Childhood memories

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When I was four years old, I was chilling out at home watching Pokémon when an emergency news report broke: the first reports of the Columbine High School Massacre. Seeing that the “bad guys” “won” just after seeing wacky Team Rocket hijinks was absolutely mind boggling to Lil' China.

Right after watching that, I went and asked my mom about it, and she was all, “Oh those kids were bullied and then they took their anger out on totally innocent people”.

So, who was the bad guy?

I learned that the world doesn't operate on black and white morality, only gray. Very sobering relazation.
 
I remember when I first played Super Mario World and got to the first flying level. At some point in that stage, flying was required to progress, but I hadn't got the hang of it and just couldn't do it. Time was running out and I was desperate because, until that point, I had no idea pushing "start" would pause the game. "Mom! Help! I can't do this!". She told me to wait, as she was in the shower. "Hurry up! I'm going to die!" Of course, she didn't. The end result was, Mario died, of course, I was really upset and eventually got a game over (more than once) because my parents didn't play games and I had to figure out how to make Mario fly by myself.

Another "flying" memory I have is that when I was little I used to get plastic bags, those that you get in the supermarket, and jump off some heigths because I thought I could use the bags as parachutes.
 
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When I was a small kid, during 2000-2001, I was not much of a sleeper and as a result, I would often sneak out in the middle of the night and sit on the steps in the front of my house. My mom, who was pregnant with one of my younger siblings at the time, tried to block me from getting out of the house though I would just climb over her. Because of this, we actually ended up getting a dog, a chocolate Labrador named Marley who stayed with us until his passing earlier this year (late January actually). A year later after we got Marley, we also got another dog named Pal (who I named after the dog in Arthur because I was obsessed with the show as a small kid).
 
When I was young, I loved to travel. Often I would just pick a random place on the Michigan map and we'd just drive there because why not.

And so, imagine my joy when I found out we would be embarking on a long, long trip, taking us up to Escanaba in the western Upper Peninsula to visit my mom's friend (who had a kid about my age that attended preschool with me until they moved), then down to Beloit, Wisconsin (on the Illinois border) to visit grandpa, and then through Chicago back home. Me, my mom, my then 1-year-old sister, and two of my then-preteen cousins, all in a minivan. The Escanaba leg was pretty uneventful, after that, things started getting interesting. I remember that somewhere around Green Bay, I saw a lot of railroad crossings marked "exempt" because the tracks were no longer in use. Also, my cousins and I were playing a game where we counted every water tower we saw, and I got frustrated because I had gotten up into the triple digits and promptly lost count.

The most memorable part, though, was when we got to grandpa's house. He invited us out to breakfast at some diner, and I noticed him taking his blood pressure before we left. After we got back home, he went into the bedroom to take a nap. I was rummaging through his room and I found an old road atlas (I've always been fascinated by old road maps). I tried rousing him from his nap to ask him if I could have it, and kept on getting no response. Finally, the woman he was living with informed me that she thought he had died. She was right. Cue a sad 6-year-old crying his eyes out, a fussy 1-year-old, and two antsy preadolescent boys all gathered around at the Beloit hospital. For the record, I did get to keep that atlas.
 
There was a park I went to quite a bit when I was young, it was around the corner from my home. It had a playground in one half of it, with a tennis court in the middle and a lovely flower garden at the other end.
One day I was playing on the playground with my friend from school, when I jumped down from a platform to the ground. I didn't land quite right, and broke my left leg. The last thing I remember before passing out was my mother and my friend's mother running over to me from a bench under a palm tree.
I went back to that park for the first time in 15 years a few weeks ago and not a single thing has changed since I went there last, though it seems half as big as I remembered it.
 
Here's another one:

When I was about 8, my dad (who had divorced my mom 4 years prior) still lived in the next town, so we would visit often. One day, he was driving through town and got to one intersection where you have to pull out onto a train track to see oncoming traffic on the crossroad. However, there was a train coming down the track, which caught us completely off-guard, as 1.) you can't see very far down the tracks at this intersection, 2.) the intersection doesn't have a gate or lights for the track, and 3.) the train doesn't usually go through during the day. My dad's truck was on the tracks, the train was coming, and traffic on the crossroad had yet to clear. Finally, he was able to turn onto the crossroad with the train less than a block away from the intersection.

Between that and hearing of the Fox River Grove train/bus crash in 1995, I was terrified of trains for years. I would start panicking if I heard the train whistle go through at night, as my house was close enough to hear it most nights.
 
So glad there's a thread for this! Today I remembered something intense that happened a long time ago.

I was a young kid when Kurt Cobain died. It was all over the news and everything. I distinctly remember hearing "suicide" for the first time during a report. Might've been Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer? I don't remember, but they kept talking about it. I was just irritated at not knowing what the word meant, so I went to go pester my cousin upstairs. He was a teenager, and pretty upset about Kurt's passing since he was a Nirvana fan himself. When I asked what suicide was, he told me "it's when you kill yourself on purpose" and I tried to wrap my tiny head around that concept for days. I already had a vague understanding of death, but that sent me for a loop like nothing ever has. Probably the earliest point in my life that I've speculated about what it would be like to kill myself, even just as a passing thought. It took me a few more years to learn the causes of suicide, why anyone would do that, etc.
 
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My family's first house used to have an in-ground swimming pool. During the summer, moles used to sneak in from the back yard, fall in the pool and drown. In the mornings, my brother and I would have to scoop their bloated mole corpses out with leaf skimmers but most of the time we'd just use the skimmers as catapults and shoot them over the fence into the neighbor's yard. Extra points if one of them landed on the roof of their gazebo.

They never suspected anything, though the neighbor kid did come up to me one day bragging about how his ratty little dog caught and killed a mole. :story:
 
The Viking of Disapproval dijo:
So glad there's a thread for this! Today I remembered something intense that happened a long time ago.

I was a young kid when Kurt Cobain died. It was all over the news and everything. I distinctly remember hearing "suicide" for the first time during a report. Might've been Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer? I don't remember, but they kept talking about it. I was just irritated at not knowing what the word meant, so I went to go pester my cousin upstairs. He was a teenager, and pretty upset about Kurt's passing since he was a Nirvana fan himself. When I asked what suicide was, he told me "it's when you kill yourself on purpose" and I tried to wrap my tiny head around that concept for days. I already had a vague understanding of death, but that sent me for a loop like nothing ever has. Probably the earliest point in my life that I've speculated about what it would be like to kill myself, even just as a passing thought. It took me a few more years to learn the causes of suicide, why anyone would do that, etc.
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Bro, didn't you tell this story already? I seem to remember it being somewhere else.
 
When I was like really, young I saw an educational show on Tv, about big asteroids, and I got scared that one was going to hit, and destroy the earth. Also when I was in like, kindergarten, or maybe before, I was talking about dinosaurs, and some kid teased me and went, "The dinosaurs are dead!"
 
When I was in grade 4 there was a class presentation on responsibility in which a choice was given between going to your best friend's birthday party or going to a soccer game where you were goalie. The "correct" option was to go to the soccer game since it was your duty but I picked the birthday party since I never had a friend in my life at that point and I wanted to have one
 
sorry for this wall of text.

I remember when I was 8 and older (early 90's), we had lived in a house on a hill outside of Tulsa OK, it was a big house because I had 4 siblings and we had a game room that was a sun room that overlooked the pool and a valley and on a clear day you could see very far and at night you could see downtown Tulsa out in the distance which was about 24 miles away,my brother (stepbrother) and I grew up in the sun room which was the designated boys playroom, my sisters had the den. My brother and I were the same age and had the same classes and rode the same bus, I remember my stepmother would always have a peanut butter sandwich and a RC cola waiting there for us, we would eat the sandwich and drink the cola and run to the sunroom and play with Legos and play super Nintendo or even go outside with out fake rifles and play soldier. We shared a room, I had the top bunk, he had the bottom bunk. We would talk about life and play our gameboys well into the night. I moved in with my mother in Texas when I was 12 and my stepbrother would call me everyday, we still had a strong relationship and every time I would go up there on a holiday break or summer break, wewould play in the sunroom and drink a RC cola and eat a PB sandwich. My brother and I graduated High school st the same time, He enlisted in the Marine and I enlisted in the Marine reserves and became a jailer in my local Texas Jail. In 2007 my brother hit an IED and got a traumatic brain injury, he survived but his TBI makes him have the mind of a ten year old but every holiday and whenever I go up to see my stepmother and dad, I play a few matches of Golden eye with him and drink a RC cola and eat a peanut butter sandwich like we always did.
 
So you think you had a hard childhood? Well fuck you, its got nothing on mine.

My mom practically kicked my ass out of the house before I even hit 13, and I never even met my dad. My only friend till I was 10 was a faggot prick next door who was always beating the shit out of me and telling me I wasn't worth shit. It's not even like I had a choice, the town fucking had something like 9 people living in it, I shit you not. My entire adolescence was just moving around from place trying to get along with people who didn't even want me.

You think that's the worst? My only friend was an Asian guy in his thirties or something, who only kept me around because he thought I could help him get laid. The only perk was that I also got to hang around with this cute ginger chick, she was flat as a pancake sure, but damn she was a total nymph. She must have been a sadist or something cause she always took pleasure in hitting me and telling me she loved to get wet. But dear god the bane of my existence was this adult couple that I could NOT seem to avoid. You know these types of couples that are absolutely sickening, like they wear matching outfits and finish each other's sentences? Yeah they were fucking creepers, and they had a cat, which was at least twice as annoying as they were. I swear this thing would never shut the fuck up.

Like I said I ended up moving from town to town getting into fights with other kids my age, even adults from time to time. The only thing that kept me going was my dream to become a pokemon master.
 
CognitiveDeficiency dijo:
So you think you had a hard childhood? Well fuck you, its got nothing on mine.

My mom practically kicked my ass out of the house before I even hit 13, and I never even met my dad. My only friend till I was 10 was a faggot prick next door who was always beating the shit out of me and telling me I wasn't worth shit. It's not even like I had a choice, the town fucking had something like 9 people living in it, I shit you not. My entire adolescence was just moving around from place trying to get along with people who didn't even want me.

You think that's the worst? My only friend was an Asian guy in his thirties or something, who only kept me around because he thought I could help him get laid. The only perk was that I also got to hang around with this cute ginger chick, she was flat as a pancake sure, but damn she was a total nymph. She must have been a sadist or something cause she always took pleasure in hitting me and telling me she loved to get wet. But dear god the bane of my existence was this adult couple that I could NOT seem to avoid. You know these types of couples that are absolutely sickening, like they wear matching outfits and finish each other's sentences? Yeah they were fucking creepers, and they had a cat, which was at least twice as annoying as they were. I swear this thing would never shut the fuck up.

Like I said I ended up moving from town to town getting into fights with other kids my age, even adults from time to time. The only thing that kept me going was my dream to become a pokemon master.
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The only childhood memory you should have is getting molested over and over again for replying to a 7 year old thread to make a god damned pokemon joke.
 
I was in a pub garden on a sunny day petting white chickens that were huuuge. Or at least they looked huge at the time. I was in awe at how chill they were at being stroked. Because, previously...

I must've been 4 or 5 years old? Mum took me to a farm park. As we were walking along a field back to the car I stopped by a ditch and gawked at some young chickens that were huddled together and looking back at me. "Cool", I thought and started heading up the grassy hill with my mum.

Then all of a sudden I felt claws scrape the back of my leg. Not a deep scratch thankfully, just a graze. I turned around and the mother hen had stalked me up this grassy hill and inflicted a "how dare you" wound to me. Just because I looked at her chicks, which looked like adolescents by the way. Fatasses huddled in that ditch not doing anything. Like human teenagers.

Anyway, she attacked the wrong kid. My mum turned around as well and swung her handbag at this hen, knocking it back. The hen looked kinda incredulous as we resumed our walk up the hill. Thanks, Mum.
 
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