~ Growing Without Roots ~

My childhood was amazing and unique. In fact, it ruined my life in many ways. I remember when I was seven, listening to the radio in my parents' room in Australia, eyes closed, lying on the rug with my head on a pillow, the sound of the branches and leaves blowing in the wind outside. I often wonder, is this a dream and am I still in Australia? Will I wake up and be able to do it all differently? Or is this my life and my memories will always be an albatross around my neck?

1952 The Flying Red Horse

When we lived in Gravenchon, my dad worked at Port Jerome, the refinery. His company, Foster-Wheeler, had been subcontracted by Esso, The refinery was a joint venture between Esso and Mobil (not surprise that it became Exxon-Mobil years later). From my parents' bedroom window, Mobil's iconic flying red horse was clearly visible.

Every night before I went to bed, my dad would take me to their bedroom, open the window, pull down my pajama pants, and hold me ass first out the window so I could say goodnight to the horse.

It's true. Every night my rear end was in full view from their window. When I went to America's Car Museum in 2014 and saw their neon Mobil horse it almost brought me to my knees, the memory was so vivid.

Mobil's Flying Red Horse at America's Car Museum in Tacoma