thirty-nine memories

On January 5, 2009, I will celebrate my 39th birtday. I wish I'd thought to start this series a few days ago and then posted once a day until January 5. Anyhow, it's a little less than 39 days until my birthday, so I'll post one memory (in completely whimsical order) from my life in honor of each year of my life. No, the memories will not correspond to particular years. I have no memory of being 17 months old. If all goes well, I may even include a visual aid or two in some of the posts. But not this one.

Memory #1: "Hillside demolition derby"

My two younger brothers and I used to take the following items out to the hill in our backyard: a bigwheel tricycle (Derry), a little red wagon (Jamie); an old metal tricycle (me). Derry would ride his normal little kid style. I rode mine standing up, on the back axle. Jamie rode the wagon the way anybody would, sitting (sometimes kneeling) in the wagon, using the handle to steer. No big deal. Kids ride toys down the hill for fun.

I think it was my suggestion that led us to discover the mad hilarity of a game I would like to now dub "hillside demolition derby." Perched at the top of the hill, each wearing a football helmet of some sort, we aimed our vehicles so as to collide about half way down. Derry (the youngest) gave the countdown. "3-2-1 go."

We met with horrible and hilarious violence somewhere half way to the bottom, bodies and body parts scattered randomly in the summer grass, three boys laughing riotiously at the double flip one of us had turned or at the way the wagon had run over our leg or neck. Only rarely did someone cry. Never for long.