Posts Tagged ‘Childhood Memories’

Daddy May Care

October 1, 2018

My son saw Toy Story for the first time when he was 8 and couldn’t sleep because he thought his toys would come alive at night and kill him. Of course, he finally fell asleep after about an hour and later that night I sneaked into his room and rearranged his stuffed toys and Transformers. As a result, he wouldn’t sleep in his room for about three weeks and he eventually gathered all his toys in a sack and tossed them onto a fire. It cost me about $200 to replace the toys and a few thousand for the ensuing therapy but one day a long time from now – when he’s in high school and throws a Project X party or he’s at college and does something stupid and needs me to bail him out of jail – I’m gonna let him know exactly what I did and laugh like a bloody maniac.

ToyStory

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Tales From My Screwed-Up Childhood #31

July 28, 2018

When I was a really young kid, around 4 or 5, I was witness to a bizarre supernatural happening that I’ve rarely spoken about.

It just so happens that my bedroom was next to the bathroom and sometimes, very late at night, in those early morning hours when the whole house was asleep, I would wake to a strange, unearthly sound and the sight of what can only be described as – a ghost wheel. Yes, a ghost wheel. A tire, unattached to an axle or auto, spinning in place, there in the doorway of that bathroom. Amazingly, I would wake up and see this ghost tire spinning in place, never getting nearer, never moving forward or backward, just hanging there, an apparition suspended in air, rotating on an unseen axis. All the while, a familiar melody would waft eerily through the air: Blood, Sweat and Tears 1969 #2 hit, Spinning Wheel.

I swear I wasn’t asleep, yet I was never scared of the ghost tire. And to my knowledge no one else ever saw this otherworldly white wheel. It was an event that recurred with an odd regularity for several months when I was in kindergarten and yet it ceased as quickly as it began.

As an adult, I have no idea what the hell it all was – a waking dream or hallucination or – something else. Perhaps I never will. But I’d like to think that the truth is out there somewhere. That’s why I now work with the FBI’s X-Files.

The Name Game

July 15, 2018

What is the most annoying thing on earth? My vote is for when you pose the innocent question, “What’s your name?” and someone snaps back, “Puddentame. Ask me again I’ll tell you the same.” Dead annoying when it happens on the playground at recess in second grade. A real good reason for an arse kicking when the new temp tries it at a departmental meeting in front of your boss.

Seriously, that slack-jawed son of a bitch better watch his back or I will make his life a living misery.

Past Imperfect

July 7, 2018

I was going through some storage boxes in the back closet earlier and I found my old retainer and headgear and a couple of pairs of those Coke-bottle-lens glasses I wore back in junior high school (hell, I thought they were novelty specs for a second) and I was suddenly transported back to teenage years so awkward the geeks in chess club who played D&D and ran their rock tumblers nonstop could hold their heads high, secure in the knowledge that at least they weren’t me.

Seriously, Puberty! You’re nothing more than the ultimate proof Mother Nature’s nothing but a sadist.

Aaaaah, Freak Out!

May 25, 2018

I admit the 1970s were bizarre time and place. For instance, there was a moment when Ralston Purina thought it would be a good idea to create a cereal full of hideous mutant creatures, sort of a Captain Crunch meats Tod Browning’s Freaks. Or maybe a Snap, Crackle & Pop for the Love Canal generation, if you will. Regardless, the Freakies were born and kids around the world became devotees of this ghastly cadre of breakfast beasts. Well, perhaps not around the world – but definitely around my breakfast table. Freakies was my favorite cer-e-eel. Y’know, I think I still have my rubber Snorkeldorf around in a box somewhere. (And, no, that’s not a euphemism.)

Tales From My Screwed-Up Childhood #16

May 18, 2018

What’s worse than having your parents force you to go to a birthday party you don’t want to attend? Having someone else’s parents force you to go to a birthday party you don’t want to attend.

In middle school, my best friend’s little brother was having a birthday party. I got a perfunctory invite but didn’t plan on attending due to A) the somewhat annoying nature of the birthday boy, B) the fact that I wasn’t friends with the kid, and C) the realization that I’d rather spork my own eyes out than spend five minutes with the corduroy pillow-humping creep (sadly, a description I did not just make up). Unfortunately, my best friend’s mom, under the mistaken impression that my friendship with her elder son had stifled her youngest’s ability to maintain friends of his own (see C above and you’ll know why that wasn’t true), told me that I could not have my best friend at my upcoming birthday bash unless I attended the party of his younger brother.

Luckily, my best friend got sick the day of the party and his mother consented to allow me to leave the gathering early in order to keep him company. Sigh. Heart of a saint she had. (She kept it in an urn on the mantel.)

Dad Man Balking

April 16, 2018

My old man absolutely hated birthdays and refused to celebrate his under any circumstances. Once I made the mistake of baking him a birthday cake and presenting it to him after dinner. He wasn’t the least bit thankful or happy. In fact, he threw the cake against the wall and locked me in an old freezer we had out in the garage for two days.

To this day, I can’t eat angel food without balling up into the fetal position and crying.

cake

Tales From My Screwed-Up Childhood #17

February 16, 2018

I remember a trip to Yosemite back in ’89 when my sister and I were at that angry sibling/annoying sibling stage. We were in the back seat and, about every 30 seconds, she’d slam her fist into my tender arm and shout, “Punch bug!”

“Punch bug!” Bam!

“Punch bug!” Smack!

“Punch bug!” Thwack!

“Punch bug!” Wham!

All the way from Louisville to Peoria. Finally, when I couldn’t take another slug, I screamed, “It doesn’t count when you’re INSIDE a Volkswagen!”

She just giggled like a maniac while Dad pretended not to hear and Mom knocked back another Jack & Coke. Worst road trip of my life.

Tales From My Screwed-Up Childhood #12

January 13, 2018

When I was a kid, I had a dog named Ringo. He was an older dog and I was really young – about three or four – when Ringo became ill and had to be put to sleep. Of course, my idiot parents didn’t want to tell me that, so they made up a story. No, not the “he went to live on a farm” one. I was told that Ringo had been taken to the vet but he had escaped from his cage and run out into the road and then been hit by a car. I have no idea how any adult could think that was the better white lie for a preschooler, but that’s the family in which I was raised.

Begins to explain a lot about me, eh?

Rattle & Roll

November 25, 2017

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When I was a kid and I was asked where I wanted to eat, I would always reply the same thing: Shakey’s Pizza. Problem was: there was no Shakey’s nearby – or even in my city. I’d apparently seen a commercial during Thundercats or Dangermouse or something and I thought it was the end-all be-all of pizzeria experiences. All that piano playing and delicious pizza pie … aw, man; that’s my idea of heaven!

So one day, my dad – always one to think outside the box and save a few bucks – brought home some Totino’s Pizza Rolls and banged out chopsticks on my sister’s Fisher-Price Step and Play Piano and said that I should stop my whining and never mention those bastards at Shakey’s ever again.

Yeah, we weren’t close much after that, the old man and I.