How far back can one remember? Often our childhood memories are stored right at the back of our subconsiousness, only to be recalled when something happened and trigger off the recollection of these memories. Nevertheless as we grow older, our brain cells would slowly die off bit by bit and our memories would naturally fade as a result like a dimming candle. Blogs therefore are actually fantastic time capsules to capture these timeless memories before we lose them.
So how far back can you remember? Wouldn’t it be good to write it down or to blog it before you lose it forever?! Amongst my most memorable early memories was my first day in school.
I still remember my first day at school (in Paul Street) way back in 1972 (3rd January 1972) where my father accompanied me to school and he told me that he will wait for me at the gate after school. I was given 10 cents for (first time) pocket money which I recalled that was the first time I actually have my own money in my pocket. I was promptly deposited in standard one brown which was the last class in school where yellow was the pinnacle of the classes followed by red, green, blue, white and brown. (After the first term, I was promoted to red class and I finally got to yellow class in standard two.) I remember being led to the class by a Mrs. Thambu and I was totally lost in the class where the kids in the class was practically uncontrollable and running all over the place. It was total chaos!
I remember being in a daze. There were two or three other kids weeping away and I felt like doing the same but I held back my tears. I was counting the minutes. What have my parents got me into? Finally the school bell rang to signal the end of the ordeal. I walked nervously towards the gate, afraid that my father would not be there. I did not dare to run, in case my worse fear is realised earlier.
But he was there waiting for me and I remember feeling so relieved. I remember walking to the bus station (in Birch Road) with my father and getting into the yellow coloured STS (Seremban Town Service) bus. Once inside the bus, we got separated. I couldn’t see him anymore. Maybe it was because I was too short at that point and could only see many, many adults towering around me. I had lost sight of my father in the crowd. When the bus conductor came and asked for my fare, I could not find my father. I panicked. In a split moment, I remembered I had 10 cents in my pocket. I promptly paid the bus conductor my 10 cents and got back 5 cents in change. This was the very first time, I paid for my own bus fare.
Finally, the bus reached my stop and I squeezed through the crowd to alight where I found my father waiting for me.