We don’t stop and think a lot about what happened to us as kids. Well, most people don’t. Then there are those of us, like me, that do. My thoughts turn to those events pivotal in my childhood, particularly when those moments are connected to blockbuster movies.

               Growing up in San Ramon, California, I thought our family’s life was average, typical in the sense of living in a suburban neighborhood with many working-class families and those who had and made a lot of money. Not everyone was wealthy. Not everyone was struggling to make ends meet. But a single glance up or down our street, and you could tell the owners who cared what the outside of their home looked like.

               That’s not changed in forty years. My old neighborhood still looks pretty much the same. Some telltale markers of our street have passed away, as I imagine many people living on our block have. The house we once occupied is a lot different. Sure, the olive tree is still in the front yard. But the massive pine trees? Those are the same trees a squirrel’s baby chased us away from, and then his Mama got involved. Her anger and fury reminded me of what she was: an overprotective mother. Those trees towered over our house, the tops of those trees swaying at the slightest breeze. And I should know. I often found myself atop those same trees! Yeah. Someone cut them down. Five massive pine trees stood in the backyard, two on the east side and three on the west side rear corner. Today, that house, the one I grew up in, is worth approximately 1.8 million dollars. At least, according to Zillow.

               One of the neat features of the house was the ‘dinosaur bones.’ I’m not sure how they were named. It could’ve been from me, James, Jon, or my Dad. Dad was always telling stories, so I imagine it was his brainchild. I’d be willing to bet I get the storytelling side of my brain from Dad.

               So, the dinosaur bones in the backyard. After we moved in, one of the shortest moves we ever made, I think we all wondered what in the heck the poles were sticking up in five strategic places just outside the sliding glass door. The previous owner, or maybe the builder of the house, intended to put lights on those galvanized metal poles. The electrical wires were inside each pole, and each was capped off, preventing water from getting inside.

                Dinosaur bones. Yeah. I’m pretty sure Dad started the narrative, and we kids? We continued to share it with our friends and the people Mom and Dad would have come to the house for barbeques. I think the story went along the lines of:

You know how these (Dad pointed to the poles) got here, don’t you? Well, millions of years ago, long before people walked on two legs, dinosaurs wandered all over the hills of San Ramon. And one of these massive creatures died right here in this backyard! And those things (pointing to the poles), those right there? Those are the bones of one of those massive dinosaurs. Probably from the rib cage, based on the way they are so evenly spaced apart.

               Yeah. Growing up in San Ramon had a lot of entertaining moments when you had our Dad as a father. I’m so grateful to have a creative, inspirational figure like him in my life.

Dad, if you are reading this, tell me what you remember about the dinosaur bones in the comments.  

               What kind of childhood stories do you have that you still tell today? Let me know in the comments below.