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More on where I've been...

So, I realize that not many people are ever going to read this. That's OK. It's an exercise in faith and obedience, rather than having an actual purpose. Besides, I find it especially cathartic.

My young life was marked by moving. A lot. My father was (...thinking of the right way to put this...) somewhat of an entrepreneur. He was never satisfied with his current status and was always looking for something better. He did everything from milkman to real estate, plumbing to door-to-door salesman. He is a hard worker, which is something that I have learned from him and respect him a lot for. But we moved a lot. Before the time I was in fourth grade, we had moved about 11 times and I had attended 5 schools.

I didn't know any better, but longed for some real friends. I still wonder what happened to some of the kids I knew when I was growing up.

We finally ended up in Utah. I was so excited to be coming to Utah. At last, thought I, I wouldn't be the only Mormon kid in school. I had been to Utah before to visit my grandparents, and I was very excited to be going to Utah. The kids I had known were nice - not like the kids I knew in California (we used to take my dad's metal invoice boxes to school so the kids at the bus stop wouldn't hit us - we'd whack them back with those metal boxes - which worked until dad needed his boxes...). I distinctly remember driving in the big moving truck past those kids waiting at the bus stop. I don't think I have ever been happier. At last! Some friends...

I desperately wanted to just fit in.

I tried to do what other kids did. Not that I wanted to be like the others - I just didn't want to stand out. So I tried to mimic the others in class and do what they did. You can imagine my surprise when my mother went to school to talk to my teacher (parent-teacher conference) and the teacher said that she knew I was a Mormon. I was so sure I had everyone fooled. I guess I was only fooling myself. I learned that I needed to be myself because it was obvious who I was anyway.

Then I got to Utah and met some of the kids here. I came to realize that kids were just kids no matter where you live. Some kids are very mean. Others are very kind and friendly. I was surprised to find people attracted to me who were good, but also that people were mean to me who didn't even know me.

When we moved to Orem, we were pretty excited. We had been living in the basement apartment of a small home in Provo and we needed to get someplace where the six of us kids could spread out. The house in Orem was great - plenty of room, nice quiet neighborhood, and no basement! We ended up living in that house for 8 years - until my mission. It was there that I really found some good friends. Some of the friends I made there are people I still consider friends. Some have drifted through my life like clouds across the blue sky, but each have left a mark, an impression.

Comments

LivingstonClan said…
Ok--this was great to read--I never heard about the metal invoice boxes--that's funny! I mean not funny, but funny--you know. And I am pretty sure we lived in that house in Orem from 83-95, which makes it at least 11 years--right?! Dork! Sure love you Billy!
August 11, 2008 at 9:13 AM
Bill Cobabe said…
Yeah, you know, I remember moving out when I was 17. I came back for about a year (after boot camp and before my mission) and left forever when I was 19. 19+1974=1993. Who's the dork now?
August 11, 2008 at 11:09 AM
LivingstonClan said…
ya--but you said "we ended up living there for 8 years" so who's the dork? (We all know the answer to that!)
August 12, 2008 at 8:28 AM
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