Memories #1 - Start at the Absolute Beginning

This is my very first attempt at writing about my memories in the blog. In this post from a few weeks ago, I tried to explain why I am going to spend some time doing this. Through some select memories, I hope to further justify and explain the passion I have for the state of Michigan, as these memories are what have formed and developed the entirety of my emotional existence. I can't guarantee this will hold all of your attention, but I also hope to reconnect you with some of the memories that also make Michigan important to you. Similar memories could have happened in many places of the world, but they didn't. They happened here, in my home.

As far as I can tell and recall, my life started when I was 3 years old. This may not initially make sense, but I can specifically date the very first memory I hold in my consciousness - the birth of my younger brother on August 17th, 1985. The individual pieces of that night are foggy, but when taken as a whole, it is the first night that I was alive.

My older sister and I were waiting at my grandparent's house in Warren, and my parents were not there for some reason. I can associate fractures and slivers of the time we specifically spent there like lying on the floor and watching some television and playing with their bird, but mostly I recall a feeling of anticipation. We waited, and waited, and watched Wheel of Fortune and waited, and the phone rang. Excitedly, we got into the grandparent's car and drove to the hospital. There lay my mother with my father standing over her and my new baby brother in her arms. My sister and I climbed into the hospital bed with her and I got to pretend-hold the baby. I think they had his name picked out at the time, Steve, but I can't remember that right anymore. I'm sure they could tell me, but then it wouldn't be my story. I also can't remember if we spent 30 minutes there or two hours there, but man, was I pumped. After the unknown amount of time, we were forced to leave so my parents could rest.

Then, the terror. I had never slept in a different building from my parents before, and this was to be the first night that we spent at my grandparents' house. Dad took Gail and me downstairs in the hospital, hugged us goodnight, and we climbed into the backseat of the car. Grandpa drove away and I was freaking out watching my dad disappear through the rear window. Eventually my terror faded and when we arrived back at their house, I couldn't fall asleep for hours in excitement over having a new baby brother. I think we had oatmeal for breakfast. Grandparents love serving oatmeal.

Births and birth-related introductions happen everywhere, but this one is unique to my family. I still sometimes drive on the roads that we traveled to meet the new member of our family. Grandpa is now gone, but he was also there on that perfect night. I cannot get that anywhere else.