Monday, November 8, 2010

Airstream Dreams

I've been back to work now for five days.  And I must admit they have been the five longest days of my life.  But keep in mind I'm one of the lucky ones, my desk has a great view of the mountains and I can watch the freeway from where I sit.  I often find myself wandering off in thought as I watch those cars rush by, coming and going.
When I was a small girl, I use to go into those mountains, to the Provo Canyon to be exact.  The canyon road side was lined with fresh fruit stands back then, some 30 years ago.  It was one orchard after another as well as corn field, tomato, melon's, strawberry and raspberry patches.  Often times I was with my aunt and cousins heading up to visit their in-laws/grandparents.  The Canyon Family we shall call them.  They were a fun loving family with if I can remember correctly four sons and one daughter, a quite father and one very bossy mother.  They camped along the canyon where the Provo River rushed wildly by the shaded camp grounds.  Papa Canyon had the most amazing singing voice and at night he would sit by the camp fire and sing.  He sounded like a mixture of Ernest Tubbs and Hank Williams.  People from all over the camp ground would come and gather round just to hear Papa Canyon strum his guitar and sing.  Some would toss money in his overturned cowboy hat before they returned to their own camp.  Grandma Canyon was always sewing or knitting something.  She was of Native American descent and wore turquoise bracelets up and down bother her arms.  Rings covered each finger and ear, not to mention her beautiful necklaces.  Grandma Canyon often made jewelry as well and sold it from the roadside by her silver airstream trailer.  It wasn't the largest airstream I had seen but it wasn't tiny.  My parents had a Prowler Trailer and it was great for camping, and about the same size, three beds (one being the kitchen table, one the couch and one a above pull out bunk) a small bathroom and of course the stove, frig and sink.  It was our home away from home when camping, it sure beat sleeping in a tent on the hard ground and using an out house.
The Canyon Family was like I said happy and behaved like any other family.  The boys were in their teens and they left with PaPa early in the morning and were gone all day until around six or seven in the evening.  Grandma and their youngest daughter stayed close to the camp and sold the sewing's, knitting's and jewelry.  There was always something for us kids to do, somewhere for us to explore, some new game to make up.  It was a wonderland for us, we didn't have a care in the world, life was good.
It's funny though as I got older and my trips to the canyon became fewer and fewer and the orchards became subdivisions and well as the corn fields and berry patches, I came to miss The Canyon Family and the airstream days.  I've thought of them often with a fondness in my heart and also with a new realization.  My camping Canyon Family weren't camping, they were making a living, that's right they were gypsies.  When I look back on it now I realize that, PaPa and the boys were gone all day finding odd jobs and doing asphalt or cement work.  Grandma sold her jewelry and other crafts to many a grateful passerby.  And when PaPa Canyon sang at night with his turned over hat, that was just his way of unwinding and checking out if just for a little while.  Oh yea, and that not to large airstream, the one I thought better than a tent was in fact their humble home. 
Life sure seems a lot different when viewed through the eyes of an adult and a work cubical, not so rosie.  So as I watch those cars rush by going who knows where I begin to feel the yearning of the little girl gypsy in me, calling to me, pulling at me.  
And that's when I  came across Magnoliapearl and her amazing airstream and she got me to dreaming all over again.
Now I don't think I'm going to run out and paint me up an airstream, but I'm sure going to go searching for that little gypsy and see where she leads me.  I wish you all many airstream dreams. x0x0

1 comment:

diane cook said...

Robin does have a gypsy streak about her! Loved your story Debbie =))

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