From the Toybox...

[rinka]

I don't know why, but this is one of the most interesting stories I've ever heard. I can picture it all. Careful I may steal your memory for a story!

I'm glad to be an inspiration.

When I was in first grade I walked a little too slowly to school one morning. I guess I was just dreaming on the little walkway through the woods, maybe stopped to look at something. Anyway I was late, and really embarrassed about it. So I stumbled in the door crying and blurted out a blatant lie about how my mom and I had gone on a bikeride that morning and some evil, drunk or strange man had stopped us...

I understand sixyearold drama queens.

 

[katt_g]

when i was about 7, my dad used to be a 'volunteer' police officer in a little nowhere town in the midwest. we were at church camp once (i am NOT making this up), and my dad brought along his tools of the police trade for a talk he was supposed to do.

the whole family was down at the pool and i was being the inquisitive and mischievous youngster in the cabin. i decided to experiment with daddy's 'toys'. i promptly accidentally locked myself in his handcuffs!!

i had to walk all the way down to the pool cuffed to get his help to get out!

hmmm....explains a lot....

 

[CurlyKat]

Having grown up an Army brat, when I think of my childhood memories, they're categorized by where we lived and the things you have to adapt to for that place. This particular story happened when I was either 7 or 8, when we lived in Germany the first time. It was winter, and having previously only lived in the south and southwest, I didn't really know what cold was until then. It was cold, and iced/snowed. Perfect sledding weather, which neither me nor my younger sister had ever done before.

My dad took us to this little hill to start out with, right next to one of the pastures (we lived in a farm community... literally my house was between a farmer/butcher and the local pub) full of sheep. There was a fence separating us, and the sheep came up to us to see what was going on. We went to the top of the hill, they followed. We slid down, they trotted along. Up, down, follow, follow. After a couple of times I notice, and they're baa-ing like crazy, so I turn to my dad and say "look Dad, we're sheep entertainment!"

My dad thought that was the funniest thing ever. I didn't get it, since I was speaking literally, but it was then later explained to me that it was an unintentional play off of "cheap entertainment".

That reminds me of a story that following spring, where the farmer/butcher neighbor butchered a pig in his courtyard one morning. That was right outside our kitchen window, and I watched the whole process. Didn't eat anything made of pork for almost six months, but I was completely intrigued by the whole thing.

 

[satindesire]

Having grown up an Army brat, when I think of my childhood memories, they're categorized by where we lived and the things you have to adapt to for that place. This particular story happened when I was either 7 or 8, when we lived in Germany the first time. It was winter, and having previously only lived in the south and southwest, I didn't really know what cold was until then. It was cold, and iced/snowed. Perfect sledding weather, which neither me nor my younger sister had ever done before.

My dad took us to this little hill to start out with, right next to one of the pastures (we lived in a farm community... literally my house was between a farmer/butcher and the local pub) full of sheep. There was a fence separating us, and the sheep came up to us to see what was going on. We went to the top of the hill, they followed. We slid down, they trotted along. Up, down, follow, follow. After a couple of times I notice, and they're baa-ing like crazy, so I turn to my dad and say "look Dad, we're sheep entertainment!"

My dad thought that was the funniest thing ever. I didn't get it, since I was speaking literally, but it was then later explained to me that it was an unintentional play off of "cheap entertainment".

That reminds me of a story that following spring, where the farmer/butcher neighbor butchered a pig in his courtyard one morning. That was right outside our kitchen window, and I watched the whole process. Didn't eat anything made of pork for almost six months, but I was completely intrigued by the whole thing.

Did you ever touch or pet any of the sheep?

 

[CurlyKat]

Did you ever touch or pet any of the sheep?

Oh yeah, we did. The wool was surprisingly rough, and full of burrs. We quickly figured out that the sheep wanted us to feed them, and thought mittens were food. We dug through the snow to try to find some grass to feed them a little.

 

[satindesire]

Oh yeah, we did. The wool was surprisingly rough, and full of burrs. We quickly figured out that the sheep wanted us to feed them, and thought mittens were food. We dug through the snow to try to find some grass to feed them a little.

Awww, how sweet is that!

Sheep are so cute.

 

[CurlyKat]

Awww, how sweet is that!

Sheep are so cute.

And stinky.

 

[Keroin]

I had to drag this thread out because I've been thinking about my old roller skating days. Man, we were addicted to it but boy those old skates were painful. Couldn't find an exact match but these are pretty close to the skates me and my friends had.

http://cn1.kaboodle.com/hi/img/b/0/0/45/7/AAAACyTHT9AAAAAAAEV89Q.jpg

It was so cool when we finally moved up to these...

http://www.blueskygym.com/images/rollerskates.jpg

 

[sb2009]

My friends and I pretty much roamed around all summer, dirty, wild, probably not ever eating lunch, etc. I remember one day we were riding our bikes to the lake the next town over (about 10 miles). We had these beat up bikes that we kept together by sheer willpower LOL We took a short cut that took us on a really busy road and several huge trucks came swooping around the corner, and we were so scared but had nowhere to pull over so we were peddling as fast as our little legs could take us...trying to outrun the trucks, thinking they would knock us down.

I remember feeling the wind in my hair and on my arms as the trucks passed us by, and how bad I was shaking. When the trucks passed we went even faster to get to the lake and I swear, we were high on adrenaline all day.

 

[notalwaysweak]

I had to drag this thread out because I've been thinking about my old roller skating days. Man, we were addicted to it but boy those old skates were painful. Couldn't find an exact match but these are pretty close to the skates me and my friends had.

http://cn1.kaboodle.com/hi/img/b/0/0/45/7/AAAACyTHT9AAAAAAAEV89Q.jpg

OMG Keroin, I had those too! I was so happy with them. Then I made the jump straight to rollerblades and started amateur speed skating until I put on too much weight (hormones were not kind to the Sin) and my ex started being faster than me and I cracked it and stopped.

Still got the blades though, and can still use 'em reasonably well.

 

[DVS]

I think I've told this story somewhere here, but I don't mind telling it again. I like all of the blood and gore.

This was one story my mother told about me when I was very young...I'd guess around 4 or 5 years old. I do remember some of it, but only parts. I fell down and cracked my forehead on our front concrete steps. I didn't hurt my head except I broke the skin open and needed stitches.

My parents took me to the doctor and got my head stitched up. Heads bleed a lot and I think it looked worse than it was. I think my mother thought I was going to bleed to death.

In bed that night, I decided to pick out all of the stitches. I didn't like anything foreign in my body. I was kind of strange that way. Actually, I still am that way.

Well, my mother shrieked when she saw my head. And I think my bed sheets didn't look so good, either. Back to the doctor we went, and I got a new set of stitches. My mother was more mad than worried on that trip.

I was just a kid and I don't know why (just strange, I guess), but I laid in bed and picked those stitches out again. Talk about pissed off parents! They decided not to get a third set of stitches. So, I've got a nice scar on my forehead in the shape of an X...well it could be a cross too, if you tilt your head a bit.

 

[sb2009]

I was thinking about this one the other day. We were bringing in groceries and I wanted to carry the watermelon. My mother said "Ok, but if you drop it, you have to eat it all!" It was so big I dropped it, and I just sat down and ate the whole thing right there with my fingers. When someone came out looking for me, I remember them yelling "SAM ATE ALL THE WATERMELON!!!!" and my mother coming outside, laughing so hard at me. Then she felt bad and kept saying "you know I was teasing, right? You didn't have to eat it all!"

I don't remember if the watermelon upset my stomach at all, thankfully!

d'oh, it's not that funny unless I add that I was three years old LOL

 

[PaganKinktress]

My best friend in grammar school, Amy, and I were bedazzled by the movie Flashdance...we loved it so much we decided to re-enact it and put on a "neighborhood play" in my backyard. Yeah...imagine the neighbors and our parent's responses when we performed the dance number where the main character is dancing in the strip club and has a bucket of water dumped on her. We each took turns leaning over a chair while the other emptied the bucket. We had no true idea of the sexual connotation implied in that scene and just thought it was totally cool to prance around in wet clothes.

Come to think of it, my parents were never very fond of Amy....

 

[MasterPhoenix]

I remember that I used to ride bikes a lot with my friends when I was a kid... If we could find a ditch or a mound of dirt to ride down, even better...

I scarred the fuck out of my elbows one summer becuase the field across the way from me was about to be built over, and the land lord had put a huge dirt pile there... and I kept riding my bike down it... I would fall and have bloody scrapes all over my elbows... get it tended and cleaned up... then right back to riding...

There are still minor scars there... and great memories...

I don't understand this new attitude by parents who freak every time their kid gets a scrape... I had a broken bone, scratches, scrapes, sprains... and I turned out fine...

Its part of growing up

 

[MasterPhoenix]

I remember I was riding bikes with my friend. He and I were like brothers growing up... kind of grew up at each other's houses...

I was in 8th grade, I think...

Somehow, my I fell off my bike and hit the sidewalk hard. I get up, shake it off to finish the trip home. I remember looking at my hand and telling my friend, "I think it's broken" My friend said, "No its not or you would be crying."

I go home, mom takes me to the doctor, sure enough I had a broken thumb.

 

[MasterPhoenix]

In maybe 5th grade, there was this one kid in class who was always talking shit... well.. I finally decided I was sick of the little punk and took him down... and it was the typical school yard fight of the day... no real punches thrown, but on the ground kind of wrestling around... a teacher came over to break it up... we both attested that we were just playing... told us to knock it off... the teacher left...and we went about our day...

just boys being boys

 

[Homburg]

I had to drag this thread out because I've been thinking about my old roller skating days. Man, we were addicted to it but boy those old skates were painful. Couldn't find an exact match but these are pretty close to the skates me and my friends had.

http://cn1.kaboodle.com/hi/img/b/0/0/45/7/AAAACyTHT9AAAAAAAEV89Q.jpg

For no apparent reason, once I moved on from these sort of skates, I took a shine to roller derby skates. So I, fool that I was, spent the next however long it was with the fastest skates in the neighbourhood, but no brakes. Whee.

I guess I figured out how to stop, as I'm not dead, but I'm not usually agile enough with things like that. Fortunately, I was strong even as a kid, so speed was possible through sheer determination and brute force.

 

[DVS]

OMG Keroin, I had those too! I was so happy with them. Then I made the jump straight to rollerblades and started amateur speed skating until I put on too much weight (hormones were not kind to the Sin) and my ex started being faster than me and I cracked it and stopped.

Still got the blades though, and can still use 'em reasonably well.

We had those skates too, but I couldn't ever get them to fit on my shoes. Probably because I always wore sneakers (we called them tennis shoes) and those skates were made more for leather shoes with a flat sole.

Anyway, my thing back then was skateboarding. Yes, they had those back in my day, along with hula-hoops and frisbees. But, they were nothing like the skateboards of today. I still have mine stuck away somewhere. It might be worth some money to a collector.

But, it was nothing but a flat board shaped to look like a small surf board. It had the same roller skates (minus the shoe part) screwed to the bottom. There was tire inner tube in-between the skates and the board, so it would resemble a surf board when we went down the sidewalk.

It wasn't a bad design, but it had the same problem I'm sure those skates had, if you came up on a small rock in your path. That board would stop DEAD in its tracks when the wheels hit the rock, but you'd keep right on going, for better or worse...and it was usually worse.

 

[FurryFury]

My childhood was pretty fucked up and lonely but there were good moments in it of course.

I felt safest with books and Mrs. Horton on Days of Our Lives. The people around me were volatile and crazy as fuck.

Anyway, my mother's Aunt lived on what might be best described as a religious commune. They were hard line religious though rather than hippy, which could have been even cooler!

I loved that place. We'd lived there for a few years when I was 1-3. Later I looked at it as a retreat. I'd sit in a ditch in front of my aunts house and NO ONE would bother me. I'd make mud pies out of red clay mud.

Sometimes I'd get down her button collection and play "church." Those imaginary people had to put some buttons in the offering plate.

I loved sitting at my aunt's feet while she sewed on a machine that she had to push the cast iron petal with her foot.

I also loved it when she took down her hair at night. In the day it was braided and pined up on her head but at night she'd take it down. She'd undo the braids. Her hair would be dark, fully wavy and luxurious.

I could go just about anywhere there. I spent a whole week there once. I learned how to do the payroll from one person. How to can from another woman. How to milk a cow from one. How to make 300 loaves of orange, raisin bread from another. Oh I was in heaven.

After that, I rhapsodized to my mother that THIS was how people were meant to learn and be taught NOT going to school. You were to learn by doing. I told her it's says teach a child, not send 'em to school.

That was the summer of 5th grade. I was sent to a BIG school. Life began to fall apart that year for me. My parents became estranged from each other and the church. I was one of the pariahs of my class. But, I also was exposed to the larger world from which I'd previously be protected. So, that was overall, a pivotal year for which I'm grateful.