My Defining Moment

“What is the defining moment of your life?”

It’s a fair question. I’d have to say it was when my childhood ended.

I have this… problem. And it is both the cause and solution to what happened that day.

I call it “The Internet of Me”. Most folks just say I have a photographic memory. The smarty-farty ones call it eidetic memory. They don’t know how it works, really. All I know is that one day, Pop was showing me a funny video on the internet, and let me drive. I skipped us around the internet looking for funny things to see for about an hour. Later at dinner, I was reading one of the news articles we passed on our trip on the net, except I was sitting in front of a plate of meatloaf instead of a computer. I had no idea what I was doing, until …show more content…
As the garage door lowered, creaking and complaining as it closed with gradual solemnity, the headlights of the wagon that had been staring at me passed out of sight. Grunting in annoyance, I entered the dining room, noting that Dad’s office door was open, spilling light into the darkened living room.

“Hey, Dad?” I asked, leaning into his office.

Looking up in surprise, his face, which had just been as grim as a funeral, split into a wide grin. “Hey, Buddy! Is it four already?”

Now, my father is an actuarial accountant and traditionally accountants tend to gravitate to a certain archetype: soft looking, if not outright overweight, often bald or balding from stress, which he had every right to be, since he was constantly travelling to his clients to solve the various emergencies that seemed to crop up.

However, this was not the case with my father. He stood a smidge over six feet tall, and was damn near intimidating in his musculature, if it weren’t for his mild manner and soft speaking voice, he might make an excellent action hero.

“Nah, almost. I thought you were out for the night?”

“I wrapped up early, but I just got wind of a book collection that is being opened up for sale, so I’m going to head out …show more content…
In a burst of speed, he blasted past me cackling, his bike buzzing like an angry hornet as he followed the curve of the path, out of sight.

The next minute or so has been edited by The Internet of Me, stripping out irrelevant information to make it easier to review later (and hopefully save memory!)

Eddie had discarded his bike, its wheels spinning lazily as they clattered to a stop.

“Dude! Checkit!” Eddie shouted, waving me over.

The clearing was buzzing with activity, the police had cordoned off the rear of the clearing, and A local newscaster had already set up shop, and was preparing to broadcast.

I thought this was somewhat strange. I mean, we had our share of crime, but generally speaking, our slice of the Pacific Northwest only ever dealt with petty theft and domestic violence. I suppose that’s why the news crew was on it so

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