The first house I can remember was up in Clear Lake. I don’t remember very much just a few snippets of my life then. I do remember the tire swing that was tied to tall tree at the front of the house by long ropes. It wasn’t just an old hard rubber circle but the rubber had been cut from a large balloon tire. The swing was more like a bucket style. I have a memory of my older brother pushing me in that swing higher and higher and up over the roof of the house. My parents were upset to see through the back picture window my feet popping out over the roof.

I get tired of all the hyperbole and contention when we have a presidential election year in this country. The debates, debates and more debates. I know it is important for our democracy to have an exchange of ideas but my make up is such that I do not like arguments and confrontation. It’s not that I can’t get on my own soapbox but these debates are uncomfortable to watch with all the gotcha stuff from the candidates and the press. I am not convinced debates helps us really know what the candidates are about. They just show us who can score more points in a debate by embarrassing his/her opponent.

During the Dust Bowl days and the great migration of the people from the dust bowl states to California there were many people from Oklahoma coming to our state of California. They were called Okies by many people here. The Grapes of Wrath describes what it was like for people then. I have an early memory of these country people living up the road from us in Clear Lake. I went up to their house with my mother and all these men were sitting on the front porch, dressed in black suits with somber looks. Holding shotguns with blood hounds laying at their feet. I remember feeling a bit frightened of them as we stepped up on the porch to visit the woman of the house. I don’t know why we went there that day. Maybe to say hello or bring her something. Sometimes the woman would visit my mother. My mother said the woman would say she had to get home to make dinner. My mother said she knew she was just going home to make potatoes.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday is hosted by Linda G Hill. Our word for today is “tire.” Featured Image is “End of the Road” by Don Graham on Flickr. I want to include his caption here:

“One of the remaining stretches of Old Route 66 runs from Kingman, AZ to Wiliams, AZ. About midway between is the almost gone town of Hackberry. Just outside of town, a man in restoring what used to be a popular stop along the route. There is a gas station and general store. Nearby lies a broken down ruin of an old travel court. Often, when the Okies were following the Mother Road to their promised land in California, their old car would break down. Not having the money to fix it, they would park it and trade the gas station owner for a few nights in a cabin. That is what this scene reminds me of.”  (Don Graham)

I want to participate in Love Is In Da Blog Stream of Consciousness as well and contribute my post to Bee Halton’s site Just Fooling Around With Bee. I want you all to know that I do LOVE stream of consciousness writing. I find it does free up my creativity and I can take it where it wants to go. And you never know where you will end up. I am often pleasantly surprised and I hope you are too.