Before I Can Even Rememember

Chapter One

History is a funny thing. It can be a valuable thing if handled correctly. In order to handle it correctly we must be able to remember what has happened. Every once in a while events are brought to my attention, which occurred in my short lifetime, that I don’t remember. A few of these events, soon to be recounted are not my own memories. My family has told these stories to me since I can remember because they happened before my actual memories begin. This is one of the reasons I am writing this book. I don’t want to forget all the experiences I have had thus far.

According to eyewitnesses, when I was about two years old I discovered the ability to throw with force and accuracy. One night while we had some visitors in the home I came walking down the hallway holding a harmless golf ball. However, the key detail was that the harmless golf ball was in my two-year-old rocket of an arm. As I entered into the room I let that ball fly. Emily was the poor target of the golf ball. According to her she it hit her square in the forehead with such force that it caused her to pass out from the pain. I imagine that she was exaggerating a little bit, but it makes for a good story.

At around the same point in my life I am told that I was a pretty good aim with a pickle. This may be the reason why I have never been completely fond of eating pickles. As I have been told, we were sitting at the dinner table. There must have been pickles on the table because my dad took a pickle right between the eyes. Once again I don’t remember any of this so I don’t take responsibility for either story. My Mom, however, enrolled me into little league baseball as a result.

Before I could even walk my sister Liz framed me. I don’t actually remember this happening, but we have evidence that proves this happens. If we looked hard enough in our old belongings we would find a tape that proves I was framed. My sisters loved to make tapes when they were younger pretending to be news broadcasters and anything else they imagined. At one time when they were working on their latest tape I happened to be in the kitchen. In my mind I imagine it was before I could walk. In the background you can hear Liz talking to me, and then she starts yelling “Robby has a knife.” It turns out that Liz got in trouble by Mom on the tape for giving me the knife. That wasn’t the end of being framed in my life.

Having heard those stories we are now ready to discuss the best story from before I can remember. When I am a little kid church was torture. I didn’t like to sit in one spot behaving myself for 3 hours at a time. Most of the time my Dad ended up walking off the stand in front of the entire congregation to take me out of the chapel to be punished, but that is another story for a later time. Needless to say a most of the time spent in church was a circus for my Mom to take care of. I was either sprawling on the floor or standing on the bench the majority of the time. One Sunday in particular ended up worse than others. My older sister Emily was laying on the floor under the bench at the time. I was leaning with my arms on the back of the bench in front of ours with my feet resting on the seat of our bench. Emily was directly below me on the bench when the incident happened. All in one swift motion as I’ve been told my feet slipped off the bench and my knee landed on Emily’s face knocking her two front teeth out. For such a traumatic experience I am actually surprised I don’t remember this happening.