When
you sit back and think of things that have been said, written and done
throughout your life, do you ever wonder if any of that really shapes who you
are now? Do you have more good or more bad memories? Have you shared instances
with a person and their memories of the same event are vastly different than
yours? Taking all of this through the years can lead to a severe brain strain
if you let it. No one can remember everything….but I come pretty close.
I
remember being called the N word in Kindergarten in 1973, yea I’m getting old.
The word just flowed from the girls’ mouth along with an explanation that her
“daddy said it’s ok to say that”. Isn’t that a wonderful start of school
memory? The whole “daddy” thing probably wouldn’t have been as bad if the guy
didn’t happen to be the 7th grade teacher, ouch! Interesting how
things start to shape who we are and how we think. For me, that was the
beginning of torture in a place I still loath today. I remember the principal
of the torture chamber was nice to me once a year, that was because we shared
the same birthday. Some Cappies are true demons, that was a lesson I learned. I
danced upon learning of his death, cruel right? Oh well.
I
remember another student and myself putting rags in our back pockets and
walking through class saying “Hey Mr. Kott-er” and getting paddled in front of
the class for it. I remember running into the wall in the gym and cracking my
front tooth, it hurt like hell and the teacher laughed about it. Yep the same
teacher that paddled me in front of the class. No worries, he’s cool now, age
and a change of environment will do that to you. I remember the kid who ate his
boogers and another that never brushed his teeth. I remember the kid I had a
crush on not saying anything when his older brothers threw orange peels at me.
I
think it’s quite safe to say I have a very strong memory. There were some good
times in there as well. I remember being the only girl who knew how to cast a
rod, yes that was part of our gym class. I remember being the pitcher on a
softball team that took first place and also setting school records in track.
I’m sure those have been broken, if they still have track. I remember liking
the taste of the wine and hating the unleavened bread during my first
communion. I always thought it was cool that a church could legally contribute
to the delinquency of a minor under the guise of religion. I made sure to never
miss communion.
The
point is there are many of us that were in this place together. There are more
of us that have these memories of a not so positive time than there are those
that say they had great times, I learned of that fact years later. One former
student was on Oprah talking about what happened and I think one was writing a
book. These are memories from grade school that have stuck with me as fresh as
it just happened. Did these shape who I am? Would it have shaped you?
If
memories from grade school start to shape our lives, what the heck happens during
the high school years? Hmmmm, for me, it got interesting. I was the private
school kid that was thrown into a big fish pond. I dressed funny and didn’t
speak like the kids from my former neighborhood. I went from being called the N
word to being called “Oreo” “white girl” and several others. I was in a strange
culture where it was ok for a white man to teach a black history class. He was
cool though, he was my basketball coach. I had a Jewish teacher tell me she
didn’t like blacks and I told her that was ok and proceeded to draw a gold star
on her chalk board every day. Now in today’s world, I would have been in a lot
of trouble. This same teacher loved my brother, go figure.
I
guess my memories have shaped who I’ve become as an adult and as a parent. I
tend to be quite blunt about a lot, but I’m very honest. I choose to not go sit
in somebody’s building and pay their utilities just so they can read a book I
can read myself. I don’t need someone standing in judgment telling me how much
of a sinner I am, heck I know that. I’ve chosen to not raise my son in a
religious environment, after having it shoved down my throat as a child, I
chose to let him choose his own path. Finally, my memories of school and home
life have taught me that no matter what my son goes through, I will love him
unconditionally. My memories make for funny stories now and that’s a good
thing. It doesn’t mean I don’t carry just a small bit of “if I see that (bleep)
I’m going to….” in me. It just means I understand more that ignorance is taught
from childhood and those same people I have memories of will have their day.
At
the end of the day, I can put those old memories in the cellar of my mind and
think about the good memories of being a parent; those are new memories being
made every day! How has your memories shaped you?~ Just my two cents
No comments:
Post a Comment