Wow - Did I really just start my book?

The story of my birth isn't fantastic in any way.  I was born in a hospital in the middle of the night with doctors, nurses, and my father hovering about.  I realize at this point the effect that I've had on the world and what it could mean to the people who don't really know better.  The thought popped into my head that in the future those same people might wonder about my birth and then make up some ridiculous story.  I wanted to put it out there that my birth wasn't anything magnificent.  My mother and father were married, my mom and dad had a daughter before I was born, and I'm the youngest of my father's seven children.  I popped out; that's it.

I think though that people will find my childhood to have been quite interesting.  My very first memory is that of my father teaching me something.  "Don't mess with the new dog or it will bite you.  You're not fast enough to do that yet."  I watched as dad carried the kennel with the German Shepard/Timber-wolf mix pup in to the pantry.  Then I sat in the middle of the living room when he let the dog out of the cage and it ran circles around me. Then I watched dad grab her paw and pull away quickly when she started to bite.  Dad taught me this lesson because I thought what he was doing looked like a lot of fun, so I decided to give it a try.  When I told my mom this story she didn't believe me; because dad picked up Lobo from the airport just before I turned two.  It's funny because I remember understanding everything that was going on; something that adults tend to think very young children can't do.  I have flashes of memories after that, about our animals mostly. Opossum the three legged cat, Fluffy the miniature golden lab, her puppy "Puppy", and of course Akita Lobo.  I remember camping as a toddler and some of the important things that happened, like Puppy running off a cliff to what we were sure was his death 50 meters below, and him running back up a path a few moments later because he landed on a ledge after falling about 3 meters.  I remember finding out what a nettle is - the hard way.  I remember camping in the middle of a field, without a tent, with nothing between us and the stars but a doubled over army surplus sleeping bag.  Then I remember getting ready to go to school.

I learned some valuable lessons before this point in my life.  I knew what breasts looked like because of the poster of a naked black lady in my dad's study.  I knew that my sister was my worst enemy and my best friend.  I had a decent understanding of general language.  I knew and was pretty damn good at hide-and-seek.  I had a good concept of things like privacy and secrets.  What I didn't have were any kind of social skills.  My next most brilliant memory was walking up to the school for the very first time.  I balanced myself on the concrete ledge as my mother and I walked up to the doors.  I met Mrs. Romeral my kindergarten teacher, Mr. Stern the principal, and the school nurse.  Then I met my new classmates; Matt, Johnathan Caps, Courtney Romeral, and Cathy; my kindergarten crew at School 58 in Indianapolis Indiana.  I learned what city we lived in when Mrs. Romeral had us make up emergency contact sheets to take home.  That's also how I learned how to write numbers.

Kindergarten at that school was amazing.  We had exercise time every day where we learned how to do push ups, sit ups, and jump rope.  We had music lessons a couple times a week with a teacher who specialized in teaching young children about music and art.  We had art time every other day.  We had nap time every day; I was more intrigued by the way Mrs. Romeral held the books with one hand while she read to us then I was with the generic children's stories she was reading to bore us to sleep.  We watched PBS every day where Le' Var Burton and Big Bird taught me about thinking, reading, and being a good person.  I also learned that people can be vicious and mean and that I was willing to take any measure of abuse from people if it meant that I got to understand more about how they work.  From  the time I was 5 years old I was obsessed with people's motivations.

What happened when I was 5 was the basis for how I was to live and be the rest of my life.  One of the kids in the class asked me about this thing called "church" and wanted to know which one I went to.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you believe in God?"
"What's that?"
"You're going to burn in Hell!  You're going to burn in Hell!"

I had no idea what this "Hell" thing was, but I sure knew I didn't like burning.  Burning was that thing that wood does when you put it in the fire pit where it turns into grey dust.  It was also that horrible thing that happens when you touch the red thing on the stove while Mommy's cooking. And where ever and whatever this "Hell" thing is, apparently it's where you go to burn because you don't know what "God" is and you don't go to this "Church" thing, and I didn't like it.  I also didn't like the way that kid was talking to me about it at all.

Dad was  home when I got back from school.  I remember this being a pretty rare thing and I really needed him to help me with this.

"Dad, what is God?"
"Hmm."  He walked to his bookshelf sort of nonchalantly and grabbed a book. He continued, "Here read this and figure it out for yourself."
I had interrupted him reading and listening to music, sitting in his black leather chair near the fire place. I sat in bewilderment looking at this monstrosity of a book he had just handed me; the biggest book I had ever seen.  I opened it and didn't understand anything; there were hand written notes along the sides of all the pages, with lines pointing to various passages.  I looked at him; surely with the look of a person completely lost and confused.  I played with the studs that decorated the front of his chair while he responded to my oblivious stare.
~Sigh, "Why are you asking, Alec?"
"Some kid told me I was going to burn in Hell because I don't know what God is."
~Deeper Sigh, "That's not how it works son, they don't know what they're talking about."
"Why'd he make fun of me and say I was going to burn?  And what is Hell?"
~Sigh, "They don't know any better, son, that's just what they've been told.  Don't worry about Hell, everything you need to understand it is in that book."

I just sat there on the floor in front of Dad's chair and thought for a long time while I listened to music and Dad read his book.  This God/Hell/Church thing must be pretty important if it has a book this big to go with it, and these notes, I guess Dad thought the book wasn't good enough so he wrote some more in it.  The next day I went back to school and told the kid that I forgive him for being mean to me, because he didn't know what he was talking about.