Isn't it funny how old memories are suddenly revived and awakened out of the clear blue?  If you are like me, you find yourself wondering what made you remember the oddest and funniest things from your childhood.  Speaking for myself, there are thousands of these memories.

Yesterday as my husband and I were driving, I noticed an old truck in front of us - I think it was a 1950 Ford or Chevy truck and I instantly recalled fun times riding with my father to the local dump.  My father was not a lazy man and strongly believed in staying busy and productive.  He had projects going all the time. No one should relax during the daytime!

Occasionally I was allowed to ride with him to the dump.  It seemed like the dump was a long ride away and it was always a treat to ride in that truck high in the front seat.  Once at the dump I was fascinated in watching the huge tractors rearrange the garbage, belching smoke and making incredible noise, and then looking up to see the moving cloud of seagulls.  And the smell...that distinctive stench of rotting garbage. It was a whole different world for me.

Of course I was never allowed to get out of the truck.  "It's not a place for children to roam around" admonished my father.  Of course when my brother got his turn to take a dump ride with Father, he (Mark) would excitedly report to me the delight he had in being able to get out of the truck and "help" Father pull out the trash out of the truck at the dump site.

 Father's explanation was that because Mark was a boy, it was "different" and boys were expected to get out and help with the unloading at the dump- but girls must stay in the truck at all times.  I never believed that baloney and thought it was pretty unfair....particularly since Mark would hide behind Father and laugh at me while I was being reminded of my place as a girl.

When I was about 5 or 6, I remember a memorable ride to the dump. I had my coloring book with me and I was busy with the coloring of a page (creating art in my mind) as we traveled along -and once we got on the dirt road, the ride became pretty bumpy.  I complained that this bumpy ride was causing me to go out of the lines! Maybe I was too loud, maybe I was out of line to even think of lodging such a complaint, I didn't know for sure, but what I did know was that my coloring book was suddenly ripped out of my hands and in an instant, it disappeared out the window!

Father was clearly angry and this is probably my first memory of his famous line ..."who do you think you are around here, the big cheese????".  I didn't even like cheese then, let alone understand what he meant, but the tone of his voice told me he was angry.

I sobbed over the loss of my art portfolio and we silently continued to the dump site.  As he got out to empty the truck, he handed me back my coloring book!  I was astounded at the magic of its reappearance!

It was a few years before I realized that the driver exterior door latch was a perfect place to slide in a rolled up coloring book while allowing your child to learn a lesson.

I am still not 100% sure what the lesson was supposed to be but I was smart enough to never again (well, not till I was a teen) mouth off to my father.  He considered that kind of complaining the same as being a smart-aleck and that was never, ever allowed in our home.  We kids had our place and we were expected to know exactly what and where that was.

Things have really changed....today kids are allowed to scream at the top of their lungs in the store at their parents ("well, they are frustrated and must be allowed to express this" explain the parents, despite the fact that every other patron in the store is going crazy listening to racket), make actual demands of their parents ("you need to take me to school now or I'll be late!") and worse, the parents seem to do it!

Wonder why this generation have become sloths and believing they are deserving of everything they desire?  Maybe they should ride in a truck with a strict father once in a while.....