Thinking back over my life, I can remember so many first moments. There was the first time I ran through our new house in Illinois, running up the stairs so I could pick out my room before my brothers came upstairs. There was the time we were in our new pool and my dad picked me up and threw me over his shoulder to help me learn to swim. I remember the first time I got caught in a lie: I was supposed to stay in our yard but a friend wanted me to go to the store. I couldn’t find my shoes so my friend carried me through the vacant lot full of trash and broken bottles, etc. I got home and thought I’d gotten away with it. My mother asked me where I’d been and I told her I’d been in the pool all afternoon. Well, she’d been doing laundry downstairs and could see the pool out of the laundry room window so she knew I was lying. I had to go to bed without supper. That night we were having a family picnic in the backyard and my mother had made a homemade peach pie. I could almost taste it then as I can now. It made a huge impact on me. No more lying.

My very first puppy: does any of us ever forget? My friend’s dogs each had a litter and she let me bring one home after school. My brother was watching us while my parents worked and he was so mean he made me return it. He was so mean! That night we all went over to the house to choose a puppy together. Rex picked one. Bruce wanted a different one. I simply walked in, picked up my puppy, and sat down on the back porch. That’s the puppy I brought home. There is a distinct advantage in being the youngest and the only girl. 🙂 The first time I climbed a tree I was terrified. Heights intimidated me. I couldn’t climb up but a branch or two. After that, I made myself climb the tree as far as I could reach, taking a book, staying up in the tree for an hour, fighting my fears. I remember going to the park and catching polliwogs. I walked to the creek down the street and captured a crawfish and brought it home, keeping it in an aquarium until it grew too large and I had to put it back.

Riding my bicycle without training wheels: it seemed every time I wanted to practice my dad was out of town on business and my older brothers refused to help. Typical. Or every first time I had to walk into a new school after we moved. I hated that. Hmm. I remember meeting my teacher going into third grade. He was discussing with my mother an overview of what we would learn that year, including cursive writing. I said I had learned that in second grade. He said that was impossible because in that school they didn’t teach it until third grade. He wouldn’t believe me until I wrote for him. Then he said, “Well it will be good practice for you.”

You may wonder about how I started writing stories. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Koemstadt, set up a table in her classroom with six facing desks and chairs. On each desk was a box holding slips of paper with story ideas. If we finished our classwork early (and I was the type of child who always finished early) we could pick a desk and write about the idea on the first slip we pulled out. It was great! I had my first pony ride at her farm at our last-day-of-school party. She had a Shetland pony. It was so much fun! Perhaps that’s when my love of horses began. I had my first riding lesson when I was in sixth grade. Rex arranged for me to have six months of lessons with a family whose daughters had been trained in England. He was so thoughtful! (Or so I thought) Then I found out he was dating the oldest daughter…

Who can forget their first boyfriend, their first date, their first kiss? My first kiss was at the top of the Ferris wheel at the local fair. Soon after, unfortunately, I came home from school to find six empty cardboard boxes in my room. My father said, “Pack whatever you can in those boxes and the rest goes. We’re moving to California.” So long first boyfriend! My first job, well, after babysitting for years, was working at a preschool with three- year-olds. How many times did I unbutton pants and overalls so the kids could use the bathroom? Too many.

Learning to drive a car: such a memorable experience for us all! My dad taught me in an empty DMV parking lot every Saturday morning. I learned to drive a stick shift, because that’s the car we had. He wouldn’t let me listen to the radio (ever!) because he wanted me to learn to listen to the engine. Then if there ever was a problem when I was driving on my own, I’d know. I didn’t care then. I wanted to listen to my songs! However, when I taught my children to drive, I did the same thing. 🙂 I remember driving around one morning and he said, “Drive straight ahead and turn right.” “But Dad, if I do that I’ll be driving on the road!” I did, and I survived. The day I took my written test was the same day my father had to renew his license and take the written test. I earned a 98 and he only earned a 92. Ha ha! I bought my first car from my older brother Bruce for $50: an ancient Toyota wagon. Rex spray painted a beautiful shade of deep purple I had selected. Unfortunately, it broke down after a month but I sure loved that car.

I could relate falling in love with my husband or my wedding or holding my first baby, but most of us have experienced those things for ourselves. So I won’t. Okay, i’ll tell a couple of things about our wedding that are different. One thing was the shoes we wore. Jim and I loved a music group called Mannheim Steamroller. Each band member wore white Nikes at concerts. So we wore white Nikes for our wedding. My bridesmaid, Jim’s sister Karla, was so angry when she found out after the ceremony. “You mean I wore 3″ heels and you were comfortable in sneakers!!” I worked at Disneyland at the time: we were both Disney freaks. On Main Street there was a glassblowing shop. We had our cake top custom made there: Mickey in a tux and Minnie in a wedding dress and veil, holding a wedding bouquet of yellow flowers. Yellow was one of our wedding colors. It was/is beautiful! The most unique item in our wedding was my veil. Jim made it for me sewing it on his mother’s sewing machine. How many brides experience that?

Life is full of firsts: first apartment, first house, first job, first car…the list goes on. If I didn’t stop now this blog post would never end. I hope this inspires you to take a moment to reflect on the important firsts in your life and remember that the firsts never need to stop. Keep reaching out for new experiences. Let me know about a few of your favorite first memories!

By the way, the time of publication for this post is very important. I’m publishing it on Friday the 13th at 7:30 pm. Jim and I were married on May 13, 1988, at 7:30 pm. 5&13 were our favorite numbers before we met. May 13 was the only Friday the 13th all that year. Since then, every Friday the 13th brings a smile.