I’ve been thinking for serveral days, trying to remember my earliest childhood memory. I remember when I was very young 1, 2 or 3 years old. I was riding a horse and every since then I have loved horses. I am not really sure if this is a memory of the actual event or a memory from a picture of the event, but I can still feel the excitement and fear that I felt sitting up on such a big animal.
I remember the church I grew up in and one man that would scare me to death when he would shout an “AMEN!” with his deep, loud voice. I remember sitting in church and rubbing the soft, cool fur on my Aunt Mag’s “Sunday Go To Church Coat”. I remember going back and standing right beside the preacher and shaking everyone’s hand as they left the Sunday morning service. I remember so many sweet people that taught me the stories of the Bible that would become the foundation for my life and living.
I also remember a lot of fun memories from K-5. I remember the playground and the giant sliding boards that would fry your legs and behind in the summer time. I remember the classroom centers and getting to pretend you were an adult. I remember the class next door had a hammock hanging in it and I thought that was the coolest thing ever.
I remember one of my good friends from 1st grade was an african american kid named Mark Coker and how some of the other kids made fun of him, because he would suck on his middle finger and pointer finger when he was nervous, which was pretty much all the time.
I remember when one of my school/church friends little brother Jeffery got cancer and lost all of his hair. Some of the other kids were bullying him and it hurt my heart so bad that I was ready to take them all on.
I remember Saturday trips to breakfast and yard sales with my Granny Earlene Davenport and hanging out at her flowershop during the week. I remember walking up the sidewalk to Jack Turner’s Barbershop and him pretending to give me a hair cut, just to make me feel like a big man. I remember Wilson’s Five & Dime Store and the neatest little toys and treasures we could find there.
I remember my Pa Albert Harvell and learning how to plant a garden, watch it grow and reap the benefits of hard work. I remember going in the house after snapping peas with my Grandma Sara Harvell and her teaching me how to make biscuits from scratch. One of my favorite memories from their house was the well house and the bucket you could run down and bring up with ice cold water. I especially remember my Pa’s “DIPPER” that hung above the sink, When ever he wanted a drink of water, he didn’t put it in a glass, insteead he ran it in the dipper and took a swig or two.
I have so many prescious memories. I could go on and on and on. That’s the funny thing about memories, once we take the time to start remembering, they come flooding back into our lives. And the beautiful thing is: As long as we are living, we still have the chance to keep making them and remembering them. Enjoy…