00600		Let me tell you about an incident that happened
00700	while I was still in Cleveland.  For this you need some
00800	background.  I was born in Wadsworth Ohio, which is a small
00900	town a short distance west of Akron.  At the time, my father
01000	was in the Army and stationed (I believe) in Texas, or some
01100	such place.  After I was born, we moved around the country
01200	as my father was transfered from base to base for a year or
01300	so, then settled in Wadsworth.  For a while we lived with my
01400	mother's parents in Wadsworth, and then my father built a
01500	house there and we lived in it until I was five.  Then we
01600	moved to Buffalo, and the rest of the story of all the
01700	places we moved is fairly long and not relevant to the story
01800	I am trying to get on with.  Anyway, we lived in Wadsworth
01900	until I was five, and my paternal grandmother, as well as
02000	several aunts and uncles, still live there.
02100		For a long time, I have had a memory of an incident
02200	which must have happened (if at all) when I was very young.
02300	The memory has a rather dream-like quality to it, and for
02400	a long time I was not sure it really happened -- it might
02500	in fact have been a dream.  The incident as I remember it
02600	is that I am with my mother and we have gone to the house
02700	of someone she knows, but I do not.  I am very young and
02800	have been placed on a blanket on some piece of furniture
02900	(a trunk?) in the livingroom.  I remember a little about
03000	the arrangement of the house, and this is important.  As
03100	you enter the house, you are in a short hall.  On your
03200	right is a large doorway into the livingroom, where I have
03300	been placed.  Ahead of you, at the end of the hall, is a
03400	stairway to the floor above, and, four or five steps up
03500	this stairway, on the right, is a door.  This door is the
03600	important thing.  As a child, I am completely fascinated
03700	by this door which opens in the wall, part way up the
03800	stairs.  It seems somehow magical.  After my mother has
03900	left me for a while, I somehow get down from where I am
04000	and go up the stairs.  I don't recall how I got down, or
04100	whether I can walk, or must crawl; my interest is fixed
04200	on that door.  I reach the door and look through, and I
04300	am looking into a kitchen, which is down some stairs
04400	from the door.  In the kitchen are several women who say
04500	hello to me.  The kitchen has a door into the back yard.
04600	There the memory, or dream, ends.
04700		I have on frequent occasion mentioned this memory
04800	to my mother, but she has never been able to remember it
04900	or to remember any house she has ever been in which is
05000	arranged as I described.  We have discussed it at some
05100	length several times, and the best she could suggest was
05200	that it may have been one of the houses she was in briefly
05300	while my father was in the Army.
05400		So much for background (this is pretty long, isn't
05500	it).  The Sunday after we returned from Canada, we (that is
05600	to say, my mother and father and Todd and I) went to visit
05700	my grandmother, who is living in Wadsworth.  My grandfather
05800	died several years ago, and shortly afterwards, my grandmother
05900	moved in with her daughter, who was living, with her husband
06000	and children, in Wadsworth.  Several months ago, my uncle
06100	bought a new house.  That is to say, the house was fairly
06200	old, but new to the family.  So it was to this house that we
06300	went to visit my grandmother (my aunt and uncle were out of
06400	town).  When we got there, we went in and sat around and
06500	talked for a bit, me not paying too much attention.  Then
06600	we all went for a drive around town, to see the houses we
06700	had lived in and so on.  When we got back, we walked into
06800	the house, and as I entered, I looked down the short hall,
06900	and there at the end was a stairway with a door on the
07000	right wall, part way up.  I stopped, and I got this very
07100	spooky feeling.  It was similar to the feeling that something
07200	has happened before, but much stronger, and much spookier.
07300	I turned to my mother, who by now had noticed that something
07400	was up, and I said, "Have I ever been in this house?"
07500		She said no, and I said "That door goes to the kitchen."
07600		She said yes, and I said "Do you remember that memory
07700	I have that I keep asking you about?  Well, this is the
07800	house."
07900		As is generally the case in small towns, everyone
08000	knows the life history of everyone else.  The house used
08100	to belong to the Simester family. (Pronounced with the
08200	accent on the first syllable.)  My mother went to school
08300	with, and was friends with, a Pat Simester, who lived in
08400	that house.  After much reflection, she finally remembered
08500	that she had visited Pat Simester, in that house, and taken
08600	me along, in the spring of 1946.  I was born in February, 1944.
08700		Anyway, that's the story.  They say it is unusual
08800	to be able to remember a specific incident from the age of two,
08900	and it gave me a spooky feeling which lasted for days.  To me,