1980-1984 (cont'd)

Other memories from that era include:

Photographic evidence indicates that I had a birthday party at that house on Latah, probably my fourth birthday. Among those in attendance were Josh Morgan, whom I would later have frequent contact with, Geena Somethingorother (Her mother, who served as midwife for my birth, was named Kathy MacDonald for at one time) and a girl I have vague memories of, Emily Giametti. I'm not sure how we became acquainted with the Giametti's, but I recall there being some bad blood between our famalies by the end of the relationship. Something to do with the old man being an attorney and subpoenaing my mother or some shit. Like I said, I don't really remember this, just fragments of the story last told probably twenty years ago.

I had a little yellow car. I can remember the little yellow car. I don't, sadly, possess concrete memories of the famous yellow car story, however. As the tale goes, I announced to my folks that I was taking off and heading over to Lucille's, who was something of a godmother to me in those years and lived several miles east of us. Of course my mode of transportation was to be the little yellow car. My parents, no doubt bemused with my gumption, played along much in the way Calvin's mom would play along when Calvin announces he's moving to the Yukon or Mars. "Oh, Ok be careful. See ya when you get back". They allowed the charade to continue until I got my little yellow car on the cusp of the street (and pointed in the right direction, I might add) before they came and put an abrupt end to my journey. What I do seem to remember is that I *DID* know how to get to Lucille's. I had the route memorized. I likely thought that I could make it there.

We had this woven doll figurine, the kind of shit they sell in little wicker baskets, I don't know if they are Indian or something, Aztecs. Hell I don't know, but we had this doll prominently placed in our living room for some time, hell it is probably still prominently displayed at my folks' place. Anyway this doll was an older woman, adorned in blue with an eerily taut mouth and haunting, slanted eyes; she scared the piss out of me. Her name was Stochie, which at the time did not seem like a particularly welcoming name for a woman, and frankly still doesn't. I was afraid to be in the room with Stochie alone. I recall one morning waking up and making my way from my room to my parents room to hop in bed with them, but in order to get from my room to their room I would need to navigate my way through Stochie's territory: the living room. I remember waiting on the other side of the wall, gathering up courage, certain that Stochie was ready to take me out once and for all. At once, I burst forward, through the enemy lines and into the ally territory, the safe haven of my mother and father's bed. I took no chances remaining in the provinces Stochie's evil empire for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

I used to hang out with a couple older boys in the neighborhood once in a while. They were probably five or six and i was three or four. I don't know for certain if it was alongside these boys or with another group of peers, but I recall straying much further down the street than I was at liberty to do at the time. All the way down Latah to Overland, in front of what I believe was then and is now a thrift store. Anyway, if memory serves, I was down there chilling with some older kids (who may have obtained privileges to stray that far from home) when a concerned neighbor (was it Grandma Maxine?) was alerted by my premature demonstration of freedom and quickly arranged for my return (maybe five houses down the block.) Of course, as you will learn, I would over twenty years later spend my days pushing a broken down car around this neighborhood, living in it for a few weeks once I found a suitable spot, before pushing it to a different spot once neighbors became alerted to my nightly presence. But that is a tale for a different time. We are going chronologically here!