(gentle music) - My very first home that I lived in was what we now call a tiny house.

The 400-square-foot house sat near an entrance to an equestrian center, where my dad trained horses and taught people how to ride them.

By the time I was in kindergarten, my grandpa Blake decided that his son and family deserved to live in a real home, in a residential neighborhood near a school.

So he bought us a three-bedroom ranch style with a huge backyard.

Surrounding this yard was a very high wooden fence, and at one end, furthest from the house, was a gate.

On the other side of this gate was two acres of land, mostly undeveloped, except for a small cherry orchard.

And I could just see it through the slats in the wooden fence, but I was never allowed to venture beyond the gate.

When Grandma and Grandpa Blake would come over, sometimes they would bring with them these giant metal buckets, and my dad and Grandpa Blake would go into the orchard and pick cherries and come back with their buckets filled to the brim.

Now, I don't know if they were trespassing or if maybe the landowner had an agreement with the surrounding houses, or if my grandpa, who was a very savvy real estate broker, had actually purchased that land, but, well, it's something you don't think to ask when you're five.

One late spring day, when the trees were heavy with cherries just ripe for the picking, two sets of grandparents came over for Sunday dinner and to help with the harvest, Grandma and Grandpa Blake, and on my mom's side, Grandpa Bill and Step-Grandma Helen.

Now, out of everyone, Grandpa Blake was the one who fancied himself a real connoisseur of all things pie, especially cherry pie, so he was the most eager to get started with the harvest, but my mom was preoccupied with preparing the pie crusts for the anticipated bounty, and my dad, who was trying to mow the lawn, was too busy repairing and cussing at the lawnmower to go help pick cherries.

Grandpa Bill, who was a hairdresser by trade, was already giving Grandma Blake a promised haircut with his fancy scissors that he brought from his beauty salon, and Step-Grandma Helen was perhaps just a little too focused on fixing herself a scotch on the rocks.

Grandpa Blake seeming to size me up, peer over his glasses at me and says, "You wanna go help me pick some cherries?"

I felt so grown up.

I assured him I did.

"You think you can carry one of these buckets?"

I assured him I could.

I was so excited.

I had never been to the cherry orchard before, and all of a sudden, Grandpa Blake and I are on our own great adventure, passing through the gate, winding our way through the trees, and all the time, both of us are always looking up, gazing and looking for the most pickable cherries.

My bucket is about halfway full when all of a sudden, I hear a thud and my grandpa calling for me.

I look around.

I don't see him.

I follow his voice, and all of a sudden, there he is, at the bottom, standing in an eight-foot hole in the ground.

He looks up at me a little panicked.

He's not hurt, but he looks a little, hmm, scared, helpless, even.

Now, if I'd had the vocabulary to say what my five-year-old brain was trying to process, I would've said something like, "Hmm, what a strange juxtaposition."

But instead, I said, "Grandpa, what are you doing down there?"

He looks up at me and he says, "Go find your dad, Vicki, and tell him what's happened."

And boom, all of a sudden, I'm in my own Lassie movie, only Grandpa is Timmy, and I'm the title character.

I'm running through the maze of trees, desperately looking for the gate.

It's a miracle.

I see it.

I go to it.

I even open it.

I go through.

I see my dad.

I run to him.

He's got the lawnmower tipped over on its side by now, and I tell him what's happened.

Soon, everybody is following me through the gate, Dad, Mom, grandma Blake, Grandpa Bill, and even Step-Grandma Helen with high ball glass still in hand.

(audience laughing) Dad's yelling, yelling for Grandpa, and all of the sudden we hear Grandpa, "I'm here, I'm here!"

We get to him and he's looking just more embarrassed than anything, and when Grandma Blake sees that he's okay, she starts to chuckle, which just adds to the humiliation.

My dad had to go back to the house and get a ladder, so while we were all waiting, Grandpa Blake stood in his hole (audience laughing) and told everyone about his fall from grace (audience laughing) while the rest of us stood above ground.

And I remember a huge sense of relief from everyone, and everyone was so happy, and I remember feeling extremely proud of myself.

And soon Grandpa was climbing out of the hole on dad's ladder with nothing more than a banged-up knee and a fractured ego, and we all went back to the house and had supper, and afterwards, Grandpa Bill got out his clippers and cut the men's hair.

And after that, but before Yahtzee, we all dug in to one of the pies that my mom had made with the cherries that Grandpa Blake and I had picked.

It was the best cherry pie I ever had.

Thank you.

(audience cheering and applauding) (gentle music)