Abestia

My one and only vivid memory from childhood

I sat on the olive green carpet of my family’s living room in Newark circa 1975 surrounded by my brother’s collection of little green army men. You can be sure I had no permission to be playing with his stuff.

I can’t explain how I got there or what I was doing before it happened. All I can tell you is I was sitting there with these little green army men when a sudden feeling of terror came over me. I recall no motivation, no transition - just a definite certainty that one of my brother’s little green army men was stuck up my nose.

Uncontrollably sobbing, I ran downstairs to the basement. My mother stood taking clothes out of the washer. I begged her to help get the man out of my nose.

I’m sure at this point she tilted my head back to look for his legs, and I know she didn’t find them because the next thing I remember I was lying on the dining room table waiting to be examined further. I think it was my sister Nina who ran next door to fetch a flashlight from our neighbor Vivian, a much older woman with leathery skin who lived in a smokey bar-like, basement apartment. She was a sweet lady, I wonder if she knew why we needed her light.

Nina returned and joined the rest of our siblings around the dining room table. I laid supine on the surface we occasionally placed meals upon while everyone stood anxious waiting to determine whether or not my father possessed any medical skills.

This is all I recall. But I’m sure if they had found a man stuck up my nose I would remember that and I don’t