Randy Seaver suggested a thought-provoking topic last Saturday, which I am finally getting around to posting about on Tuesday night!
I honestly have no idea whether or not this is actually a memory or a dream. Even if it was a dream, the dream would have been from early childhood, as I’ve carried this around for a long time. This particular memory – if that’s what it is, would have to have been from about the age of two, as it remains the only image (is that a better way to describe it?) of my father. I was at my grandparent’s house, playing by the driveway near their bedroom window, looking towards the garage. I distinctly remember the puddle by the corner of the garage was iridescent from the oil in the water, and my dad and grandfather were standing in front of the garage working on something.
Lost in the midst of time are most of the details from this dream or memory – whichever it might be. I think there might have somehow been a fishing pole involved, but I don’t remember. Maybe my mom remembers from an earlier telling of this story? It would seem unlikely that at such an early age that I would, 1) be able to remember anything, and 2) have only one memory that is so incredibly mundane and boring, but, hey, you never know!
The next earliest memory gets disqualified, because I don’t think I actually remember it, but was told the story so many times it became a memory: it involved me, a ceramic cat, and lightening.
Then there was the Bozo doll incident in the Price Park apartments- certainly remember that one. Damn dog. I’m not sure exactly how old I would have been then – probably 3, possibly 4? I also have vague memories of the interior of that apartment (and it just occurred to me I never counted that apartment in my “wow, I’ve moved a lot post). Wasn’t that where we lived when you stepped on the needle, mom?
The memories from about age 4 on are pretty consistent – at least until about 19 or 20, where I think I might have lost a few weeks in there somewhere, but that is a whole ‘nother story!