 |
| Trust No One, and Eat Ramen with Both Eyes Open |
The first thing I can remember in my life is being robbed, robbed on my birthday.
I was 4 years old and it was my birthday and the party was at my grandma and grandpa's house in the Imperial Mobile Home Park. I can remember my brother and sister and the rest of the family singing happy birthday to me. I remember having some chocolate cake with white frosting.
What anchors the memory in my mind was the two toy monster trucks I got in a blister pack. They smelled faintly like sweet vanilla which was probably carcinogenic solvents off-gassing from their still curing bodies. Delicious. We had a one car asphalt driveway that my dad had extended to the side with a few stepping stones so that his work truck would not wear a hole in the lawn. This left a perfect mud divot between the road and the stones for playing trucks in. A neighbor boy and I were out playing with my new trucks, buzzing engine noises with our lips, and driving in the mud when my grandmother, who demanded we call her 'Other Mother' but would settle for 'O-Mo', came out to call me to dinner. I jumped up to come inside. She told me to bring my new toy trucks inside, but I was a generous soul and left them so that the other boy could keep playing. I went inside and ate my rice with crushed up ramen noodles in it, an O-Mo classic.
When I came back outside the boy and my trucks were gone. For good.
I ran the half block up to the road junction looking for him. Then I ran back to the other junction hoping it was possible that he was still out and about. He was not and I went home weeping for my lost trucks and my betrayed trust. I sat on the steps and cried while my mom told me it was important to take care of my toys. Yeah, mom, I know that now.
