I have been invited by a blog friend to participate in another writing prompt. JTS is running, haha pun, a prompt called Memories. I will attempt to link in there so we can share each others stories. My apologies if the link doesn't work but I will try. You know all about my computer skills.
Memories. Well! I have 51 years worth of them, and since my scribblings in here are predominantly based on same, rather than my imagination , you could just scroll back to any of my old posts to find them. Welcome. But it sounds like fun so, here goes anotherie.
I thought I would go right back as far as I could go in my memory and tell you about my very first memory.
As we know our memories can be tainted by family stories and others remembrances but this one, well I was very young, but this is mine.
My dad was taking me for a walk and I was clinging onto his shoulder as he carried me on his hip along a darkish shaded pathway. The trees were really tall and meeting over our heads and the pathway was well worn and of damp feet beaten earth with leaves scattered across it. I was fascinated by the trees above and the sudden quick movements of monkeys scrambling in the foliage overhead. They were chattering and screeching but I was safe. That is my very earliest memory.
It is backed up by family story because when I was a baby we lived in Malaysia, my Dad was in the army and working there and we did live near a pathway through a jungled area where monkeys lived.
Hmm. My next earliest memory was of the back yard where my parents were building a house in Wagga. The same house where my children David, and Anne-Marie now live, so it is still a family home. My Mum's house.
The builders were digging trenches across the back yard to install pipes and I was exploring and fell into one of the trenches. The ground was damp and slippery and the sides of the trench were too steep for me to climb back out. I called and called for someone to help but there was nobody near enough to hear me so I cried myself to sleep. I can't remember how I got back out or who helped me but I remember being so scared nobody would ever find me. According to when the house was built I would have been around two years old at the time.
Another early memory was in the Wagga house also. My Dad had a cricketing friend who lived across the street from us and about 5 or 6 houses up the road. He would come and have a beer with Dad and sit on the lounge while my sister and I played with his daughters, I remember one of them names Rebecca, but the other girls name escapes me. Anyway his name was Harry Penrith. He was an aboriginal man who later became famous, or infamous, whichever your personal upbringing allows you to believe. I remember I liked him anyway.... and as my sister always was competetive for my parents attention I would climb up on Uncle Harry's lap for cuddles. Harry later became an aboriginal activist and went over to England to present a document to the Queen claiming England on behalf of the Australian aboriginals. I always thought that was cool considering our country's history. Ha ha ha, Go Uncle Harry. I have a book written on his life somewhere. It content does not always tally with family stories. The book is called Burnum Burnum which is his aboriginal name.
My mother tells me, (this is Australia in the early 1960's remember) that we were teased at school because we played with his children who were black. In those days it was frowned upon. My own father had aboriginal blood running through his veins and chose not to tell his girls about their heritage because of public opinion at the time, which I found really sad. I in fact, only found out about this side of my family by mistake from a cousin many many years later. I guess it was his way of protecting us from his own experience.
O.k. there is my first go at the new prompt, my first memories.
Now if linking in works.........?
P.S. the link will hopefully show up in my favorite reads list in the sidebar.