This was written as part of an experiential writing class at UMass. I really liked it and wanted to share it here.
My Trip to JJ’s
There is a story from my childhood that my family often shares. My mother used this story before as a creative writing exercise. To help recall this memory and put it in my own perspective, I first sought out my mother’s version of events.
Currently my mother is in the hospital with post stroke dementia and we haven’t found a long term facility for her yet. Naturally, I fell into a rabbit hole as I picked up this box of notebooks and papers that I have. I found the folder containing my mother’s writing which included stories from a correspondence course she took with the Institute of Children’s Literature. I found her teacher’s comments to be critical in a way which I disagree with and not constructive and encouraging. The letters and typed assignments were dated 1985. The story I was looking for was written years later after that correspondence class (I was born in 86).
I found it, after combing through some very interesting pieces. It was handwritten on white stationary in blue pen ink. The first lines were, “On a windy day in March, I found myself paralyzed with fear. The fear of losing my five year old son.”
To put you into my head space, I was playing outside in the front yard. My sister Sarah, had let me go outside and although, I’m sure she said to me to not leave the front yard, I have a mind of my own. My sense of independence and ability to think and act on my own was clear at that moment.
I suppose I was feeling bored. Both siblings were inside. I enjoyed playing outside and usually I would play pretend. I often acted out movies and TV shows. I don’t recall what I was doing or playing, but at some point the interest in that activity stopped.
I knew where my parents were—or I thought I did. On Saturday mornings they went to the high school, which was just down the road from us. They went for weekly exercise, either walking, running or jogging. I had been there before and I knew how to get there. If I had wanted to join them or see what they were up to all I had to do was go for a walk.
There was no sense of danger at the sight of cars, probably because it was easy to just avoid them and not get hit by one. There was a song we learned in pre-school. “You’ve gotta look both ways before you cross the street…left…right…” I remembered the song and I looked both ways. There were no cars when I crossed the street to get to the high school. I walked around the parking lot and couldn’t find my parents. I didn’t see them in the field.
I crossed the street again. I looked both ways. Left…right… no cars were coming. I was on the sidewalk and I kept walking. I might have been confused about which direction to take to get back to Furrowtown Road and Garden Ave. where my house was. Probably not though. I probably wanted to go to the convenience store JJ’s. They had candy there.
When I got to JJs, a woman spotted me and asked if I was lost. I said “yes” and told them my phone number. The woman took me inside and I called and talked to my sister. My sister, when she recalls the story, has told me that the woman who found me was the parent of one of her friends.
My mom wrote in her version of the story, “Gary [my father] got in the family van and took off to ride around the block searching for our small child. I cryed [sic] out in vain.” The story continued and she wrote, “as we both pulled into the driveway, my daughter came running out of the house. She said that Bryan is at J.J.’s store.”
My dad showed up at JJ’s to take me home. My parents told me they were worried and I didn’t understand. Worrying meant they were afraid something could have happened to me, like maybe I would be hit by a car. I knew to look both ways though and they should have known that too. It didn’t make sense to me that anybody would be worried.
I knew to give my telephone number to the person that found me. According to my mother’s story, “Bryan had just learned his phone # 3 days prior to his adventure.” She then concludes the story by bringing religion and prayer into the conversation, which is where she loses me as a reader. She says, “I knew the lord was watching over my son that day. I knew my prayers found him safe.” As a writer myself, I would not have taken this particular angle, regardless of my own personal beliefs.
What seems to be at play here is that I had a developed sense of self and independence, making a conscious decision to leave the house of my own free will. Then you have the memory recall that allowed me to cross the street. Formal education does come in here as I remember the song from pre-school and the activity along with it. This singalong activity contributing to my knowledge is an example of learning occurring in a complex social environment—in a classroom with other children. I had been to the high school with my parents before, which means that active learning was at play before in the times when I had followed my parents on their walks to the high school. Building on prior knowledge of the space around me—the familiar streets, familiar buildings—I was able to navigate through the situation.
They used to sell “grab bags” of candy at JJ’s that also sometimes included a small gumball machine style toy like an army man. I hope I got a grab bag that day.
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