A Chronic Case of "The Cooties"

They say that smell is perhaps the strongest trigger for the recall of memories. And though I've witnessed the effect of this (My father, a survivor of the 'mishap' and subsequent fire aboard the USS Forrestal, still gets physically ill and terribly shaken at the smell of burning hair), I had never had it happen to me, until this evening.

There I was, driving around suburbia on service calls when, it hit me like a tidal wave. Perhaps it was the fresh mown grass in the decending fog, maybe it was some flowering bush or something but the result was unmistakable, and albeit a little alarming.

Sniff sniff....whoa...Suddenly, I recall something that I never remembered before, and quite possibly kept repressed, in amazing full detail.

It was like instantly being a kid again: Catching lightening bugs, harassing the dog, making mud puddles with the garden hose, and actually waking up before 9:00 on Saturday...for the serious business of watching Looney Tunes.

But these are just the reassuring things I think of to put into context the memories of Daycare, and how I aquired what was then seen by my peers as a chronic case of "The Cooties".

My mother, a schoolteacher, had decided to go back to college for her masters degree, and that meant one thing I dreaded more than anything....after school daycare. I must have been in 1st grade then and my options for daycare activities were pretty limited, I was too small to play ball with the big kids, and the lady who ran the place wasn't much for company, or supervision. So I would just sit there watching TV or go outside and play with rocks or the fragments of thousands of broken toys. It was on one of those days when it happened. There I was, just minding my own business when one of the girls my age grabbed my hand and announced that she wanted to play 'house'. Her name was Ashley, and she had cowboy boots (I remember thinking - perhaps in less eloquent language- What justice could exist in a world where a girl could have cowboy boots and all I ever get are Zips?). She then announced that I was the husband, and the one-armed doll was the baby. I was game for anything that involved anyone other than myself so I played along.
All went well for a bit ..and then it happened.....she handed me a lunchbox and said, "Time to go to work, now here's your goodbye kiss!". I tried to react, but it was in vain and only attracted the attention of others to what had just transpired. Needless to say... I had the dreaded Cooties.

I have to wonder if that kind of innocence still exists in the children of today. I remember my mother simply saying, "Aw, that's cute" much to my chagrin. But would it not be far fetched to say that a similar event in these modern times would perhaps bring about a lawsuit? I dunno...but as for me, at least the ridicule was short lived in a world dominated by matchbox cars, cartoons and space ships.