For a long time I never realized that other people remember their childhood, I do not. I guess there are a lot of people who have missing memories, for a lot of reasons. Since I acquired a new set of parents and a new family last year I have spent a lot more time trying to remember my childhood. Those memories aren’t coming back. But images pop back now and then, like snapshots, nearly always associated with a thing or a place.
I went down the pinterest rabbit hole, assembling all sorts of images that I remembered from back then. It was more difficult than I had expected, I remember a lot of things from advertisements, things my cousins owned, things that passed through my hands as an antique dealer and collector – in the end I realized I didn’t own as much crap as I thought I did. I can remember nearly all the books I owned but very few of the toys or games. My other mother was also not one for having a lot of trendy plastic crap, in retrospect she didn’t have a lot of money but she had better taste and avoided faddy thing.
I could only remember one thing I ever got for christmas, a portable television set, and I can’t even remember what year I got it. I know I got other crap, other years . . .nowhere near as much as other kids, but enough, usually one big thing a few small things and treats. That used to be enough for any kid. But the television, that was the best thing ever. It was like giving me a house key, a bus pass and a library card all at once. Maybe I was trapped in that house with the crazy woman for the two decades but with that thing, I was free to go anywhere it would take me.