This was a writing class exercise.

I remember

I remember Miss Gallagher, my primary school teacher. She was the best daytime Mom.
I remember my childhood dog, Kim. He was afraid of everything.
I remember soccer games at school. I hated that stupid game.
I remember fighting Bobby McDonald when I was six years old. My first and only playground scrap.
I remember wearing shorts and Wellington boots on cold, rainy days. And the red marks the boots left on my calves
I remember sitting on top of a double-decker bus with my parents. Everyone was smoking except for me.
I remember helping my father dig the vegetable garden in the Spring and having to smell turnips and cabbage being boiled in the Autumn.
I remember throwing my younger sister’s favorite toy over the garden fence. She also never forgot.
I remember getting my long hair shaved off. My father was happy and said I looked like a soldier.
I remember connecting a battery-powered radio to the AC mains. It never worked again.
I remember the moon landing and my Uncle telling me it was historic.
I remember listening to Russian broadcasts on my Short-Wave radio, even though I didn’t know what a five-year plan might be.
I remember telling my mother that lightning could shoot along phone lines and into her ear. She was afraid of phones for the rest of her life.
I remember pretending I was a DJ by turning my radio volume down and talking between tracks during the Sunday evening Top 20 chart show on Radio 1.
I remember getting a guitar for Xmas and finding out I would never be the next Eric Clapton.
I remember being unable to sleep on Xmas even when I knew Santa didn’t exist.