Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Things I remember better than what I did yesterday...

...The time my Momma's Oldsmobile was hit by that lady who ran the stop sign.  It was 1983; I was three and seat belt laws didn't exist yet.  I think car seats were optional for toddlers.  I was in my car seat, with its brown padded bar that came down over my head to form a sort of tray in front of me - I loved to beat my hands on that, I still remember the way it felt and sounded - but the bar wasn't there that day.  We weren't going far, so Momma had put me in the car seat, but I wasn't buckled or fastened in any way.  I was just hangin' out.  And then the car lurched and I somersaulted from my car seat in the back over the middle console and came to rest with my back to the dash and my legs over my head.  I was confused - what just happened? - and I looked up and over at my Momma.  Her forehead was full of blood; the windshield was cracked.  I have fuzzy memories of an ambulance arriving to take Momma to the hospital, and Granny staying behind with me; I wasn't hurt, just confused.  

...Running down the short hallway of our apartment to greet Daddy at the door when he came home from work. Many days, he was carrying a 40 oz. beer, usually a Budweiser.  I'd beg for a sip and he'd give in - it was the nastiest taste ever, but Daddy liked it so I wanted some.  I was 4.

...Wearing my Momma's bowling shoes and trying to imagine a day when I'd be able to lift that big heavy ball.  

...The feeling of terror and incompetence that came over me the first time I walked into my 3rd grade classroom and saw a cursive alphabet circling the room.  My Daddy was holding my hand, and I looked up at him and whispered, "Daddy, I don't think I can do this."  "Yes you can," he whispered back.  He was right.

...That time in 4th grade when we were saving cans to recycle to earn money for our class trip - we poured out bags and bags full of cans on the concrete basketball courts outside the school and had a can-crushing party.  I'd worn sandals that day - cheap one made of white fake-leather laces - and a can I was trying to crush cut my instep deeply.  I didn't tell anyone because the other kids made fun of me enough as it was, and I worried for days about the possibility of infection.  

...That time in 5th grade when Wendy Wilson pushed me into a table while Ms. Dixon was out of the room.  I was the class tattle-tale, and Wendy didn't care that I'd been left in charge as room monitor.  I remember her pushing me, I remember falling into the table, I remember knocking things over with my flailing arms, I remember feeling embarrassed and wanting to cry but not quite daring to - but I can't remember if I told on her.  I don't think I did.  

(In response to RemembeRED - because I read Ixy's and Katie's and they're brilliant and they inspired me to remember.)


  1. Oh, girl, my foot hurt for you! I can't imagine how bad that had to hurt...I'm guessing it didn't get infected? Ouch!

    I love the memory of you walking into the third grade classroom with your Dad, that fear and reassurance is one I can relate to so well. Third grade kicked my butt!

    I also love the thought of you trying your dad's bear. I did that, too, as a child. Just a sip, and UGH, I hated it!

    Natalie, this is an awesome response to the prompt, girl. You tell your memories so well...they're vivid and descriptive. Especially the one about the car wreck. The description of your car seat, the way you remember it, so good.

    Glad you decided to do the prompt and link up!

  2. Oh, and is it okay that I hate Wendy Wilson? The bitch.

  3. Nostalgic. Getting all the nice smell in the morning and going home covered all in dust, mud and everything kids could imagine playing with. Of course mother would be upset but never the less, we learned our lesson at the same time. buy aion accounts

  4. I love all the memories. I am amazed that you remember something from the age of 3, even if it was traumatic. I have such a hard time with remembering.

    Great job!

  5. OUCH - I bet that 'can cut' hurt for a long time.
    It's funny what we'll keep quiet about as children isn't it? I was made fun of a lot when I was younger and would never DARE say something that might incur even more scrutiny on me! :)
    Awesome memories!

  6. "My Daddy was holding my hand, and I looked up at him and whispered, "Daddy, I don't think I can do this." "Yes you can," he whispered back. He was right." that touched my heart and made me wish I had just a touch of that kind of Daddy. Gorgeous.
    For the record, if I was in your class I would have kicked Wendy Wilson right in the ass.
    In all seriousness, I loved reading your memories and you have so vividly shared.

  7. Great writing, Natalie! I really felt each memory. Sometimes when I think about riding backwards in a wood-panelled station wagon and other complete unsafe activities, I wonder how we all survived!

  8. ah jyeah! I had a mom who would let me stand in the front seat of her two door honda.

    Hey, any idea why over 30+ source hits on my blog in the last 24 hours are coming from your Loestrin post?


Please don't make me cry.


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