Sunday, July 16, 2017

The First Memory...

My earliest childhood memories center around the street we lived on briefly in the early 1960's.  I have vague memories of the inside of the house - a rocking chair and some windows.  That's about it. Outside the street was in a typical neighborhood.  Instead of a cul de sac, our street just ended.  The road stopped and there were trees and such.

I recall my brothers helping me climb up into a tree but I was simply unable to climb down.  I can speculate now that I was just afraid to fall.  My father came and reached into the tree to lift me down onto the ground.

There is another memory of being in the back yard and hearing some kids on the other side of the fence. They threw a ball over then fence and I threw it back.  At some point, I made the decision to walk around the block to see if I could get to the house where they were at.  I went out to the front of my house and started walking down the street.  As I recall, I was either counting the houses or somehow trying to determine how many houses I would have to pass on the other street to get back to where those kids were.  No idea how far I walked or if I ever got there.

The final memory of that street was of the candy man.  There was a man (I actually remember his name) who we called the candy man because he would work in his garage and give us candy when he saw us out playing.  I do very specifically recall going into his garage alone with him.  I might have even gone in his house.  I'm not trying to imply anything good or bad from this visit, I simply don't know.

In my mind, we moved away shortly after that, but I simply have no frame of reference aside from the fact that my father was reassigned to a military base two hours away and we relocated.

One of the reasons I'm so reluctant to believe the historical accuracy of books like the bible is that I often find it difficult to get a straight story on what happened when two people witnessed the same event that occurred an hour ago.  Lawyers will argue that witnesses to events are highly inaccurate in describing what they saw.  No telling how many innocent people are in jail because an eyewitness placed them in a place they don't otherwise have an alibi for.  I bring this up because I want to write about my earliest memories of childhood. But really, aside from being able corroborate dates and locations with my parents, how do I even know if my memories of my earliest beginnings are even real?

I've written before that I was (by today's standards) very promiscuous at an early age.  I'm no longer trying to determine if I was somehow molested or abused in some way.  But I would like to at least draw a line between the first time I started showing my dick to my playmates and how that translated into the person I am today.  Or maybe there is no correlation and I'm just grasping at straws.  


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