The First Memory I Have Is:
A little background first - the house my parents owned until I was four, sat on ten acres. The house was at the front, with a detached garage, and a barn. The rest of the property was fenced, and my dad bought a calf each year to raise for beef in our freezer, and he boarded horses for a couple of guys who competed in the rodeo circuits in and around Misery.
One memory is really clear, I believe it is a true memory, rather than just hearing family tell the story over the years.
Cathy and I may have been four, but were probably still three. Our older brother, who was twelve or thirteen, convinced us that we could get pillowcases from our bedroom, and if we jumped out of the barn loft, the pillow cases would work exactly like parachutes and we'd float slowly to the ground.
I distinctly remember standing beside Cathy in the loft, looking down at my brother shouting encouragements up to us. Then, I remember my Dad coming out of the back door at a dead run, my brother taking off around the side of the house and continuing on down the road, never looking back. We climbed down the ladder and out of the barn, much to my Dad's relief. He told us that the next time Steve hatched a plan, one or both of us should run it by him or our mom first.
While it was actually happening, I do not remember being scared until our dad came outside and started yelling. Now, that I'm older, with kids and grandkids, I realize just how frightened he was.
When our brother finally made his way home, he was banished to his room the rest of the night, and again the next evening, after school.
Thankfully, it's only a story of what could have been, with a really funny ending.