Memoirs of an Unremarkable Man: my first memory Date Thursday, April 25, 2024 - 03:33 PM PST Topic Lemmings on Parade My first memory Some people say they can remember their own birth, and others are unable to remember their childhood before puberty. My first coherent and complete memory is one of terror – not at the situation, but at the actions of those around me. A gator, common in the southern united states, had found its way into the yard - which was not surprising considering the yard bordered the bayou. The small (no more than a foot and a half long) was sunning itself on a rock several feet from me. We had an understanding in those days – me and the animals I mean. They didn't bother me and I didn't bother them and my mother ruined all of that in one rash action. Screaming like a banshee of Irish myth, she cam flying down the back stairs of the house. She approached the small reptile with the intent to frighten him away. Instead, millions of years of evolution told him that she was of no threat and he just sat there. The critter had the decency to open one eye in surprise when she started yelling, but that was all. Without thinking, she ran back into the house and came back out with a broom. With a mighty downward swing smacked that gator with it. A yelp of pain met her efforts and spurred her into a frenetic flurry of motion. The poor thing tried to flee, mostly out of surprise, but she would have none of that. She was primal woman defending her cub with the ferocity bred into her by millions of years of uncivilized living in the wilderness. The primal woman-beast would not let her leave the poor creature be, in spite of my cries for mercy. Each step brought another blow, and each blow brought another yelp of pain. Each blow also slowed him slightly, till his flight was nothing more than a weak limping crawl, and eventually, stillness. Still the beating continued, long after the fleeing had ceased, and long after the heart had stilled. She had killed it for nothing more than enjoying warmth of a summers day. She tried to console my wailing cry, but that would not happen. My tears of anger and dismay were hot and fat, streaming down my dirty face, making small rivulets of mud where they traveled. I was too young then for the words, but I wanted her to leave me alone, never to touch me again for the casual brutality visited upon an innocent creature. That night, I had my first nightmare because of that. A fat female gator was staring at me asking “Why?” “Why?” Words edge with pain and tinged with rage. I didn't have words, but intent was read clearly in this dream. “Why what?” “Why did you let her do that? My child, my brood, my blood – dead, and you did nothing to stop her. Why?” “She's big, I am small, i could do nothing.” “Excuses. The divine, the primal god in all things, gives us the power to do what is right. Choose to do right, or choose to die.” In a rush so fast that it was nothing more than a blur, she ran forward and tore into me. I understood that night, that what my mother had done was wrong. I didn't know it then, but I hated her for it. And I still do. This article comes from Shmeng http://www.shmeng.com/ The URL for this story is: http://www.shmeng.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=791