the hell is this?" she bellowed. So, these were unusual people. Also, I had no knowledge of California or its attractions, being about three.
But somehow, in the midst of their visit, Milton and Roseena started teasing me about bringing me back to California with them. Now, the average three year old is going to state unequivocally that they wish to remain in the bosom of their family. No, I was mentally packing which toys I would bring.
When the happy couple departed, they showed no sign of taking me with them. A rising sense of panic overtook me. I wanted to go to California, wherever that was!
The last I remembered was Milton and Roseena's Buick pulling out of our driveway, while I caterwauled on the stoop. My parents couldn't understand why I wanted to leave with strangers, but simply put, I wanted to travel.
My dreams since then have consisted of achieving that. And yes, I did make it to California, thirty years later.
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