Goodbye Gilligan

After school snack of peanut butter
 crackers, watching Gilligan's
 Island 

at the 
lake
drive was long–I read Alice in Wonderland the entire
trip(s)

to the library while Momma was at Lucille's Beauty
Shop(ping)

at Sterlings, the smell of
 popcorn

at
 Nana's

drawing crazy ducks at
church

revival on hot, summer
days

 spent flat on our backs, naming the shape of
clouds 

and cold, days spent playing jacks inside—too cold for
recess

spent upside down on the playground bars like a
Monkey
Island at the Memphis
Zoo

picnics, with homemade chicken, deep
fried

potatoes every
night(s)

spent telling ghost stories
become
memories
become
us.

These are a few of my random childhood memories layered like tree rings. Flashes, mere seconds in my life, vividly remembered years later. Each comes with a smell or a sound or a taste. Peel them back to find my thoughts, attitudes, opinions. Peel them back to find me.

We have no control over what we remember. What sticks and what doesn't?

Not all of my memories are strawberry-cupcake-filled. There were not-so-perfect memories too, those that sometimes kept me up at night. And regular run-of-the-mill life moments, easily forgotten. The sum of my life experiences furnished me with a love for reading and nature and cooking and family and home.

Now imagine....

What if instead of coming home from school to peanut butter crackers and Gilligan's Island, I played Grand Theft Auto Vice City. Every day for years...

What if instead of attending church revival on hot summer days, I spent weeks holed up in my dark bedroom playing Hitman?

What if instead of checking out Nancy Drew books at the library, I checked out Splatterhouse?

Would I be the same person?

The gun control debate has turned nasty. We can blame guns and mental health while calling for more control or taking up arms to fight for our rights. I don't know what the magic answer is, but the problem stems from a complete breakdown of society including family and morals.

I grew up around guns yet never once considered shooting anyone on the school bus, even though my purse was ransacked and my lunch money was stolen nearly every day. And as bad as that was, the worst bully never considered pulling out a gun to steal my lunch money.

There were consequences—home, school, police, higher power.

When does virtual become reality? Shouldn't Hollywood shoulder partial responsibility? Shouldn't parents accept responsibility for not parenting?

How could we not be affected by something we are exposed to day in and day out, whether positive or negative?

If we smoke one cigarette, no harm done. Smoke cigarettes for five hours every day for years and see what happens.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Is This The World We Created, Queen


“Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.” 
― Oscar Wilde