In Our Younger, Wilder Days

I love hearing stories from people.  Not just bedtime fairy tales either.  I like to hear about where people grew up, their family stories, vacation stories, school stories.

I think this began when I was young, about 6 years old or so.  My dad was telling a story about his youth.  You see, he grew up on a farm in California, raised by his Filipino father along with 5(?) brothers. (I can never keep track.)  His family was working in the orchards picking apples.  He and his younger brother were still too small to help out, so  my grandfather took a huge apple bin and flipped it over on top of my dad and my uncle.  That was their play pen until the crew was done in a particular area.  Then, they would pick up the bin, move it to the next area, and flip it back over the two boys.

It was around that time that I realized my parents had been children at some point.  They had histories, memories, and stories that I had no idea about.  Lucky for me, my dad is a natural born story-teller and he loves talking, sharing, and being the center of attention.  Also, luckily, he along with my mom had quite wild youths, although a good part of me believes part of it has to do with their entire generation.

So when I came home from school after learning about Alcatraz Island, my dad was there to tell me about how, during the Native American Occupation of the Island, he had stayed there for two weeks.  You see, it was the early 1970’s and the Native Americans were rising up against the US Government for their rights.  My uncle (my dad’s eldest half brother, full Native American) was a dock guard for Alcatraz, and my dad, about 20 at the time, decided to visit him, and ended up staying.

I can tell you, that story has come in handy for school reports. 😉  First hand accounts of taking back Alcatraz are difficult to find these days.

Or you know, there’s my mom’s younger and wilder days.  She doesn’t speak about them much, so I have to work harder to hear her stories.  My grandfather worked for Union Oil and moved around a lot when she was young.  She spent 2 years of high school living in Singapore, and the other 2 years of high school living in South Korea.

One day she surprised me with a story about how, her senior year of high school, her and her friends took a boat to Japan to explore, only to find out that it was a national holiday and all the shops were closed.  And whenever we shop at Asian Food Markets with her, she likes to point out the Korean packages and tries to decipher the labels.  She can pronounce the characters, but has no idea what they mean.  It always reminds her of silly phrases she learned overseas.

My point is, my parents can out-story-tell me any day of the week.  They have such history, especially from their younger, wilder days.  Which made me think, what unique stories do I have to tell?

I can talk about how I disliked my high school so much, I became a full time college student at 16, effectively skipping junior and senior year of high school.  I could talk about how I was the only child in my family to live on a university campus in the dorms.  How I dyed my hair a purple color, but didn’t like it, so my friends had a hair-dying party and dyed it blue- NOT to my knowledge, they told me it was going to be black.  I promptly chopped it off into a fauxhawk, then dyed it red.

Or there’s that time, my roommate and I went to Moscow, Idaho in order to watch the Gay Pride Parade, and we unknowingly ended up marching in the parade.  And one time, my friend, my boyfriend and I were driving to across Washington State for the Seattle Emerald City Comic Con.  But three hours into the drive, my friends car broke down.  We were stranded, in the cold, in the pitch black, on a highway that none of us had ever been on before, so we had no idea where we even were.  Then, as if by fate, a car pulled up behind us. Except, they had broken down too, in the exact same spot, in the exact same situation, and with a Mazda, which is what my friend had. Luckily we managed to get a tow before it started to snow, by the nicest tow-truck driver named Henry.  But we still missed the comic con, and had to stay in a ghetto Motel 8.

I guess, if I think about it, I have more stories to tell than I thought.  Most of the funny or exciting ones happened on accident.  At the time some of them weren’t that great, but they make for entertaining stories.

So what stories do you guys love to share with people?

Also, because I promised, I have to.  This was me in MY younger and wilder days.  (Read: 3 years ago)

Cockatoo hair! Note: This was taken under my lofted bed in the dorms, inside my massive fort I built, which DID stay up all year. Best dorm room ever.

My brother messed up my short hair, so I stole his hat to cover it.

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About Aly Hughes
Unprofessional, unedited, unpublished. Aly is out to make a name for herself by blogging, twittering, facebooking, and general internet-ing. Be warned: She may not know what she's talking about.

12 Responses to In Our Younger, Wilder Days

  1. Hi Aly, Absolutley love the pictures 🙂 It looked well good 😀 It must have been great listening to those stories when you were younger. My parents, bless them didnt have wild days. My older brother came along within a year of their marrige and they married young (18 & 19) so they didnt have time for wild times.

    I think you could have a story about your comic con journey. Two cars, of the same make, breaking down in exactly the smae place. Sounds like an alien enounter story 😀

    Great post 🙂

    • Aly Hughes says:

      Aw, thank you! And I’m still slowly uncovering my parents younger days. Last week when I was at the coast for my dad’s birthday, I heard my dad tell two new stories. Now that my brothers and I are older, we get to hear the more..er..colorful stories. 😉 And hey, I’m sure your parents have hilarious stories of raising you kids, I know mine do! 🙂

      Oh, that’s a good idea! Either aliens, or like, the clashing of parallel universes. I could see that happening!

  2. Jeannie says:

    Great pictures! Red is pretty popular…though I’m seeing more blue here lately. 🙂 We all have stories to tell. I’m an old fogie and have my share of them too. I like one of Dad’s–they were dirt poor, living on a farm in Oklahoma; Daddy didn’t have toys to play with so he made his own fun. He’d tie a string around a piece of corn and dangle it between the cracks in the bed of their old wagon, where the chickens liked to scratch around; a chicken would see the corn, and swallow it, then Daddy would pull it back out just so he could hear the chicken squawk. LOL

    • Aly Hughes says:

      haha, blue hair is not all it’s cracked up to be! My mom has ginger hair, but MY natural hair color is black, brown, red, blonde, and white. :/ So I started dyeing it and red just seems to fit me best. 🙂

      Oh my goodness, the poor chicken! That’s really funny though. Your dad sounds like he grew up in the same situation as mine. My grandfather sponsored an orphanage in the Philippines, so he sent all of his money back there and to his family. My dad likes to tell the “Charlie Brown Christmas Tree” story, because his first Christmas tree was when he and his younger brother grabbed a 2×4 piece of wood and nailed fallen tree branches to it.

  3. katkasia says:

    Sounds like you have an amazing family history! Probably many of us do – they’re just so familiar they are not amazing to us any more.
    And I love your cockatoo hair. 🙂

    • Aly Hughes says:

      I think that’s how it usually goes! I don’t think I have too many interesting stories or adventures, but then once I start to really think about it, I suppose I kind of do. I just don’t see them that way since they happened to me!
      haha, and thank you! My hair is really long now (it grows fast), but I’m thinking of cutting it short again, I miss it! 🙂

  4. I was brought up by my grandparents, who sadly died back in the late 90’s.

    They were a wealth of stories, and at the time, I have to admit, I didn’t pay much attention 😦

    Regretting that now though……family history is important…..write it all down 🙂

    xx

    • Aly Hughes says:

      Sadly my grandparents passed away when I was very young. I wish I could have learned more from them as well. It’s crazy to think about how many lost stories there are in the world.

      And when I was in my teens I used to skip out on extended family reunions, because I thought they were boring. We didn’t even know how we were related to half the people! But I’m suddenly seeing the light. I have tickets half way across the country for this summer’s family reunion, and I will definitely have a pen and notebook on hand at all times!

      Thank you for the comment. 🙂

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