Writing challenge, Day 2: my earliest memory

People have said that I have an amazing memory. Among my family, for instance, if they can't remember when we did something, they know to ask Eric. Yeah, I can tell you all about that camping trip we took in 1967. I still have vivid memories of playing in the living room at our apartment. The time Grandma McCormack gave us marshmallows on a saucer. What was on my brother's third birthday cake (a train with its own tunnel). The time I fell halfway down the back stairs and learned how landings got their name. The time I got scared when Grandma Long called out her cat's name in the middle of the night (probably about 9pm in reality). And so on and so on.

These memories of our family's apartment are of events that occurred about 1961 or so. My folks got married in 1957 and lived in the apartment over Grandma and Grandpa Long's garage from 1957 till about 1961 or 1962. That would explain why I could hear Grandma Long calling her cat. (On a side note, I lived in the bachelor apartment downstairs next to the garage for about three years before I got married in 1986.)

I do remember lots of bits and pieces, as mentioned above. But for this assignment, I'll share a memory that took place about November 1962. I remember this quite vividly.

It was a warm fall day. I was out in our front yard (we'd moved to our first house not long before). As young children tend to do, I wandered a few doors up the street. I was just standing there watching...life...when an old car came up the street and stopped. The lady driving called out to me, "Are you lost?" For whatever reason, I nodded my head. Next thing I knew, I was in her car and headed up Lankershim Blvd.

When we got to the North Hollywood Division police station (then on Tiara St.), we went inside and the next thing I knew we were sitting in a room. At some point, someone gave me a Hershey's chocolate bar to eat. Being such a warm day, it didn't take long for the chocolate to melt all over my hands. Right then, a photographer came in, snapped a photo of me, and disappeared as fast as he had appeared. It didn't seem like it had been very long before Mom and Dad showed up. They were worried sick about me. Mom was eight months pregnant with my sister Barbara and almost gave birth to her upon getting the call from the police.

I wasn't punished, being that I was only three years old and didn't know any better. By the way, my photo appeared in the local paper the next day. It's not part of the writing assignment, but here's that photo. And look at all that chocolate on my hand!

My first mugshot.

Tomorrow, I'll have a couple of stories about...LOVE. Stay tuned...