My first memory is more of a snapshot than a linear story. I don’t remember what happened from moment to moment so much as what was going on in-between a couple of blinks. The view was a lake, deep teal-blue lazing quietly in a gentle, warm sun while the surrounding forest of tall pines looked on contentedly. I peered through the trees as from the back of a crowd, straining to see between heads and around necks. The azure water was captivating. My perch was in the open door of our family van. I remember tears, children, toddlers crying. I suppose I joined in the mournful cacophony. Our cause was just: bees, and more than one, buzzed angrily around our van. Looking back into that snapshot portal, I suspect one of us was crying from the pain of being stung.
I’ve related the memory to Mom, and she’s filled in some more details. It was a family vacation to a lake in Kentucky. We stayed on a houseboat. I was two years old.
While I wasn’t born for the Kentucky trip (I don’t think…), I do recall seeing many pictures of it. Trips like that are what instilled in me a love for family vacations. They contribute a lot to the fabric of memories, especially (maybe because) they are so rare.
I think my earliest memory is of breaking my leg at Caledonia – though maybe this is a result of so many re-tellings? I remember Bunkie carrying me across the creek.
For me – anything Petersburg related is very early in my memory bank. Some other random memories that I think are from that era…
– Playing a version of steal the bacon with objects on each side of the room, and getting a bloody nose. I recall Chris Lawler being there.
– Joe eating a worm?
– Push/shove races in the yard. Can’t remember if that was the name for them.
– Waking Nathan up to get cereal for me in the morning.