Fishing with Anna.
As I regress further into infantilism, I go through the accumulated detritus from my early childhood. Here is a silly but cute piece of juvenilia I've uncovered. It is a note written to a neighborhood childhood friend, Anna, in which I regretted not being able to go fishing with her as promised, because of the mud and rain. We were about seven years old at the time. Now, you must undertand that I never went fishing in my life: then, before, or after. Nor did I own a fishing pole, only a branch with a string at the end and a safety pin. I didn't understand the concept of bait.
Anna, by the way, was the girl I had played doctor with at age five behind the outdoor fireplace. We wanted to show each other what we had. I firmly believe she got the better end of the deal. Now, this had been by mutual consent, but the silly goose told her mother, who told my older sister, who chastised me. That bit of innocent childhood curiosity was transformed into an egregious sin, which became the basis of my first confession required before first communion. "Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession. I did bad things..." As penance I had to make an act of contrition, say three Hail Marys, and promise never to sin again.
Hah!
The note:
Gerry and Anna, first day of school, 1948. Get a load of my faggy lunchbox:
Anna, by the way, was the girl I had played doctor with at age five behind the outdoor fireplace. We wanted to show each other what we had. I firmly believe she got the better end of the deal. Now, this had been by mutual consent, but the silly goose told her mother, who told my older sister, who chastised me. That bit of innocent childhood curiosity was transformed into an egregious sin, which became the basis of my first confession required before first communion. "Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession. I did bad things..." As penance I had to make an act of contrition, say three Hail Marys, and promise never to sin again.
Hah!
The note:
Gerry and Anna, first day of school, 1948. Get a load of my faggy lunchbox: