I have always been fascinated by fire. It seems to be alive, moving and glowing and hot. I love campfires and candles, gas ranges and barbeques. I like lighting matches and always tried to collect as many packs as I could from every place I went.
When I was a kid, I got in trouble for playing with matches. My sister had written a paper or something for school and used matches to burn the edges of the paper to make it look like it had been charred in a fire. I thought that was SO cool. I decided to play with some candles or some such thing and I got in trouble.
You have to understand that I was a great kid. Seriously. I got straight A's, played sports, worked hard. I didn't keep my room THAT clean, but that's what my sister (with a couple bucks from my allowance) was for - she helped out a ton, being the neater child and all. I didn't drink, smoke, do drugs. I lived to make my parents proud of me. So when I got in trouble, it was terrible. I was a very emotional child. Shoots, I think I still might be an emotional child! I could tear up at the drop of a hat.
On the day that I literally played with fire, my father caught me. He didn't yell or do anything mean. He just calmly told me that I needed to write a two page paper about why I shouldn't play with fire. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. What better punishment for me than to make me think about what I did wrong? Taking away TV - eh, who cares? But make me write a paper? Yes, sir! I really thought long and hard about what it meant to play with fire and I wrote the best paper I could. Unfortunately, I don't think my dad still has it. He gave me a lot of the stuff from school; report cards and test scores and whatnot. But I still think about that paper when I light candles and matches.
Isn't it funny the things that stick with you? I can't remember a lot of things from growing up, but that is one memory I can't imagine forgetting.
When I was a kid, I got in trouble for playing with matches. My sister had written a paper or something for school and used matches to burn the edges of the paper to make it look like it had been charred in a fire. I thought that was SO cool. I decided to play with some candles or some such thing and I got in trouble.
You have to understand that I was a great kid. Seriously. I got straight A's, played sports, worked hard. I didn't keep my room THAT clean, but that's what my sister (with a couple bucks from my allowance) was for - she helped out a ton, being the neater child and all. I didn't drink, smoke, do drugs. I lived to make my parents proud of me. So when I got in trouble, it was terrible. I was a very emotional child. Shoots, I think I still might be an emotional child! I could tear up at the drop of a hat.
On the day that I literally played with fire, my father caught me. He didn't yell or do anything mean. He just calmly told me that I needed to write a two page paper about why I shouldn't play with fire. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. What better punishment for me than to make me think about what I did wrong? Taking away TV - eh, who cares? But make me write a paper? Yes, sir! I really thought long and hard about what it meant to play with fire and I wrote the best paper I could. Unfortunately, I don't think my dad still has it. He gave me a lot of the stuff from school; report cards and test scores and whatnot. But I still think about that paper when I light candles and matches.
Isn't it funny the things that stick with you? I can't remember a lot of things from growing up, but that is one memory I can't imagine forgetting.
2 comments:
That is a complete understatement!! I can attest, your room was waaay more than not "THAT" clean!!! =)
And I could of totally seen your dad making you write a paper!! Lol!
It's amazing the things that stick w/ us and even more amazing how those memories are sparked...a smell, a sight, a sense...a lot of times they aren't even recognized...they simply exist.
That's right! You were sporty spice in high school! I was totally jealous.
Loving the new look of the blog, by the way!
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