My babyhood firsts were noted by
My mother who wrote them down in a book
That I don't have access to
I can imagine they were first teeth,
First smile, first illness, first walk

My first remembrances don't go back that far
I have a vivid scene in my head of
My younger sister running, tripping, and falling
Head first on a meter, blood pouring from a pock-like wound
Her scream is what I remember the most

Such memories are part and parcel of family life
Me falling off my bike, fracturing my wrist
My oldest brother burning his feet in a ditch full of embers
The youngest brother throwing himself head long
Onto the concrete floor and not crying

One of my fondest memories is of me
Lying in bed at night, Mom turning the radio on
So I could listen to the likes of the Lone Ranger,
Amos and Andy, and Arthur Godfrey
Many of these shows migrated to television

I spent hours on Saturday mornings
Eating my breakfast of some cereal
And reading the cereal box's back and side panels
That's when there was something worth reading
On the box besides lists of mysterious ingredients