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Zero to Eighteen

October 11, 2015

I had this thought today as I was riding my bike through town:

So….

Soon, Peter will move out of Davis. Maybe not permanently, but as he’s not likely to choose UCD or any college nearby, he will be relocating. We know this. But what I flashed on today was the realization that his 0-18 year narrative is coming to a wrap, that all-important “when I was growing up” narrative, full of:

We used to hang out at this park (Baja), or

This is where the sandwich place was (Subway), or

I played baseball here (Davis Little League Complex), or

This is where I went to nursery school (DPNS), or

There was a cool rope swing here (Putah Creek), or

My bike was stolen from here (Nugget), or

… whatever comprises his growing up memory box.

That box is almost full. He’s got about 3/4 of a year left for adding whatever else might be going in there, then that’s it. That’s the growing up phase. The part lived in the family home, the part when he went to grade school, the part when he met his earliest pals. It’s the phase that contains all the major developmental milestones… infancy, toddlerhood, learning to walk, learning to ride a bike, starting school, being an adolescent, being a teenager, getting braces, getting acne, learning to drive, turning into a young adult, registering to vote.

THAT box. It’s almost full.

He’s done almost all the stuff he’s going to do while a kid in Davis, the stuff he’ll look back on as his growing up years.

I knew this on most levels. But I hadn’t thought about the lid almost coming down. It is truly a finite period of time. Every experience he’s ever going to have as a kid growing up in Davis has almost been had.

This will be his narrative.

It seemed rather significant as I was riding around. I was reflecting on my own childhood narrative, thinking about how that period is so entirely defining. How those memories–the home, the town, the friends–are such touchstones. How they are the reference points of our lives. How 0-18 is such a massively huge universe compared to every other phase that follows. Even as I know super big stuff is coming for him. It’s just not all packaged so densely as the 0 to 18 years.

I thought about the Palos Verdes 1960s-1970s Facebook page and the kinds of things we share there (Remember that place at the Malaga Cove plaza where that guy with red hair worked…? or, Who was at that giant bonfire the time…. ? or Who used to wear bell-bottoms with patches on the ….?).  I thought, too, of the You Know You’re From Davis When… Facebook page and all the memories the former Davis kids share there, same kind of stuff about clothing, teachers, places, gossip. Peter will be one of those guys with a history in this town before too long. His little swath of Davis time.

It’s also funny what a time warp life is. How huge and interminable that time felt while in it, and even when looking back on it, it seems huge. My 0-18 was a lifetime. Or so it seemed.

Peter’s has, of course, gone by in a flash.

I’ll bet you dollars to donuts, my 0-18 was no longer than Peter’s.

Now THAT is weird.

Guess I better post a quintessential picture of Peter’s Davis youth.  This being fall, how about a shot of us picking pumpkins out at Impossible Acres?

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~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After my trippy little bike ride, I went with Darlene to the annual Madrigal Wine Pour fundraiser out at Village Homes. Standing in line to get in, I told her about my startling and somewhat sad revelations. The conversation continued under a shaded arbor on the patio of Osteria Fasulo, and was made tripier by a steady flow of wine.

But it was fun to have that conversation while drinking wine amongst a couple hundred other mostly-parents-of-Davis-High-School-kids. One mom I’d known since we were in a new moms group together (Audra), yet another from another new moms group (Cheryl), a couple from pre-school days (Alice and Jim ), and another from kindergarten days (Carole and Neil), a baseball mom (Frances), Peter’s current pitching coach (Kenner) … you get the idea. Our little village is about to launch a whole bunch of eighteen-year-olds into the non-Davis world.

So yeah, it was a lovely setting for wine, warm weather and the shifting of generational sands.

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And some very pretty music sung by these guys:

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4 Responses to “Zero to Eighteen”

  1. Michael Ann Says:

    Our child’s senior year brings on a lot of emotions and life reflections. It culminates in graduation day, which is extremely emotional. I sat in the bleachers surrounded by all the families we met when Kevin was in preschool. We all looked at each other with tears in our eyes… with all these weighty thoughts floating around all of us and asked each other, “Can you believe this day is here?” I loved this piece, Kari.

    • Kari Says:

      Thanks. Breathing deeply. Feeling so much gratitude. These kids are living the dream. We need to understand that every day.

  2. basykes Says:

    Walt was going to go to the wine pour, but in the end decided not to. (Since I rarely drink, it wasn’t in the cards for me)

    • Kari Says:

      It was a pretty lovely event, especially if you scored a table in the shade, which we did. And then guarded with our lives. 🙂

      Oh, and had teenager designated drivers!! Darlene’s son drove us there, Peter drove us home.

      Cushy, all around.


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