Before Yoc-Town There Was West Sac (Part 1 of X)

I now share some of my earliest memories. These memories range from age 3.5 to 5.5, while I was living in West Sacramento. It is the prequel to my life in Antioch, much like The Hobbit is the prequel to The Lord of the Rings series. Enjoy.

One of my favorite pastimes as a small child was searching the house for candy. Most of my efforts were fruitless, but success has a way of finding the diligent. I remember the time I discovered the large chocolate chips in the freezer, which must have been the size of Hershey kisses! What a glorious, glorious find. I don’t know what my mother used them for, but I was glad they were there.

Sometimes my search for sweets yielded punishment, and no, I’m not talking about the parental kind (although that probably happened as well). One day, for instance, I discovered a canister full of what I thought must have been candy. The canister was full of individually wrapped cubes. Experience had taught that candy was frequently wrapped, and I had also seen sugar in cube form, so perhaps it was a pleasant combination of the two. I unwrapped one and popped it into my mouth. It was not sugar, nor was it candy. It was vicious and attacked my mouth until I spit it out. Even to this day I feel like the warning “Keep Out of Reach of Children” should be placed on containers of bouillon cubes.

Let’s meet the neighbors, shall we? Next door we had Bob and Nonie. The only thing I remember about them was their mean dog Tammy. I was Tammy’s enemy, and she was most certainly mine. Across the street we had the house of Andy and Willy. Katie (big sistuh) was Willy’s friend and I associated more closely with Andy. When I was probably around five, a new boy—perhaps a year younger than I—moved in a few doors down from Andy. When I met him, he told me his name was Brad. I had never heard this name before, and in an attempt to clarify, I repeated back a word that I was quite familiar with:
“Brat?”
“No, it’s Brad.”
“Brat?” I was confused, and he was losing patience.
“No! My name is BRAD-D-D!!!”
“…Brat?”
I was a slow learner, but eventually understand that his name was indeed Brad. In an ironic twist, my best friend in the years to come was also named Brad. Perhaps if I hadn’t had this preliminary experience with the name our friendship may not have taken root.