February 14, 2010



     "Joseph, let's go to Disneyland.  They're running a special for California residents.  It's only $28.00
to get in today.   I need a break from my ill parents and drug-addicted children."   I was weary of life and thought it would make the world go away.

     He didn't want to go.  "If I had wanted to see Disneyland, I would've seen it by now."

     I didn't believe him.  How could anybody not want to see Disneyland? 

     "You know where the football players go after they win the Super Bowl Game, don't you?  They go to Disneyland."

     When his kids were little he took them to "Six Flags Over Texas".  They stayed from early morning until late at night.  He told himself he'd never do that again.  Joe said he used to like child things when he was a child.  But now he's an adult and he doesn't care much about doing child things anymore.

     He doesn't know what he's talking about.  "You can't compare Disneyland to Six Flags."  I never make him do anything.  Mostly because I can't.  I need a change of scenery - BAD, and "No" was not an option.

     Oh, he will be so surprised.  He's gonna love it!


     I felt like a little child again.  I threw my arms up in the air and marched through the house singing,
"M-I-C... See you real soon.  K-E-Y...Why?  Because I like you.  M-O-U-S-E-eeee".

     We're going to Disneyland!  The happiest place in the world.  It says so on the sign.

     YES!  Let's get this show on the road.

     The freeway was jammed with traffic and the drive was full of creative Texas cusswords.  After waiting thirty minutes to park the car, and standing in a long line to buy our tickets, Joseph had an attitude chip on his shoulder before we walked through the gates of the Magic Kingdom.  I forced him into going but he was determined not to like it.

     I wanted him to chart the day and pick out sights that he wanted to see, but he showed no interest in anything.  I took him to see "Great moments with Abraham Lincoln".  Instead of reading all the interesting history notes, like he usually does, he sat on the bench to wait for the show to start.  The hostess explained how everything in the exhibit is historically correct.

     Husband leans over and tells me, "The capital building behind Abraham Lincoln is not correct.  The original one was destroyed in the War of 1812.  It was being rebuilt during Lincoln's term.  AND...(for my information) the Rotunda of the Texas State Captial is taller than the National Capital. 
AND...if they are going to animatronic Lincoln back to life, he should dang sure give the Gettysburg Address."


     The only thing that piqued his interest was the New Orleans Square.  He flashed back to the Morning Call Cafe where you can get a Beignet (French donut) and a good cup of coffee.  Cafe New Orleans was closed.   So was the Pirates of the Caribbean.  The one ride he might've enjoyed.

     We stood in a long line at the famous French Market.  They had never heard of a Beignet and only had expresso.  They didn't sell the chickory roast blend that Joseph craved.  After he read the advertised special was "steak gumbo", he wouldn't eat there.  He gave me the lowdown on gumbo.  "You don't make gumbo with steak.  You make it with rue.  You take a guinea hen and boil it for the stock.  Some people take a fat hen.  That is how you make real gumbo."

     "Joe, let's go on those little cars you drive by yourself."
     "No thanks, babe.  If you want to go, I'll watch you, and wave when you drive by."


     When I was seven years old, my family was visiting at Aunt Mary's house.  I sat at the kitchen table with my big brother and older cousins, Butch and Tommy.  We were all excited about going to Disneyland in two weeks.  Butch told me that I wasn't tall enough to go on the little cars you drive by yourself.  The boys agreed that it was the best ride in the whole park.

     Ronnie said, "You gotta drink lots of milk.  It will make you grow tall enough by the time we go to Disneyland."

     Butch poured a glass full of milk and sat it on the table in front of me.  I drank it down and he poured another.  I told him that my stomach hurt and I couldn't drink anymore.


     Butch told me to drink up.  "I've already poured it, and my mom will be mad if you waste our milk."  The boys would not take "no" for an answer.  They put the pressure on me as I struggled to choke down one glass after another.

     And then..... I ran for the bathroom, down the long hallway, with white projectile vomit shooting out of my mouth - leaving puddles on Aunt Mary's new wall-to-wall carpeting.

     The boys were in big trouble for being milk bullies.  Punish me.  I'm the pea-brained moron who drank the milk.   Give me 40-lashes for taking leave of my own senses and submitting to their cruel prank.   Would somebody, please, teach me to say "NO!" so I don't drink the Jonestown kool-aid when I grow up.


     I was getting madder by the minute after Joe refused to drive the little cars with me. 
     I had a spark of hope.  He loves Tex Ritter.  "I know what you'll like," I said as I grabbed his hand.  "Let's find the Bear Jamboree. They have this big bear who sings that Tex Ritter song you love so much. "Blood on my Saddle."  It's really funny."   Tex Ritter used to live in Joe's hometown - Nederland, Texas.
     We waited in a crowd of people for the show to start.  Tigger, from Winnie the Pooh, came bouncing through the crowd and playfully pushed Joseph from behind.  He was trying to elbow Tigger and crank his tail.

     "JOSEPH.  NO!"

     They took the Tex Ritter song out of the act. 


Joe said, "Those mechanical bears were really something 40 years ago.  But with all the new technology, they aren't nothin' by today's standards."  He didn't understand why all the dumb people would be clapping for a tape recorded performance by mechanical bears. 

     He didn't like anything.  "That bleepin' castle doesn't look like it did on television when that little-bitty-flittin' fairy touched it with a wand."

     We rode the Disneyland Railroad.  I got whacked hard on the back of the head by a man carrying a fold-up stroller.  Oh, this is fun.  I never knew I could have such a rotten time at the happiest place in the world. 

     Joe was trying to figure out some mathematical formula on how much money they make in one day.  He was sure they paid off the park years ago, and why can't they charge less instead of more?  And who would ride on those little boats?  Is that all they do is go around in a circle?  The children were singing,  "It's a small world after all.  It's a small, small world."

     I was miserable.  My spirit was in a tailspin.  I have wonderful childhood memories from these sacred grounds, and he's stepping all over them.  He wished that he would've brought his book so he could sit by the pretty flowers and read...

     "That's it," I said.  "Why don't we just leave?"

     "Good idea."  That was the happiest moment of his day.  We stayed less than two hours. 

     "Expensive walk,"  he said as we made our way through the parking lot.

     "Joseph.  People come from all over the world to see Disneyland."

     "I bet they were really PO'd."

     We sat in traffic on the way home.  His only regret was that he didn't buy me any Mickey Mouse ears.



We must be related or something?

I've been to D. Land maybe 2 times in the last 25 years and that was 2 times to many!

I would rather go to the park and feed the birds popcorn.

Your favorite brother. Ronnie

Oh! I'm your only brother so you don't have a choice. ha ha lol

Anonymous said...

How can you not enjoy Disneyland??? We just went Friday night and had a blast! I guess Joe & Geezer are party poopers. Good to reconnect Opauntopie Doparnopie :)