Core

Baby birds love Effingham.  This is a given, of course, but I was reminded a few weeks ago while driving my family back from yet another successful jumping session at Monkey Joe’s.

Monkey Joe’s, as you might assume, is an indoor inflatable amusement park.  This might sound ridiculous, but keep in mind that much has improved in the inflatable recreation business in the last few decades.  In other words, these are not your father’s bounce houses.

 When I was growing up, we had one inflatable jump house at the county fair.  These looked really cool from a distance, but they also got super crowded.  Children bonked heads; toddlers got stuck in the creases. They were a mess.

Fortunately, those days are gone.  Modern American children, thanks to businesses such as Monkey Joe’s, can enjoy all the fun of inflatables without the sweat and tears.  Multiple inflatables, from giant slides to lengthy obstacle courses, minimize crowding.  These parks even provide snacks and arcades.

I’m no businessman, but I sincerely believe that if a person opened such a park in Effingham they would do quite well for themselves.  In fact, I will make this promise right now.  If you build it, my kids will absolutely go there, and they will bring their friends, and we will all buy pizza.  In fact, considering the area’s panache for socializing, I predict that if you built the place with refreshments on tap, you would die quite rich.

But I digress.  Back to baby birds.

On the way home from our fun, we made a pit stop at the Centralia McDonalds.  We used the drive up window and somehow managed to purchase a cheeseless cheeseburger.  Weird.  Fortunately we caught the error and quickly turned around.

While crawling through the drive through the second time, a baby bird, perhaps three weeks old, literally dropped into our car.  This startled me a bit, but I was on a cheeseburger mission, and so I kept my composure.  After parking the car, I knelt down to rescue the bird but instead the silly thing jumped up into the inner workings of the vehicle above the foot pedals.

However, no one even believed we had a baby bird in the car in the first place, and we were in a hurry, so I started driving home, curious as to how this adventure would end.  Considering the fledgling had made the decision to hitchhike mere inches from the engine, I was not optimistic.

Anyway, it was a relatively peaceful trip home until about half way between the Keller Drive and Sigel exits.  That was the moment the baby bird made its second appearance.  On my daughter’s startled lap.

 “A bird!  A bird is on me!  A BIRD!  Ahhhh!”

Shrill.  Intense.  Insane.

“I told you guys there was a baby bird in the car.” I helpfully explained, curious as to how the creature had somehow managed to sneak past my feet, beneath the seats, and onto my daughter’s lap.  As the screaming continued, my wife turned around to rescue her firstborn from the vicious predator.

Over the course of the next few moments, while my six-year-old daughter continued to scream like a maniac and my four-year-old son calmly watched the whole thing like it was a nature program, the poor creature was finally snatched up. After giving the newbie sparrow some directions and a few bucks, we dropped it off in a safe neighborhood and wished it good luck.  I’ve thought about the young bird’s destiny more than once these last few weeks.  Considering recent weather patterns, it is most likely wet.

Regardless, I will probably never forget this episode.  For my daughter though, this frightening moment may become a core memory.

A core memory is one that you keep with you your whole life.  I know this because I have watched Pixar’s most recent cinematic triumph, “Inside Out.”  According to the movie, a core memory is so intense, so closely forged with your personality, that it influences your life well after the event has passed.

We all have core memories.  Some of them are positive and some of them are not.  One commonality about most core memories, though, despite their importance, is that they are rarely made on purpose. 

For example, a former student contacted me recently to thank me for some kindness I had offered him over fifteen years ago.  I had basically told him, after reading some of his poetry, that he would be a writer someday.  Apparently that token of sincere affirmation has stuck with him the last decade and a half, because his first novel will be published at the end of this month.

Now, I didn’t share this story for kudos.  I shared the story to emphasize that although we rarely design our own core memories, we can absolutely influence those of others, particularly for our young people. 

This is something to think about the next time a baby bird falls into your car or jumps onto your lap.  For my daughter, part of her core memory will be that weird-looking little bird, yes.  But a larger part, most likely, will be that of her mother risking life and limb to crawl into the backseat to rescue her.