My First Memory

MY FIRST MEMORY

Summertime on the farm, everyone busy working in the fields, Mom canning the fruits and vegetables for the winter. I remember it being unbearable hot that summer but I remember more than just the heat.

Studies show your first memories are when you experience your first trauma . I know from my reading people believe birth itself is your first trauma, being torn from that warm spot , ripped out by your feet and slapped on your behind. Well, I don't remember that. I only wish it had been my only memory.

That day in August my older brother Ben and older sis Penny were running through the house chasing each other and just being loud and troublesome as only a six and eight year old can be. It had rained the last couple of days and we couldn’t go outside so there was a lot of pent up energy. I was four and my younger sister Elaine only two. Elaine and I were sitting at the kitchen table playing with the cookie dough Mom had just whipped up. Mom was standing holding our baby brother Carl. She was canning tomatoes while trying to keep Carl quiet. She bounced him on her hip while standing in front of the stove stirring a big pot of water. She must have been exhausted as she also worked as a nurse at night.

Dad and the hired man were in the fields . A farmers work is never done.

We were pretty well left on our own to entertain ourselves , we didn’t even have a television at that time. Mom had her hands full literally and figuratively.

“Penny, you and Ben take your sister outside to play, its not raining for once, leave Elaine here.” Mom said.

You didn’t have to tell us twice, we gathered up a bunch of our toys and dragged them out to our front porch. We did this often as it was a great way to watch all the cars go by; sometimes playing a trying to guess what states they were from by checking their license plates. For a country road there was a bit of traffic as we connected Rochester to Niagara Falls and people lived and worked in both places as this was a “factory” area. We were right on the Canadian border so there were always people visiting or site seeing. That’s one of the reasons Mom and Dad told us to stay away from the road it could be busy at times.

Our neighbors across the road were what we called “city kids”. There were two girls around our same age. Their father left for work wearing a suit not like our Dad in farmers clothes. Their mother didn’t work at all. We thought they were really rich because they always had shiny new toys and bicycles. We didn’t even have one bicycle. We watched with big eyes as their father put together a swing set over that weekend. It had everything, a slide , two swings, ropes you could grab and swing on. We only had an old tire tube hanging from a tree. We watched with envy as they jumped on their swings and slid down the slide.

“Hey come on over.” Yelled one of the girls. I mean for rich girls they were really friendly. Ben looked at Sue. “Mom is really busy, she won’t notice, we’ll just go for a little while come on.” Sue looked at me and must have thought what the heck we’ll drag her along. They were my babysitter

Off we went across the street, just like we were told not to. We were having a ball and didn’t notice that Elaine had gotten out of the house and saw us across the street. Of course you know what happened next. She waddled across that porch and made for the road we didn't see that.

That is where it all stopped for me. I didn’t see the car hit her. I didn’t see her body on the side of the road. I didn’t even hear my mother screaming and all the chaos which must have gone on. It was as though I viewed the next few days as clips from a movie.

 The first clip was of the three of us, Ben, Sue and me and somehow someone had taken us to our uncles home down the road. He stood over us, pointing his finger and yelling, “ This is all your faults. You did this.” I have no idea what I thought at the time but of course as an adult I realized how traumatic this was to three young kids. It was one of the reasons I believe I never liked him; I always considered him cruel.

The next clip was watching my Mother sitting on a chair in our living room. Elaine was in a coffin There were chairs set up so people could come and go just like at a funeral parlor. I remember Dad walking around the house covering all the mirrors with black cloth. I was later to learn this was a tradition in the Jewish faith. Mom never left that chair for three days. My Mom’s mother flew in from California and stayed with us. I guess she must have been watching us as I can’t remember being taken to any other place. Mom just seemed to cry and cry.

The next picture was her coffin being carried down the back steps being carried by a few young girls. Fast forward the cemetery and everyone leaving except us kids and Mom and Dad. They had a hard time getting Mom away from that grave.

At home after the funeral there was a long table set up with food and lots of people stopped by, talking and laughing. Mom was laying on her bed and kept saying something about how could they be laughing, her baby was dead.

The rest of the summer I don’t remember at all. Elaines socks hung outside on a clothesline all summer and it wasn’t until the first snow that my mother finally took them inside.

Later Mom would tell me how Dad took me into the field with him everyday. He would be driving the tractor and I would be sitting on his lap.

These are my first memories and yes whoever said your first trauma is when they start to take hold was right. I am eighty years old and I'll never forget that day. Memories linger you can't erase them as much as you might want, the beginning and the end of life no matter how short or how long.