Chewing gum was considered a treat. We were raised as 'Crest' kids. Gum of any sort was off limits without parental approval. It was a special treat when Mom dug into her purse and produced the rectangular box of chicklets. We were allowed one small chicklet, two as we got older.

I loved bubblegum, that sweet powdery taste of pink bubblegum. Blowing bubbles and hearing them crack open added to the delight of this extraordinary treat.

One day I found a piece of "ABC" (Already Been Chewed) gum lying helplessly on the ground. Reaching down to pick it up, I smelled the precious wad. It still had that wonderful scent of bubblegum. I immediately ran with my treasure into the house and washed it carefully under the kitchen faucet to remove the grass and dirt. This, in my innocent mind, served as having a clean piece of bubblegum.

To avoid being caught with the evidence, I went to my bedroom and stuck the bubblegum carefully to the metal railing on the underside of my bed. Since I shared a big bed with my sister, Doris, I made sure the wad of gum was on my side.

All day I looked forward to the special treat I would have that night. No parental eyes would be upon me when I savored the flavor of my bubblegum when semi-alone in my room.

Day passed and night descended and this was probably one of only a few nights that I eagerly hopped into bed. As soon as I thought Doris had gone to sleep, I pulled the wad from its hiding place and popped it into my mouth. After a few minutes of hard chewing, it turned into the soft and tender piece of bubblegum that I recognized.

I don't know at what point I fell asleep with that wad of gum in my mouth. I do know that when I woke, my mother and sister were hovering over the bed wondering how bubblegum got smeared onto the sheets and tangled into my sisters hair.

When my father showed up on the scene with the 'board of education' tucked behind his back, I knew my bubblegum and I were in for a lesson. I will never forget how Dad looked as he rocked back and forth on his heels looking at Doris and me while he played detective and attempted to discover the culprit. 'Not me' always served as a give-away because lying was not a specialty of mine. Even though Doris appeared to be the guilty party because she had it in her hair, Dad knew it was I and I knew he knew. But, rather than suffer the wrath of that wooden board of education, I held tight to my story.

Thank heaven, Dad stopped rocking and simply said, "I don't need to know who did this. The man upstairs knows and he'll get you. Well, in my little mind, I thought it would be impossible to play in the attic anymore if there was a man there, especially a mean one. But, Dad clarified his remark by identifying the 'man upstairs' as God.

A week passed and no man appeared to terrorize me, and the incident seemed to be forgotten. That is, until I fell in the driveway on my bike and tore open the back of my leg. That emergency required a trip to the hospital in neighbor Matt's jeep and seven painful stitches. My father was working the day shift and when he came home that afternoon, I was all propped up in a lounge chair outside waiting for his sympathy. He simply walked over, glanced down and said, "I told you so."

People often mean well, even when we think they don't, especially our parents. As a parent, I have said and done things I wish could be retracted. I just tell my kids they can write about me someday and inform the world how human and silly I was and still am.

I have journaled and written stories about my life experiences since being a teenager. Words seem to flow from my head, down my arm, and into the pen that is poised on paper. For most people, expressing themselves in words is a bit tough. At PILLAR, we offer people the opportunity to learn how to get those stories out of their head and onto paper through various classes. In our first quarter of 2008, Joan Cameron Mitchell will offer a class that describes how retirement became a lesson in writing. Since retiring, she has written and published two books about her life experiences.

Bonnie jw Riley

Executive Director

PILLAR - Enrichment through Lifelong Learning

30 East Rio Grande, Colorado Springs, CO, 80903

(719)633-4991

www.VisitPillar.org