Memory Number One
I thought of this a few days ago as an interesting blog exercise. Why not blog about the first thing I remember ever remembering? Simply put, it’s my first memory. Technically, I think a twist makes the first wording more accurate. If you have a blog, why don’t you try this, too? Write an entry about your earliest memory and leave a comment here with the link!
I remember this very clearly. I was somewhere around one year old. It was before I started walking. Visually, I remember this from a crawling perspective of about nine inches off the floor. I was in the living room of my first house. The couch was behind me and perpendicular to the wall I was exploring. That’s where I discovered an electrical outlet. I knew that electrical outlets were for wires, presumably because I’d seen people plugging wires into them. I observed the faceplate and screw and ran my fingers across the holes. (You know, they do look sort of like happy faces…) That wasn’t enough to satisfy my curiosity. I was sure the magic happened when you stick a wire into the holes.
That’s when I remembered where the wires were. Those old U-shaped wires that connected television antennas and stereo speakers. They’re called spade lugs, and I’ve sketched one below. I knew they were the right shape to fit into the outlet slots, and I knew where to find them. They were in the bedroom closet in a large white chest of drawers, conveniently low enough for me to retrieve them. So I turned to my left, crawled down the hall, turned to the right into the bedroom, and along the wall to the left into the closet by the bed. They were in the second drawer from the bottom along with other electronic stuff.
I grabbed a set of wires. This was the kind that had two wires joined together on a flat strip of plastic with two spade lug connectors on the end. I crawled back out to the wall outlet in the living room, sat up straight, and promptly inserted the metal ends into the slots. ZAP!!!
Yeah, that hurt! I suppose I could have died or something. I don’t remember sparks, but I remember it hurt. I’m sure I bawled up a storm. Next thing I know, I’m on the couch in my grandmother’s lap with my hand in ice water in one of those tall brown plastic thermal cups with the white rim. And that was the last time I played with electrical outlets!
The interesting twist in my first memory is that I remember myself remembering where the wires were. I pictured the U-shaped connectors in their place in the drawer. So my first memory is really of a memory. I suppose it’s not my first memory then, but it’s my first memory with a storyline.