First Memory
Posted: Sunday, June 22, 2008
by Dianne Lehmann
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When my sister, Deb, was still just an unrealized potential, the field having not yet collapsed and produced the reality of my sister, we took a trip. To be honest, she had already been observed and so Schrodinger wouldn't really allow as that she was in a state of existence/nonexistence. Still, for me, she wasn't yet real. The only evidence was Mom's swollen feet and the ever increasing girth of her belly. Well, that and I had heard her heart beating.
Grandma Aldrich came along with Mom, Dad and me just in case Deb decided to come out prematurely. Considering the kind of women she has grown to be, I shouldn't have been surprised had she. How much help Grandma would have been had that been the case, I really couldn't say. Grandma was, however, the oldest in a large family that included sisters. She could have been present at many birthings even though she only ever had the one child, my dad. I was just never all that impressed with Grandma's ability to cope with emergencies.
We didn't go Back East to visit relatives as we might usually do. NOPE. Dad didn't want to be that far from home should George, make that Debbie, arrive a little early. Because I hadn't turned out to be a George as Dad was certain I would, he decided that Debbie would be a George. That was his dad's name and he was following a family tradition.
My first clear memory is not my sister's birth. That happened at the hospital while I stayed home with Grandma Aldrich. No, my first clear memory is that trip; and not so much the trip as one little thing that happened during it.
We had gone to Northern California , somewhere where there were lots of trees and birds and squirrels and deer. We stayed in a log cabin that had a stream behind it that was full of fish. Dad was a fly fisherman and we had several fresh fish dinners compliments of my dad. I ate the fish under protest.
One afternoon as he was fishing from the bank, I was squatting on a rock and poking a stick into the water. I was taking my laboriously selected, very straight and long stick and trying to reach the fish with it. That's when it happened; the incident that is still with me today occurred. No, I didn't fall in and almost drown. I asked my dad a question.
You might say to yourself, "Big deal. Two and three year olds are always asking lots of questions," and you would be right. It wasn't the question that was so memorable, though I remember it well; it was the answer that astounded me. My question was two parts, "Daddy, why can't I reach the fish and why does my stick bend in the water?" Though, I may not have phrased it quite exactly like that.
Dad reeled in his line and put down his pole. He sat beside me on the rock and said, "Deedy, look at me, this is very important. I will answer any question you ask me, but I will answer it only once. So you had better listen very carefully and remember everything that I tell you." What followed was a long lecture about the magnifying qualities of water and the refraction of light. Come on, I wasn't even three yet! But I was sure scared.
Here he was, my font of all knowledge telling me that there were limitations to how much he would tell me. What was I to do? I couldn't possibly remember that entire lecture and I could never ask him that question again. You may not believe it, but later on, a couple of years maybe, I asked him a question (not about fish) that had the same lecture for an answer. He told me that he had already answered that when I had asked about the fish. All I remembered about that day was the panic. He had a memory like a steel trap. I can only think, now, that he was trying to develop the same in me. And I have to tell you, it worked. Fear is a great motivator.
Today, my memory is not as good as it was when I was still in school. It gets such a work out when you are actively trying to learn something. But at that time it was really impressive. My friends thought I was amazing because I could remember whole conversations verbatim if it was something I thought was important. I did really well on IQ tests, not so much because I was smart, but because I had a good memory. I got better and better with each one that I took because they were all very similar.
I can think of more pleasant first memories; plunging your tiny hands into your birthday cake for your first taste of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, the first time you ever held a baby chicken in your hands, the funny noises your Guinea Pig made, those sorts of things. I will just have to make do with a lecture on the properties of light and water. Could be worse.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)I love this piece! From eating the fish under protest to being scared into having a good memory, this rings so true. Delightful!Hi J. and thank you for reading. That wasn't the only thing he and my mom "scared" me into. I've been having fun dredging up old memories lately. Thanks again for reading, Dianne
hi dianne, this was a well written, sweet story. i'm glad you're having fun dredging up old memories-i'm trying to remember what i did yesterday! best regards, sue thomHi Sue, don't ask me what I did yesterday, but old memories stick with me. Does this mean I am getting old? Oh, no! Thanks for reading, Dianne
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