The news earlier this week that singer, songwriter, and activist Lesley Gore had died put me in a reflective mood. Though I was not quite four years old when she burst onto the scene with "It's My Party," she and her songs were part of the soundtrack of my childhood in the 1960s. I had a 45 of "Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows" that I played a lot as a kid, and I knew "It's My Party," too, though I don't remember having a record of it.
Thinking about Lesley Gore led me to think about other memories from early in my life. They are pretty random, and I wonder whether I will, at some point, remember other things I've forgotten, as elderly people are said to remember the events of many years ago better than they remember what they had for lunch.
Among my random memories is seeing The Supremes on "The Ed Sullivan Show" and being fascinated by the puppet Topo Gigio --although at the time I'm not sure I realized it was a puppet. I remember my birthday party when I was either three or four. My parents bought me a plastic wading pool and put it around the back of our house near the well-house. While our guests were celebrating in the front yard, I stripped off my clothes and went to play in my pool. Evidently I was fond of water at that age; my mother told me I would sit in the tub and splash contentedly in the water for an hour if she let me.
I remember helping my grandmother wash dishes -- she had to pull a chair up next to the sink for me to stand on. I'm not sure how much help I was, but my grandmother didn't seem to mind. I also vaguely remember my grandmother giving me a banana one time, and I told her that when I had one banana, I always had two. She thought that was pretty funny, evidently, and gave me a second banana.
One time when I was about four or five, I decided to be helpful. My mother had a small tank of fish, and I had seen her feeding them by sprinkling something out of a small container. I must have thought the fish looked hungry, so I decided I would feed them. I pushed a chair up against the cabinet so I could reach what I thought was the fish food. What I actually sprinkled in the tank -- in a much too generous quantity -- was black pepper. The fish died, unfortunately.
Being back in Mississippi with family so much closer now has made me more aware of the lost memories and of family history. I find myself hungry for stories about my parents in the years before I was born, and for stories of my own childhood. Stories about my grandparents and my aunts and uncles in the years before I came along. Perhaps it is part of being an only child and being middle-aged now. Perhaps it's simply nostalgia. Or do we all reach a point in our lives when we try to reconnect to those earlier years?
I think the time comes in all of our lives when we do want to reconnect and re-learn our history. It grounds us in the present. I also believe that as we lose more of the people who helped us create our first stage memories we strive to keep the memories as a way to hold on to the person. Thank you for sharing your snapshots of the past!
Posted by: Kait Carson | February 18, 2015 at 06:08 AM
Lovely memories; I also killed fish with over feeding. I have recently realized that, as the eldest, I have memories that my sisters don't. Time to dredge them up and write them down.
Posted by: sharan newman | February 18, 2015 at 09:18 AM
Oh, gosh, I loved her songs.And isn't it fascinating how we know the lyrics?
I think when we were younger, the stories didn't seem so important ..and plus, we thought, there was so much time. Now we know.
Posted by: Hank Phillippi Ryan | February 18, 2015 at 10:19 AM
I killed my family's fish, too! What a bunch of fish slaughterers we are. I didn't worry about memories, Dean, until I lost my only sib. Then I realized that everything would pass away with me, and no one would know what it was like growing up in our home. Strange realization. I remember Lesley Gore very well; wasn't she from a background of privilege, relatively speaking?
Posted by: Charlaine Harris | February 18, 2015 at 02:34 PM
Lesley Gore's father was an executive in a textile firm. I think they were pretty wealthy. I'm relieved I am not the only fish murderer. :-)
Posted by: Dean James | February 18, 2015 at 03:15 PM