Regrets

I want this post to record some of my kind of core memories. These are all kind of stories that I regret or bad things that happen to me. I do have good memories, but these are the bad ones.

Carowinds

I think my earliest memory is going to Carowinds with my dad when I was about four years old. It was just Dad and me; Mom and Matt went to Tweetsie Railroad or something else that day. I didn't wear socks to Carowinds — I just didn't like them. I remember thinking, why wear socks when shoes are enough? With all the walking, though, I ended up with blisters on my feet.

I don't think Dad was angry, but he seemed confused — maybe frustrated with himself for not noticing I wasn't wearing socks.

Basketball

When I was in fourth or fifth grade, I played on a rec basketball team at my elementary school. I was pretty tall for my age, so I played center: block shots, get rebounds, and pass to the players who could actually make the shots.

I remember one game when the scoreboard didn't work correctly. I think the ones digit was malfunctioning, so the display couldn't show values above a certain point. During the game I grabbed a rebound and — without realizing — shot into the wrong basket. I had caught a rebound from the opposing team and put it right back up. I was humiliated.

I noticed the other team had 19 points and, in a panicked attempt to save face, I tried to act like it was intentional — as if I was testing something about the scoreboard. This memory shows my instinct to improvise to avoid embarrassment, which is a part of myself I don't much like.

Newspaper

In fourth grade, we had a year-long current events project. The teacher told us to clip newspaper articles every week about stories we found interesting, and to write a sentence or two about them. We were supposed to keep binders and scrapbook the clippings throughout the year.

At home we didn't get a newspaper, and I didn't know how to ask the teacher or my mom for a workaround — a magazine or library access, for example. The year went by and I didn't do the project. Near the end of the year the teacher noticed and called my mom. I remember Mom being flustered and frustrated that I hadn't told her I needed help. We spent a Saturday at the library, digging through old newspapers, making copies, and assembling the binder.

My strongest memory from that experience is how disappointed Mom seemed. I felt disappointed in myself, too.