I Remember

I Remember

With thanks to Sigrid Nunez and Joe Brainard

 

I remember thinking an elemeno P was a special kind of P.

I remember Spam for dinner.

I remember not knowing how to say “segue.” 

I remember wanting to catch all the turtles on the Reservoir and bring them home.

I remember being mad at turtles.

I remember the dog my parents gave away. She nipped. She was perfect.

I remember chipped beef on toast, which we only ate when my dad was out of town.

I remember the dogs of Sherwood Forest, among them Bosco, Cluny Brown, Pepe, Mamma Mia, and Pork Chop.

I remember diving off the high dive for the last time.

I remember belly flops.

I remember Kick-the-Can on Friar Tuck Circle.

I remember the taste of fear.

I remember including the mussels when I counted how many pets I had. 

I remember carrying my nextdoor neighbors over the pine cones.

I remember never wearing shoes in the summer.

I remember stepping in dog doo.

I remember drinking water from the hose and how you had to wait for it to cool off.

I remember crabapple wars.

I remember Miss Tillie walking down the street in her slip.

I remember wondering why the Howells took so many clothes on a three-hour tour.

I remember the scent of sweet olive by the back door.

I remember my new PF Flyers did not make me run faster.

I remember asking my parents to buy me an ocelot.

 

Draft, Susan Thomsen, 2024

*****

In her novel The Vulnerables, Sigrid Nunez writes, “There is a foolproof cure for writer’s block, according to a teacher I know: start with the words I remember.” The narrator, a writing teacher, recalls assigning Joe Brainard’s book I Remember to her class and then asking them to write in a similar style. Recognizing that some of her students might be intimidated by such an idea, she suggests “they make two sets [of lines starting with “I remember"], one in which they wrote down true reminiscences, another in which they made things up, and intersplice them.”

I could not resist, of course! Nunez’s narrator was right: the sentences just flowed when I started with “I remember.” Making some of it up helped keep me going, though in the end I tossed those parts. I plan to read the Brainard soon; I didn’t do so yet because I didn’t want to inadvertently lift anything. 

Is this a poem? Good question. Was this fun to write? Yes!

The Poetry Friday roundup for April 26th is at the blog There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.