Chapter 2

    “Mother , you wouldn’t believe this place. It is miserably hot, and the hills are covered in sagebrush and scrubby oak trees.”

    “Debbie, calm down.”

    “Mother, there is absolutely nothing here.  It is a little retirement community without any traffic lights for heaven sakes! There is no one our age,” shared my mother into the telephone.

    “Debbie, it’s just a temporary stop.  You need to just imagine like you are in the military. You will live in many places before you settle down.”

             “I know it’s only a temporary stop, but everything is so desolate here.  There aren’t many young families here for us to socialize with.”

    “Just be patient! Give it time!  You won’t be there forever,” counseled Grandma Whittleton to my mother. As the years went by and our family remained in Lake Isabella, my grandmother probably regretted the advice she had given.  We have lived in Lake Isabella from 1976- 2005(present).  My mother did adjust to a peaceful retirement village. She made friends and was very busy caring for Joe and Jenny. As the years went by, she began to love her little house in rural Mountain Mesa, an area just east of Lake Isabella.  Her house was two blocks away from her husband’s dental office, enabling the family to share lunch every day.  This would make life run smoother.  My mother was lonely for companionship, but at least her husband would return for an hour in the middle of the day for lunch.  My mother had been caring for babies, and needed a friend to talk with, so the time they spent together was precious. 

    Enduring challenges always makes a couple stronger.  When a couple is forced to depend upon each other for support, their marriage is strengthened.  My parents have certainly endured many trials, which is one of the reasons they have such a loving, respectful relationship.  This little house in rural Mountain Mesa had a built in swimming pool in the back yard.  Yet, this swimming pool had no fence around it when my parents moved in.  Of course, there is a fence around the pool now, and this provides us with an interesting story:

    My parents loved their little house in Mountain Mesa.  The front yard was small with a lawn area and driveway. There were places to plant flowers and strawberries.  My mother loved showing her children how to plant seeds in an egg carton.  One day when she was in the front yard with my father, a frightening event took place.  All of a sudden my father stopped mowing the lawn and ran toward the back yard. 

    “What on earth is he doing?” my mom thought, as she quickly followed her  husband, but in this case, it was a wise decision.  He dove into the swimming pool to retrieve his helpless infant from drowning.  Joe was nearby, screaming and crying, but nobody knows how my dad could have heard him over the noise of the lawn mower.  Jenny and Joey had managed to unlock the sliding glass door and escape into the pool area.  Jenny had been playing with a towel by the pool.  When the towel fell into the pool, she tried to pull it out and fell in.  Joey was only 3 years old, so he was not expected to be a babysitter, but he knew something was wrong when his little sister fell into the pool.  My wonder-of-a dad rescued my sister from death, which became a legendary story after time had passed. A chain link fence was shortly erected preventing curious children from exploring a fascinating underwater world without supervision.  My parents also decided that they would teach all of their children to swim at a very early age.   We were very grateful for the still small voice that warned my father of danger lurking in our lives.

    Our house was tiny, but comfortable.  All of the rooms were carpeted except the bathrooms and the kitchen.  I became  known as the “rug rat" by nine months, because I was everywhere.  Having another child walking around the home was very trying for my mother.

    "We are now outnumbered by the children!"  recalled my father.  Don't worry!  The children never attempted a hostile takeover.  Yet, we were rambunctious like all children.  My older brother, Joey, was known for flushing important items down the toilet and knocking over a can of paint on the floor of a hardware store.  Next, came Jenny, the active infant who had to be fished from the swimming pool.  Then, came their first arrival in Lake Isabella, "the Rugrat" who loved to empty drawers, scatter toys, and create a mess for a magical princess to cleanup with a touch from her magic wand.  This Rugrat did not like cement, so she stayed on the carpet.  When cement could not be avoided, she would do a wheelbarrow crawl, keeping her knees off of that poisonous surface.  This was a smart baby who knew how to adjust her mode of mobility, an adaptability characteristic that would enable her to “hurdle” any obstacle that might present itself in the future.

    Little Nikki Kent’s first words were "Ma, Ba, and Da", which is very typical of any new baby.  Her mother was royalty and would be continually adored  for all times.  Her father was the best of men who read her bedtime stories every night.  Being the constant comedian, he mimicked the character’s  voices.  Nikki's favorite bedtime story was "The Little Engine That Could" because when my father would read the story, he would pretend to  cry when the Big Engine jeered at the Little Engine.  Then, it was up to me to soothe my father's anxieties... or at least, so I thought.  Hugs and kisses remedied any problem, and could bring the story teller out of his weeping delirium, in order to finish the story

    "I go" became my first sentence.  Since my father's dental office was so close to our home, lunchtime became an exciting part of the day.  I would help my mother prepare mouth-watering bologna sandwiches, feeling like I was creating a culinary specialty for the President of the United States.  It was wonderful to see a child serve a specially-made lunch to her idol.  Then, when this idol tried to go back to work for the afternoon, a small child would follow him outside firmly declaring, "I go.... I go."

Presents are always exciting for girls, especially when the gift is unexpected.  Well, I was given the greatest present at the age of 2.  Halloween usually brings candy and strangely-dressed people to our neighborhood.  Yet, this year I was given an even better treat than candy.  I was given a wonderful playmate.  This new baby was completely bald, yet adorable!  Sharing a room with a crying baby made for some interesting nights.  Some would think that the older child would share the other bedroom with the other siblings, but not little pig-tailed Nikki.  "Don't worry, Krissy, mommy's coming!"  My mother remembers hearing this from inside the room of her crying treasure as she ran to soothe her noisy baby late in the night.  I was delighted with my new toy!  Indeed, Krissy became my favorite toy.  I loved being near her, and enjoyed helping take care of her, or so I thought.

    "Where is Nikki?" my mother asked her mother who was visiting after the birth of Krissy.

   Grandma Dorothy had been vacuuming which created much background noise.  She didn’t know where Nikki was. So they both began a search for Nikki. First, they ran to the poolyard.  No Nikki. Next, every room of the house was searched. Finally, my mother ran out to the front yard and looked down the street because occasionally Nikki would wander down Laurel Avenue.

Still, no Nikki.  

        Well, neither  my grandma or my mother found me on their searches.  They weren't even on the right track.  There was one room that was not searched, because that was the "quiet" room where the new baby was taking her nap.  On the second search through the house my mother made a closer examination of the quiet room. She tiptoed close to the bassinette where Krissy  was sleeping. But much to her amazement, Krissy’s pig-tailed playmate had joined her for an afternoon snooze. These two sisters would grow to become the best of friends.  We looked out for each other.  We both loved riding bicycles and singing.  Krissy was the cute little girl with almost-white blonde pig tails, while I was the older mature sister, having graduated from my blonde pig tails to my page boy haircut.

Whenever our cousins, Josh and Kami, who lived a couple of blocks away, came over to be babysat, the group of children would play house.  I was the mother, directing everybody's slightest movements.  Watching old family movies are a scream!  I am a bossy, little dictator, which is evident as I order Josh around. It is funny watching me treat Kami like my baby. Kami was this adorable toddler with brown hair and big dark eyes.  Being a year younger than Krissy, she always played the role of the baby.  Josh was one year older than me, but still he didn't talk much.  Josh was a very strong little kid with impressive muscles who would flex on demand. He was the strong, silent “father” in our play family who always wanted to “drive the family car,” aka my strawberry shortcake bike .  The Kent males were very athletic, and every time Josh had the option of playing baseball rather than playing house, there was no question where his preference lay.

    Baseball games have always been popular for American society.  Yet, my family has had an obsession with this pastime.  Whenever the extended Kent families were together, it seemed as though we were always playing softball.  Joey would always encourage the boys to start one of those wonderful Kent softball games, where nobody kept score or struck out.  Everyone batted, my mother, my Aunt Marcia and  even me!  My father helped me hit several balls!  Quite the family of athletes!  Observing a game, one would think that they were watching a comedy road show.  My father would grab runners as they rounded the bases.  He would hold you motionless, until you were tagged out, as a joke!  Always the jokester!

©N. Kent Last Updated: February 5, 2008 mail Nicole Kent