Last week, in history

So, from an historical perspective, last week was pretty major in my family's life.  Like, the family I grew up in.

First of all, it was the thirty-thirteenth anniversary of my birth.  Hello...perhaps the single most important event in my family history.  Or at least on that particular day.  I don't really have any memories of that first day, but I do have many fond memories of the celebrations that followed year after year.  I always got to choose what the rest of my family would eat on that day...I guess I ate the same thing, too.  I had fun birthday parties on my 3rd birthday and the even numbered birthdays after that.  My mom would decorate the dining room with colorful streamers as I got older. 

Thirty years ago the last week, when I was only thirteen, my family moved from El Paso, Texas, to Germany.  My dad was in the Air Force and had moved over in April, leaving my mom with 5 kids, a cat, and a dog, and a house to sell.  We sold the house and traveled to Utah and Idaho to visit with grandparents who we likely wouldn't see for about 3 years.  We began our trek on July 2nd, flying from Salt Lake to Washington, DC. Yeah...flying with 5 kids (aged 13, 11, 8, 5, and 2), a cat, a dog, and about 538 suitcases.  My poor mom must have felt like putting us all on the plane and then sneaking off.  We had an overnight stay in DC at my mom's cousin's house.  She drove us past some of the sights, but I don't remember much.  The next morning, we caught a flight to JFK and then had to switch planes (and maybe terminals...I only remember going up a long escalator).  We arrived in Frankfurt on July 4th and drove the 90 minutes or so to our new penthouse apartment where we could sleep off the jet lag.  Or not.  It was stinking hot...there was an unusually hot summer and no air conditioning.  My parents bought the last couple of box fans that existed at the BX (probably not, but I remember there weren't many).  We met some of the families that lived nearby and had a cook out.  The night seemed to last all day, with the sun going down closer to 10. 

Also thirty years ago, the BX was the site of another historical moment.  My parents bought a microwave.  Now, it wasn't the first microwave my family got.  But it was the last.  And it wasn't the last because my mom hated it.  Au contraire, mon frere!  It is because my mom LOVES it.  Yes, they still have a 1983 microwave.  And just like so many other of the technological advances of the past century, it is HUGE compared to microwaves of today.  I think I have an end table in my guest room that is smaller than my parents' microwave.  And that is not hyperbole.  Using that microwave not only threatens your life, it takes longer to cook than if you had started a fire with green wood and sans matches.  But, it is a well loved piece of Ingermanson history.  I tried to find a picture of a similar model on the internets, but I think photography was discovered after the microwave was manufactured.

And so, there you have it...a brief look at my family history.  My parents should be so proud, since they are currently missionaries focusing on Family History!