I just posted a story about Sunnyvale, California on my finances blog and it reminded me of some other things that had to do with Sunnyvale. I’m grateful for the good home my parents raised me in. It was warm, safe and always big enough for me to mess up. Here are two short stories for your amusement:
Nick
Nick was my neighbor down the street. Nick would get home from school a little later than I would. He would get home and I wouldn’t be far behind. Usually hoping to score some sort of snack from Nick’s mom who would buy sugary treats for her children. My parents were ‘granola’ in comparison. That is to say that they would buy healthy foods for us to eat. Imagine that. Healthy food – ugh – things that probably didn’t have a high refined sugar content.
So I would show up at Nick’s house and ask if he’d had snack, hoping that he hadn’t, and then after his mom kindly fed us a treat we’d play GI Joes in her garden bed. Hours of GI Joes. We probably killed a plant or two, but we dug tunnel after tunnel and probably lost five action figures over the time we played out there. A bomb would blow up the tunnel, which would then bury the GI Joe, and then we’d forget about it. A few times we actually found buried GI Joes – score!
Nick was older than me and when we left he was probably a little glad to get rid of the leach that was Randy Peterman, but the downside was that he had one less person to play GI Joes with. He probably lost a lot fewer actions figures after that!
Israel & Sharone
We had two Jewish neighbor boys. I wouldn’t normally point that sort of information out except that they were practicing Jews and not just the ethnic variety. Every Friday night as the sun was going down their mom would call them in and they would pack up their bikes, their toys and whatever else and disappear until the next Sunday. When it got dark enough for the Sabbath to be over it was too dark to play so we lost a full Saturday with them as they obeyed the Torah (the Law of the Old Testament).
Every once in a while their mom would be without some ingredient or some cooking tool and she’d send them over on the Sabbath. That was fun because they weren’t allowed to leave their property which was two houses down and a phone call was work [which if forbidden on the Sabbath]. However, to try to bend the rules and to get the needed item they were allowed to carry a stuffed animal fifty steps from their house, place it down, walk fifty more steps and then place the animal down. Usually they needed 4-5 stuffed animals to get to our house’s front door where they would ask for something. One time they asked if we had a brand new skillet that had not been cooked in or touched other pans that had cooked bacon or pork. Unfortunately we didn’t ever have things they needed, but it was fun to watch them carry toys, which looked like work to me, just to come get some food or item, which would have been carried back, looking like work, to their house where it would have been used in food preparation… which would have been work 
Good times.
Actually, the kitchen gets dirty fast because both girls, as old as they are, have a way of trashing any area within minutes of entry. Some people might even go so far as to say seconds from entry. I would be one of those people.