I Cherish Most Childhood Memories
April Six Word Photo Story Challenge: “Reflect”
Remembering the mushy and stinky blobs.
Good memories of growing up in the 1960s and 1970s fill my mind. Here are some favorites:
- Camping, swimming, rowing, and singing around the campfire with several other families at Lake Francis
- Digging clay from the banks of Wolf Creek during family and school picnics at Todd Park
- Playing kick-the-can, tag, and hide-and-seek with neighborhood kids on Fourth Avenue
- Sledding and winter and rolling in a barrel in summer down Skinner’s Hill to the shore of a bottomless pond, the Lagoon
- Learning how to ride a bike from my big brother, Mike, who stood on our house’s balcony. He dropped a tin can telephone down to me and gave me instructions about how to ride around the backyard
- Catching and releasing snapping and softshell turtles in Turtle Creek
- Exploring all the roads in Austin, Minnesota, by bike with my best friend, Brad, who rode his Schwinn Stingray with its classy five-speed stick shift
- Enjoying the music of the Beatles, Diana Ross and the Supremes, and Petula Clark as it emanated from the record player in my big brothers’ bedroom
- Driving twenty miles south to St. Ansgar, Iowa, for Sunday dinner with one grandma and walking south one city block for supper with the other
- Watching chicks emerge after they pecked through eggs in Mrs. Hein’s kindergarten class
I recall boyhood as a time of delight, play, learning, and adventure.
But I wish a few memories would leave my mind forever. For example, pulling weeds around our mother’s marigolds and petunias was drudgery for my brothers and me.
But one malodorous memory wafts in my grey matter above them all.
In winter, my brothers and I tried to keep up with the messes our dog Gus (officially Gustavus Adolphus and sometimes Gustavanious Adolphonious) dropped in the backyard. But after the spring snowmelt, our dad charged us with cleaning up the remaining mushy and stinky blobs. Yuk.
If only the Poop Fairy were real.
With a few exceptions, I remember a joyous childhood.
As far as odors go, I have always preferred the fragrance of roses.
