When I was four or five, my parents took me to the San Diego Zoo. My mom said that she wanted me to remember the trip to the zoo, and announced, bizarrely, that the way to do that would be to give me an Eskimo sandwich. Oddly enough, this worked. I distinctly remember eating that Eskimo sandwich at the San Diego Zoo. I will never forget this.
Next time I went to the San Diego Zoo, when I was eleven, we searched the entire park for another Eskimo sandwich. Took a while, but we did find one.
Gosh, I know there are a lot, but the one that first comes out to me . . .
My first game with the high school hockey team. It was just the JV team and our team was the worst in the entire league. We didn’t win any games the year before, and we didn’t win any games that year. I remember getting on the bus, I remember the trip, I remember the arena coming into view, I remember hearing one of the upper classmen say, “look at that fortress” (it was the town’s civic arena). I remember the warm up and the butterflies, I remember the crowded bench, and I remember my first shift. I went over the boards and my legs just gave out! What was the deal with that?! I’d been skating for years, and my legs just decide they don’t feel like being stable. So over the boards, and to the ice I went! I remember skating up to the face off circle and having wobbly knees. Man was that great.
Oh and another one . . .
Walking around outside and then inside Wrigley Field with my dad, and then the feeling that comes over you when you walk out and see the grass and the players warming up, it’s religious. Trying to explain it really doesn’t do it justice, I still love the first feeling of seeing the grass, but I still haven’t been able to capture that first time.
Also . . .
Being the only grandchild (out of twenty-some) to be with my grandma when she died.
I was eight years old and it was a sunny day with a slight breeze. I was sitting on one of the yellow benches that lined the breezeway opposite from the classrooms during recess. I pondered time. I thought about how each word that came to my mind was passing into the past. There it is! And now it’s gone. In the past. It was in the present, but not it’s gone. I looked up from the thistles I had been staring at while I thought, and I saw Krista Hatchfield. She was wearing a pink and white plaid dress. It was her last day at my school - her family was moving. I would never see her again, and I didn’t care, because we weren’t friends, but I decided that I would always remember this moment, just to keep one thing to keep from falling into the past.
This one took place during the Blizzard of ‘77. Anybody from Southern Ontario or parts of the North-Eastern US who’s old enough will know what I’m talking about. This huge freakin’ storm dumped a ton of snow on us for about 7 to 9 days straight. In my area, snow drifts got as high as the power lines and some people’s houses were entirely buried! Of course, to a 9 yr old kid, this was the coolest thing ever.
On the morning of the first day of the storm my elementary school called an assembly to announce they were closing the school and that our parents were being called to pick us up. My 7 yr old brother and I only lived a block from the school so the principal let us walk home. The wind was savage and it was a fight just to stay upright. Halfway down the block I turned to look at my brother and see him fall back on his butt then get blown all the way back down the street ! The sight of him skidding along on his back with arms and legs flailing like some overturned tortoise had my in hysterics. After half-carrying him home, my brother wanted to try it again but my mother vetoed the idea. Damn!
It was grade six, I was being picked on, as per usual, by the members of the local hockey team. The teacher had stepped out of the room and Mike S. had me down on the floor and was banging my head on it telling me how ugly and how geeky I was. Michelle Steffen came up and pushed him off of me and punched him so hard he ran out of the room, saving me from serious injury. It was the end of May and the school year was ending in a few weeks. I never had the chance to thank her and her parents moved away and I have no idea where she ended up…I just wish I had thanked her at the time.
Keith
P.S. Yes I am aware that the movie was Citizen Kane…sorry for the typo above.
Hey Hodge I think I remember that blizzrd or a similar one, I lived in Detroit . Here’s what I rememer about it.
We were sent home from school just after it started snowing. My Mom worked for the city, and ussually got off at 5. At about 4pm, she called to say on her way home but the buses had been shut down and that she’d have to try and walk home. (we were latch keys) it was about 12 blocks. Well 6pm rolled around. Me and my brothers and sister were getting scared and frantic. We didn’t have anybody to call.
Well just before seven my dogs started barking to be let out. I didn’t want to, but let them out anyway, you could barely see anything past the front porch and there was alreavy at least a new 2ft of snow on the ground. Well about 5 minutes later we hear the dogs. We look out and can’t see anything, but after watching we see the Buck (our Gemrman Sheppard) coming with our Mom holding his collar.
I remember that her coat was practility frozen stiff with with snow. We all jumped on her hugging her. She asked us to stay that way, we were warming her up faster than the heater.
Driving down the Interstate on a spring day. I need gas soon and I see a station at the exit we are about to pass, but I decide to wait until the next exit (about 3 miles further) since it is not far and I am more familiar with it. There are dark clouds in the sky and the wind is picking up. It looks as if there will be a storm soon. Just after we pass the exit it starts raining. About 30 seconds later it begins to hail lightly. The hail rapidly begins to get larger and larger. At almost the exact moment my wife comments that it is surprising our windshield hasn’t been broken, our windshield cracks. Our 2-year-old son is crying. As I turn around to reassure him, the window closest to his seat cracks. The hail by this time is averaging golf ball size with several pieces baseball size or larger. I hear the window beside my son and turn around to look and there is a golf-ball size hole in it. He has unbuckled the latch on his car seat and hopped out of it. I slow down and pull off to the side of the road as quickly as I can under the conditions. I grab my son and cover him with my body. Fortunately, the hail stops soon after cracking our windshield in twelve different spots and busting out the side window by my son. We make it to the next exit and call my in-laws to come get us. Total damage $6000 to our mini-van and my son is afraid of storms.
Obviously, I will always remember this, but I will especially remember the sound of large hail balls hitting a metal roof. It is hard to describe just how loud it was.
I will also always remember that I could have stopped at the previous exit and missed all this.
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[li]One Sunday morning, I think I was eight years old. I remember waking up early, and the sun was shining, and we had a huge breakfast of bacon and eggs. My brother and I got on our bikes (I was still learning to ride without training wheels) and raced up and down the street all morning. The sun was bright, birds were singing, I had my best friend in the world by my side and life was good.[/li][li]One afternoon during the summer, it started raining. I was 9, I think, and all the neighborhood kids threw on our bathing suits and swim trunks and played in the rain for hours, until the parents got home and we had to go in.[/li][li]Reading my favorite Christmas gift ever, a copy of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”, when I was 15. I had read it before, but this was my own. I read it all on Christmas Day and before the family arrived, I took a long walk. I felt exactly like Francie during New Year’s Eve 1917, when she went on the rooftop with Neelie. I remember not feeling so alone for the first time in my life.[/li][*]Last week, I went out with some friends to see my favorite band. With us was one of my best friends, whom I have been in love with since the day I met him. We got a little drunk and he told me I was beautiful and that I was the only real, genuine person he knew. I started to say “I love you” but caught myself and said, “I think you’re beautiful too” and then he kissed me (it was a friendly kiss, not passionate, but it was still wonderful). He’s the first man to ever call me beautiful.
I doubt that I have forgotten how to play the flute, although it’s been 30 years. I don’t intend to do so in the next 30 years, but I’m sure I would still know how.
The first play I ever performed, as a sophomore in high school. I was a very minor (but funny) character, and I ended up stealing the entire last act of the show away from the leads on opening night. That moment colored my feelings on theatre forever. I love it; it’s as much a part of me as breathing or sleeping.
Every time I hear The Eagles’ Already Gone I think of my brother. I couldn’t understand what the word was in the line “and I sing this victory song”. He told me.
I will never forget when I was around 9 years old. I live in Houston, and one winter morning my Dad woke me up about an hour and a half early for school. I was sort of mad, and then he told me to look out the window. It had snowed! Oh my God! There was probably an inch or two on the ground. My brother and I got dressed (warmly!) and ran outside to play, with other kids in the neighborhood. Snowball fights, trying to build a snowman, freezing our hands off… what excellent fun! School was closed for two days. The first time I ever saw snow. I know it really sucks for you northerners, but imagine the first time for a southern kid. Heaven!
When I was a wee tyke my friend’s mother told my friend and I that she didn’t want another of our friends playing at their house. She said that it was okay for me to come by but she didn’t want to see that “black boy”. The black boy was Benjamin, he was from India and the best friend a guy could have and his family treated me as if I was their own. I was befuddled at this so I went and asked my mom why it was wrong to play with Benjamin. She told me that some people were just ignorant and explained what racism was. From then on the three of us just played at my house. My other friend grew up without sharing his parent’s racism and I think this has a lot to do with my mom. She turned 72 yesterday and I couldn’t even get a hold of her to wish her a happy birthday. I’ll call her this morning.
The first time I kissed Lola, it’s an activity I have found to be very habit forming. This moment has lead to countless other moments of unadalterated joy…
October 29, 1998, 1:05 pm. I walked across the delivery room to say hello to my newborn daughter, Alexandra. At the sound of my voice she stopped crying and looked at me. The nurse said she had never seen that happen before in 20 years of delivering babies. When I walked back to see how Lola was doing she resumed her crying. when I tuck her into bed we play the “I love you more than…” game. She says she loves me more than pickles and for her that says a lot. She loves pickles.
January 28, 2000, 4:44 pm. Danusia came into the world screaming her little head off. She was and still is the sweetest little girl now, 14 months old and a certifiable daddy’s girl. I was holding her one evening and she looked up at me and in a little whisper said “dad”. Now she stalks me through the house calling me if I get too far away.
I was talking to my step son explaining why he shouldn’t call me dad as I didn’t want his father’s feelings to be hurt if he overheard. He told me that it was okay to have two dads and that he felt really lucky to have us both.
August 15, 1999. 11:30 pm. It was the first day of my vacation. The phone rang and it was my brother in law calling from the hospital telling me that my nephew had been in a horrific accident and had been flown in by air ambulance. He told me the it didn’t look like he was going to make it. We both cried. I remembered the day Josh was born and every moment we had shared as he had grown up. Trips in the car, taking him to school, rides on the motorcycle, taking him to get his ear pierced. The first present I ever gave him was a little stuffed dog that called Jingles. Jingles will soon have a new baby to play with as my nephew is going to be a father himself this summer. I never imagined that we would have children nearly the same age.
Several years ago my mother passed away when I was out of town on a sound tech gig.
She had congestive heart failure. I went on a three day work trip because I wanted to remain optimistic, but she was really only operating at 20% heartbeat and miserable.
The morning of, I called home worried. No answer. I called the hospital with a feeling, and ultimately ended up talking to one of the OR docs. Mom was on the table after a massive aneurism, and they were patching her up. When I finally talked to my Dad I had more information than he had. I decided to go ahead and run mics for my morning meeting. Two hours into the meeting, my boss came to the door. I removed my headphones and went to take the saddest call I have ever recieved. “The operation was a complete success, unfortunately we lost the patient”. I had to leave mid-gig, fly back home to my family, and begin the grieving that is with me to this day, just buried a little deeper. I still miss her every day. I was in shock for about two weeks: I can only imagine what my poor Dad went through. Did you ever lose the one person who backs you up no matter what the circumstances? I had no idea the world could get so empty so fast.
The day after Thanksgiving, 1985. My mom had fought cancer since Valentine’s Day, and she was going to die. She wanted to make it to Thanksgiving, when the whole family gathered to say goodbye. She was in a coma during Thanksgiving day. I remember that we had dinner at our house, but I don’t remember the dinner, or all the people, or really much of those nine months she was sick (except that bandanna she wore when her hair fell out and how much I hated that the chemo swelled her face). What I know I will remember for the rest of my life is coming downstairs that Friday morning and seeing my dad. He said, “Your mom died last night at 12:07AM” I said “OK” and my older brother and I went out to do our paper route. We didn’t cry. Not then, at least, and not until much later for me.
Sorry if that made anyone cry.
Mom’s funeral packed the church I grew up in. Someone told me that you could hear the singing out in the driveway in front of the church, it was so loud. I try to remember the better times of the twelve years I knew my mom.
