In order to introduce a sentimental, nostalgic\u00a0 poem, I asked my literature class the question, “What do you remember of childhood?”\u00a0 Of the 17 students, only one could give a happy memory of childhood.\u00a0 These students are only about 16 years old.\u00a0 They said they couldn’t remember being young.\u00a0 I said “How about 5 years old?”\u00a0\u00a0 This is when they started school.\u00a0 Two boys said they hadn’t wanted to go to school, and one cried about going to school,\u00a0 This was his memory of young childhood. The other said that his English grade was low and that this was bad for him, at age 5!\u00a0\u00a0 One girl said something about dancing when she was very young, and one boy said, “Playing in the dirt with my friends.”\u00a0 So much for getting into the mood of the poem.<\/p>\n
I have so many memories I can barely keep track of them.\u00a0 Perhaps my students aren’t able to comprehend the question in English, or to answer it in English.\u00a0 But for the most articulate in the class to give only these stories of sorrow made me sad.<\/p>\n
One of my very best memories came to mind several days ago, as we were riding the bus, and Dear Husband said, “I’m trying to fix the route in my mind with landmarks.”\u00a0 “Just like my brother, ” I said.\u00a0 On a day near Christmas, maybe the year 1953 or ’54, we lived in Houston, Texas. We attended a Lutheran school and we rode the city bus to go to school.\u00a0 The route involved a transfer—a little pink piece of paper that said we could get on the next bus without paying again.\u00a0 What my brother and I liked to do while waiting for that transfer bus was to go inside Foley’s department store and ride the escalator up to about the fourth floor to the toy department and Santa Claus. We stood and watched as little kids went and sat on Santa’s lap.\u00a0 We looked and looked at the amazing toys and talked about what we’d like to have for Christmas.\u00a0 Then we went back down and got on our bus and went home.\u00a0 On one such day, we missed our bus, but waited for the next one.\u00a0 When we got on and gave our little pink slips, the driver said, “Sorry, these are expired.\u00a0 You’re too late.”\u00a0 We didn’t have any extra coins for the fare, and he insisted we get off his bus.<\/p>\n
My brother said, “We’ll have to walk home,” and off we went.\u00a0 It took us hours, I’m sure.\u00a0 I well remember sitting down on some sidewalk steps to rest.\u00a0 My brother stood over me, waiting until I could go on.\u00a0 It never occurred to me to be scared, or to cry, because my brother was so confident.\u00a0 He knew the way home, all six miles,\u00a0 because he had memorized the bus route as we rode every day.\u00a0\u00a0 We were in first and second grade, he about seven and I, about six years old.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile our parents were frantic with worry, calling the school, other families, and the police.\u00a0 When we arrived home, well after dark, everyone was so grateful to see us.\u00a0 When my brother told the story, our parents called the bus authorities.\u00a0 What did daddy say? you ask.\u00a0 I don’t know.\u00a0 I was so tired and happy to be home.\u00a0 My brother was my hero that day, and to this day I look up to him.\u00a0 Thanks, bro.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In order to introduce a sentimental, nostalgic\u00a0 poem, I asked my literature class the question, “What do you remember of childhood?”\u00a0 Of the 17 students, only one could give a happy memory of childhood.\u00a0 These students are only about 16 years old.\u00a0 They said they couldn’t remember being young.\u00a0 I said “How about 5 years […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=445"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":446,"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445\/revisions\/446"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=445"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=445"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talkingwithjulia.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=445"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}