Day 10: Listen to an excerpt of Joe Brainard’s “Remember” here: Write your own version.
Sadly, I’ve never heard of Joe Brainard before this, but my word, listening to him, are you not walking next to him on that journey down memory lane?! Amazing, and so lyrical.
I remember getting a diaper change as my dad sang “Johnny B. Goode.”
I remember being small, sun-kissed, in a bonnet next to my E.T. kiddie pool, the flagstones warm beneath my chubby bare feet.
I remember cuddling with Mom, who always and still does make every boo-boo better.
I remember sitting in between clean, damp bed sheets on the backyard line, the sun muted through their floral pattern.
I remember sneaking behind the sofa and coloring to my heart’s content on the butter-colored walls.
I remember the joy of learning how to read, thanks to “Go Dogs Go.”
I remember the first time I picked up a pen to write, how I couldn’t scratch the words out fast enough.
I remember seeing New York City for the first time, the pulsating streets, the skyscrapers, the history … all of it imbedded itself in my very being.
I remember having my heart broken for the first time.
I remember pulling my hair up into a big, thick bun and feeling so very exotic.
I remember the smell of a summer day in the country, the way the sun glittered off the pond.
I remember summers on Long Beach Island, fake names given to cute beach bum boys and a tan to die for.
I remember cruising around in my first car, a white jalopy with an AM radio, with the girls, blasting Cypress Hill and “Total Eclipse of the Heart” as loud as our battery-operated portable radio would go.
I remember my first cigarette, a Newport smoked on a dare during a ride around “The Lake.”
I remember trips to “the Shore” blasting The Violent Femmes the whole way down and back.
I remember the first time I put the top down on my brand-new VW Cabrio, the freedom it ensued and the thrill of the wind knotting up my hair.
I remember my first shot of tequila with my brother.
I remember the immense weight lifted from finally letting go.
I remember the fear in going back to school to be a writer.
I remember the thrill of seeing Nikki M. Mascali in print the first time. And the time after that. And the time after that times infinity.
I remember interviewing a childhood crush and bursting into tears after I hung up the receiver.
I remember walking down those spiral stairs and meeting him.
I remember the awkward kiss goodnight on our lengthy first date where we covered all the topics that should never be talked about on a first date, and how we still laugh about it years later.
I remember meeting the Boy and Girl Child for the first time, how nervous I was, how young they were, not the young adults they are today.
I remember driving through the tunnel the day New York became our home.
I remember thinking, “It’s all happening, this thing called life.”