Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full.
One for my master, one for my dame,
and one for the little boy
who lives down the lane.
I grew up singing that nursery rhyme to myself, and I grew up watching Star Trek (DS9). I grew up watching Stickin' Around and I liked reading my dad's old copies of MAD magazine.
I totally dug this little magazine put out by the Toronto Blue Jays. I liked the drawings and the dog, too.
If I remember correctly, Rodney and I liked Sonic The Hedgehog 3 better, but we played the second one more often. I was always Tails and he was always Sonic.
I remember when we got our first computer in the summer of 1998. It was a "286" and somehow my dad had heard of a guy getting rid of them from behind this one building in downtown Toronto (which is now where the Four Seasons Centre For the Arts is situated).
It totally ran on MS - Dos and I can recall the family event of seeing how the computer worked, and what would happen when you typed things in after the pixelated white C:/DOS> letters on the fully black screen.
Eventually, we upgraded (it was exciting) and I remember, one time, going 'into' a chatroom and lying about my age and talking to a girl in the States about jazz music. I was nine years old.
Remember those big 8-inch floppy disks?
I remember going to the Christmas parties held by the doctor's office we went to. They always had Chinese Santas (and Garfields apparently, as well). Our 'Hello, my name is' stickers always had numbers instead of names.
I remember playing by myself for hours, I remember playing 'House', I remember seeing how high I could go on the swing before it would jump a little bit at the top. I remember reading anything I could get my hands on, I remember the amazing sweaters and the treats from the dollar store my grandparents would give me and Rodney.
Man, childhoods are pretty good.
2 reactions.:
I remember books. I was always on the lookout for the newest Animorphs from the Scholastic book order that came through our school, and then waiting for weeks for it to arrive in a big box with all the other books. That was the first mail that was addressed only to me.
I remember the shower scene from "Psycho" because I once took it off my dad's book shelf and read it. I never read the rest, or have ever seen the movie. I remember the opening scene from one of the Blade movies (with Wesley Snipes) because my dad also had that in a book.
I remember digging my nose into the seat of my dad's chair and knowing the smell of his trousers, and every single fart that passed through there. I remember digging under the couch cushions, the same ones we used to build a fortress with and watch TV through, and brushing all the mouse turds to the floor. I remember my lego scattered around the floor.
I remember Rugrats and acting younger than I was. I remember those nights playing poker with my dad and my sister, and the glass of scotch with ice. They are as hazy with smoke as they are with time.
Strange.
We have the same memories.
Especially the seat of the chair thing.
Do you remember Bruce Lee movies? And incense? And the different things we would stick on walls? And biking to Etobicoke?
Memories are bizarre.
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