August 29 1973

Childhood    (and other lapses of memory)
     "When I was your age" I had only three chores- always left in various stages of completion. Somehow I always has something better to do.
   One chore was my bedroom. I don't really remember why it was called the bedroom- most of the time finding the bed was a mere stroke of accident- something directly related to a miracle. I was always very careful about hanging my clothes on the rocking chair, and placing my shoes inside the bedroom door-somewhere. I was very systematic about my clothes closet.
  Rule I Never hang clothes up in the closet unless it was empty and Mom was bordering hysteria.
  Rule II When you run out of clean clothes before you run out of week- always raid moms closet (but only after she leaves for work)
  Rule III Conveniently fail to remember where the hamper is. Dirty clothes are essential to one's memories. By looking through stacks of dirty clothes, one can recall the events of the past week (or two). Once the clothes are removed to the hamper all the memories of the past week events are totally erased (I guess that's one way to lose our childhood)
  Another chore was the washing of the family clothes. A very traumatic event- erasing all those memories. Besides- it was hard work.
      Step I Gather all the dirty clothes; we lived in a thirteen room house. Each room upstairs had a hamper. That was five hampers to empty and remove contents to the basement. By this time I had already missed at least half of one of my favorite cartoon shows.
      Step II Put a load of clothes in the wash. This was always done with speed and efficiency. After all- no t.v. or radio in the basement and I wouldn't want to miss a thing.
      Step III Go upstairs and plunk my butt in front of the TV and wait. Today I notice that kids wait for the commercials. Back when I was a kid I waited just long enough for moms nagging to end in "I'll do it myself!" I was then properly motivated (like ejection -for all intents- from a nosediving jet) and remove my completely relaxed body to the basement where I would hang one load and put another in the wash.
     Step IV- Step ? Repeat above process only as many times as necessary to have Mom lose her voice, temper and (she's sure) her mind.
    The last chore I had was the ironing. Many a strange phenomena occurred about this time (the ironing board and iron were located in the basement) Hopefully it would be after sunset by the time I got the wash done and having conveniently developed a "terrible fear" of the dark and damp, lonely basement, Mom surely wouldn't insist that I go the dungeon to iron. If that didn't work then I could sprain my wrist or insist that the iron "wasn't working right". If all else failed, I could always iron.
     Gee I wish I had some childhood memories like everyone else.