Herein are two randomly chosen partial scenes from my faintly 
remembered childhood.
     I am 7 years old now.  I remember this because I did not want to 
stay home from school.  Mom insisted that I stay home because I was very 
sick.  I am in bed under cotton blankets.  She is holding her warm hand 
on my forehead, and looking very worried.  I do not feel sick now.  I 
feel ready to go to school.  But since my mother is so very worried, I 
thought it best not to argue with her.
     However, the last thing I can remember happened yesterday 
afternoon.  It was my deciding to drink yet another glass of the very 
sweet wine from the rectangular wine bottle that my 24 year old cousin 
had left on the table.
     At first I think the wine is water.  I pour some wine into a smooth 
clear glass.  The wine is warm like tap water, but oh, so sweet.  I had 
never had sweet water before.  I drink it down like..., well, like sweet 
water.  This is good.  I think I will have another glass.  The second 
glass is good too.  I think I will have a third glass.

     I am 11 years old now.  The steel spiked wire fence around the 
school yard has been built by the hurricane construction company.  My 
friend and I discuss why a fence is needed around the school yard.  
Obviously, it is to keep us kids in the yard.  So I decide to test how 
effective it is.  I had never climbed a fence before, but quickly learn 
the trick of supporting my weight on the fence by using my arms to pull 
myself into the fence as well as upward.  I climb to the top easily then 
pause.  Those spikes look dangerous.  I must put my leg between the 
spikes.  I swing my leg up and over and down.  It does not come between 
the spikes.  My leg comes down directly on one of the very sharp spikes!  
Ouch!  The spike is inside the back part of my leg.  I am stuck!  I test 
my position by leaning backwards slightly, while making sure I do not 
move my leg.  I cannot move in any direction.  I must not move, or the 
spike will tear my leg.  My arms will soon get tired of holding me in 
this position.  My friend looks on not knowing what to do.  I tell him to 
go get help.  He merely stands there, helpless to do anything.
     After a minute, I realize that I must help myself.  I focus my 
attention on my leg, and tell myself to lift it straight off the spike.  
I slowly lift my leg.  When my leg is off of the spike, I can swing my 
leg around and climb back down the fence.
     My friend has vanished.  I assume that he has gone to get help.
     I am limping for a week after this, but I never tell any grownup, 
not even my parents, about this misadventure.