Blissful Innocence

My parents were students when I was young and we lived in family student housing at San Jose State University directly across from Spartan Stadium where the college sports teams played and graduations happened.

They were on a short budget as students and parents so on weekends we went to the Flea Market for fun. The Berryessa Flea Market in San Jose has been one of the largest outdoor markets in the world. Anyone who was born and raised in the Bay Area had usually heard of this well known venue for used wares, antiques, and generally unique finds.

My dad would take $20 to spend on our whole family experience, enough to spend the day there. I have clear memories of the merry-go-round that played music in Spanish, the cup of French fries coated in ketchup, and a tall slide that we’d climb several levels of steps to get to the top of. Going down on old sections of carpet, faster and faster over each hump until reaching the bottom in a heap of laughter and exhilaration.

We’d peruse the aisles of random stuff, picking up each item to examine the rare treasure, asking the price and choosing what to take home. My dad would buy some random trinket for me that I got to choose on my own which felt so special. There were hundreds of bargains to find so sometimes my parents would choose something just for me. We brought home rugs, a spring loaded toy rocking horse, an old bike that needed a new chain, clothing, books and records. Once I even went home with a pet rabbit. I was about 3 years old.

These were the years I was in preschool where I painted, listened to books, stacked blocks, rode bikes, played games, pulled my friends in the wagon and had a nap time.

We spent a lot of time with my aunts and uncles who were also students at the college, many of them living in student housing as well. I had cousins and friends, grandparents to visit regularly and neighbors all around.

My dad built an aviary under our outdoor stairwell and he got ducks who roamed the apartment grounds, setting kiddie pools filled with water so they could drink and bathe whenever they needed to. We didn’t have much but I remember being joyful, playing outdoors a lot, singing to music and driving around in our red VW Bug. Going to the park nearby that had a Koi pond and petting zoo.

I could say I had a fairly blissful childhood with Christmases and birthday parties at the park. A unique time when I felt like a child and allowed to be one. I hold my memories as precious gifts. They are deeply a part of who I am today. I’ve heard that it’s difficult for some people to remember things before the time they went to school. I remember so much from those times and even from a broader context, appreciate the naïveté I had before I was exposed to the more difficult things.

When I turned 5, we moved from those apartments, my brother was born and more was expected of me. I answered the phone when it rang, walked to school on my own, had homework, learned to write my name and count. We performed on stage as a class, plays and pageants. I had a mean teacher who had it out for me. Kids made fun of other kids for being a particular race. The neighborhoods did not feel safe or familiar. There were many neighbors we did not know. Strangers we were not supposed to talk to, places we were not supposed to go. Grown men looked at me funny. We had no pets and my friends and I were only allowed to walk so far down the sidewalk alone. The world became a bigger place. I became a big girl. 

We all have our stories and the times we learned harsh lessons and truths that no one can really prepare you for. Yet they are all unique. Come share your stories in the Wise Women’s Counsel. These calls are meant to be safe spaces to gain a deeper context about our experiences and to remember your own Wisdom and strength among other women who want to understand their own experiences with more clarity. This becomes a powerful platform to move from when taking courageous steps towards your dreams and bringing more presence to each relationship, decision and full enjoyment of your life.