Childhood Memories: Bipper

My mom, brother, and Bipper near my great-grandparents' driveway.

I love this picture for a few reasons.  You can tell summer has given way to Michigan's too brief fall season.  The leaves have faded from green to yellow and the underbrush lining the dirt road we lived on was fading fast.  Leaves litter the ground near the mailbox.  My mom and little brother, BJ, are wearing winter coats on their trek through the hills.  Looking at the bike my mom is holding, I know it must be mine and I must be somewhere nearby.  I don't imagine I was taking the picture, though; more likely it was my great-grandpa behind the viewfinder.

This picture predates my parents' divorce.  If I had to guess, I'd say by several years.  I was ten when they divorced and BJ seven.  He looks about four or five there, don't you think, with his cute little chubby face?  Maybe even six.  No, probably five.  When I do the math, I realize there's a very real possibility my two youngest siblings are already born and likely at home with our dad or perhaps being babysat by our neighbor, Jan, or her daughter, Jodi.

Mom will remember.  I look forward to reading her comment because I know she reads the blog upon occasion and will eventually stumble across this post.

The bikes are great, aren't they?  That's a banana seat mom is gripping.  I haven't seen one of those in ages.

I also appreciate the mailbox in the corner.  I would never crop it out.  Not everyone can say they grew up knowing their great-grandparents, but my siblings and I can.  That mailbox was at the end of their circle driveway.  In the summer it would be surrounded by flowers and the apple trees would be in bloom nearby.  At the far end of the driveway sat the Rock Shop with the collection of stones my great-grandparents had collected on their travels to places like Arizona.  The little red house on the hill, though, that was as much a part of my childhood as my own little ranch style house just down the road.

The last thing that I love about this photo and the real reason I selected it for my little journey down memory lane is the fluffy white dog.  It has to be Bipper.  He was a poodle or poodle mix.  He is the first family pet I remember having and, oh, how we loved him.  He was a good boy who lived his entire life outside.  At least, I don't remember him being allowed in the house while I was growing up.  He was a sweet dog.  A good dog.

Childhood memories are tricky, but I'm almost positive Bipper passed away sometime after my parents' divorce.  I remember walking out of the door on the side of our house - we rarely used the front door - and discovering him curled in a ball next to the foundation.  He must have died during the night while the family slept.  I believe we were on our way to school and that someone must have taken care of him while we sat in classes, played at recess, or walked through the elementary school hallways. 

But, as I said, childhood memories are tricky for me.  They are fragmented images, incomplete and untrustworthy.