Here I am, guest posting. My name is Kev. I prefer to be called that, anyway. I normally post on my blog, Winter Ends Too Soon, but here I am. I am Raw milk's second son, also her favorite son, known as "the good son." Who says the first son is always the best?
Now that you know who I am, on to the post. I will be posting about things my mom told me when I was young that I simply had to take on faith. I refer to these as "Mom mysteries."
First, driving. I am listing these in chronological order as best I can, and driving was probably first.
I never understood how my mom found her way about the world- or how anyone else did, for that matter. I must have asked her how she did it, but I don't remember the answer. Now, being almost 15 years older, I can see how simple it is.
I could recognize landmarks, but I had no grasp of time passage nor miles traveled. I used to wonder, if we got in an accident and my mom and brother died, how would I get home? From that point on, I unsuccessfully attempted to learn the routes. I could not. Apparently, I didn't know that getting home would be the least of my concerns if my brother and mom died. I had a small brain.
Mom comments: Actually the reason you couldn't recognize any landmarks is because you - being 3 years old fifteen years ago - were strapped into a car seat and you couldn't see over the window sill. All you could see was blue sky and clouds. Hardly ideal for finding one's way back home. Oh, how you hated the wretched car seat, but you knew the car wouldn't start unless you were strapped in. On more than one occasion you managed to squirm your way out of the car seat while we were on the road and moving, and I would have to turn off the engine, coast to the side of the road and strap you back in. Finally I learned that it was necessary to turn the front plate of the car seat around and around, twisting until the shoulder straps were snug against your little chest. Then all was well, you were securely incarcerated in the car seat, the engine would stay running and you were back to being hopelessly lost watching the clouds and blue sky.
Then, there was the TV viewing schedule that I never quite got.
I once watched Bugs Bunny VS. that giant, hairy red monster with eyes he messes with sometimes. I was hooked. I told my mom with the utmost of urgency that we HAD to find out when this show was on! It was probably Looney Tunes. I hate that title.
Back then, we didn't have guides on the TV like we do with cable/satellite nowadays. I mean, we, as in I, didn't. So she said "it's on from [time] to [time]." I, surely in an annoyingly screechy voice, declared "Mooom, how can you know that?! It just now went over! We didn't see the beginning! Oh God, this isn't happening! This is NOT happening!"
I had no grasp of time. She told me, "Because shows are 30 minutes long," but I was too stupid to understand. "So what?!" I thought. "That doesn't matter! We don't know what time it came on!" I am actually unaware if I verbalized this or not. Needless to say, with hindsight...uhh, she was right.
As usual.
Then there was Donkey Kong Country. Even back then I enjoyed video games, and I credit Donkey Kong Country for teaching me hand-eye coordination. I don't know how, but it did. (BTW, back then I thought there were only 2 or 3 games for SNES.)
I loved the game, but it was too challenging for me at the higher levels. Or, I think so, at least. I believe I beat the game, but have no memory of it (except the final boss battle; maybe it already had a completed file on it). Even on subsequent playthroughs (as recently as 2004), I was unable to beat the advanced levels.
However, with age comes brilliance, and just as I was able to ruthlessly destroy Command and Conquer: Tiberian Sun (I couldn't touch it with an electrified cattle prod back when), I assume I now have the thought processing ability and coping skills to beat Donkey Kong Country. It really is a ruthlessly amazing game judging from my nostalgia banks.
Do you realize how many years of your life you've wasted playing video games?
Anyway, as you may know, Donkey Kong Country was produced by Rare. I borrowed a copy from my cousins, and upon seeing that it was "Rare," my countenance fell, as I informed my mom, my voice full of aching dread, "Oh no...mom! This game is "Rare!" We'll never be able to find a copy!" I was very theatrical when I was a child. Still am. She informed me - calmly- that it was a developer. I forget if that shut me up or not. I wonder how I knew how to read back then. As if I need to reiterate, I was an idiotic child.
And very theatrical indeed.
Now, I could post a few more, but I won't because I'd rather recount this tale.
It was not my mom, but a good friend of my mom's. Me and my brother were staying with her for a while (my mom went somewhere), only a few days or a week, and she said that we could come with her to the store. Me and my brother looooved the store. We'd go around like crazed wild banshees. I was 7 or 8 or 9.
I flew to Ohio to meet up with some Internet friends from whom I'd learned my parenting style. You and your brother stayed with my friend, Michelle.
We were behaving like crazy wild banshees, and she told us that if we didn't cool our jets (she said it in a calm manner; not "STOP IT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL KILL YOU!"), she would take us back to the house and we wouldn't get to continue shopping. I think it was "Look, guys, you need to chill out, or you're going back to the house."
I took a life lesson home from that experience. What life lesson? Well, it appears that kids don't know what's required of them. I didn't, at least. When she told me that if we didn't calm down we'd have to go back to the house, we calmed down (I think so, at least...I don't remember being deported). Once she informed us what was required of us, and why it was required, we, "starry-eyedly," operated on the knowledge she had newly bestowed and we did it.
Wow, that's really all it would have taken? No wait, I routinely shared with you and your brother what was "required". I think Michelle just scared the wits out of you both.
This reminds me of a time when I was (purportedly; I have no memory of it) in a car honking the horn. My mom told me that I shouldn't honk the horn because it was bothering the neighbors. According to her, I thanked her because I had no idea what I was doing was wrong, and once she pointed it out, it made sense, and I stopped.
This did indeed happen. Your father was out there with you and he didn't think it was necessary to inform you and your brother that this behavior was bothersome to the neighbors. As I recall, you were somewhat embarrassed to learn this information.
That's all, folks.
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