I have decided to focus this blog on "the moments", or memories of my life, so it only seems fitting that I begin with my earliest recollections. My first memory was actually quite traumatic. I remember we were preparing to eat dinner and I was eager to help my Mom set the table. She had prepared a roast and some other side dishes. When ever we had a roast, the drippings were served to be drizzled over the meat and potatoes. My mother had removed the vegetables to serving dishes, the roast to a serving platter, and the broth was poured into a 4 cup Pyrex measuring decanter. After carrying some vegetables to the table and while my mother was setting the roast on the table, I went back to the kitchen with the intent to deliver the broth to the table. I am not exactly sure what transpired next (perhaps it was too heavy or the glass pitcher was too hot for my hands), but the broth ended up on my right arm. I was very young (4, maybe 5) and all I remember was being wrapped in a blanket and rushed to the car. Later I learned that I was wearing a wool sweater that was quickly pulled over my head, but an intricate scar remains.
Overall I would say that I had a pretty normal middle-class upbringing during the 60's (I was born in 1962). While I was the last of six children (3 brothers, 2 sisters) I was raised primarily with my brother Kevin who was four years older then I. I was born very late in my parents life; my father, John Lester Blodgett, was born in 1917 and was 45 at my birth while my mother, Flora May (Irons) Blodgett was born in 1916 and was almost 46 at my birth. When I was born my three oldest siblings (Beverly, Nancy, and Ken) were each married and had children. Beverly had a three-year old son, Doug and a one-year old daughter, Barb. Nancy had a one-year old daughter, Elizabeth, and Ken had a one-year old daughter, Kim. I was born an uncle. While most children grew up playing with their cousins, I was playing with my nieces and nephews. My other brother, Keith was married when I was about 6 months old. Now that we have some of the structure in place, I can move on with my moments.
As many small boys did, I idolized my big brother, and in return he tortured me. I recall a rather elaborate scheme that he put together one time around Halloween. Kevin had sent away for a mail order kit that included some balloons that had eyes and a plastic sheet designed to hang from the balloon like a ghost. He rigged our bedroom up with fishing line and that night when I went to bed, but before I had fallen asleep I heard the closet door creak open and out floated a ghost. I screamed, then I cried. My brother got grounded, again.
But as a hero, he was best. One time we were riding bikes (I had a cool Schwinn with the banana seat and the sissy-bar, it was green) and my chain fell off. Back then all the bikes had a coaster brake which relied on pushing the pedals in reverse. Well, if you lost the chain, you lost your brakes. We lived on a pretty steep hill and my brother was down the hill from where I was. I panicked and started to yell. Somehow my brother figured out what my problem was and stepped in front of me with two arms straight out and grabbed my handlebars. Of course, I flew right up into the handlebars, and my brother. Once we recovered from the pile of rubble, I realized that something was very sore in a very tender area. We left our bikes and hiked back up to the house where we tried to explain to our Mom what had happened. I had to remove my shorts to show her where the injury was, and realized that I was bleeding. She tried to explain that I had injured my testicles (we didn't talk of these things). My brother and I thought she said Texaco and we could not stop laughing.
One year on vacation we took Doug, my nephew who was three years older then me and one year younger than Kevin. They were fast buddies from day 1 and I was the outcast. They agreed to order the same food at every meal, but decided I could not have what they were having. Of course I was distraught. Looking back on this with my "I'm a parent now" glasses on I cannot imagine how my parents put up with us.
After watching an animated cartoon of "The Princess and the Pea" we decided to test our sensitivities. We gathered every pillow, pad, and cushion in the house. We chose to stack them on a living room chair that rocked and swiveled. Once we had them piled up as high as we could, my brother Kevin took a running start and flying leap to get on top and check it out. Of course, we had not taken physics yet. His momentum took the rocking chair right over backwards as he crashed through a 5' x 6' plate glass window. Fortunately, he did not get seriously injured. My Dad had a Super 8 camera when we were growing up, but we were not allowed to touch it. Too bad. Some of this stuff would be right at home on YouTube.
We each had our own Hippity Hop when we were growing up. One day we decided to hang one from the back porch and hit it with a baseball bat. After watching my brother wind up and swing at it only to have the bat bounce off and hit him in the shoulder I grabbed the bat to show him how to do it. At the time I was about six inches shorter than my brother. I swung with everything I had and woke up a few minutes later laying on the bench of our picnic table saying "Where am I"?
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