Oh little buttercup, this is a post and a series for all the girls who can't remember. You've got your moments, but I can tell from the way you talk that the little details are gone, zippo, forgotten. I wonder about memory and time and why things fade for one person and not for another, why my life and my past are so vivid, why it seems like I've forgotten almost nothing, including all my teachers names, like Mrs. Lowder who taught me typing and Mrs. McCray, my kindergarten teacher, who called me on the day I graduated from college. I remember the first day I walked into her class. I remember how I used to try to run out of first grade and throw up all the time. I remember my mother painting our house when I was three, and what her face looked like the day I left for college. I remember the smell of our house and the noises at night when the bats would fly down by your shoulder late at night in the swimming pool.
There are lots of categories to put the details in...lots of cookie jar sneaking around, lots of dances in Wonder Woman Under-roos, but I broke down some details into categories:
5 Little Nasty Things I Did:
1. Snuck into the elementary school and wrote "Go to Hell" on all the chalkboards
2. Was a mean girl to one girl who just friended me on Facebook
3. "Smoked" crayolas in my mother's station wagon and gunked up her lighter
4. Stomped on a 4th grader's balls
5. Told friends the truth about sex and Santa Claus
5 Places I Hid
1. In the field behind my house until I figured out that it cut through to the park
2. In the woods across the street until someone mysteriously chopped down a tree
3. Under Mom's bed until the kittens started pooping there
4. In the front closet with an old prosthetic leg until I wished I could wear it
5. The shed until I saw a black widow
5 Things I Rejected Because My Brothers Liked Them
1. Monty Python
2. Dungeons and Dragons
3. Electric guitar solos
5. Star Trek
5 Things I Loved
1. Pennies on the bottom of the pool
2. Slumber party choreography
3. One-legged rollerskating
4. Barbies with Real Sex Lives
5. Prank Phone Calls
6. Good Times (the TV show)
5 Things I Wrote in My 10-year old journal
1. "I've almost finished FOREVER by Judy Blume."
2. "I just got a permanent."
3. "All I want for my birthday is Garfield, Garfield, Garfield."
4. "I've gained so much weight it's made me sick."
5. "Right now I'm watching LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS."
5 Best Places to Watch Thunderstorms
1. Mrs. Cooke's carport with her shaky dog, Roscoe
2. The front porch with Nancy Drew and a lawnchair
4. The back porch with Coke and potato chips
5. My bed with Spiderman
Friday, April 23, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
My bike was yellow with a rainbow seat. I set off in the morning.
Mrs. Green kept an ashtray on the coffee table with coins on it for her kids to take the bus, except all of her kids were grown and off and married. When did you have to pay to ride the school bus? If I got there before Mr. Greene left for work, I could see them french kiss.
Mrs. Stratton, who let me call her "Carol", took me many summer mornings to her beauty shop. I swept up hair, voiced my opinions on colors and perms, ate cheese nips, drank Coke, got hooked on Young and the Restless, and never let her cut my hair. We usually stopped by her mother's house on the way home. We sat and kept her company, sometimes picked up freshly canned beans or tomatoes. Mrs. Stratton really wanted children of her own, especially a little girl.
Mrs. Jennings worked all day. She loved it that I came to tend to Penny, her super-old dog. Off and on I would stop by to pet her and check her for ticks. If there were any, I would grab the vaseline from the utility room and I would smother the tick and then pull him off and take him home (only two doors down) for my brother to burn.
Mrs. Jones was always busy with piano lessons. I would sit on the stairs and wait for her to come out between lessons. She made me bread with butter, and homemade applesauce when I was sick. She taught me how to cross-stitch and refinish furniture.
Mrs. Fuller taught my brother in the second grade. She always let me go to the grocery store with her as long as I tried to call home first. I rode in the front seat.
Mrs. Baker raised golden retrievers on the side and was rumored to overfeed her children, but she always bought anything I was selling from wrapping paper to greeting cards. She struggled with her health.
I could not get to Mrs. Walker because she ran a deli with her huband and her sons loved to jump out and scare me.
Mrs. Rogers scrubbed the face paint off my cheek when I showed up to church to sing in the choir. That's the way it was and Thank God somebody told me. She organized weddings and walked every evening with her daughter.
Mrs. Henderson also had wicked teenage boys, but the first cordless phone, so sometimes I HAD to stop by to call home.
I folded laundry at every house.
Everybody had at least one or two tomato plants.
If they got tired of me and sent me home, they did it nicely.
I wasn't raised by wolves; I was raised by women.