It just occurred to me that I'd be remiss without mentioning another one of my neighbors on Liszt. Ya know, while I'm thinking about it. You see, Jeff Hanson lived on Beethoven Street but we shared a common backyard fence. Kurt Hildorf lived across from Jeff on Beethoven, and the other neighbor, also on Beethoven, was the Motycka Family. The glorious and ethereal Motycka Family...
Okay, maybe that's over-stating it just a bit. Sure, the family as a whole was very good friends of ours (that is to say, the entirety of the Miller family) and they were particularly lovely people. But it was the eldest daughter of said Motycka family who truly caught my interest when I was a lad. Her name: Jenny. Her claim to childhood fame: cuteness and brutal coyness that bordered on prissy cattiness... but I'd never tell her that. She was, for the most part, my first real crush. I thought she was the cutest thing around back then and would go out of my way to hang around her. I'd ditch my guy friends and head to her house for snacks and some rousing games of Hi-Ho Cheerio. It was love, readers... deep and heart-aching love. Sadly, it was never reciprocated. Sure, I kissed her once or twice; kissed her in that awkward, childish, playful, giddy way where both parties close their eyes and just hope that no one burps. But we never dated or any nonsense like that. Fact is, I haven't seen her in years.
Oh, and she had (and has) a sister named Kelly who just so happened to be my brother's age and, thus, his object of affection as well. Weird how that stuff turns out.
Anyway, we hung out a ton thanks to our families being pals and such. We were always at one another's house playing games and doing junk kids do. We had our Birthday Parties and invited the other... and no I don't remember her's. Possibly October... can't be sure, though. It was on one particular birthday where I decided it was a great idea to puke at the movies. Yeah, that's right... puke. Not on her, mind you, but it was at the theater and I managed to barely make it up the aisle of the Plaza 2 showing of E.T. before spraying it through my fingers. It was in July of of '82 when that flick was in theaters and we went for my birthday. My friends and I... just after consuming an epic amount of cinnamon apple sauce at my actual party. And by epic I mean EPIC. I was shoveling that mess in like it was never going to be bottled again. And that's what did it. Threw it all up.
I still can't eat cinnamon apple sauce. Haven't in 30 years.
And ya know what? I still haven't seen E.T. all the way through, either...
Sad, really.
Okay, maybe that's over-stating it just a bit. Sure, the family as a whole was very good friends of ours (that is to say, the entirety of the Miller family) and they were particularly lovely people. But it was the eldest daughter of said Motycka family who truly caught my interest when I was a lad. Her name: Jenny. Her claim to childhood fame: cuteness and brutal coyness that bordered on prissy cattiness... but I'd never tell her that. She was, for the most part, my first real crush. I thought she was the cutest thing around back then and would go out of my way to hang around her. I'd ditch my guy friends and head to her house for snacks and some rousing games of Hi-Ho Cheerio. It was love, readers... deep and heart-aching love. Sadly, it was never reciprocated. Sure, I kissed her once or twice; kissed her in that awkward, childish, playful, giddy way where both parties close their eyes and just hope that no one burps. But we never dated or any nonsense like that. Fact is, I haven't seen her in years.
Oh, and she had (and has) a sister named Kelly who just so happened to be my brother's age and, thus, his object of affection as well. Weird how that stuff turns out.
Anyway, we hung out a ton thanks to our families being pals and such. We were always at one another's house playing games and doing junk kids do. We had our Birthday Parties and invited the other... and no I don't remember her's. Possibly October... can't be sure, though. It was on one particular birthday where I decided it was a great idea to puke at the movies. Yeah, that's right... puke. Not on her, mind you, but it was at the theater and I managed to barely make it up the aisle of the Plaza 2 showing of E.T. before spraying it through my fingers. It was in July of of '82 when that flick was in theaters and we went for my birthday. My friends and I... just after consuming an epic amount of cinnamon apple sauce at my actual party. And by epic I mean EPIC. I was shoveling that mess in like it was never going to be bottled again. And that's what did it. Threw it all up.
I still can't eat cinnamon apple sauce. Haven't in 30 years.
And ya know what? I still haven't seen E.T. all the way through, either...
Sad, really.
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