My grandmother had a detailed memory of her life, even when she was in her 90's. I intend to do the same thing as I age. I keep a diary. When I read my entries during AT's life, there are already little, fun details that I would have forgotten had they not been recorded. My grandmother was well known for her diaries. Neighbors and family would call her for information like, "Look up what year Johnny Dale Harris passed away." She remembered the first time she got mad, and thought I should remember my first time also. Just this past week, EM asked me when we purchased something and I was able to go to my diary to find the answer. Like grandmother, like granddaughter.
So, here are some lessons from my childhood memories, interesting to me. And, ha, that's all that matters because this blog is mine.
Lesson 1: Single parental events can create important memories. That's not referring to single parents versus married parents. That is referring to one-time parental events. I was really aware that my mom enjoyed us. There were things she did that she probably did once, but they are treasured memories. I was an only child until I was three-and-a-half. I think when my two younger sisters came along, spaced 17 months apart, my mom was much busier. I remember my mom making picture cookies. I was with two friends, Robbie and Beth, whose mom may have been in the hospital having a baby. Anyway, the picture cookies, which she never made again, were made of a sugar cookie recipe, with white dough, yellow dough, green dough and blue dough. Mother (I called her Mommy then) cut out a square that was the background. Then she cut out a variety of shapes so we could create a picture on the white square. I remember creating a house and a flower. Let me tell you, I never did something of that detail with my daughter. Wonderful memory.
Lesson 2: My mom didn't go crazy. Once, when my sister was a toddler and my baby sister was only a baby, my mom shut herself up in a bedroom and worked on a project that she said we would love. I remember hanging outside the door and being desperate to know what was going on inside that room. Now as a mom, I realize being shut up alone in a bedroom can be a wonderful thing. But, then, I just knew something exciting was happening in that bedroom. After some amount of time, she emerged with two matching baby doll dresses, one for my larger doll and one for my toddler sister's doll. I guess the baby didn't need one.
Lesson 3: Dumpster diving can start any any age. Once, Mommy, with stakes and string, staked out a one-room floor plan in the backyard. It was my playhouse. I have no idea how long it lasted, but I did think it was worthy of food and went to the garbage of the grocery store behind our house to get an old container of orange juice. I don't think we drank it, but we certainly intended to. My mom was very alarmed when she discovered our dumpster diving.
Lesson 4: Kids can create something out of nothing. I grew up in a small town of about 10,000 people. It is still a small town of about 10,000 people. While I grew up in town, both of my parents had been raised on farms and I loved being on the farm and anything relating to farming. Our house was on the edge of town. One of my friend's dad had a stockyard a block closer to the center of town. We kids in the neighborhood loved it when a bull occasionally escaped from the stockyard and ran through the streets. Adventure!
Lesson 5: No one should wear a dress in the winter, especially when they walk to school. I lived about 6 blocks from my elementary school. I rode a cab to first grade for the first few weeks of school. I walked most of the time grades one through six. There was one classroom per grade. The school is still standing. I remember the cold walks to school. We girls were not allowed to wear pants to school until I was in the ninth grade. I think sometimes we wore pants under our dresses then took them off once we got to school. It never occurred to us that this was just plain old wrong!
Lesson 6: Random events can create great memories. Down the street lived a state trooper, a very nice man. He had a white German Shepherd, named Trooper. I guess he was a friendly dog, but we kids never interacted with the dog. Wonder if he was a trained police dog? Our neighborhood kid-lore was that he was vicious so we loved it when he got out and we needed to run to the top of our swing sets for safety. Once, this same nice man bought old school desks, at least five, at an auction, and gave them to children in the neighborhood. I still have the desk. He's deceased now, but wish I could tell him how special that was.
Lesson 7: Risk taking can start at any age. My husband would laugh, because he does not see me as a risk-taker (but I did marry him, didn't I?) I was a risk taker from a very young age. When I was three, one of my parents saw me, two doors down, on a garage roof. I remember being up there and I felt fully big enough to be up there. I was not scared at all.
Lesson 8: You probably won't marry your first boyfriend. The garage roof I was on was at Tony's house. I loved Tony. Apparently, as a preschooler, for at least a while to my strong memory, Tony and I were buddies. We flew planes on the swing set, we were tiptoed as silent Indians in the woods. In my mind, we were married. When he went home each night, he was going on a business trip. I would see him the next day. (This is the detail of a preschool mind). I hear he is a doctor now. Bet he misses me. Or maybe he doesn't remember me. Anyway, he may be a doctor, but I learned how to tie my shoes and how to make the number 4 first.
Lesson 9: I didn't die. More risk-taking. During a different era, kids rode in the bed of pickups without anyone freaking out. As a preschooler, I was standing in the bed of a pickup, yes, riding through the town. I banged on the cab window and yelled, "Go faster, go faster!" No, my child has not ridden through town in a truck bed. She has ridden in the truck bed to the parking place across the street. It was a big thrill. She used to ride half a block in front of her dad on his motorcycle. I would freak out if they got out of my eyesight, as if staying in my eyesight provided protection. When I rode in the back of the pickup, I'm sure my mom was not even asked. No one thought it was a big deal.
Lesson 10: It's hard to stand up for yourself when you're little. Once I had a refrigerator box. No memory of little sisters at the time. I loved that box. I snuggled in the small end, with my baby quilt, with the adults looking in on me. The next day, wanting to brag about my box, I took it outside to show my friends. The older boys confiscated it, with my pressured permission, and had a blast taking turns jumping on it. They had great fun. I was broken-hearted.
Lesson 11: Having a babysitter didn't hurt me at all. My mom went back to work when I was 6 weeks old. I had a babysitter, who was functionally my third grandmother, and her husband was my third grandfather. Mimi and Rieves. I loved them. I continued a relationship with them as long as they lived, until I was in college. However, I will admit that I was a typical young adult and did not give them the attention they deserved later. Rives drove an "oil truck". It was really a gas truck. I can remember that oil smell to this day. He delivered gas to little rural gas stations and grocery stores. I would sometimes spend the whole day with him on his route. As an adult, I would happen upon a county store and remember that I had been there before as a preschooler.
Lesson 12: A well-placed hint can work with the right person. Mysteriously, with Rieves, I had the ability to "smell" milkshakes as we passed the Dairy Queen. It got me milkshakes. I could never smell them with my dad. Wonder why?
Lesson 13: My memory is impressive! My earliest memory is of sleeping in a baby bed. (In contrast, I do not remember ever being carried by an adult). My mom had put me in bed with my clothes on, rather than putting me in pajamas. We were home late at night from my grandparents' house. I had fallen asleep on the way home. My memory is of knowing that she was in the lit bathroom. The rest of the house was dark. I cried because she did not care enough to wake me and put on my pajamas.
Lesson 14: I have been marked forever by being the oldest of three girls. My mom carried the baby. My dad carried the toddler. I walked ahead. To this day, I walk ahead of any group I am in. At school with students, with girlfriends. I'm the first ready to leave home with my family. I've got some place to be.
Lesson 15: I love the back roads. Just as "if walls could talk", I think of "if roads could talk", what stories we would have. Until the first gas crunch came during the Nixon years, a family pastime of Sunday afternoon was riding around in the country. I had cousins in the country. We rode to the lake. When I took driver's ed in high school, the teacher said I could drive anywhere. So I drove in the country around town. At one point, the teacher said, "Do you know how to get up back to town?" I enjoyed that.
Lesson 16: Kids have true memories that they cannot explain. Once we went to a picnic in a big back yard. Repeatedly, over the years, I would ask my parents about that backyard. I didn't have enough information for them to guess where the backyard was. Then, when I was an adult in my thirties, I arrived at my dad's first cousins' home for supper, saw that backyard and asked, "Did I come here for a party when I was little?" Yes, that was it. Kids have memories that they cannot explain.
Lesson 17: Sometimes the little ones really do have to go. When I was in the first grade, I raised my hand to go to the bathroom. I really, really had to go. My teacher was teaching a reading group at the front of the room. She motioned for me to put my hand down. What choice did I have? I had an accident and told no one. I walked home in a wet dress. I think it was the green and blue, little butterfly dress. (My sisters will know exactly which dress since we all wore it). A long time later, days, weeks, who knows how time passes in a first graders' mind-calendar, the teacher stopped by my desk and pointed to a drop of clear liquid on the floor. She asked me what it was. I just knew it was my pee, but I lied and said I did not know. Of course, it was not that, too much time had passed.
I remember.
