2. Your earliest memory
If you know me, you know memories aren’t exactly my thing. You’d think I used drugs or something (I never have…well, maybe drank too much in college…), but a lot of my young life is a blur. I don’t take good pictures, I suck at scrapbooking, and I’m pretty sure those are traits I inherited from my mother.Last week, I was visiting my parents and nosed around in their basement. I have a ton of stuff there from college and my first apartment that I had promptly forgotten about.. and I wasn’t the only one– my sister, who was also graduated from Seton Hall University 8 years before me, had a bunch of textbooks in boxes in storage. I brought home a bunch of stuff in a plastic punch bowl that is still sitting on my coffee table. I haven’t touched it. (Maybe I’ll rifle through it after this post.)
So… earliest memory….
Probably the flowery pink dress I wore when I was in Kindergarten to portray Queen Isabella in a “play” about Christopher Columbus. I basically got to say “yes” to some boy wearing a hat before 5 kids walked across an “ocean” to Hispaniola with 3 paper boats.
NOW BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING….
Look, folks. I don’t think any 5-year-old is going to understand the concept of oppression and exploitation of native peoples unless they are aware that some white dude went to another part of the world. It’s an educational concept called scaffolding. So I generally don’t have a problem with Columbus Day, or the man himself. (A lot of people want to replace it with Bartolome Day– except that’s already on the calendar in July. Let kids have a day off from school in October and calm your tits.)
So yeah. That’s about it. The 5 years before that are a blank, which is most definitely not a result of alcohol consumption.
Here’s to making memories instead of grasping for them.