Earliest Memories

As we age, only a few memories fully stand the test of time. Sometimes moments of joy, other times moments of fear. Probably my earliest memory was riding one day in Illinois (I know it was Illinois because I was a toddler at the time), and we pulled over by a large crevasse with a steep incline. Daddy tried to get me to come closer to the edge, but I was frightened out of my wits. “No!” I screamed.

He seemed frustrated, and the next thing I knew, he swept me up in his arms, carried me to the edge and held me out to look, all the while yelling at me to stop crying. Mom intervened, but I was shaken to my core. The tears just flowed for a time. Looking back, I’m sure Dad was sorry, but in that time, sorry was not something many men said. Indeed, with age, I’ve learned to forgive a lot. He had a huge temper, and on occasion he could be wrong. Like the rest of us.

My next memory was of my playing in our home. We rented from a woman who lived in a room upstairs. Mom had the front door latched and was busy cleaning house. Quietly I pushed a chair to the door, climbed up in the chair and unlatched the door of our Olney, Illinois home. There was a hospital across the street and beside it could be found a filling station, and they guys who worked there were always nice to me, offering a candy bar and sometimes a toy. A busy highway ran in front of the house. Off I went, crossing the highway and to the service station. They called mom. “Mrs. Wicks, are you missing someone?” Not long after, she was there threatening to wear out my britches, amidst profuse thanks to the station employees.

Other memories pop up on occasion. There was a separate breed of white squirrels in Olney, and they were protected by law. They would literally eat out of my tiny hand and I would get so excited! Then there was the day during a brutal winter when a large sewer rat entered our home through the coal heating ducts. We shoveled our own coal, or rather my Dad did. I walk into the kitchen. He’s staring at me on the kitchen table, from my perspective assessing me as a possible meal. He runs towards me and again, screams and panic. To this day, I react to rats or mice with a rush of adrenaline favoring flight over fight.

On another day, I’m outside playing as Mom is raking leaves and burning them in the gutter on the street. There was an empty basket lying around. What a perfect toy. I put it over my head and am walking around blind to where I was going. I step on the curb and tumble right into the fire! I jump running for dear life, Mom chasing me, and my sleeve on fire. She finally catches me and throws me to the ground, using her coat to smother the flames. Besides my birth, the first time I get to visit a hospital conveniently across the street. Some second-degree burns, but I heeled without any scarring. Somehow, I always had to learn life lessons the hard way.

I remember the little girl next door with whom I played. I’ll say more about that in my next post. What happened would affect my life for decades to come. I can speak today of things totally beyond my ability to make sense of for so very long. Two back to back experiences would be transformative in my world view. But that’s a whole other story.