My earliest memories are something I am not entirely sure are real. It is impossible at this point to decipher if they are, in fact reality; or perhaps a dream I remembered at a very early age - or merely a product of my wild imagination. After all, who is to say what is real and what is dreamed up anyway? So, for the sake of this story, I will call them memories.
My first memory is what I believe to be my birth. It is hazy and quick at best, still a remarkable thing to remember at such a new part of my coming into the existence of this time and age. All I remember is green hospital gowns and masks. Looming figures. Ominous. Foreign. Strange.
My next two memories are very difficult to determine in the time line of my life...as to which came first. They both occurred around the age of two, of that I am almost certain . They both were also somewhat traumatizing, which would make it perfectly understandable why they should have been burned into my little toddler brain for the rest of my life.
Now, I want to make something quite clear; I was very well looked after and cared for. In my little experience I have had with toddlers I have ascertained that if there is even a small window of opportunity open to anything remotely dangerous...BOOM! they are going to take it. That is the nature of learning - curiosity. Without it how would we grow and experience and gain any sort of knowledge? Furthermore, at such a young age, how is one expected to tell the difference between harmless curiosity and life threatening curiosity?
Well, on this day I was in my little walker...you know, like an old persons walker...but way cooler and much more fun. You are strapped into a soft, stretchy, hybrid of a cotton/spandex seat in a contraption with wheels that allows you to be mobile....to walk, or spin around, or just sit...and hell even eat your beloved cheerios off of the plastic tray that encompasses you while wandering about. Where are these for adults I ask you?
Anyway, I was left to my own devices, if only for a moment...and found the door to the downstairs was left open, this gleaming portal to another dimension, beckoning me, screaming to me to come check it out. "Well, I have to try this out!" My little toddler brain thought.
A series of loud thuds and bumps later I found myself in a strange new territory. Seeing as I did not actually tumble down the stairs and was not hurt or bruised, I was intrigued. I had landed upright, and was nothing more than jerked around at best. All I could do was look around wide eyed...in awe....WOW! How did I get here? This was an accomplishment.
Then I heard the frantic voice of my Mother, and the sound of quick terrified footsteps dashing across the ceiling. Now, even though a two year old may not be able to communicate their thoughts very well at this stage in their development, I can tell you this in all confidence, they understand and comprehend emotions entirely. I was perfectly fine in my newly discovered land, I wasn't frightened, or worried, I was quite proud of myself truth be told...but upon hearing the fear and panic in my Mother's voice and the urgency in her footsteps, I realized that maybe my little excursion wasn't as cool as I thought, something must be seriously wrong here...I had better whip up some tears real quick...milk this.....make her think the doorway pulled me in, grabbed me, forced me into this.
It must have worked.
The next instance is somewhat similar. Once again I have to insist upon you that I was very well looked after. I think I have just always had a penchant for getting myself into precarious situations, this predisposition would/will follow me the rest of my life...
It was Summer. My home in Massachusetts was/is a wonderful place to be a child. There is a big backyard with a giant rock to climb on, a quiet dead end street with a river and a trail that leads to a quaint little lake at the end of it, found at the bottom of the culdesac...neighbors that had been on the street long enough to watch my mother grow up from a child...just a wonderful, magical place, and best of all, we had/have an in-ground pool. Built in the 60's in the "mod" fashion; It is in the shape of a kidney. All gunite. 9 feet deep at it's deepest and 4 feet deep at it's shallowest, with a slide AND a diving board.
At this point in time there was a divider separating the shallow end from the deep end made of blue and white rope and booeys...though what difference 4 feet or 9 feet would make to a two year old I have no idea. I was in the pool...in what I can only describe as the equivalent to my aforementioned walker....but made for the water. Basically a swimsuit with a buoyant tube around me. My brother splashed around in the pool as well, being 7 years my senior, he was afforded the luxury of the deep end. I watched in envy, or maybe just wanting to be able to do what he did, instead of being corralled into this shallow end. My Mother, fully clothed, sat near by contentedly watching us.
Eventually my Brother got out of the pool and ran off somewhere. Again, my Mother must have turned her back for a mere moment, and such is and always will be my rebellious nature, I figured I would try to wade over to the forbidden area, in my tubular bathing suit that wasn't quite fastened properly....when all of a sudden I found myself upside down, underwater. Again, I wasn't scared, or upset...just in awe. Subconsciously I knew to hold my breath, it was just natural. I looked around in astonishment..."Well, this is different!" I was only under the water for maybe 5, 10 seconds before my Mother jumped in, fully clothed to save me. This startled me, and again I realized maybe this was kind of a bad thing that just happened. Hearing the terror in her voice only convinced me further, and I realized once again I should whip up some tears...I had no idea I almost just potentially drowned. And my Mother sure seemed freaked out. But...no harm done. And anyway, little Baby Jesus had/has much more planned for me, that's for sure....
THE CASSETTE TAPES
Continuing on, there are some self induced memories I feel I need to bring up. I say self induced because I would have no recollection of them had it not been for this collection of cassette tapes that my Mother and my Sister had intermittently used throughout the years to document my development from an infant to about age six or seven. Those ages I will discuss at a later time.
Apparently, even at age two I had a comprehension and passion for music. My sister, who is eleven years older than me, was pretty much the driving force on these earlier recordings, trying to coerce "coo" noises out of me as a baby, getting single words out of me as I got a little older, then quizzing me; interrogating me with such complex questions as "What does the duck say?" and "What color is this?" And of course mind benders like; "How old are you?"
Finally, after the questions were exhausted the next natural step was getting me to sing songs..and not just childish standards like"twinkle twinkle" or "ring a round the rosy" Oh, no...
I sang the hits.
I still have these tapes as proof if you ever doubt my credibility, or simply if you want to laugh. One of the funniest and best renditions I did of the whole lot was Michael Jackson's "Beat It" How I knew the words to this at this age, I have no idea...I don't know the words to it NOW. (Weird Al's "Eat It" on the other hand I will sing for you right now and know every last verse) Even though I didn't do the song in it's entirety, it is still hilarious to hear coming out of a toddler. What amused me the most was that I even had enough grasp and presence of mind to know what was going on in the song that I even did the little echo of "Beat it, beat it, beat it....." which just cracks me up. I guess me and music just always understood each other....even if the earliest proof of this has to be traced back to Wacko Jacko.
Among other songs I performed there were various Rick Springfield and other top early 80's hits that were most likely bubble gum pop. With good tone and pretty decent timing i might add.....
Up next....My Grandmother...my passion for writing and drawing...and the wonderful and yet terrifying trip to Disney World that traumatized me for years and years to come.
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