October 19, 2010
My First Ten
1. The pink puff flower of the Cat Briar vine; I was in a sand pile in the back yard (I don’t think I was yet two) and saw my parents walking around toward the front of the house. I thought I was being abandoned.
2. The surprise of punishment (belt), and reaching for comfort from the one delivering the punishment.
3. The green coolness of deep clover in the vacant lot next to our house, and the feeling of being absolutely hidden while lying in it under a blue sky.
4. Sitting on the floor in a diaper in front of a little round TV, watching The Arthur Godfrey Show. There was a dead tree branch in a vase on the TV that had gumdrops stuck on the ends of the twigs–a gumdrop tree–and I wanted to get at it bad.
5. Realizing that I could read! And thinking that I would never have to depend on others to give me the stories I wanted.
6. Astonishment when kids lit firecrackers–and later that night, dreams of power.
7. The blonde and white puppy I found (Beagle-ish) and hid in the garage under a tub.
8. Seeing several older boys fighting (I was about six I imagine), and one of them picked up a brick and threw it hard into the back of another boy. Now that image always comes to mind when I hear the phrase “he got the wind knocked out of him.”
9. Trying to jump from my bed to the hallway in the dark, aiming to get to Mama’s protection after having simply heard the story of the movie The Blob (I had fallen asleep at the Drive-In, and then cried when I learned I had missed the movie–so they told me the plot).
10. Swinging on the swing set in the back yard with my sister–and swinging so hard that the metal pole legs began to lift off the ground..
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these are wonderful, Daryl. and I’m sorry for your second. that kills me.
Hiding treasures under tubs. Porn. And puppies.
I threw a smooth stone at my cousin Stuart’s head when we were young. I was tired of him being mean to me. I threw it hard, so they knew I was lying when I said I had no idea how it slipped out of my hand onto the head of Stuart standing ten paces away. Stuff like that always just felt like a reason to be a better liar, rather than a better person.
Amae, that reminds me of the memory I told about kicking my Aunt Phyllis when she called me a “little dear,” although the lie that was told in that connection was told by my mother.
“I heard Sheila and her friends calling one another ‘rats’ and skunks’,” my mom said, “and I told her never ever to call people by animal names.” Dear. Deer. Little deer. Nobody believed what she said, but it smoothed over a rough moment.
Me, I still thought, Well, any excuse to kick Aunt Phyllis, and maybe I don’t even need one.
Hearing the story of The Blob might have been scarier than if you had actually seen it, Daryl.
I love number 5 and I wish it were mine.
Yes, re No. 3. It was tall, golden, soft sage for me, but I understand completely.
No. 2 is hard to read and think about.
Such wonderful images you create.