My Olivia, second from the left or long haired girl with dark short sleeve shirt, had to dissect a frog today and the memories of my own frog dissection came flooding back. It was a day that I thought I had forgotten but even now vague memories of green appendages and push pins pop right into my mind. The rubbery feel, the slight gagging in the back of my throat, and a very masculine female teacher urging us onto understanding of the amphibian innards. The teacher's name escapes me but the visualization of her is clear as if it was yesterday. Her short cropped hair and outdated glasses. Man-pants with a Tommy Bahama look-a-like shirt as her everyday uniform. The image unsettling. The classroom was also disturbing with it's jars full of formaldehyde and very unlucky species of animals and insects.But the teacher herself, amazing. She had a combination of love of science and love of teaching. That is my one memory of frog dissection. But then other things come to mind. I remember in sixth grade science class there was a contest for students to come up with a saying to put on a t-shirt only to turn around and then sell to the said t-shirts to the students. We all decided that yes, a red t-shirt to resemble blood, would be a great color. The saying not so easy. My clever brother Darrell came up with the winning phrase which was "Science is in our blood." I remember dances and a very (disturbed?) dramatic boy hit his fist into the brick wall as a show of jealousy. (okay, he was a cutey and very strong.......and my boyfriend......first marriage proposal.) I remember memories of my very shy boyfriend waiting for me after class at the bottom of the big cement stairs and him looking up to see when I would arrive. (That memory gives me a little romantic chill-in the movie sense of the word.) I remember a very sick teacher that had tenure and was close to retirement. She had a small farm that had a big wooden fence around it and she had painted her house along with the fence a very merry lavender. She was battling cancer but at the time all I could think of was how she always smelled like those formaldehyde jars. The image of her in her lavender flowered dress looking up to pull down the "movie screen" and her wig falling off. We all laughed, some of us more due to the surprise of seeing the wig slide down while exposing her spotted chunks of hair smattering across her bald head. This would be my one regret in life and gives me pain some 30 years later. I was maybe 11 years old but the sound that came out of my mouth in the form of laughter and seeing her sad embarrassed eyes bring me shame and is as memory I wish would be forgotten. But maybe that served as a stepping stone for me be mindful of kindness. I remember locker combinations and tanking at Spanish. I recall working at the ice cream parlor and bringing in a paycheck at the ripe old age of 14. Oh, and learning to drive! Don't have your dad teach you stick shift in his brand new car going up hill. It doesn't serve anyone including the car. I recall loving to cook grill cheese sandwiches for my dad or anything he wanted. I adored my dad. I remember waiting until the night before to write 10 page reports and acing them without real effort. I remember my mom giving me the "talk" about the birds and the bees. There was a book involved and a big box of "ginormous" sanitary pads. (I could have used them for rafts for the whole family if a flood ever came.) The "first" time I had a girl-cycle it was coming home from girls camp and I started that thing on page 2 of my book mom gave me. Lady Luck didn't really smile on me as we were meeting the boys from boys camp at a major swimming pool to swim for a few hours. I had my ga pals teaching me the delicate usuage of tampons. I learned rather quickly that a young maid ,just starting out into womenhood, should never borrow from a friend their "SUPER" size female hygiene tools. Memories are tricky aren't they? For me, these are the main arsenal of memories I have. I repeat them and repeat them again and again often. But I am grateful that they, for the most part, are happy ones. I loved my childhood for the majority of it. I loved my school experience mostly. Perhaps I would say I had an ideal childhood........................with the exception of that darn rubbery frog with push pin accessories. That memory just may have scarred me forever. Go and rippit. (Funny? Okay not so much.)
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