Childhood

My earliest memory comes from when I was about three years old. I remember being in a playpen in my parent's bedroom. My mother was screaming and crying.

They had put me in there in my playpen, and I got my hands on my Mom's red lipstick. I rubbed it all over my face and hands and sucked on it.

I also got my hands on my mother's perfume, and drank the whole bottle of purfume and passed out.

My Mom came in to check on me and saw me out cold, all that red drooling out of my mouth and she thought I was bleeding internally. She tried to wake me, but I was out like a light. She called the doctor, who was a close friend of our family, and he came right over.

He explained that the perfume was mostly alcohol, not poisonous, and that I hadn't drank enought to worry about. "Let him sleep it off," he said. "he might have a hangover, but he'll be fine."

Three years old and I was already drunk!

My mother used to sing around the house. She sang while she cooked. She sang while she hung clothes on the line. She sang in a subconcious way. It was a habit. To me it was like having the radio on. Always the same top ten songs too.

She'd bake you a batch of toll house cookies and sing to you witha beautiful voice at the same time.

What would I give to hear that voice again?

...with a cold glass of milk and some hot toll house cookies?


Anything!