Childhood Memories Essay Childhood Memories Essay Childhood Memories Essay

1. Childhood Memories Essay
Childhood Memories Dad said, "We're going for a ride on the bus." "Ride to where," I thought
excitedly. I remember waiting in the bus station; people going about their business. The bus we
got on was huge, with room for at least a hundred people, with plenty of room. It was a cold,
windy evening. I sat at the front so I could see out of the window. Bright lights were heading
towards us. It seemed as though we had been travelling for hours. The bus stopped a few times to
pick people up, on the way. A man got on and sat down near to us. "Hello, young'un," he said. I was
too frightened to answer; he was tall and wore a flat cap and an overcoat. Dad said, "Don't worry
son, this is your uncle...show more content...
"Come on, I'll show you to your room," she said. I was so excited. Dad picked up the suitcase and
followed Nana. I followed closely behind, marching up the never–ending stairs that seemed to go on
forever. "You can sleep in here," said Nana. The room was huge. It had three single beds. "I've put
the electric blankets on for you, your beds will be nice and warm when you get in them tonight."
"Electric blanket," I thought to myself. "We've only got hot water bottles at home." We went into
the kitchen where Nana had made us some supper. The kitchen was huge. My eyes, wandered
around. I noticed that there were some tins on the top shelf. But they were so tall. "Why are the
tins so big?" I asked my Dad, He replied. "They are full of powder, you mix it with water to make
soup." "Yuk powdered soup, how disgusting." As the night wore on my Nana said, "I'm off to bed,
I'll see you in the morning." We said goodnight to my Nana and off she went. She opened the
living room door to go up to bed. But instead of going upstairs she opened the door beneath the
stairs and went in, she must have gone under the stairs to look for something before she went to
bed, but didn't come out. That's strange, what could be so fascinating in there that she didn't come
back out. Dad said, "Come on son we'll
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2. Childhood Memories Essay
When I was a young child I would love to hear my parents tell me that we were going on a trip. I
would be full of excitement, because I knew that we would be going to a place that I had never
seen before. My parents, my brother, and I would pack our luggage and venture out in our small
gray minivan. Three of my most cherished memories in our minivan are when we went to Disney
World, the beach, and the mountains.
When I heard my parents talking about going to Disney World I was so excited. It was a long trip
down to Florida and I could not sit still, because I was so excited. We finally arrived that evening
and decided to stay in a hotel near the theme park. When it was time for bed I could not go to sleep
for a long time, because I...show more content...
Going to the beach was nothing like going to the lake or swimming pool. The ocean had large
waves that would come crashing into the beach. I was so small that the waves would just throw
me around. I also got to walk down the beach and find different objects that the waves had washed
up on shore. I found seashells that had brilliant colors like the rainbow. I even found a creature
that looked like pink jelly. I picked the creature up with a stick and took it to show my dad. My
dad told me that it was a jellyfish that could sting me, so he made me bury it in the sand. I saw
another creature that was gliding in shallow water. It was dark brown with a long tail and looked
like it had wings. It was a horrible looking creature that I had never seen before. My dad came
down to the water to see what I was looking at. He told me that they were called skates, and they
would not hurt me. That was the first time I saw something living in the ocean besides a fish. My
dad then showed me that there were little creatures called, sand fiddlers, which would wash up
when the waves crashed into the shore. We sat down on the sand so he could show me how to
catch them. The sand fiddlers would dig down in the sand fast as lightning, so we had to dig for
them fast as we could. When I caught one it felt like it was trying to dig into your hand with what
seemed like a million legs. After about four hours I was exhausted and starving. I
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3. Childhood Memories Essay
Mostly the things I remember about being six had to do with simple suburban life: the driveway,
the front yard, the field down the side yard, the woods behind the house. My brothers and I were
always told "go outside and play," and we did. We biked, triked and scooted up and down the
driveway. Then there was a basketball to bounce. Lots and lots of running around and a version
of tag in the backyard we called "monster." My world was pretty clear and contained. Brothers to
keep up with, yellow dandelions along at the end of the driveway, the field full of pricker bushes,
milkweed pods, ugly sumac trees here, a grove of pine trees in the woods near the creek. All I
remember was play, except for church on Sundays. Except for times I remember...show more
content...
Instead of an organ, we had a rock band with a drum set. Our hymnal was called "Hymns Hot and
Carols Cool." Pot luck dinner always included lumpy casseroles made with textured vegetable
protein. Eventually men started showing up to church with go–tees and pony tails. Ours was a hippy
church.
And I guess the Easter I got arrested was some kind of hippy–church field–trip. It was Easter
weekend 1965, I think. To celebrate Good Friday, the day Christians remember Jesus's crucifixion,
my dad had collaborated with some of the black churches in the "inner city" to drive around Monroe
county and pray.There's an old Catholic tradition of praying "the stations of the cross" to
commemorate Jesus's condemnation, his walk of shame to the hill of Golgotha and his getting
nailed to the cross, and his last words. Catholics pray in church. We hippy protestants, it turned out
would gather together, black/white, old/young, city–folk and suburb–folk and wander around the
county picking places of inequality, poverty, and injustice to pray upon.
DRAFT Essay #6 family story
Hughes 2
It all started early Friday morning. We white Presbyterians took our yellow bus downtown to meet a
church full of black Baptists and there yellow bus , we mixed everybody up and then we started the
prayer–a–thon. As my father tells it, we prayed for fair wages at a plastics factory, for clean air and
water at a waste dump, for better schools at a crummy looking high school on the east side
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