Earliest Memories
His father then hugged him, explaining that now the boy would remember this rare and unusual sight all his life.
Childhood memories are often like that: we only remember things because something shocking or startling happened. My earliest childhood memories are no exception. Neither profound nor important, they were strange or shocking in some way.
Take the calf that remains vivid after all these years.
We lived in a sprawling home including a barn for the cows, chickens and ducks. One day in the barn, a cow gave birth to a pretty calf. Like any five-year-old, I was delighted.
But some days later, much to my dismay, the calf died. It was quickly taken away. Surprisingly, it returned the next day. It had been stuffed. Why? I learned that the cow would stop giving milk if she discovered her baby was dead. So I watched every morning as the stuffed calf was brought in front of her mother where it stood with splayed legs while its mother was milked. After milking it was hidden away.
Not a profound event, but I can still see the stuffed calf in my mind's eye and wonder how its mother was fooled.
My next memory is about being naive at six and getting into trouble.
We had a Pye record changer and hundreds of 78 RPM records, each containing one song. You stacked up a dozen records on the spindle and the changer played them in a row. This was a source of great joy for me.
An older, distant cousin came to visit for a few days. I showed him the record changer and he was hooked. One day, after breakfast, he selected twelve records for playing. Engaged in conversation with me, he placed them on a chair. Then he inadvertently sat on the chair. All twelve broke with a horrible cracking sound. After overcomzing the shock he talked me into hiding the accident. However, my parents found out soon enough, and as his accomplice I got into trouble.
My third memory – at five – is about taking an initiative and facing the consequences.
We had a kerosene powered refrigerator. It broke in the middle of summer. The repairman came and worked all day. I watched with great interest, very impressed by his ability. But in the heat, he dehydrated and fell sick. My grandmother gave him salt water to drink. This worked like magic – he was fully revived and energized.
Not comprehending the dehydration part, I thought that a large glass of salt water could also fill me with energy. So I made one and gulped it down. Within a few minutes I was sick with diarrhoea. My family was amused by my misadventure, but I suffered.
In childhood, just like now, every day brings many events. Most recede with time, but some stand out. For me, these events stay like milepost markers on the hazy road to growing up.
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