I remember icicles that stretched from the roof to the ground
I remember pulling bloodsuckers from between our toes after swimming
I remember lugging my red wagon to the city dump with my dad to bring home good stuff
I remember capturing garter snakes from under the rocks in my mother’s garden
I remember swimming across the river with my dad following in the rowboat
I remember listening in on the neighbors on our party-line phone
I remember a flock of pheasants parading through our front yard
I remember stealing carrots and blackberries from Mrs. Mead’s garden
I remember when our road turned to mud in the spring and we couldn’t go to school
I remember climbing with my siblings to the top of the willow tree
I remember being scared of quicksand when we walked in waist-deep water to Mr. Shaver’s
I remember slashing my thumb with a hatchet on a Pig Island camping trip
I remember biking to the Ideal Dairy to buy lemon flake ice cream, two dips for a nickel
I remember the six-foot pine snakes that sunned in our front yard
I remember when our Irish Setter Mike fell through the ice and my mother rescued him
I remember poking sticks into an anthill and watching the ants go crazy
I remember my eating mother’s whitefish, pot roast, and potato sausage
I remember counting “I love you, I love you not” with the petals of a Black-Eyed Susan
I remember running barefoot races in the snow
I remember my dad towing us behind the car on our toboggan
I remember listening to Jack Benny and Duffy’s Tavern on Sunday night radio
I remember emptying dead bodies from the mousetraps
I remember when they opened the dams and drained all the water out of the river
I remember finding lost change under the sofa cushions (which my dad had
deliberately put there)
I remember when I threw acorns at my brother and he fell out of the oak tree
I remember singing “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall” at the outdoor fireplace
I remember my parents and their friends drinking Silver Cream beer
I remember when we killed the flying bat in our living room with a cast iron frying pan
I remember loving Captain Marvel comic books
I remember when the ice went out on “Chinese Bells Day”
I remember my uncle Karl urging me to dig up the “Indian burial mound” in our
back yard
I remember when Steve and I spilled red airplane dope on our brand new carpet
I remember being scared of the ghosts while riding my bike past the cemetery at night
I remember blowing milkweed seeds into the wind
I remember when Steve shot the snapping turtle with our bow and arrow
I remember my mother telling me I wasn’t perfect
I remember our dog swimming behind the boat when we traveled half a mile for a family
picnic on Indian Island
I remember when we saw a mud puppy through the ice on the river’s floor
I remember collecting nightcrawlers for fishing on the cemetery lawn after a heavy rain
I remember when our dog Mike got porcupine quills stuck in his nose
I remember when Steve and I lit the hoop with a desk lamp so we could
play basketball at night on the frozen driveway
I remember when we shot at tin cans and bottles in the river with the twenty-two
I remember everything about being twelve years old
