Saturday, March 11, 2006
Misty water color memories...
One of the things that they say that make your life the way it is are the things that you first remember. I don't know why this came up this evening but for some reason it did.
I've several memories of the old days. Many are pleasant. Some not as much so. I think it's interesting which I remember from the farthest back. Those aren't so much as happy or sad as memorable. I think that the Freudian analyst or even some others may be able to read things into them that I haven't, but I'm not sure what it would mean.
What I think is earliest is the time that I was riding along with dad when he took mom to work. I don't remember the details of the trip to GC Murphy's (a big chain 5&10 at the time) but I remember the ride home. We drove through Latrobe and I was happy because after mom got out of the front seat, I got to move up to the front. As we drove through town, I talked with dad (granted it was not a great conversation as I don't think that I was even in school yet), we came down Jefferson Street, and turned on to Irving Avenue. I was playing with the handle of the front door, which opened up if you picked up the handle as you moved, as dad made the left turn from Jefferson onto Irving. Since I was playing with the latch that opened the door at the time...The door opened and I went rolling out of the car as it moved around the corner going from 0 to 30ish in a few moments. Dad stopped the car as soon as he could. I got up, ran to the still open door, and hopped back into the car. I told Dad that I was back and we could go ahead and closed the door. Dad, as white a sheet, nodded his head and put the car back in drive and we went home. When he picked up mom that night he told her what happened. He didn't know what to do in the meantime since I didn't seem to be any worse for the wear.
Another of my early memories is going down into the basement. Head first, as I didn't manage the stairs as they were meant to be managed. I got up and ran back up after I did what ever it was that I went down there for anyhow. Another is when I was running along the cement fences of a neighbor down the street and slipped. I can still feel the lump where then stitches went after I banged my head off the cement.
I'm not sure if there is a pattern here .It just seems interesting that most of my early memories have something to do with getting my head slammed on the cement or something similar.
And no, I don't think that's the main reason I am like this. (At least not usually)
I've several memories of the old days. Many are pleasant. Some not as much so. I think it's interesting which I remember from the farthest back. Those aren't so much as happy or sad as memorable. I think that the Freudian analyst or even some others may be able to read things into them that I haven't, but I'm not sure what it would mean.
What I think is earliest is the time that I was riding along with dad when he took mom to work. I don't remember the details of the trip to GC Murphy's (a big chain 5&10 at the time) but I remember the ride home. We drove through Latrobe and I was happy because after mom got out of the front seat, I got to move up to the front. As we drove through town, I talked with dad (granted it was not a great conversation as I don't think that I was even in school yet), we came down Jefferson Street, and turned on to Irving Avenue. I was playing with the handle of the front door, which opened up if you picked up the handle as you moved, as dad made the left turn from Jefferson onto Irving. Since I was playing with the latch that opened the door at the time...The door opened and I went rolling out of the car as it moved around the corner going from 0 to 30ish in a few moments. Dad stopped the car as soon as he could. I got up, ran to the still open door, and hopped back into the car. I told Dad that I was back and we could go ahead and closed the door. Dad, as white a sheet, nodded his head and put the car back in drive and we went home. When he picked up mom that night he told her what happened. He didn't know what to do in the meantime since I didn't seem to be any worse for the wear.
Another of my early memories is going down into the basement. Head first, as I didn't manage the stairs as they were meant to be managed. I got up and ran back up after I did what ever it was that I went down there for anyhow. Another is when I was running along the cement fences of a neighbor down the street and slipped. I can still feel the lump where then stitches went after I banged my head off the cement.
I'm not sure if there is a pattern here .It just seems interesting that most of my early memories have something to do with getting my head slammed on the cement or something similar.
And no, I don't think that's the main reason I am like this. (At least not usually)
Monday, March 06, 2006
Isn't that kind of like "Government ethics"?
A good oxymoron is always a fun thing. But I think that today I encountered what may be one of the biggest I've seen yet.
The weather is getting nicer, so there are a few people driving around with open windows. Which means for some of those who have the big-ass speakers, we get to share their taste in music as they drive by. As one did today.
Speakers filling the trunk. All across the back dash. It probably even had extra speakers in the front. Volume turned up to 11.
Playing Mozart.
The weather is getting nicer, so there are a few people driving around with open windows. Which means for some of those who have the big-ass speakers, we get to share their taste in music as they drive by. As one did today.
Speakers filling the trunk. All across the back dash. It probably even had extra speakers in the front. Volume turned up to 11.
Playing Mozart.
