Tossing Salt Presents:
A Day of Dougie:
Thanks for the Memories: Part 1
DougMaynard.com
Doug Maynard

Are you ready to take a journey back in time? I’ve got something rather interesting and nostalgic to share with you today. My Mom is in the process of attempting to declutter the house. We’ve got 44 years of crap piled up here, plus stuff from both of my sisters and my brother’s homes when they passed away or became unable to live on their own. Translated: We’re just a few boxes away from Horders. Yes, I said it. But let me assure you that if I can ever get Mom away from the house for two weeks, everything is getting cleared out. I don’t care who gets it or where it goes, but it’s all gone, period. And yes, I’m serious.

But that’s a story for another day because right now, we “need” it all, and if I try to get rid of anything, I get too much push-back to even try. Now, what was I saying? Mom gave me a plastic packet last night full of stuff about me. It’s stuff from growing up, from my childhood. I haven’t really glanced at it, but I’m going to right now. And I’m going to let you know what I find. Yeah, we’re taking an inventory of memories of my youth. This could be fun, right? So, shall we begin? Let’s do this.

We start with a book called “The Day You Were Born”. It’s a Tell-A-Tale book, but inside are scribbled my vitals, the date, the doctor’s name, and other essential information. There is also a Congratulations card from someone named Betty Ann, probably my Mom’s youngest sister, and a 4th of July napkin with my birthdate written on it.

Next. we have three letters, two from my Grandma Mary, dated 1973 and 1975, and a letter from my Grandma Vick and Grandpa Raymond from 1974. There are also a ton of birthday cards from all sorts of people, family, friends, etc., going back to when I was 4 years old in 1970, up until the first time we moved from Raleigh to Concord, NC in 1977.

There is a cutout Gingerbread Man that I remember making in Kindergarten. Cardboard with buttons glued on, a face drawn in, etc. There is also a note sent home to parents from my Kindergarten class dated February 8, 1972, that has a list of all my classmates, talking about a Valentine’s Day party at school. I guess the list was to make sure that everyone got a Valentine, and to have parents show up to supervise and help with items for the party. Can you imagine a school doing this now?

Here’s a Christmas card from my Dad, from 1982. There’s a story I wrote on one of those sheets of paper you learn to write on. My printing sucked, but I wrote about March being windy, and I will fly my kite.

And now, paydirt. An old report card from Swift Creek Elementary and 6th grade. The grades are nothing to be proud of, and I apparently had a problem with authority and misbehaving, but I passed. Graduated to grade 7, Lucky me.

There’s an old letter I wrote to Santa Claus. Damn, I was a greedy little moocher. I asked for a bike, toy airplanes, a Big Wheel, and ended it with, “I want everything you want me to have!”. Reaching, wasn’t I?

Here’s a 4th-grade report card. All C’s and S’s. And one N for non-participation in science. The teacher, Mrs Lamb, complimented me on how sweet I was and how much I was improving. She left in the middle of the year, and this was my first report card from her replacement, Mrs.Wright. She asked for a parent-teacher conference. I can’t imagine why.

Here’s a Certificate of Merit, dated May 25, 1971, from Brentwood Play School, from Miss Peggy and Miss Evelyn. I graduated from play school. Yay!

Here is a badge from my campaign as 8th Grade Representative from Maxton Hight School. I was starting a career in politics. I lost the election. But it was a fun experience, from what I remember of it. And who knows? If I had won then, I might be lying my ass off on the floor of the U.S. Senate now, or be the Governor of our fine state. Thank goodness I lost.

And I’m wrapping this up with a letter I wrote to Stuart, my Mom’s boyfriend, after she and my Dad divorced. Stuart was a good man. His son, not so much, but that’s a story for another time. And the letter was written on February 14, 1975, so I was 8 years old. I told him that it would be fun with him as my father. And I would let the dogs sleep with me. He and Mom didn’t work out unfortunately, but Mom met Ray not long afterward, and that one worked out well, so no complaints.

And there you go. I’ve got plenty more to sort through, but I’m quitting for now. It’s nearly 2:00 am and I need to go take clothes out of the dryer. I’ll go through more later, so that gives you something to look forward to, right? Thanks for indulging me, and now you know much more about the man behind the myth, the real Dougie. Warning: We haven’t even gotten started yet. Be safe, my friends, and I will talk to you later. Sweet dreams.

Ubuntu!