Your Earliest Memories

Dad was a carpenter by trade. We lived in Liverpool, the outer western suburbs of Sydney (Australia)- right on the then edge of the metropolitan area. Back then you didn't need to be licenced to build a house.

Just a couple of years after the house was finished he was a licensed builder, working for himself. You can still see the house (and garage) on Google Street View.

My earliest memory was a first-grade experience. We (all the kids in the class) were lined up for some reason…and each of us had an 8 x 5 card in hand with some info our parents had filled out. I was a restless kid…and I remember putting the card in the slot of a desk that I was standing next to. Somehow, I let it go…and it dropped through.

I almost **** my pants. I was frightened that I had lost the card my mother had so adamantly mentioned that I treat with care. The teacher needed it. I started to cry.

The kid behind me just raised the desk top and handed me my card back…looking at me as though I were a cretin. How on Earth did he know that the desk top raised?

First day in school and I was a screw up. The memory was burned into my mind forever.

I remember those metal desks with the ink wells and attached seats – and the accumulated graffiti scratched into the oak desktops.

We sat in those, too. Plus I remember the pen we were given - it was long and skinny with a bulbous end where the ballpoint nib was. We only got those in 3rd grade when we were taught to write in ink. All supplies were provided in those days. I don't think they teach penmanship anymore.

You are not a "screw up".

age four, watching the premiere of Sesame Street (11/10/69)...