My earliest memories are blurred snippets; so thankfully my sister, Robin, was able to remember one of them. Unfortunately, she doesn't remember the other ones.
When I was about one or two years old, we took the bus to Florida to visit my grandparents who wintered around Land O' Lakes. The "we" included me, my mother, my sister Robin, and my Aunt Carolyn. My father meet us down there later and we drove home in the family car. According to Aunt Carolyn, she said all they did during the bus ride was change my diaper. Anyway, I have this vague recollection of a middle-aged man with a tan driver's cap on and a blue or green balloon. My sister confirmed that the bus driver really took to me and gave me a balloon. Odd piece of history to remember. It's a fact, use it as you wish.
Another early memory is about my sister. I could spend a lot of time writing about her, but unsure of what kind of wrath she would send my way. What I remember is my sister in the garage feeding our mother's dog, Pepi, a small frail-looking dog with a black and white coat and big round black eyes. I think she was a chihuahua. The only part of the story I recall goes as follows:
My sister is putting dog food into a dish. "Hey, this looks like something we eat," said my sister, referring to the dog food. I then see my mother come out into the garage with a look that meant someone just said the wrong thing.
Too bad I don't remember the rest. My sister doesn't recall the episode. Maybe she's repressing it... or it was repressed for her.
Of course, she also denies accosting me with a piece of bologna when I was maybe around 4. My father was working night shifts and I had crawled into bed with my mother. My sister must have been working a late shift as well, probably at the Shrine Club in Anderson. I can see her silhouette coming into my parent's bedroom, hair wrapped up in a towel and another around her body. For whatever reason, she tried to accost me with a piece of bologna. I defended myself by knocking it out of her hand. She got annoyed when it hit floor. I suspect she ate it anyway. You know -- the 10 second rule.
CSM
When I was about one or two years old, we took the bus to Florida to visit my grandparents who wintered around Land O' Lakes. The "we" included me, my mother, my sister Robin, and my Aunt Carolyn. My father meet us down there later and we drove home in the family car. According to Aunt Carolyn, she said all they did during the bus ride was change my diaper. Anyway, I have this vague recollection of a middle-aged man with a tan driver's cap on and a blue or green balloon. My sister confirmed that the bus driver really took to me and gave me a balloon. Odd piece of history to remember. It's a fact, use it as you wish.
Another early memory is about my sister. I could spend a lot of time writing about her, but unsure of what kind of wrath she would send my way. What I remember is my sister in the garage feeding our mother's dog, Pepi, a small frail-looking dog with a black and white coat and big round black eyes. I think she was a chihuahua. The only part of the story I recall goes as follows:
My sister is putting dog food into a dish. "Hey, this looks like something we eat," said my sister, referring to the dog food. I then see my mother come out into the garage with a look that meant someone just said the wrong thing.
Too bad I don't remember the rest. My sister doesn't recall the episode. Maybe she's repressing it... or it was repressed for her.
Of course, she also denies accosting me with a piece of bologna when I was maybe around 4. My father was working night shifts and I had crawled into bed with my mother. My sister must have been working a late shift as well, probably at the Shrine Club in Anderson. I can see her silhouette coming into my parent's bedroom, hair wrapped up in a towel and another around her body. For whatever reason, she tried to accost me with a piece of bologna. I defended myself by knocking it out of her hand. She got annoyed when it hit floor. I suspect she ate it anyway. You know -- the 10 second rule.
CSM
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment