Dealing with Selfishness and Death as a Kid

My entry for Tech and Indiv Writing class has to do with childhood memories.

It took a bit of effort to find an appropriate memory of mine to release to the world. My earliest memory is the discovery of the difference between boy and girl anatomy. The next earliest memory involves my toilet training.

Nobody wants to hear that.

....Well, nobody should hear that.

Rather, I will record my experience of my friend finding a lizard on the Colorado National Monument.


Lizard Memory


One glorious Sunday, my church had a picnic and devotional up in the red rocks of Colorado. The weather was sunny and warm, and a few small, scraggly, green trees with thite trunks dotted the rocky landscape. The sky could not have been bluer.

In contrast to the nice weather, a few of my friends and I experienced a small conflict. During the picnic, my friend Josh had caught a beautiful blue and green lizard. He refused to share the lizard with any of his friends. We all attempted to touch it or look at it, never having observed a lizard that closely before, but Josh tugged it away violently every time.

Justifiably upset, several of my friends told his mother about his selfish behavior. During the devotional, she had a talk with him, and afterwards Josh was a lot more open with sharing his lizard, even offering it to others unprompted. Unfortunately, by this time, my friends and I had moved our interest to climbing on the rocks, and soon after, leaving for home.

I learned a lesson from this: other small children have short attention spans; therefore, as a kid, your popularity won’t last, so milk it as much as you can while you have it.

I mean, um.. share?


Dead Cat Memory


My next earliest sharable memory involves a deep connection to my best friend whose cat died.

In 4th grade I had a best friend named Matthew. We enjoyed doing everything together and shared many interests: particularly, our affinity for cats. I had not met any other boys who shared my love of cats. I had been to Matt’s house and met his cat, Patrinka, who was a shy, fluffy, tan cat who blended in with the rocks she explored. Patrinka was very much loved by her family.

One morning at my elementary school, I awaited Matthew’s arrival in the gym. As the start of school drew nearer, I began to wonder where he was. Soon after, I looked behind me, and Matt arrived in the room, in tears. I hurried over and asked what was wrong. Trying to keep his composure, he explained that his cat was run over by a car. I could sense his deep feeling of loss from within myself, and I started crying too. I knew that cats maintained a deep connection with the humans they tolerate, as they won’t just love anybody; you have to earn their trust. In addition, the thought of his sweet, shy, fluffy kitty as a road pancake horrified me. Thoughts of destruction of an innocent animal haunted my mind as well. (Is anything safe?)

I kept crying for the first few hours of school, even when Matthew stopped crying. The teacher had to take me out of the classroom eventually due to my sobbing. She ended up retrieving Matt’s older sister and took her, Matt, and me to an office in which we prayed for comfort together. After that, the day went better.

I know Matt appreciated my sympathy in the end, though I believe I may have been a little too empathetic, having possibly felt a broader spectrum of misery than he.

And now I feel like posting a cat quote....

And a picture of my own kitties...

"Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons."

     --Robertson Davies