Yesterday I asked you to identify a photo. Your guesses were great (be sure to go read them!) but Sandy Carlson got it right. It’s a thatched roof at Plimoth Plantation — I took the photo while looking up, under the doorway. You can see one such roof in the background of this photo:

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I don’t know why I remember this address. It’s been more than a quarter of a century since I lived there. Nor can I comprehend why I remember the phone number – I’ve memorized at least a dozen phone numbers since 832-3625.

I don’t know why I remember the dark green siding with the bright yellow door, and how its two bedrooms and one bath provided plenty of space for my mom and me. I remember the tracks that ran parallel to our street and transported the trains that rattled our windows, and the highway on the other side of them — the one that I used to cross on my bike to visit my Grandma. It’s now a four-lane bypass with traffic lights and speeding cars.
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In honor of Mother’s Day and my television debut, I’ve decided to republish my Chicken Soup for the Soul: Mothers and Daughters contribution, with photos.

(Blue Streak, Beartooth’s Pass, circa 1975)

Ten Thousand Miles in Blue Streak

As a child, raised by a single mother, my experience in the 1970’s was different from that of my friends. I was a latchkey kid with more responsibilities than other children my age. But Mom worked hard, saved every penny, and made a comfortable life for us — one that included her passion for travel.
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As promised in last week’s caption contest, here’s the second in a series of three photos, leading up to my birthday.

The photo above is also pre-motherhood (duh) in my pageant days. I was first runner-up in the Miss Wisconsin USA pageant. I have only fond memories left, since the bod is totally gone. You’ll know what I mean in the final photo I post next week.

A current one.

Again, I think I’ve held true to my claim that I’m posting photos that look nothing like my profile pic. Again, I’m showing a photo I swore to myself I’d never show you.

And again, I’m offering a signed copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul: Celebrating Mothers and Daughters, to the winner of this week’s caption contest.

So keeping in mind last week’s flattering photo, how would you caption this one?

I’ll accept captions until Wednesday 8 PM Central Time, and post the winning caption on Thursday.

And if you’d like to see the final photo, I encourage you to subscribe to a feed below to get a reminder. I WON’T BE POSTING THE LINK ANYWHERE!

Just sayin’.

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You’ve kept me giggling for 24 hours — taking pot-shots at my scraggly, flat-chested youcan’tmakemewearadress self. You made the brilliant, but unintended connection that this early-me could be the avatar for Pass the Pitchfork. Mom called me a joker. Jenny in CA suggested there may have been a noticeable scent. Holly thought I made a pretty good Popeye impersonation. Sprittibee noticed the veil of grit that covered every pore and follicle.

Mike Thomas used my pre-pubescent photo shoot as inspiration for the opening of a future best-seller,

“Just having come out of the safety provided by the trailer, the new boy ‘Tilbork’ looked disoriented with his surroundings in this new land….”

Robin and TNTChick inferred I must have just placed my strappy sandals in equine dung.

But Pamela — the incomparable Pamela — noticed the distinct Elvis sneer, and determined that I, a mere three years after his demise, had taken up where the legend left off.

And on the horseshow trail, the lyrics would have to be a bit different,

“Now I have to call them my brown suede shoes.”

Pamela, just email me your snail address and I’ll ship your prize book, Chicken Soup for the Soul: Celebrating Mothers and Daughters. Thanks to all of you who participated, and I’ll see you next Wednesday for my second installment in this series of photos. Ummmmm, it will show a different side of my insanely chaotic multidimensional life.

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