I often feel the sudden need to share some charming anecdote from my childhood with friends and family during story time. 'Charming,' apparently, is purely in the eye of the beholder because few can share this feeling with me.
One particular story stands out in my head – I thought it really funny, though my wife found it very sad.
When I lived in San Diego, my late brother and I were standing on the side of the street waiting to cross. A contractor's pickup drives by and empties their ice-filled cooler on us. As I recall it, we both just stood their and didn't say a word. Just brushed the ice off and crossed the street like nothing happened.
In retrospect, I think the story is hilarious. Apparently it's also sad that jerks would do that to little kids on the sidewalk. At any rate, I could imagine a movie about me opening up with a monologue laid over various scenes of comedic tragedy from my early life. I guess I should go ahead and commit those to paper before I forget altogether in case someone has already started on the screenplay of my biography.