"I won't look any further than my own backyard"

I wanted to be Dorothy.  I did.  I am not ashamed of it, either.  I wanted to be the one who was whisked away to a magical land to have adventures and sing songs and wear amazing shoes with kick-ass power. 

Jason was my best friend in the neighborhood.  He would come over and we would play Super Friends in my backyard.  He was always Green Lantern or Flash Gordon or Aquaman.  Who did I always want to be?  You guessed it: Wonder Woman.  Jason would always say, “You can’t BE Wonder Woman!  She is a GIRL.  You HAVE to be a guy hero.”  My answer was always the same: “Okay, fine.  I will be Wonder MAN.”  Jason, God love him, would just roll his eyes and let me be Wonder Man.  (Wonder Man was Wonder Woman’s secret brother….who had the same outfit…the same powers….the same everything.  Same hero; different gender. )

On the days Jason was with his dad, I loved riding my bike up and down our dirt road.  I would start at the top of the hill and pedal as hard and fast as I could and then I would coast around the bend in the road in front of my house.  Eyes closed.  Imagination open.   My favorite time of day was late afternoon, early evening; especially in the early fall.  The golden toned late day sun would cast long shadows over the dirt road and I adored riding through them.  Some days I would pretend I was Dorothy, pedaling away from Miss Gultch, and as I rode through the shadows, I would be transported to Oz.  The shadows were perfectly placed: right as you came out of the bend in the road and directly before our small apple orchard.  Perfect. 

I spent hours discovering Oz in my own backyard.  It was just me, my imagination and my trusty bike, Gold Fever.  (To clarify, I did NOT name my bike Gold Fever.  That was the name it came with.)  I can’t imagine what my parents thought to see their son skipping around the yard dodging flying apples and winged monkeys.  But they let me do it.  They gave me my own Oz and never tried to take it away. 

So you see, my friends, Oz isn’t just a play or a story or a movie to me.  Oz, to me, is my childhood…my adulthood.  Oz is always there for me.  Oz can be waiting on the other side of the shadow crossing the road.  Oz is waiting for me when I miss my mom and need comfort.  Oz is when I come home and my dog, Jellybean, runs to greet me at the door with her tail wagging so hard her body sways with it.  Oz is JDB3 making dinner while we listen to jazz. 

Oz is home.