Aug. 20, 1962
The first time Sally hears about school.
In addition to dissecting the concept of "firsts," Kevin writes astutely of storytelling:
...in the interest of constructing a perfect narrative out of the chaotic tangential truth of our lives, we pick and choose memories to turn into events and highlight as important. Sometimes we will combine a couple events, change the years, add even more famous people or incredible happenings, in order to be able to share a story rather than something...mundaneDo give his post (and his blog) a read. It is well worth it. He would definitely get high marks if HE were writing my paper. Oy.
4 comments:
The first trip I remember was in 1969. I was six. My "Aunt" Evelyn (who is actually my second cousin) took my mother, me, and my sister Janet to Florida to visit my Grandpa McClanahan. I distinctly remember the following things: We celebrated Janet's third birthday in a motel. There were three Hostess cupcakes and each one had candle. After Evelyn took her picture, Janet took one step and two cupcakes fell on the floor. So we had to split one cupcake between the four of us. We had an Easter egg hunt in the back yard at my grandpa's house. Our Easter baskets were boxes decorated with cotton balls and paper so that they looked like rabbits. I slept under a sheet and a wool army blanket, which was prickly because I had a sunburn. I called my Grandpa "Uncle Earl," which was Evelyn's father's name. (This was the first and only time I had seen my grandpa.) I was too young to realize my mistake and, therefore, was puzzled as to why my mom and Aunt Evelyn thought it was so funny. I remember was being at the beach. I was kneeling in the sand and looking at shells when a wave suddenly crashed over me. I wasn't washed away, but boy was I startled! The best thing about this trip was spending time with my mom. (My sister and I are the youngest of nine children, and my mom was always busy working, cooking, grocery shopping, and keeping house. It was rare to spend time alone with her.)
Hey Chris,
Thanks for calling such attention to my response. What can I say, I was inspired!
I question, however, if "sifting" might not be the right word for what I may have been doing with your poop. How old is this poop, anyway, that it can be sifted? Even so, I think that might be a tad less dirty, at least. Almost like paleontology.
In any case, thanks for starting such a great meme (small as it may be at the moment). I've really enjoyed reading your and your commenters' stories.
I'm no stranger to self-mythologizing myself, so perhaps I will come up with something else worth posting before your project is up.
Happy New Year! And Happy Blogging!
Fallen cupcakes and startling waves. Cotton balls and time with Mom. I continue to be fascinated by details in these memories. Thanks, Barb.
Kevin, it is my pleasure to direct the masses of people reading this here blog to your actual journal of thoughts and ideas.
As for my poop, I thought "pulling apart" was a bit too graphic. And I didn't even think of the crumbly image of fecal archaeology you so nimbly conjured.
Post a Comment