Not misty watercolor memories. Vibrant, solid, high-definition memories.
That is how I spent the week that I did not publish a new blog post.
Yes, I originally decided to let the blog take second fiddle to working on my new book this year. After careful consideration, I decided that I would spend more of my overall writing time on the book instead of the blog. The first time I did not publish a new post this year was on 2/24. I would like to say that I spent hours working on Puppies, Guppies, and Letting Go instead. However, I gave up lying for Lent.
For some reason, I spent most of the week daydreaming and recalling some specific events of my childhood.
I thought you all deserved to know what kinds of things cluttered my brain that week. Here are some of the highlights:
- When I was in kindergarten, we had a May pole in the middle of the classroom. Every day in May, we danced around it, braiding ribbons of multi-colored crepe paper around the pole.
- When I was waiting for the school bus one winter morning in New York, I noticed that the vacant field by the bus stop was beautiful in the snow. I had this bright idea to sell tickets for tours of this winter wonderland. I even got a couple of takers. My appalled parents could not figure out a way to explain why this activity was wrong.
- My family visited some sort of combination amusement park and zoo when I was about four. We walked past a cage with a sign that announced the animal residing inside was a flying squirrel. I saw no animal residing in the cage at all and told my father, “He must have flown away.”
- When we moved to California, I had a small round suitcase that I took with me on the airplane.
- The very first ice cream place we visited in California was the Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors that was about a mile from our house. The man who owned it was named Mr. Zero. He was very nice and bought Campfire Girl nuts from me.
- When my mother’s mother was in the hospital, my father would sit in the car with my brother and me while my mother visited. He sang us songs. I particularly remember him belting out “I’ve got a sixpence, a jolly, jolly sixpence. I’ve got a sixpence to last me all my life. I’ve got tuppence to spend and tuppence to lend and tuppence to send home to my wife… poor wife.”
- When camping in Idyllwild with my family when I was about nine, I used to sit and watch squirrels for hours, as they harvested acorns. There was a quietness that you could feel rather than hear. The path was blanketed with pine needles. There were fallen logs where I would sit, breathing and thinking. Pine air tastes good.
I would like to believe that these memories have some productive purpose. Perhaps they will eventually work themselves into fodder for the book. I seriously doubt it, however. I think my brain just went on a little vacation down memory lane and chose some pretty bizarre highways to get there.
I think there might be something seriously wrong with me.
What is one of your vivid childhood memories that seems inconsequential but is actually means a lot to you? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Have a memorable day!