My first big trip was when I went to Tillamook to pick strawberries with the neighbors when I was 12. All you could hear as we piled into the suburban was, “All aboard!” We looked like the grapes of wrath with all of our things stuffed to the brim. I was imagining grand seascapes and scenery fit for a young explorer. Being squished all together didn’t seem so bad in light of where we were going.
Little did I know that I would learn more about being part of a group than exploring.
One of the first things I learned was assertiveness, don’t lollygag when lining up for sandwiches. I was forever getting the heal sandwich no one wanted. There were more challenges. Like finding a spot that hadn’t been peed on was a nightly task. The younger kids were obviously not house broken.
Although I never asked him, it was not acceptable to let boyfriends pick your strawberries. However. I thought it was sweet. Our humble dwelling was a cabin with no door. It was placed strategically so that the pickers didn’t have to travel far. There were strawberries for miles and miles around us. We found out later that the strawberries went to Birdseye for processing. Much of my time was spent just trying to wrap my head around what it was like to live in a large family.
The summer was hot, and it beat down on us. I ended up with a pretty bad sunburn. It was a small price to pay for all that money, I thought. My lessons in assertiveness, to not get the last sandwich was worth more than the money. The experience was priceless, and I was proud to have done it.