Things I'd forgotten...

The other day in Readings in Journalism (that class seems to be a trend for blog-inspirations) we read a story called "American Man at Age 10" by Susan Orlean. She basically followed a typical 10 year old around for a while, and wrote about his life. Some of the things she wrote about, I had completely forgotten I had done/seen/heard. So I started to make a list.
Here it is (in no particular order):
I had forgotten about...
- having to put the chairs up at school at the end of the day
- computer lab games
- marble jars
- free homework passes
- Mrs. Koines' "oops" coupons
- diarammas
- sitting in "squads" in gym class
- counting at the water fountain
- paintings in the bathrooms
- the RTC room
- pulling a card
- wearing snow boots and snow pants on the bus; Ashley P., Sarah Todd and I all crammed into one seat
- missing the bus
- the mini-courses bus ride
- dancing for 1/2 a song with a boy
- Karilee teaching me about shaving my legs
- carpenter pants
- platform shoes
- Giga pets - cubbies
- spelling bees
- toe socks that I could never wear because of my weird toes
- beaded bracelets
- beanie babies - TGIF - Boy Meets World!
- Full House

- Furbies
- S-I-T on the R-U-G in Mrs. Griffin's class
- letter people in kindergarten
- playing with water babies with Lauren (and hiding them so we could get them first the next day)
- walking through the high school to get to band
- Halloween parades
- Pet Day
- my grandparents driving me to school
- Amelia Bedelia
- walking to school with Dan and Dave
- Jo-Jo teasing me about Dante
- Trix cereal
- my dad always saying "Home again, home again, jiggity jig" when we'd pull onto McMaster Street
- watching my sister's plays and bringing her flowers
- Malta's Magic
- warheads
- the swing in my old house's backyard
- the green house
- the skate boarders across the street that I always thought were going to break into my house
- having dreams about witches
- Doris and Warren next door at the old house- her giving us rhubarb
- the Cline's
- the upstairs bathroom tub and popping the little balls in the bowl (still not sure what they were, but I thought I was so badass for popping them)
- the scary laundry room
- playing Pet Shop with Lauren
- Junior Achievement
- Jocelynn filling up pools with balloons in them in the front yard for some holiday
- Alan's 40th Birthday Party- David wearing a grass skirt and bikini top
- Cathy Fragale who loved Lisa Frank
- Mrs. Tomeck dumping out Andrew Carpenter's entire desk onto the floor
- childhood books
- chicken pox
- how much braces sucked
- losing teeth
- Dr. Rulos's office- the rug, eye test, and Pedialyte under the tables
- my snowman

- Amanda Webb
- square dancing in gym, sweaty hands, hoping to be in a group with cute boys
- gymnastics
- making up dance routines
- Mrs. Riggins
- Mr. B on rollerskates
- Mad Minutes
- playing Jeopardy with my dad, keeping track of our points with coins
- lock downs
- Star Lab
- sitting boy-girl-boy-girl at the cafeteria tables when we got in trouble
- having to raise our hand to throw away food
- the Soc Hop
- Luke Bateholts popping bottle tops in the cafeteria
- Mrs. Druziak always yelling at me for eating in the hallway
- too-pink lipstick
- line leaders
- dipping my pinky in my mom's peppermint schnapps
- watching the Wizard of Oz with Jocelynn, making a yellow brick road for the living room
- Aunt Betsy
- church school excitement because of Garrett and Martin
- the playground
- running the mile
- Mrs. Weaver
- Sarah Todd and I getting in trouble on our first day
- blowing on the grass to make that whistling noise while watching the other kids play kickball
- indoor recess, found out by looking at the flag
- jumping over the light tile
- the "Sankowski kids"
- Mr. Brickner
- learning to light matches, and having the boys do it for me
- Ken Ponte
- being called chipmunk
- being teased about the gravestone with the last name Wheeler
- Mrs. Koines' couch
- THINK
- Karilee always eating my dunkaroos
- sitting every other seat in the auditorium in 8th grade for movies
- the giving tree assembly
- going to Dan and Dave's after school- Ben Hurtt trying to kiss me, his dad's name was Buddah
- Camp Chingachgook- everyone singing to Jayce and I for our birthdays
- Candi Ridge
- sitting on the edge of Grandpa's recliner
- the TV show "David the Gnome"
- Armani losing it when Grandpa died, him and Gianni leaving notes to him on his coffin
- Christmas Eve that year
- putting my dad's hair in tons of little pig tails
- sitting in Mrs. V's class when the news about 9/11 came through
- Mr. Joe
- Mr. Gray- calling us Simba, Nala, Wheels

The list could continue for ever. There are so many things I don't want to forget...

Memory

Today in my Readings in Journalism class, we read a piece called "Memory" about people with Alzheimer's disease, and it struck a cord close to home (is that a mix of two phrases? My brain is fried...). For the past few months, my family has been dealing with the process of my Grandma Wheeler losing her memory. On Monday, she was moved into an assisted living apartment. The only question I have is, where did my Dramma go?
Where is the Canasta playing, wise-cracking, sarcastic Grandma? Where is the Grandma who would tease me about my grades, how I hold my pencil, and my awful first eyebrow plucking experience?
She seems to be lost in her own mind, at times totally fine, and at other times asking my dad's gray-haired friend if he's in 11th grade or 12th grade now.
My parents aren't taking it too well. They don't seem to be able to grasp the idea that the woman who is sitting on that hospital bed, sneakers on, bags packed, ready to escape the place she's essentially been held captive in for over two weeks, is someone with a disease. A horrible disease that makes you forget your sister died, makes you forget where you live, makes you forget who just left the room.
It is someone who, before about a year ago, was completely in control of her life, completely independent, completely lucid. In her mind, she's not old, and her forgetfulness is nothing to be worried about. "Who doesn't forget things?" she always asks us.
While she's forgetting, I'm struggling to remember. I don't want to forget the times that I had with her, singing show tunes while playing double-solitaire, showing her endless pictures, projects, and papers from school, drinking the best milkshakes in the world.
I need to remember, because soon, I'll be the only one with those memories.