RUNAWAY

A question on an episode of "Family Feud" yesterday asked, "What would a 7-year-old take when running away from home?" That prompted another question from Big Bore.

"Did you ever run away from home when you were a kid?"

"Oh, sure," I answered. "I was probably 8 or 9--grade school, anyway. I can't remember what I was mad about, but I do recall announcing to Mom that I was leaving and she'd be sorry." Didn't we ALL try that song and dance at least once during our formative years?

"Where'd you go?" BB asked.

"As far as the brick trash burner out in the backyard," I said. "There was a hedge on the west side of it, and I stuffed myself between it and the burner. It was a good hiding spot."

Well, my plan was to stay there until Mom came running out in the backyard, frantic, shouting my name, and apologizing.

"Nancy Elizabeth!!! Where are you?? Please come home!! I'm so sorry!! You were right and I was wrong!! I'll do anything if you just come back home!!" Everything a kid wants to hear.

The trouble was, it didn't happen. I waited and waited. No Mom. No apology. No begging for forgiveness. Sonova____.

Eventually, it started getting dark. I was also getting hungry. Time to eat crow and go in for supper. When I sulked inside the house, Mom didn't say a word to me. It was like she hadn't even missed me. Geeesh! She took all the fun out of running away. What a spoilsport.

Years later Mom told me she knew where I was the entire time I'd "run away." She'd looked out a back window as soon as I stormed out of the house and saw where I hid. So much for making her worry. Our mother/daughter family feud had ended about as soon as it began--I just didn't know it.