
I had one of the craziest experiences of my life on the same night I graduated from high school. Therefore, at every high school reunion or when I run into someone who witnessed the event, they tell me about it as if it didn't happen to me, because I think they're embarrassed. In fact, an old friend did just that the other day. Except, he suggested I write about it, hence, here is my article about the craziest thing that ever happened to me in my life- which happened to be on the same night I graduated from high school:
Aside from my weird experience, the evening we graduated started out magical; the weather was breezy, and the sky was as dark as the deepest part of the ocean.
Although, I did have a case of graduation jitters. My stomach felt ticklish and jumpy, like it had when I was a child, and my parents drove our car over a steep hill, or when I rode certain rides at the fair.
Hence, as a result, I held my hand on my abdomen throughout the ceremony, and thought about how close I was to graduating from high school. In addition, I couldn't wait to leave and listen to the radio in the car with my friends.
Because, after all, it might be the last time we would be together for awhile, since some of us would be going to college out of state. I thought about the future and daydreamed about the past as I sat in my hard chair throughout the ceremony...
I could not believe all the things we did...
We drove down the Mississippi River road to our states capital building nearly every week-end during our high school years. The courtyard that surrounded the capital building was full of rolling hills, azalea bushes, and moss covered oaks- It was our home away from home, stomping ground, pop-stand, cool place in the shade, or nice place in the sun-
On dark nights, we imagined the trees shadows were ghostly southern belles dancing in moss stitched dresses; the sight of which sent shivers down our spines. We decided the shadows were the images of Southern belles who refused to leave the ball. My friends and I created characters from the shadows at night, like a clown shapes animals from balloons during the day. There were so many shadows from the giant trees, because there were so many trees on the capital grounds. Therefore, at night, a vivid imagination could shape the trees into an array of images, much like you can with the stars on a starry night.
On the week-ends we couldn't wait to drive to the State Capital grounds. The minute the car stopped in front of the courtyard, we flew out of the doors, jumped the well kept hedges, turned cartwheels on the clover, played touch football, rested under the trees, and kissed under the stars until daylight.
I was having a nice time daydreaming about the past, when my daydreams collided with the present shrill voice of our class president speaking into a microphone.
I was relieved that I managed to hold my stomach in place while I was daydreaming, and through the rest of the ceremony, but afterward, it felt wrapped as tight as a ball of rubber bands. I guess I had a case of graduation jitters. For one thing, I was worried about what would happen to us in the future. I wondered how the world would react to our southern accents and muddy water attitudes, but I quickly shrugged it off like a typical southern girl; a girl who had an evening to enjoy in spite of it all.
After graduation, we piled into whatever car the ferryboat captain wouldn't recognize, (my mothers) and headed toward the river road for one last ride on the ferry.
But, as I drove down our driveway, my eager foot pressed the accelerator too hard, and I smashed my mothers car into her well nurtured apple-pear tree, knocking apples and pears onto the windshield.
Our house sat on a tiny hill, therefore, the driveway became the most exciting setting in our house, and the most talked about subject in our household. It was because the driveway tempted you to zoom your car up or down it, depending on what direction you were going, and the speed at which you traveled illustrated your mood to others, a lot like a mood ring.
Truly, others could tell when you were mad, happy, excited, scared, or, in our case, in a mad dash to get out of there, by how fast you drove up or down the driveway. Whereas, in the case of a mood ring, your mood is determined by the changes in color.
Anyway, we borrowed my mothers car in an effort to fool certain ferryboat captains, who may not let us board the ferry if they recognized one of our cars.
Because, for some reason, when it came to us, the captains had a short fuse. Maybe, because we had a tendency to get out of the car and ride the ferry all night, or it could have been the fact that I used to stand on the front of the boat and sing the Barbra Streisand song On A Clear Day. I sang my heart out on the front of the ferry, imagining I was on the boat in the movie, Funny Girl.
In retrospect, I don't blame the ferryboat captains for having a short fuse, and kicking us off the ferry, but I do sort of admire our ingenuity when it came to showing up with different cars. I remember one of our parents saying, "But, honey you have your own car. I don't understand...And I'm sorry, but, you will not borrow my car, not under any circumstances." Actually, when I think of it, I'm not sure how we managed to get my mothers car down my parents driveway either-
Anyhow, after hitting my mothers apple pear tree, singing and getting kicked off the ferry again, we pulled the car over, parked and climbed to the top of the levee to get a better view of the river. From the levee, we could hear the river wind howl through the trees, but it was gentle; the wind from the river sounded like the roar of a mighty lion, when in fact, it felt as gentle as the whiskers on a kitten.
I watched my friends lean against the barbed wire fence with their faces to the sky, and their arms out to their sides, like the wings on a plane; I could hear the sleeves of their jackets clap against the speed of the wind, as if the river were returning a farewell embrace.
We stood speechless as the generous Mississippi sashayed beneath the silver stars, and honey colored moon, sharing its amenities with people, tug boats, barges, ferries and teenagers, year after year...
And as we stood there on graduation night, I think we realized how small we were in the grand scheme of things, in addition to how little we knew about ourselves and the world. It was the first time in all the years we spent on the banks of the Mississippi River, that we felt in awe of its presence. It's funny how we take what we love the most for granted, especially the most precious to us...I will always wonder why...
In conclusion, it began to get late, so we rode down the river road, like we had a million times before, singing and talking on our way to the State Capital grounds, only this time, we listened to my boyfriends eight-tracks, instead of the radio. He had a ton of them, but he was bossy about what songs we could play.
His eight-tracks were a big thing then, and listening to them was something I hated to interrupt,(a lie) but I needed to use the bathroom bad. Hence, I asked my friends, and Mr. Congeniality, if they would mind waiting in the car when we stopped on the grounds, so that I could pee under one of the Oak trees-
Hence, my southern gentleman began to drive around the grounds looking for a place to park, where he could keep an eye on me in the huge courtyard.
I remember asking him to play I’m a Believer by The Monkees, over and over again, but he kept saying he lost the tape. The conversation went something like this:
"I know you didn’t lose the tape, Steve, because I saw it in your glove compartment last week," I said, while the rest of my friends laughed, including him.
"Annie, you've heard that song at least a thousand times, will you please give it a rest? You are the only person I know who would listen to a broken record-" he said, with a smile that I didn't think was cute at the moment.
Then, a friend of ours interrupted the conversation:
"Oh, Steve, she’s not the only one who wants to hear that song, and you know it. Stop picking on her and play the tape."
"I’m telling ya'll the tape is gone and I don’t know where it is," said the most generous man on earth.
At which point, I said, as I glared at him with a dirty look,
"Oh, for crying out loud, I know I'll find it, and I know you hid it...but at the moment I don't care,(I lied) because I have to go to the bathroom, so will you please stop and park? Because, like I said, I know where the tape is anyway...and I'll show you when I get back..."
Steve smiled and said, "Don't count on it."
Rolling my eyes, I spouted back, "I'm going under the oak trees in the side yard. I’ll be right back, mean jerk man."
Then, off I went into the same dark night, that didn't seem as kind as it had earlier. Therefore, my pulse quickened as I searched, and then found, the perfect spot beneath an oak tree branch to do my business...(like my golden retriever.)
As I started to pee I could hear The Monkee's tape playing from the car. That jerk, I thought, then I heard what sounded like birds chirping in the branches.
They were chirping loud and it was nighttime... I thought, this is bizarre, what kind of bird chirps at night? I sensed they were flying close to me and around the tree...then the chirping grew louder...thinking I felt something close to my face, I put my hand on my head, and began to pull up my pants, while the chirping got louder.
I couldn't tell if they were in the tree, or literally flying around my head...and I still understand why these birds were awake in the middle of the night. I kept mumbling to myself, while I looked at the car still parked for my safety, "Golly, these birds are too friendly." In addition, I could hear them chirping in bird talk in the trees branches, then pieces of tree limbs began to fall on me-
Okay, this is it, I said to myself, and at the same moment I sensed the presence of something over my head- My hands started shaking so bad forgot how to pull my pants over my knees, which obviously made one bird really mad. Because I heard a shrill chirping over my head that sounded like an aggressive shriek for a bird, even a really mad bird.
By this time, I was so petrified I tried to run, but I'm not sure if I even moved, then I put my hand on my head and something hard and feathery was fluttering around in my hair, so I started running straight to the car, pants down or not-
I kept trying to put my pants on, but something was still on my head, and when I tried to hit it, I fell down...so I just picked myself up and ran, in addition, to screaming to the top of my lungs with my pants around my ankles.
I believe I made a mistake hitting the mean bird the first time, because after I tried to slug it, the monster was so furious it started zooming around my head like a bully with wings. I could feel it zoom past my ears, like a gigantic fly, screaming its earsplitting squeals.
I was afraid it was going to grab a chuck of my hair, or poke my eyes out, like in the Alfred Hitchcock movie The Birds.
I looked in the direction of the car, and I saw Steve and my friends laughing...and I couldn’t understand why... It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was running with my pants to my knees and bats, yes BATS, chasing me-
I dismissed their laughing, because I didn't have time, what with birds chasing me and all, plus, I felt like I had cobwebs on my face, so I kept wiping my face as I ran.
I couldn’t coordinate my legs with my pants to my knees, so I ran like a penguin until I fell, that is, until I saw the bats shrieking and encircling the sky above my head, then I managed to get one leg out of my pants and wobble without my pants at all.
Then, I was free to run faster, even if I was dragging one pants leg behind me, to the safety of the car. Nevertheless, the bats were still encircling me from the sky and screaming these awful otherworldly calls for help from their bat friends in the trees.
While my human friends stayed locked in the car laughing...and every time I approached the car door, Steve drove a few feet forward, hoping the bats would fly away...(or so he said...)
In the meantime, I could see my friends in the car laughing hysterically, because I was trying to grab the car door with my pants down, and every few minutes I could feel a bat zoom past my face.
After the incident was over, and I had calmed down, I told Steve not to feel bad about driving forward the way he did, because I understood he was thinking about their safety. After all, I knew they didn’t want the bats to get inside the car-
Well, he smiled and said, "Annie, the bats were long gone by the time you reached the car. We just thought it was funny watching you try to catch the car with your pants down. We were laughing so hard to tell you that what you were feeling were small branches still on the top of your head."
"The bats flew off a few yards before you reached the car, well...that is, after you beat the daylights out of the one on your head. We could see you waving your hands trying to knock the branches off after that, but we couldn't stop laughing. I'm sorry honey, I thought you knew, and I hate to laugh, but that was the funniest thing any of us have ever seen."
Well...it was the craziest thing that ever happened to me, but I'm glad my friends got a kick out of it. We still laugh about it to this day...And I suppose that's a good thing, right?
And after writing this I guess the second part of the night is a better story...but the next time someone tells me about it, I'm going to say, "Oh, you thought that happened to me? Oh no, are you kidding? That happened to Steve, and it was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. "
Authors note: This article was originally written in blog form for Bobbarama's Humor Carnival in 8/07, so it was a little shorter then. However, when I rewrote it for a local magazine I wrote a longer version, so I apologize for the length. I think it's probably too long for a blog post, so bless all of you who are reading this note. Because, if you're reading this, you either skipped a few paragraphs to find out what the 'Craziest Experience of my Life' actually was, or you read it all the way through to the end. Thank you for doing either one.
I decided to post this version after accidentally deleting the one I wrote for the Humor Carnival and posted on A Nice Place In The Sun. Plus, to be honest, I've been busy being ill for so long, I wanted to post something for you to read. My apologies to those of you who have already read the other version, but I'm hoping you'll forgive me, because at least the story is a little different this time... :)
Thanks to all of you for your patience and support. And I promise, I'm working on publishing a brand new post real soon.
All of you are the greatest...:))
Love,
Annie
7/8/09
The Craziest Experience of my Life: Number two
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6/8/09
At The Mercy Of My Bathroom Faucet

First published, 8/19/07
New post coming soon...
My cat Simon insists on eating the instant I open my eyes, so this morning, like every morning, I crawled out of bed the minute Mr. narcissism began to wail for his breakfast-
And like every morning, I fumbled around in the kitchen with my eyes barely focused and my mind in a dreamy haze, searching for the cat’s breakfast while I listened to him sing his chorus of MEOW, MEOW, MEOW.
I have always wondered why cats pretend we cannot hear their repeated meowing? They just keep meowing, oblivious to the fact that you are moving as fast as you can, which I also do every morning. However, there was one thing different about this morning. This morning I decided to I give up thinking until Simon finished meowing his ear-piercing demands, and opened a can of cat food without thinking or looking.
Which is why I didn't discover the blood pouring out of the back of my hand until after I poured my self-centered feline his breakfast- then it took a few more minutes for my brain to register the pain-
I stared at the back of my hand awhile before I realized the effect this accident could have on the rest of my day, and my pulse began to quicken with fear. There is nothing scarier than the unknown, and suddenly my future was a mystery. So at first, I was terrified, but after I ran to the bathroom faucet and put my hand under running water, I was relieved to find that the cut wasn't serious.
However, mothers cannot have cuts on the top of their hands, regardless of how old their children are, we simply do not have the luxury of an injury, even a small injury. Families depend on Mom in special ways, yes, even Mom's with adult children. Therefore, I envisioned my house of cards tumbling down and my family crumbling to pieces, all because of a small cut on the back of my hand.
Anyway, while I ran water on my injured hand, I searched the medicine cabinet with my good hand for a band-aid, but I couldn't find one. I tried to move the injured hand away from the running water, but the bleeding was still profuse, so I quickly put it back under the faucet. I couldn't believe I was stuck at the mercy of my of my bathroom faucet because I couldn’t find a band-aid.
Sentenced to live my life over a bathroom sink, in bondage forever with my hand under water, unable to live my life because I forgot to get band-aids at the store. Sometimes, I really don't understand what is wrong with me...I mean, speaking of motherhood, what kind of mother cannot remember band-aids?
I have always had a problem remembering to get things from the store that bore me, like band-aids, and now I was paying the price. I began to panic, but continued the search while holding my hand under water, until thank goodness, I found one lonely band-aid crumbled in the back of the medicine cabinet- a case of pure serendipity.
I was so grateful...because now I was free to drive an hour to my mothers, (that is after I let Simon out) wash the endless supply of dirty clothes one college student can dirty, work on a book proposal, write tomorrows post, oh, and try to remember everything I need from the store, including the ingredients for what I’m going to cook tonight.
Although...it's strange, I feel like I'm forgetting something again... But, if it was important, I would remember, wouldn't I?
Oh well, it's probably just from all the stress I've had today and besides I don't have any mundane items on my list...That is, I don't think I do...I think I just need groceries...
6/5/09
Saturday's Favorite Movie Moment
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4/17/09
Edited Repost: Make Way For Ducklings

Make Way For Ducklings: First published in 1941, this 1942 Caldecott Medal winner and Massachusetts State book, is still delighting an audience of children and adults today. Robert McCloskey’s gentle prose and award winning illustrations magically capture the true essence of parental birds in flight.
The reader is quickly drawn into Mr. and Mrs. Mallard's search for the perfect place to raise their family. The books double page spread illustrations invite you to view the world from the Mallards point of view, which adds to the realism of a perfectly paced plot. Hence, within the first few pages, the reader joins the Mallard family's flight over houses and farms as they make their way toward the magnificent city of Boston.
However, while flying over the city, Mr. and Mrs. Mallard cannot agree on the perfect place to stop and investigate their surroundings, so they continue flying until they are exhausted, and must agree to stop on an island in the middle of the Boston Public Garden.
The following day, the couple swam and fished in the pond, strolled along the bank, and were generally happy with the garden. However, due to public activity in the park, Mrs. Mallard began to feel uncomfortable with the area, and wanted to search for a more suitable nesting environment.
Hence, the Mallards take off again, flying over the many landmarks of Boston, until they finally find a home in close proximity to the Garden where their offspring can hatch.
The Mallards like their new home close to the pond, where they form a friendship with a man named Michael, who showers them with a constant supply of peanuts. However, after Mrs. Mallard lays her eggs in the nest, she cannot visit Michael until her babies hatch. Although, we see Michael again when he proves to be both a hero and a trusted friend, in addition to the entire city of Boston.
Robert McCloskey’s warm-heartened portrayal of these parents is the backbone of this classic in addition to its articulately written prose and truthful illustration. The Mallards are devoted to their offspring and spend a good deal of time teaching them how to live safely in the world. You are convinced you can trust them and like them instantly. I fell in love with the ducks and snuggled with them in flight twice on my couch in one afternoon.
The prose is poetic, the plot is wonderfully paced and the illustrations are vividly drawn, thereby depicting a true duck family living a happy and prosporous life in Boston.
Although written for ages 4-8, the book is one of the best picture books to read aloud to a young audience according to many reviews.
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Make Way For Ducklings was designated the official book of the State of Massachusetts in 2003.
Feel free to leave book review requests in comments.
Or e-mail me at annclemmons@hotmail.com
Authors note: I wrote the original Book review for Make Way For Ducklings in July of 2007, and it continues to attract many readers a day. Therefore, we I saw the links to it today, I decided to re-read it. Then, I decided it needed a good edit. (Smile) I don't how my book review remained popular after all this time, other than the fact that it's written about this timeless classic.
I read somewhere that there is a statue of Mr. and Mrs. Mallard and their off-spring in The Boston Public Garden, which doesn't surprise me. Anyway, the old book review is still posted, because I didn't want to break the link, but I hope you will enjoy this one as well, in addition I wanted to share the book with my new readers.
And as always, thanks for reading.
Alone in her world
of make believe
weaving her stories
of magic and light
She brings joy
to the eyes
of innocent minds
less jaded and free
For only they know
what's in her heart
holding the secrets
she guards so well
Life's hidden mysteries
belong to those
whose wisdom and truth
shine on in imagination
Written for Ann
~Dawn Drover~
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My list of stuff to do
- I need to ask myself : Why am I more comfortable writing in metaphor?
- Does anyone read this?
- Need to distract the employee at Barnes and Noble who won't let me read Puff The Magic Dragon.
- This really needs to be updated.
- Band-Aids



































