As a child, I disliked those few weeks at the end of Summer when you know it is too cold to play outside without a jacket and yet you are convinced you don't actually need one because hey, it's still technically Summer. It was during one of these weeks that Caitlin Brown and I were playing in my back yard. I always worried that I wanted to play with her far more than she wanted to play with me. This thought always led to the unwelcome possibility that she would try to come up with some reason why she would have to go home and I'd either practically beg her to stay and play or leave, dejected and bitter.
On this one particular day during one of those particular weeks at the end of Summer, we were playing outside in my backyard. The swing-set and playhouse were still standing, although we were all quickly outgrowing both. The wind was much colder than the still air, making the actual temperature deceivingly cold. Caitlin and I were trying to play but we both knew it was too cold for either of us to be outside without a jacket. My denial and stubbornness must have been much stronger than hers because as I sensed her nearing the decision to go home, in desperation, I told her that we could stay warm by going to a higher location, since, you know, hot air rises. She looked at me like I was pitifully dumb and said we should get low to the ground to avoid the wind. We each took our position, her crouched on the grass and me up on the top of the slide (all of 4 feet above the ground). I spread my arms as high as they would go and she covered her head. It didn't take me more than two or three seconds to realize I was not feeling warmer and that the wind was actually colder up there. However, I, being Kelly Johnson the most proud, stubborn person ever, waited more than 5 minutes to concede that it might not be warmer on top of the slide. With my tail between my legs, I backed down the ladder and joined Caitlin on the ground. Of course I couldn't control my griping about how it would have worked if I had a bigger slide or that the wind was messing it up. Caitlin went home a few minutes later anyway.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Memories 3, 4, & 5
Three of the earliest memories I have were when I was in Kindergarten.
-3-
I was in PM Kindergarten, so I didn't have to go to school until the afternoon. But since my parents had split up and my dad worked, I had to go to a different elementary school in the morning (Wattles Elementary School). Then a bus would take me to my school in the afternoon (Costello Elementary School). My dad would drive me to Wattles so early in the morning that it would still be dark out. I remember one morning my dad was holding my hand as we walked across the parking lot to the school building. All of a sudden he said "You have soft hands, like your mom." I looked up at him shocked that (one) he even mentioned her, considering none of us really spoke of her since she left, (two) he spoke of her in positive terms, and (three) he compared something about me to something about her - a high compliment since I considered her to be a paragon of femininity and beauty. He didn't say anything after that. I think he realized the unusualness of his comment.
-4-
At Wattles, the morning program I was in wasn't only for kindergarteners, but any elementary schooler whose parents couldn't stay at home with them until the bus arrived. I only attended the one year there but I recall two specific events that occurred during an activity in the gym. I don't remember whether it was unusual or not for us to be in the gym that day but there we were, granted some free time to go crazy with all the activities the adults had set out for us. At one point I went over to a table with some olda' kids playing Uno. I don't even think I played with them, but just watched. Thinking I was discovering something no one but the makers had known, I announced "Uno is Spanish for one!" The olda' kids were like "duh" but I think one or two of them hadn't made the connection before. Satisfied that I was impressive, I left. I'm pretty sure it was the same morning that I decided to do something artsy. I grabbed some paper and a stapler with the intention of making a book. The only problem was that the stapler wasn't deep (?) enough to staple the center of the stack of paper so I could fold it in half. Thinking I was clever, I wondered away and settled on the hardwood floor of the gym to solve the problem. After struggling for a bit I realized the stapler can open. Inspired, I laid the papers on the ground and pressed the stapler against the middle. Just as I was pressing down, an olda' boy walking by looked down at me and said, surprisingly angrily (why did he care?) "You can't do it that way, idiot!" I stubbornly ignored him and pressed down, not once, but twice on the fold of my book. I went to pick it up and immediately realized his point - I had attached the stack of papers to the hardwood floor. He walked away smug. I was sure he was going to tell on me so I quickly tugged on the papers. Not wanting to seem foolish for not heeding his rude warning, I ripped the papers, leaving the staples in the floor, and quickly threw away the evidence. I never got in trouble for the incident and as far as I know, those staples are still embedded in the gym at that elementary school.
-5-
When you're in kindergarten, the teachers basically teach you for 1-2 hours and let you play for the rest of the day. They provide a lot of entertainment, too. Especially on special days. I recall the ridiculous way we celebrated St. Patrick's Day that year. I believe this also occurred at Wattles. The teacher and some parents were making pancakes, but not just any pancakes, GREEN pancakes. Anyway, we made the gross pancakes, of course very excitedly because they were different than how we made them at home, and got to eat them. They had provided butter and plastic knives. I sliced some butter and spread it on my pancakes. When I was satisfied that they were covered, I absentmindedly brought the knife to my mouth and stuck my tongue out to lick it. One of the teachers saw what I was about to do and stopped me, warning that I might cut my tongue by doing that. Accepting that she was concerned for me, not trying to control me, I heeded her advice. Later that same day, Nana and Papa came over for dinner. The 6 of us sat at the table, said grace and dug in. I sliced some butter with the community butter knife and spread it on a biscuit. Forgetting the incident earlier that day, I stuck out my tongue and licked the knife. My dad, who had watched me do this, waited until I was done and made an exasperated noise. I looked at him, wondering what I had done wrong to make his face seem so angry. I probably said something dumb like "what?" and he made another exasperated noise and asked "Why do you think I wouldn't want you to do that?" and, after recalling the same situation earlier that day, I hesitantly muttered " 'cause I could cut my tongue?" Another exasperated sound. "No, what if I wanted to use that knife?" The small hope that he had been worried about me vanished. "Oh." I acted miserable for the rest of the meal, convincing myself that the teacher lady cared more about me than my dad.
-3-
I was in PM Kindergarten, so I didn't have to go to school until the afternoon. But since my parents had split up and my dad worked, I had to go to a different elementary school in the morning (Wattles Elementary School). Then a bus would take me to my school in the afternoon (Costello Elementary School). My dad would drive me to Wattles so early in the morning that it would still be dark out. I remember one morning my dad was holding my hand as we walked across the parking lot to the school building. All of a sudden he said "You have soft hands, like your mom." I looked up at him shocked that (one) he even mentioned her, considering none of us really spoke of her since she left, (two) he spoke of her in positive terms, and (three) he compared something about me to something about her - a high compliment since I considered her to be a paragon of femininity and beauty. He didn't say anything after that. I think he realized the unusualness of his comment.
-4-
At Wattles, the morning program I was in wasn't only for kindergarteners, but any elementary schooler whose parents couldn't stay at home with them until the bus arrived. I only attended the one year there but I recall two specific events that occurred during an activity in the gym. I don't remember whether it was unusual or not for us to be in the gym that day but there we were, granted some free time to go crazy with all the activities the adults had set out for us. At one point I went over to a table with some olda' kids playing Uno. I don't even think I played with them, but just watched. Thinking I was discovering something no one but the makers had known, I announced "Uno is Spanish for one!" The olda' kids were like "duh" but I think one or two of them hadn't made the connection before. Satisfied that I was impressive, I left. I'm pretty sure it was the same morning that I decided to do something artsy. I grabbed some paper and a stapler with the intention of making a book. The only problem was that the stapler wasn't deep (?) enough to staple the center of the stack of paper so I could fold it in half. Thinking I was clever, I wondered away and settled on the hardwood floor of the gym to solve the problem. After struggling for a bit I realized the stapler can open. Inspired, I laid the papers on the ground and pressed the stapler against the middle. Just as I was pressing down, an olda' boy walking by looked down at me and said, surprisingly angrily (why did he care?) "You can't do it that way, idiot!" I stubbornly ignored him and pressed down, not once, but twice on the fold of my book. I went to pick it up and immediately realized his point - I had attached the stack of papers to the hardwood floor. He walked away smug. I was sure he was going to tell on me so I quickly tugged on the papers. Not wanting to seem foolish for not heeding his rude warning, I ripped the papers, leaving the staples in the floor, and quickly threw away the evidence. I never got in trouble for the incident and as far as I know, those staples are still embedded in the gym at that elementary school.
-5-
When you're in kindergarten, the teachers basically teach you for 1-2 hours and let you play for the rest of the day. They provide a lot of entertainment, too. Especially on special days. I recall the ridiculous way we celebrated St. Patrick's Day that year. I believe this also occurred at Wattles. The teacher and some parents were making pancakes, but not just any pancakes, GREEN pancakes. Anyway, we made the gross pancakes, of course very excitedly because they were different than how we made them at home, and got to eat them. They had provided butter and plastic knives. I sliced some butter and spread it on my pancakes. When I was satisfied that they were covered, I absentmindedly brought the knife to my mouth and stuck my tongue out to lick it. One of the teachers saw what I was about to do and stopped me, warning that I might cut my tongue by doing that. Accepting that she was concerned for me, not trying to control me, I heeded her advice. Later that same day, Nana and Papa came over for dinner. The 6 of us sat at the table, said grace and dug in. I sliced some butter with the community butter knife and spread it on a biscuit. Forgetting the incident earlier that day, I stuck out my tongue and licked the knife. My dad, who had watched me do this, waited until I was done and made an exasperated noise. I looked at him, wondering what I had done wrong to make his face seem so angry. I probably said something dumb like "what?" and he made another exasperated noise and asked "Why do you think I wouldn't want you to do that?" and, after recalling the same situation earlier that day, I hesitantly muttered " 'cause I could cut my tongue?" Another exasperated sound. "No, what if I wanted to use that knife?" The small hope that he had been worried about me vanished. "Oh." I acted miserable for the rest of the meal, convincing myself that the teacher lady cared more about me than my dad.
Memory 2
Some other early memories I have are from when I was in preschool. The place was called "Child Time" and I have a couple little bits of memories from there. That makes sense, considering I attended this place several years before going to kindergarten and they say your earliest memories will be from around the time you are 4 years old.
I remember I had two friends, Michelle Kufta and Michelle Purna. Why I remember their whole names? Probably because my dad did and we reminisce now and then about those times. Anyway, we would do things like sneak off and eat paper or glue or something stupid like that.
I think Kevin and I sat together at snack time and sawed our Club crackers (rubbing one cracker edge on another cracker edge) to make cracker dust to eat. The actual point was to see how far you could saw down the middle of a cracker without breaking it in half.
One time I was out on the playground and I really had to pee but I couldn't make it to the building. I was sitting on the long piece of wood that surrounded the play structure and contained the pebbled rocks that the structure was nestled in. I just let loose on the wood there, thinking no one would be able to tell since I was wearing shorts that were multicolored. Once I finished I noticed the wet spot on the wood. Not wanting anyone to see it and find me out, I quickly covered the spot with pebbles and then pushed them off, leaving the bit of dust which covered/absorbed the wetness. I think I also used this technique to dry some of the wetness on my bum. Satisfied that I had gotten away with it, I returned to the building at the end of outside time. I don't think anyone noticed anything at all. I don't recall anyone asking anything about my pants looking wet.
The building is on the South side of Long Lake (the road my dad's house is off of, if you recall). The huge fenced in playing area is to the East and South of the building with the parking lot to the West. Next door to the preschool parking lot was a house and past that was a Chinese restaurant but beyond that was a Dairy Queen. We all knew it was there, whether we could see it or not. The Southwest part of the outside playing area that butted up against the parking lot had a strange wood contraption that seemed to be intended for balance practice or something. The low, narrow beams really served no other purpose I was aware of. That was the big kids area, where the olda kids would hang out. Sometimes we would stare through the fence, across the parking lot and plot to one day break out, get some ice cream and either run away or come back unnoticed. Other times I remember we would just hang out on the wood beams talking big kids stuff. That was when one of the kids explained to me how girls had a certain number of eggs she was born with while boys produced sperm constantly.
Sometimes the adults would organize a soccer game in the grassy area in the middle of the playing area that stretched along the south side of the building. I felt like that was my time to shine since I played soccer for TYSL (Troy Youth Soccer League thank you very much). I remember how much fun the teacher lady was having. She was fairly young, late twenties I think.
We would have nap time in this large room. Everyone got a mat and we brought our own pillows and blankets if we wanted. Another teacher lady, Miss Janice, would wonder around and scratch our backs with her long acrylic nails. For the longest time I would have this tune in my head that I would play on the piano but not know where the song came from. But years later I remembered that it was the music they would play for us while we napped. I think they even played it on a record player. It was also during these nap times that I struggled to figure out how people slept on their stomachs without suffocating. I tried and tried but I couldn't figure it out. Well, that was because it hadn't occurred to me that I could turn my head to the side and lay on a cheek. Instead I was trying to take big breaths and hold them or lever my mouth up with my forehead while I lay face down in the pillow. I've since then discovered the proper technique to sleeping on your stomach without suffocating yourself.
I think I remember my mom being late to pick us up pretty often. The building had a bubble window that faced the parking lot that we would sit in and wait, watching for her to come.
The memory that is no doubt the climax of my memories from Child Time was a death defying stunt off a swing...the wrong way! (du du dunnnnnn ... and so on) To the east of the building is the swing set structure with about 6 swings on it. I recall it was here I learned the "one for the money" thing, the swinging in sync sayings "telephone line" "Love line" etc. I also recall watching a teacher lady swing but whenever she would swing backward and bend her legs, instead of keeping her legs together from knee to ankle, she would make a V. I think I associated that then on as an old person swinger trait. Anyway, this particular day, I was swinging pretty well, getting some good height. We would often cheer each other on to get them to jump from great heights. Such feats were being encouraged that day and I was feeling, like always, like showing off a bit. I tried to swing as high as I could and I let go with my hands, making a flying motion. It worked fine the way backward but since my arms were behind the chains and my legs were pointing straight out, I flew backwards off the swing, continuing to head upwards for a few, long seconds before I paused midair as my upward velocity equaled out with my downward momentum and then I began to plummet. I landed on all fours, safe and sound, like a cat almost. As all the kids and adults rushed over, I simply stood up and brushed myself off. I think I allowed for some fussing over me but mostly maintained that it had been fun, not painful. I think as I retold the story, somewhere along the line I added that at the moment when I was paused, midair, I thought to myself a line from Fern Gully "uh oh, gravity works" before falling to the ground.
I remember I had two friends, Michelle Kufta and Michelle Purna. Why I remember their whole names? Probably because my dad did and we reminisce now and then about those times. Anyway, we would do things like sneak off and eat paper or glue or something stupid like that.
I think Kevin and I sat together at snack time and sawed our Club crackers (rubbing one cracker edge on another cracker edge) to make cracker dust to eat. The actual point was to see how far you could saw down the middle of a cracker without breaking it in half.
One time I was out on the playground and I really had to pee but I couldn't make it to the building. I was sitting on the long piece of wood that surrounded the play structure and contained the pebbled rocks that the structure was nestled in. I just let loose on the wood there, thinking no one would be able to tell since I was wearing shorts that were multicolored. Once I finished I noticed the wet spot on the wood. Not wanting anyone to see it and find me out, I quickly covered the spot with pebbles and then pushed them off, leaving the bit of dust which covered/absorbed the wetness. I think I also used this technique to dry some of the wetness on my bum. Satisfied that I had gotten away with it, I returned to the building at the end of outside time. I don't think anyone noticed anything at all. I don't recall anyone asking anything about my pants looking wet.
The building is on the South side of Long Lake (the road my dad's house is off of, if you recall). The huge fenced in playing area is to the East and South of the building with the parking lot to the West. Next door to the preschool parking lot was a house and past that was a Chinese restaurant but beyond that was a Dairy Queen. We all knew it was there, whether we could see it or not. The Southwest part of the outside playing area that butted up against the parking lot had a strange wood contraption that seemed to be intended for balance practice or something. The low, narrow beams really served no other purpose I was aware of. That was the big kids area, where the olda kids would hang out. Sometimes we would stare through the fence, across the parking lot and plot to one day break out, get some ice cream and either run away or come back unnoticed. Other times I remember we would just hang out on the wood beams talking big kids stuff. That was when one of the kids explained to me how girls had a certain number of eggs she was born with while boys produced sperm constantly.
Sometimes the adults would organize a soccer game in the grassy area in the middle of the playing area that stretched along the south side of the building. I felt like that was my time to shine since I played soccer for TYSL (Troy Youth Soccer League thank you very much). I remember how much fun the teacher lady was having. She was fairly young, late twenties I think.
We would have nap time in this large room. Everyone got a mat and we brought our own pillows and blankets if we wanted. Another teacher lady, Miss Janice, would wonder around and scratch our backs with her long acrylic nails. For the longest time I would have this tune in my head that I would play on the piano but not know where the song came from. But years later I remembered that it was the music they would play for us while we napped. I think they even played it on a record player. It was also during these nap times that I struggled to figure out how people slept on their stomachs without suffocating. I tried and tried but I couldn't figure it out. Well, that was because it hadn't occurred to me that I could turn my head to the side and lay on a cheek. Instead I was trying to take big breaths and hold them or lever my mouth up with my forehead while I lay face down in the pillow. I've since then discovered the proper technique to sleeping on your stomach without suffocating yourself.
I think I remember my mom being late to pick us up pretty often. The building had a bubble window that faced the parking lot that we would sit in and wait, watching for her to come.
The memory that is no doubt the climax of my memories from Child Time was a death defying stunt off a swing...the wrong way! (du du dunnnnnn ... and so on) To the east of the building is the swing set structure with about 6 swings on it. I recall it was here I learned the "one for the money" thing, the swinging in sync sayings "telephone line" "Love line" etc. I also recall watching a teacher lady swing but whenever she would swing backward and bend her legs, instead of keeping her legs together from knee to ankle, she would make a V. I think I associated that then on as an old person swinger trait. Anyway, this particular day, I was swinging pretty well, getting some good height. We would often cheer each other on to get them to jump from great heights. Such feats were being encouraged that day and I was feeling, like always, like showing off a bit. I tried to swing as high as I could and I let go with my hands, making a flying motion. It worked fine the way backward but since my arms were behind the chains and my legs were pointing straight out, I flew backwards off the swing, continuing to head upwards for a few, long seconds before I paused midair as my upward velocity equaled out with my downward momentum and then I began to plummet. I landed on all fours, safe and sound, like a cat almost. As all the kids and adults rushed over, I simply stood up and brushed myself off. I think I allowed for some fussing over me but mostly maintained that it had been fun, not painful. I think as I retold the story, somewhere along the line I added that at the moment when I was paused, midair, I thought to myself a line from Fern Gully "uh oh, gravity works" before falling to the ground.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Memory 1
My earliest memory is not a very normal one. It involves porn. I was about 4 or 5. I know I was young because my mom still lived with us. At that time, we would drive down to Florida about twice a year. With three kids to manage, my parents quickly figured out it would be a wise to invest in a small TV. It wasn't really a travel TV but they managed to get it to work as one. It had a 12 inch screen and a VCR player. Steve, Kevin, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. We even fought over it when we were at home. Our parents made us rotate it weekly. When it was my turn, I was ready and waiting with a VHS I was dying to watch. It was probably Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, or something else I had seen many times already but I was eager to watch it in my room. Such a novel experience for a kid. I don't remember who had the TV before me but I do remember setting it up on whatever piece of furniture was on the wall next to my door. The position is memorable because of what happened next. I closed my door and kneeled on the ground in front of the TV. I tried to push my VHS tape in only to find that space to be occupied already. I hit eject and it popped out. It was blank. I pushed it back in to see what was on it. It started playing automatically. I sat down, Indian style, and craned my neck up to watch the startling images. It was what I'd later know is called "soft-core" porn. There was just this chick outside on a four-poster bed with billowing curtains. She was just writhing around in her underwear. I didn't really understand what I was watching but I did know it was probably wrong. I don't know how much time past but at some point my mom opened the door. I instinctively jumped up and hit the power button. I was pretty smart for a kid. But I was just standing there, almost like I was at attention. I think she was saying breakfast was ready but broke off when she noticed how suspicious I was acting. She circled around me and turned the TV on. I tried explaining what happened as quickly as possible, knowing after she saw what I was watching she probably wouldn't listen to me. I was mid-sentence when the images returned. Of course it was at that point that they got a lot dirtier. She turned it off quickly and took the tape out. She didn't yell or lecture me or anything. She took my hand and we left my room. I don't remember what she said but I do remember her asking me "Why do you like to look at naked girls?" I was so surprised by the question and didn't really know what she meant, since I didn't. I just responded "I don't know." And that was the end of it. We went downstairs, hand in hand. She kind of gallops down the stairs, with a kind of hopping motion. I tried to copy it and I think I asked her how or why she did that. Whatever it was, it was more of an attempt to change the topic. Like I said, I was a smart kid.
(credit to Amanda for encouraging me to write my memories down)
(credit to Amanda for encouraging me to write my memories down)
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