NEW CASTLE —
What is your most beloved childhood memory?
I know that the really cool and super-enlightened answer to this would be something deep and meaningful, like "time spent with my family" or "the scar I got on my forehead the day I saved a family of baby raccoons from drowning in a sewage grate."
But I've never saved a family of baby raccoons. And while baby raccoons are totally cute, I don't even really like raccoons. (Not since one moved into my basement and shredded thousands of dollars worth of newly intalled insulation, anyhow. He and his groundhog buddy made my life a living purgatory last year. And I'm not gonna lie — that prejudice now runs deep.)
I do love the time I spent with my family, though — at amusement parks, and in cabins in the wild backwoods of West Virginia, endless hours playing make-believe with my brother, and my first-ever kitty cat, Henry.
But those things (I'm so sorry, family! I'm so sorry Henry!) pale in comparison to the memory of Fuzz Nose.
Fuzz Nose is a name that I'm sure still strikes terror in the heart of my mother. Because everywhere her darling daughter was, so was the dirty, snot-encrusted, raggedy baby blanket that smelled like a combination of death and Tide laundry detergent.
Fuzz Nose offered me all the comfort and security that a child craves, 24-7, in sickness and in health, 'til Mommy's monthly washing did us part. (At which time I would cling, heartbroken, to the side of the washing machine, listening to my beloved swish and swirl his way to a freshness I found neither refreshing nor appealing.)
My delightful little everything-that-is-good-and-wonderful-in-the-world earned his somewhat unusual moniker because of the method in which he brought me the most comfort: shoved unceremoniously into my cranial cavity via my right nostril. That's right, I stuffed the corner of my blanket up my nose.
But like any good girl, I gave up Fuzz Nose when I was ready to do so. If I remember correctly, I was about 27, and had just given birth to my first child. I made the trade only because I was afraid my baby might catch some incurable disease from it.
Five years later, I had my second child, the daughter who would carry on the tradition of carting around a filthy, germ-infested scrap of cloth. And in case you're wondering, I did nothing, nor did I say anything, to encourage this child to do so. In fact, she didn't even know about the existence of Fuzz Nose until just weeks ago, when we were having a conversation about her beloved Brown Blankie, which I affectionately refer to as Zombie Blankie because of his delightful, cadaverous scent. (Hence, I declare in all my unscientific knowledge that blankie-love is a genetic thing, carried around and passed down on some obscure chromosome somewhere in the human body.)
My daughter is 8 now, and hides the existence of Brown Blankie to everyone outside of our immediate family. She's much more cautious than I, as I've tried to teach her that there's no shame is having a "lovey" at any age. But society and peer pressure have got the best of her, and while I don't believe a blankie in the hand should equate to a skeleton in the closet, she prefers to keeps Brown Blankie somewhat of a secret.
I'm always amazed at how many grown-ups are so distraught at habits like this that they feel the need to exclaim (in all their indignation) things like, "You're too big for that!" or "You need to throw that thing away!" (No wonder my poor kid hides her blanket.)
I'm sorry, but ... um, why? I'm pretty sure there are no definitive theories that support the conclusion that having a security object leads to long-term damage.
Now, making a child feel shame for something that they really shouldn't feel ashamed of — that's a different story.
I believe that children who have security objects, be it blankies or woobies or loveys, or any other object, learn a lot of valuable lessons that we could all use: there's a time and place for everything, some things are yours and yours alone, and most important of all, never let go of the things that make you happy.
NEW CASTLE —
What is your most beloved childhood memory?
- News Bloggers
The Couch Potato: "The Bachelorette" semi-live blog
Here we go folks: “The Bachelorette” finale is under way and of course we’re being inundated with sweeping helicopter shots of beaches and exotic locations while Chris Harrison is telling us how dramatic this upcoming episode will be. Classic opening for “The Bachelorette,” as always.
Greg Huston: Readers (a few anyway) respond on Alvarez
Last week I asked readers to share their thoughts on what the Pirates should do with the struggling Pedro Alvarez and we’ll get to that in a minute. For some background, Alvarez has two years left on his deal and makes a modest salary of 4.25 million this season (modest in terms of baseball salaries as paying me 4.25 million dollars for anything would be gladly accepted). His salary will likely increase the next two seasons through arbitration.
Gary Church: As you may have noticed, I'm not Lisa
Surprise, surprise, surprise! The big cheese called me, and asked if I would mind if my blogs appeared on Monday, instead of on Tuesday. I had no problem with that.
Josh Drespling: Time flies when you're growing up
Where does the time go? Just a moment ago, it was Monday, and now here we sit at the opposite end of another week. Seems like a matter of seconds and this month has slipped off into oblivion. I swear I only blinked and spring had been stripped from our hands. I don't dare close my eyes for another moment’s rest or my whole life may disappear.
Gary Church: Grab your sisters and your mothers, it's an ice cream 'convent'-ion
To keep my nice figure, I like to go to Forbush's at least once a week. This is also my entertainment for the night. We sit there for an hour or so, watching people. Last week, a group arrived that I had never seen before.
Tim Kolodziej: What is your definition of The Dream?
Johnnyswim. I know, I know. Me neither. I had no idea what that word meant until a couple of months ago, when a friend of mine on Twitter was absolutely gushing about a great concert he had just seen.
The Couch Potato: Does "House of Cards" crumble or stand?
The old Couch Potato has been methodically working my way through the hit Netflix series, “House of Cards,” over the past few weeks and let me just say, it’s pretty good.
Gary Church: It was an uphill climb, but this driver was a real trooper
It's always a tragedy when I have to cover a drowning for The News. I hope I never have to go to Kennedy Mills again for this purpose. It is located at the bottom of a twisty, turning hill on Frew Mill Road.
Lisa Madras: I struggle with goodbyes, so I’ll just say ‘thank you’
After 12 amazing years at the New Castle News, it is finally time for me to say goodbye. I walked through the doors of this building believing that I had found the place I would live out the rest of my days, content in the chaos of deadlines and bylines, inky fingers and editorials.
Josh Drespling: When the family’s away, this bachelor will ... work?
It was inevitable. I knew it was coming and the situation was unavoidable. Over the course of the last few weeks I have been preparing myself for this moment and it has finally come.
- More News Bloggers Headlines
- The Couch Potato: "The Bachelorette" semi-live blog