Tag Archives: Childhood Stories

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Something I Always Thought Was True (But Wasn’t)

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Click here to read everyone else’s replies to this week’s question and here to see the full list of topics for the year.

A young Asian girl holding onto an orange and white inner tube in a swimming pool. She has a happy expression on her face, and there are several other empty orange and white inner tubes next to her. When I was a kid, we believed that you had to wait an hour after eating before swimming. If you broke this rule, you might get stomach cramps so severe that you could drown due to not being able to swim to the edge of the pool or other body of water.

It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized this advice is false.

According to the Mayo Clinic, there is no need to wait an hour (or 30 minutes, as some families apparently taught).

While it might be a little physically uncomfortable to swim vigorously if you’ve eaten a very large meal, even that isn’t dangerous. At worst, you might get mild stomach cramps, but if that were to happen they would not be severe enough to prevent you from swimming to safety if needed. (Or, you know, calling for help!)

The much more likely scenario, though, is that nothing untoward happens at all even if you swim after a meal every single day of your life. You simply have a good meal and a nice swim without any side effects.

I wish I had known this when I was seven and eagerly counting down the minutes until I could jump back into the pool or lake!

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Favorite Memories From My Childhood

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A spool of film that’s been unraveled. These photos probably can’t be printed now!Age 4 or 5. It’s spring and my family is walking through Goll Woods, a nature preserve in Ohio. Some parts of the preserve have dirt paths carved through them, but it is otherwise pretty close to how it would look if humans weren’t around. There’s no gift shop or bathroom. Just a gravel parking lot and a few trails that loop around for walkers. “Stay on the trail” my father said. It would be so easy to step off of it to see the new flowers in the woods, but I listen to him. The woods are one of the prettiest things I’ve seen in my short life, all covered in flowers after a long winter.

Age 7. We live in Wyoming now, and it is summer. The mountains are so filled with snow that we generally can’t drive up there between mid-autumn and mid-spring, but our summer day trips up there are mild and beautiful. I’m standing next to a crystal-clear lake in this memory and looking at the Rocky Mountains looming above the water. There is still snow up in the mountains even this late into summer, but there is no more ice or snow on the lake. It has melted, although the water is so ice-cold you wouldn’t want to swim in it even in July or August. We have a picnic lunch by the lake, and the world feels peaceful and happy.

Age 11. We have just moved back to Ohio because my father had just been hired to be a pastor there. It was a decent-sized church for a rural place, about 200 people or so. I’m thrilled to live close to my maternal grandparents again and am running around their farm to see what has changed since our last visit. The wooden swing down by the creek is gone now, probably because either the wood or the rope was too rotten to be safely used anymore, but the barn cats are still prowling around, Grandma’s garden is growing nicely, and there are a lot of pretty flowers growing in the woods and out behind the barn where my grandfather doesn’t mow due to how many old pieces of farm equipment have been stored there. In this memory I keep running until I’ve inspected every bit of the farm that children are allowed to visit alone there.

So many of my happiest memories from childhood involve nature! How about all of you?

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Top Ten Tuesday: Books that Bring Me Happy Memories

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More than once I’ve blogged about classic novels that bring me happy memories, so this time around I’m going to focus on books I’ve read more recently.

Book cover for Phases by Brandy. Image on cover shows the singer Brandy wearing a fluffy blue shirt and looking head with a contemplative expression on her face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.Phases by Brandy

One of my favourite things about her memoir were the explanations of the origins of some of her early hit songs like “Best Friend.” It reminded me of how excited I was to listen to her earlier albums as they were among the first pieces of secular music my parents allowed me to buy. (I was a preacher’s kid who was also homeschooled for several years, so most of the music I heard for the first dozen or so years of my life was Christian).

Book cover for First-Time Fostering: A Practical Guide for Supporting Kids in Foster Care by Laura the Foster Parent Partner. Image on cover is a child-like drawing of a yellow house with a red roof. It’s a little off-kilter but very cute.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.First-Time Fostering: A Practical Guide for Supporting Kids in Foster Care by Laura the Foster Parent Partner

While I’ve never been a foster or adoptive parent, I have multiple relatives who have done this over the years. Many of their foster kids were able to be successfully reunited with their birth families, but some foster kids ended up joining our extended family on a permanent basis. My definition of normal includes the joy of welcoming new kids into the family, whether it’s for a few months or forever. Of course it’s hard for a foster family to say goodbye, but I’m also incredibly proud of my relatives who gave all of those kids a safe place to stay for a while.

 

Book cover for The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel  by Jean M. Auel. Image on cover is a stylized drawing of large bushes that are partially obstructing the mouth of a medium-sized cave.

 

3. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel  by Jean M. Auel

My interest in prehistory and Neanderthals started as a kid when a teacher did some lessons on those subjects, but this was the first full-length novel I read about them. It’s become a lifelong interest at this point, and I’m still waiting for someone to invent a Time Machine so I can go back and see how many of my theories about the past are true. I will always have a soft spot for Auel because of this.

 

Book cover for Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary. Image on cover shows a little brunette white girl who is gleefully squeezing all of the toothpaste out of the tube as her horrified older sister looks on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Cleary

These were among the first chapter books I ever read that made me feel like the author really understood what it’s like to be a kid, especially when it comes to the weird stuff children sometimes do that makes sense to them but befuddles older kids and grownups.

I felt so seen and understood when I read the first few books in this series. (My school library didn’t have all of them, unfortunately, but I did get to finally finish this series as an adult a few years ago!)

 

 

 

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Have You Ever Attended Your High School Reunion? Why?

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Click here to read everyone else’s replies to this week’s question and here to see the full list of topics for the year.

Black and white photo of an empty hallway filled with sunlight in a school.

For illustrative purposes only. This wasn’t my school.

No, I’ve never attended any of my high school reunions and I never will.

Let me explain.

I was homeschooled from preschool through grade 3 and had excellent experiences with that for the most part.

In grades 4 and 5, I attended a wonderfully friendly little school in the western portion of the United States. Had I stayed there, maybe things would have turned out differently.

The summer before I began grade 6, we moved cross-country to a rural part of the midwest because a church there hired my dad as their new pastor. Most of my classmates had been together since kindergarten, if not much earlier in life, and at best the majority of them were not at all interested in welcoming new kids into the fold.

I was bullied for years, mostly emotionally although there were a few minor physical altercations as well. In retrospect, these experiences caused severe depression and social anxiety. Yes, I made a few friends along the way, but no one I kept up with after graduation.

One thing that kept me going was the thought that someday I would never again be legally required to interact with any of the people who made my life miserable for so many years.

My final year of high school only included two classes on campus which was a massive relief. The rest of the time, I was joyfully taking courses at a local college for free thanks for a dual enrolment program my school offered.

I was confused by classmates who grieved the end of high school.  Their experiences were nothing at all like mine.

For me, those years are something I will revisit in the rare blog post but that is all.

I forgive those classmates and genuinely hope they’ve become kind and accepting adults, but I never developed the deep emotional connection to that chapter of my life that I’d need in order to be willing to travel internationally and spend a substantial sum of money just to attend a class reunion. The window of opportunity for that closed many years ago. No thank you.

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: A Story About My Best Teacher

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Empty rows of desks in a high school classroom. Linda Fetter was my best teacher. She’s almost certainly retired or maybe not even alive anymore based on her age when I first met her and how many years it has been since I graduated high school, therefore I think it’s okay to mention her by name here. I have never seen anything about her online, so I doubt she’ll ever know about this post even if she is still with us.

The first class I took with her was ninth grade Language Arts, and I loved how clearly she explained the grammar lessons she taught to us. She knew just how to use the right metaphors when we weren’t quite getting it.

Our class was the first period of the  day. If we acted too sleepy, she’d have us stand up and do a few jumping jacks to get our blood pumping which I always found amusing.

Later on I took a mandatory speech course as well as two elective courses with her that involved nothing but reading from a pre-selected list of classic novels. The latter were a nice break from the classes I took that had heavy homework loads as all she required of us was that we spend a few minutes reading every night after school. It was so much easier than conjugating irregular Spanish verbs or trying to figure out quadratic equations.

She also added little flourishes to her lessons that I will never forget. For example, she’d play classical music and give us peppermints to suck on during exams because she’d read studies that showed those things improved test scores. (Whether they are still thought to be helpful, I don’t know. She paid attention to the latest academic research of the time, though.)

Sometimes we’d go outside for class at the end of the year when the weather was really nice. That was always a refreshing break from the stuffy classrooms as our school didn’t have air conditioning and it could get rather hot and humid by the beginning of June.

I loved the care and concern she showed for her students and wished she could have taught Language Arts for grades 10, 11, and 12 as well.

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: A Few Happy Memories From My Life

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Click here to read everyone else’s replies to this week’s question and here to see the full list of topics for the year.

Here are a few of my happy memories.

Age 4. My mother was heavily pregnant with her third child. Me and my toddler-aged brother sat on the couch next to her, gently touched her belly, and talked to the baby that would soon be joining us.

Age 8. Our family lived in a trailer home next to a highway that was built on a big hill behind our home. We were very low income, and I know my parents worried about how that would affect their kids. The biggest thing on my mind then was how often I’d get to go sledding down that hill. We had some lightweight plastic sleds that glided down that hill perfectly. It was my favourite thing in the entire world other than reading, and I did not care that my parents couldn’t afford to buy us fancy new toys or name-brand clothes.

Wooden library shelves filled with books. Age 18. Exams were wrapping up, and winter break was just about to begin. I sat in my college library and thumbed through the magazines they had there, paying special attention to the ones about science, literature, or history. It was neither a big library nor a fancy one, but I loved how quiet and peaceful it always was. I spent a lot of time there between classes even if I didn’t have any papers to write or upcoming tests to study for.

Adult. Recently married and living in Canada now. We couldn’t afford to travel on our honeymoon, so we explored a lot of free or low-cost stuff to do here in Toronto instead. I was amazed at how large, clean, and beautiful High Park was. Out of all of the parks in the world, it’s still my favourite one.

Adult. My first book was published, a collection of short stories. (There’s a link to it at the top of this site). I really should try to get more of my work published sometime. Writer’s block is terrible.

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: My Unusual Hobbies/Interests

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Click here to read everyone else’s replies to this week’s question and here to see the full list of topics for the year.

Closeup shot of four stacks of various amounts of pennies on a wooden floor. I’ve been looking forward to this topic for months! Let’s see if our ideas of unusual hobbies and interests match up.

I’ve already told you all about my pet earthworms that horrified my mother, so let’s dig up some other interesting memories.

When I was a kid, I sometimes played with coins.

I liked stacking them up on each other as tall as I could, or making groups of them in various sizes and pretending they were little families, or of playing a miniature version of curling with them where one penny would be pushed quickly on our laminate or wood floor to see how many stacks I could topple.

It provided hours of free entertainment.

 

The Black Death was another interest of mine for years. We must have had a lesson about it in school that talked about how high the death rates were, but I had trouble wrapping my mind around how many people died during those waves of disease and read many books about the subject as a kid and teen.

 

I had another phase after my grandmother’s death where I asked my mother countless questions about what heaven would be like since the Bible wasn’t vivid enough on the topic for my tastes. When she didn’t know, she eventually bought me a book from the Christian bookstore on the topic which I quietly refused to read because I didn’t know or trust the author. Was I expecting God to come down and answer my questions personally? 😂 I don’t know, and I did appreciate the effort, but I didn’t want conjecture. I wanted proof.

 

Slipping out of church to explore was another hobby of mine because preacher’s kids spend a lot of time in such places. If it’s not our home church, it will probably be a church pastored by someone we know.  There was one church we occasionally visited that was massive and had dozens of rooms to explore.A few rooms were filled with books, religious of course.  One time I wandered up to what I think was the attic and found a door with a piece of paper on it that said something like “Protected by Angels.” I did not open that door and still have no idea what was on the other side.

 

So those are or were some of my unusual hobbies. How about all of you?

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: What Were You Like as a Child?

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Click here to read everyone else’s replies to this week’s question and here to see the full list of topics for the year.

When I was a child, I was:

Quiet and shy. I still am!

Well-behaved. My friend Mei-Ling’s mother once asked her why she couldn’t be more like me. This embarrassed me as I didn’t think people should be compared like that.

Studious. I made the honour roll every semester, although I did get C grades in Spanish, Math, or Science sometimes. History the arts, and English were easier subjects for me.

Bookish. I read constantly and insatiably on every subject matter I could find.

Anxious. When I was about 8, I took a break from reading only to realize I couldn’t find my parents or siblings anywhere. We lived in a cozy trailer home at the time, and so I should have been able to find someone within a minute or two. Given that I was a preacher’s kid, my first assumption was that everyone else had been raptured but that I wasn’t devout enough to be chosen, too. I panicked and ran crying to a neighbour for help, but I was crying too hard for her to understand me. Eventually, my mother returned from running an errand, possibly paying the rent, and I realized that God hadn’t actually come back yet after all.

A drawing of a broken cloud that has been repaired with a needle and thread. You can still see the stitches in the cloud and the threaded needle beneath it. Imaginative. I was always imagining something in my mind no matter what else I was doing. Sometimes I talked to myself quietly about the beautiful stories that were going on in my mind.

Inclusive. Classmates who were left out of other groups could always hang out with me. Sometimes I was bullied for spending time with the kids that others thought were too weird or awkward to associate with. I say this not to toot my own horn or anything, just to give you a picture of what i was like on the playground.

Messy. My tidy parents somehow created a child who was not. I never left food or anything like that in my bedroom, but there were books everywhere and it could get dusty as well.

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: The First TV Show I Remember Watching

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The Sesame Street logo. It looks like a street sign with the numbers 123 at the top and the phrase “Sesame Street” written in a plain white font against a green and gold background. Oh, this is an easy one: Sesame Street.

My grandparents’ live out in the countryside. They used an antenna on their old TV to get a few basic channel back in the day and probably still do.

Depending on what age I was and where we lived, my parents either didn’t have a TV at all or did the same thing as far as not paying for cable goes for most of my childhood. We generally didn’t get to see much current stuff unless they were on PBS or other public channels. It was a lot of news, Jeopardy, and reruns of older movies or shows instead.

Luckily, Sesame Street was available when I was in the right age groups to watch it.

(The Internet was not even something on our radars back then, and what did exist of it back in those days was nothing at all like what we have today).

I have fond memories of the songs and skits they included on that show. See also: “Sunny days, chasing the clouds away.”

My favourite scenes were the ones that showed other children running around and playing outside on playgrounds or other fun places. I also enjoyed how grumpy Oscar the Grouch was and wished I could climb into his trash can and find out why he liked it so much.

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Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: My Earliest Memory

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Black and white photo of a baby sleeping in a crib.

This is not my brother, but it is what I was hoping to find in that crib!

As this is the third time this has been a prompt for the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge, I’ll provide links to my previous two answers: eating apples and tire swings.

This memory happened in the same old farmhouse as my first two posts. To be honest, any one of my three answers could be my genuine first memory. When you’re little things can be a little fuzzy as far as which moment happened first.

In this snapshot from my past  I am walking around the house looking for my baby brother which means I was probably about three years old when this occurred.  I liked knowing where my brother was and what he was doing.

There was a wooden crib in one of the rooms of the house, and I thought it was a good place to check.

I walked quietly into the room and past the crib in case he was asleep. He was not in there, so I decided to check the kitchen.

That is where this snippet of memory ends. I can only assume he was with mom in the kitchen, and I wish I could remember what happened next.

 

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