Childhood Memories

Two things have caused me to write this. First, I did a survey on Facebook the other day, and one of the questions was "Favorite Childhood Memory." I think I left that blank, because when you're answering questions like what time did you get up today or, what is your favorite cuisine, its hard to switch gears and remember anything, let alone your favorite. The second thing that caused me to write this was a TV show. I was watching "World's Strictest Parents" on MTV the other day, and the thought occurred to me, this must have been what it was like for my cousins to visit when we were kids.



"Never seen the show, but if you have any memories of my childhood, please, write about them," she said.



My mind immediately raced back to the farm. I don't remember if Tamera was there, but I imagine that she was. Most of the time, when we were younger, Charity and I visited Tamera and Tarl together. Tamera and Tarl more than likely visited us together, too.



I pedaled down a slight hill, picking up speed until the wagon tied to the back of my bicycle almost passed me. I was going from the house driveway to the barn driveway at breakneck pace. I reached the other drive and turned in, nearly toppling the wagon holding my brothers, just as a semi truck screamed past. I was breathless with fear, adreneline running thru my veins. I handed the bike over to my cousin, who rode it back up to the house. Puffing and straining, he struggled up the hill and turned in to the garage. And, he was far more in-shape than I ever was. (That's why I let him pedal back UP the hill.)


My dad was waiting for us at in the driveway, and told us to come inside. "Do you know how dangerous that was? The highway is closed and all the traffic is being rerouted to our street," he explained. We took our turns getting our spankings and never pulled the wagon behind a bicycle again.

There were times that I remember visiting Ann Arbor in the summertime, too. Both my aunt and uncle worked, which was something I was very unused to. We got up late, ate cereal for lunch, and grabbed our bicycles and rode. We went to the local shopping plaza, and played Q-bert and Centipede for hours at the laundromat. We rode to the swimming pool and swam all afternoon. One time, on the way back from these day-long excursions, Tarl and I pulled some crabapples from a neighbor's tree. When we got home, my aunt asked where we had gotten them, and we told her. She marched us right back to the neighbor's house and knocked on the door. "These boys have something to tell you," she said.

"We took some crabapples off your tree without permission, and we are sorry." The neighbor said that it was quite alright, and that we could have them if we wanted them. Somehow, after we were given permission to take them, we didn't want them any longer. My crabapple ended up on the sidewalk somewhere between the neighbor's house and my cousin's.

Once, while visiting our grandparents, we bought some fireworks to put on a show in the back yard. One cone shaped thing spewed sparks and just as it was dying down, there was a loud POP. Everyone jumped a little bit, and my grandma had to get up and go change. She laughed and said she may have peed herself a little bit. Another time, I am told, a whole bag of fireworks was accidently set off at once, creating a very large, very bright, and very fast show...and a very pissed off Tarl.

There were nights in tents, watching lightening. Not being a huge fan of sleeping outside, the minute it would start to flash across the sky, I was ready to get up and go in the house. Tarl said it was just heat lightening and that it would not rain. I bought it, and stayed.

The bus trip held many memories of its own. Some good, some bad, some ugly, but it was an opportunity I may never have again, so for that, I am thankful. There were other times, too, that were fun, scary, and maybe even a bit dangerous. Maybe this can reignite some memories of your own. Good Luck!