One special memory I have is when I was around seven or eight years old and Daddy took me on a long walk in Portland, Oregon. I lived with my grandparents on the farm in Washington state near Bellingham. I was visiting my parents in Portland where they lived at the time. That is where they had to go to find good jobs during the war.
My Dad and I enjoyed each others company and one day he took me on a walk that included almost all of the bridges in Portland. I don't recall how many bridges there were but we were challenged to do as many as possible that day. These bridges were across the Willamette River in the heart of Portland, if my memory serves me well. These were draw bridges and that would allow for ships to pass through. I remember looking down into the water from way up high. We could toss a pebble into the river and see the many circles getting larger as the water rippled out. These are childhood memories.
The day began with Daddy braiding my hair and making sure I was presentable. I'm sure my mother was at work that day. Dad also took me to a photo booth to get my picture taken. I have never used one of those photo booths in the years since as far as I can remember. But I have been tempted to on occasion in remembrance of that day many years ago.
I also recall that on the bus heading to Portland from Bellingham practicing trying to whistle. I'm sure I was not successful enough to disturb anybody on the bus. I eventually learned to whistle, but not very loud. I never could do it good enough to whistle for a dog or anything. I have since lost any whistling skill I may have had.
You never know what memories one thought might trigger.
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