![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.ancientrails.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/06\/1st-Grade-Me.jpg\" "\\"1st")
<\/a>site. \u00a0It’s been interesting. \u00a0The most interesting interaction has come from an old classmate who found my memories romanticized. \u00a0You can see her comment under Who.<\/p>\n(1st)<\/p>\n
I wrote her and in doing so discovered that she was a girl (then) who had done very well in our class, but didn’t (apparently) get the recognition she felt she deserved. \u00a0I had to reflect that could have been true. \u00a0Sexism (though not named) was alive and well back then and I’m sure it effected teacher’s perceptions and other students opinions. \u00a0It may have helped me to some awards and recognition. \u00a0Impossible to parse out now at this remove, but I’d never thought of it until she wrote.<\/p>\n
Having said that I want to add that happy memories are not necessarily romanticized. \u00a0 (3rd)<\/p>\n Once my life moved away from Monroe Street it began to take on a more serious, turning toward adult tone. \u00a0We had a house on Canal Street, one \u00a0we owned, rather than rented. \u00a0In junior high I remember a fight with Rodney Frost, a bad one by the standards of the day. (low) \u00a0Rodney died several years ago and my first memory when I saw his obituary was of that 6th grade fight near the junior high school.<\/p>\n Girls remained a mystery for me well into college, so I had the normal ration of pre-teen (4th)<\/p>\n Those months and the years following them were more than unhappy times. \u00a0They were a constant struggle for self-worth capsized often by grief and the estrangement I had with my remaining parent. \u00a0This was just the way it was. \u00a0Do I wish it could have been different? \u00a0 That period and its attendant miseries are now in my past, but they are in my past and they show up whenever I visit that period or that place, Alexandria.<\/p>\n (third phase)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Beltane \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 New (Solstice) Moon Over the last couple of weeks I’ve had interactions with folks from Alexandria, Indiana resulting from a … Continue reading Memories<\/span> <\/a>That’s a word used by an outside observer. \u00a0As resident in those memories, they were happy. \u00a0Being a kid among kids is a great way to spend time when you’re young. \u00a0Sure, we had our hassles, too. \u00a0Our arguments and fights. \u00a0I remember one incident where a next door neighbor pulled my pants down in front of my friends. \u00a0This was the nuclear option at the time. \u00a0I thought life was over and I could never face anybody again. Until the next day of course.<\/p>\n<\/a>and teen angst over dating, sex and self worth. \u00a0Those were not happy memories. \u00a0My father and I began to part ways emotionally during junior high, a fact I credited only much later to a growing unease he had with my intellectual maturing. \u00a0When this distance had reached its maximum, around my senior year of high school, my mother had a stroke and died seven days later.<\/p>\n<\/a>Of course. \u00a0Do I know it won’t be. \u00a0Yes, I do.<\/p>\n