Childhood Memories

This week I've been teaching my American Lit students about the little things in life, about the small details that will slip by us unnoticed if we don't take the time to see them as they're happening. I read the other night that most people don't have more than ten memories from childhood, other than things they remember from pictures. When I read that, I wanted to prove it wrong. I thought surely I had more than ten. Perhaps they're not big, ming-blowing or life-changing memories, but I'm sure I must have more than ten. Here's my list...let's see how it goes...
1. The way the aroma of bacon frying and coffee brewing mix so brilliantly at my Grandpa and Nonie's house in Auburn that it would rouse us from our beds and beckon us to the kitchen early in the morning. As a rule, Guzmans never liked to get up early, but when we were at Grandpa and Nonie's, that smell was magic. To me, that's the way mornings should always smell.
2. When I was little, maybe 4 years old or so, my Aunt Natalie and Uncle Bob took my older brother Ben and I to the beach in Santa Cruz. I don't remember if my brother Zach was there too or not, but that's sort of beside the point. I was wading in the ocean, and I'm not sure if my aunt and uncle were holding onto me or not, but a big wave came, knocked me down and dragged me back into the ocean. My Aunt freaked! I remember that vividly. I remember not really knowing what to do. I wasn't scared, really, but I do remember feeling helpless. Perhaps I was in a state of shock or something, but I remember the way it felt to not know up from down, to have no idea how I'd get back to the surface to breathe my next breath. And I remember them pulling me out. I don't know who it was--Aunt Natalie or Uncle Bob, but I remember Aunt Natalie was shaken. She was probably more scared than I was. I also remember being very cold. Santa Cruz isn't the warmest beach in the world. Even though this memory isn't the most beautiful in the world, I look back on it and recognize just how much they loved me and the mix of wanting to let me experience new things as well as terror when something went wrong. I was just fine in the end, and my mom wasn't upset about the whole ordeal (to my recollection). At least, I don't think she was; I ended up doing many more things with Aunt Natalie and Uncle Bob after that :)
3. My grandparents have a big orange tree in their backyard that's been there for as long as I can remember. One summer in particular, I remember spending the day at G&G's house and having an "orange picnic" in their front yard. We picked our oranges, which was very exciting, and then took them out to eat them on the front lawn. The funny thing about this memory is that I hated oranges. I liked the juice, but that was about it. So, I peeled my orange and chomped down on the little piggies with my molars and sucked the life out of those little wedges (and then I made a nice little pile of the discarded orange bits). My grandma was probably appalled, but what could I do? I hated oranges.
4. Speaking of Grandparents and fruit, I remember the first (and I believe only) time I heard my grandmother swear. We were on our way home from visiting my Aunt Natalie and Uncle Bob in Fresno and we stopped at Casa de Fruita, possibly for lunch or a bathroom break or something. When we got back into their cursed Ford, that dark blue one that was supposed to have been their "nice" car, it wouldn't start. That thing gave them more trouble; I guess it wasn't surprising to them that it wouldn't start, but all the same, it made my Grandmother so mad that she (with her arm around me in the back seat), said "Damn." I think. Or maybe she said "Shit." Or maybe she said "this Damn car..." Ok, I admit that the memory is fuzzy, but I do remember that she said something that shocked me. I never expected to hear her talk like that, but I think that was the day that my grandmother became human in my eyes.
5. My dad used to take us to the back parking lot Centerville Presbyterian Church to let us "drive." We had this monstrously ugly beast of a van, which made the idea of driving it terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He'd sit us on his lap and control the gas, but we had to steer. I remember he used to gun it when we were almost at the fence, and he'd say "not yet! Not yet!" and make us wait to turn. Then he'd slow way down and let us turn at the last minute. That always scared me beyond words. But I loved it.
6. My brother Zach used to associate various odd things with the different days of the week. Perhaps he still does; I should ask him. We used to ask him to list them for us, prompting him with a day of the week and laughing ourselves nearly to death when he'd say a certain day reminded him of rubber bands. I can't remember which day that was now, though. Again, I should ask him...) Anyway, we used to speculate why he'd associate certain things with certain days, and eventually we had them pretty much worked out except for Wednesday, which he associated with McDonald's french fries. Eventually, it dawned on us. On Wednesdays, we had Kid's Company at church, the midweek church event for kids at CPC. My dad was the children's pastor at the time, so we'd often stay late until all the other kids had gone home. On random nights, for no particular reason, my dad would stop by McDonald's and get us all small french fries. And then we'd go home and watch Home Improvement, which we had set the VCR to record before we left. Those were the best nights. And I'm sure it's why Zach associates those fries with Wednesdays.

Well, I've made it to number 6, but I've run out of time today. I've got to get into the shower & off to a baby shower in an hour, so I'll leave for now, but I will be back. I'm sure I've got another 4 memories at least! I'm going to prove that I'm not part of the statistic!