death

I used to believe that my grandma's tiny pistol would kill someone no matter where the bullet hit them. Kinda like a poisened bullet. I have now come to realize that my grandma's pistol wouldn't even kill a coyote. (We live in Texas, so it's not all that unusual for grandmothers to carry handguns.)

I used to believe…

When I was 5, my grandfather died of a heart attack on the street. I don't remember how grown ups may have explained it to me, but I came away with the impression that a heart attack meant a wild bear attacked you on the street. I was 13 I think before I finally knew the truth.

I remember when I was a child my sister told me that my uncle Joseph died because my Grandma strangled him with a telephone cord because he wouldn't stop crying. It turns out that he was still born because the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck.

I used to believe…

when my brother and I where kids, we used to have a dog called Jewls. She had been in the family for 16 years. When she died I was 8 and my brother 5. My father explained to us how Jewls had gone to heaven. The next day my mother was surprised to see my brother throwing sticks high up in the air, so she asked him what he was doing and he answered: I am playing with Jewls

i used to believe tht the phrase, "do not put plastic bag over head" meant that you couldnt literally pass it over your head (as supposed to sticking your haid IN IT)

I remember one really traumatic moment when my mother was talking to my sister about the "pound" and how they kill animals there. I heard "pond" and I imagined this big cement pond with people drowning animals. I really couldn't get over the fact that I wasn't allowed to have a dog and people would kill dogs. It took a few years before I knew it wasn't a big pond for drowning dogs and cats.

I used to believe…

My mom told me when I was about 9 that if you looked at a centipede long enough for it to count you teeth you would die before morning. I walked around with my hand over my mouth whenever I was outside for about a year

I used to believe…

When I was six, I was in Catholic school. One day, shortly after lunch, the Principal, Sister Evangelista came to our door. She whispered something into my teacher, Sister Jeanette's ear. Sister Jeanette fained dead away. Several of us children helped Sr. Evangelista get her up. Sr. Evangelista then told us in hushed tones that President Kennedy had been shot, and we were to proceed quietly to the church, where we would all pray for the President. Orderly we filed to the church, and our little prayers began. I remember thinking "if he's been shot, he's dead already" so I quit praying and let my mind wander. Eventually I started making faces at the boy next to me and we were reprimanded sharply by our Sister. Sister hissed to us that if "President Kennedy dies, it will be your faults!" Well of course, you know the story. For many months, I thought it WAS our fault, since we failed to pray hard enough to save him.

I used to believe…

When I was little, I believed that animals died the way they did in the cartoons - they just flopped down on their backs and put their feet in the air.

I firmly believed that until one day. I saw a squirrel run across the street and get hit by a minivan doing over fifty (in the suburbs). Needless to say, it has remained one of my most vivid memories.

I used to believe…

The Norwegian coins all have pictures of the king on them. When I was about 4 years old the king died, but the coins with his picture were still in circulation. My granmother told me stories about the dead king, and also of my dead granfather. I got the two mixed up, and was convinced that the guy on the coins were infact my granfather. Hey, they were both dead right!

I used to believe…

When I was seven years old my uncle died, and this lead to a number of trauma for me. I was sure my uncles ghost was living underneath my bed, and would grab my feet if I didn't hurry getting in and out of bed. I was also convinced that when I was brushing my teeth, the ghost could appear in the mirror, in the bath tub or behind the door, I was terrified of the bathroom!

I used to believe…

When I was four, my grandfather died. He and I were always joking around. When he died I though that he was only playing hide and seek with me, that we couldn't find each other. In his funeral, my mother told me that he was in that coffin. I ran up to the coffin, knocked on it, and said "Hi, grandpa, here I am." I actually thought he would walk out of that coffin...gee, that would have been creepy if he did...

I used to believe…

When I was younger (about 10 years old) I thought that the death cross (you know,the scall and the bones in a cross over it) meant the same as the hospital cross. So when my grandma was on the hospital me and my sister drew her a drawing. I wrote "you`re gonna be fine" etc. And in the bottom of the drwaing I put a death cross with a frame around it! I`m sure that must have been nice to rescive......

I used to believe…

On the way to my kindergarden my mom and I always went through a cemetary, I was always asking many questions about everthing. So one day I came home to my dad very pleased and said: "Daddy! When you die we're going to put you in the ground and grow vegetables on you!" My own little version.. Dad vas not as pleased as me with the idea..

I used to believe…

When I was five and my baby brother was about 1 I can remember tickling him so much that he was out of breath. My mother came along and said be careful you'll tickle him to death,consequently I never tickled him again fearing that I would kill him.

i used to watch the kind of cartoons when people died, a stream of light would come from the sky and carry there spirits up to heaven. so everyday when my mom was driving me from church, i would look out the window and see shafts of light coming through the clouds. then i would be very sad because i thought people were dying.

I used to believe…

When I was about 7, we had a goat by the name of Claude. He disappeared one day, and my parents told me he had gone to live on a farm, as he wasn't suitable for the rainforest where we lived. It was only when I was 25 that my mother told me he was eaten alive by dingoes (wild dogs native to Australia), and they were his horns sitting above our friend's fireplace in the house where I used to play often as a child.

I used to believe…

My parents once told me that people went to heaven when they died. For years I believed that their body went up to heaven after the funeral and the family buried the box they had been in. Don't know how the body got up there, though...