Today’s task from week four of The Artist’s Way is to time travel to age eight and write a letter from that age to myself at my current age. I don’t remember much about myself specifically as an eight-year-old. I’ve written about myself at age 12, and in my mind, all of these ages sort of feel the same to me. It feels like I only have a very generalized idea of what I was like as a child, then a teenager, then a young adult. It’s just in these big buckets and my memories are few, especially in the childhood bucket. So, I’ll share how I see it in my mind today.

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Time Travel: Remember yourself at eight. What did you like to do? What were your favorite things?

One memory I have from around age eight is riding the school bus home. We lived in the country about 13 miles outside of town. I rode a small school bus for what must have been at least an hour. I was the first stop in the mornings and the last stop in the afternoons. I don’t personally remember this, but my parents talk about how I would get a reading assignment at school and by the time I was home, I had finished reading the whole book.

I loved to read from the moment I learned how. I liked Hank the Cowdog books, Garfield, and books about space. I remember one little book I had checked out from the library that had maps of all of the constellations. When I moved to a new town, I forgot to turn that book in as well as a Garfield comic strip book. I felt guilty about “stealing” the books, but I loved them so much and was secretly glad I got to keep them. Especially that book with the constellation maps.

(Btw, reading deprivation this week has been a struggle. One night, I ended up reading all of my blog posts backwards from Day 20 back to Day 1 of this project. I justified it because I was reading my own words! He he)

Stargazing With Dad

That reminds me of one of my favorite old memories with my dad. He put an old mattress in the bed of of his pickup and drove out in the middle of the field in front of our house. We laid there pointing out the constellations, watching the bats dart near us, and occasionally spotted a UFO. I can’t help but think of my dad every time I notice the constellation, Orion. That one is my favorite, probably because it’s so easy to spot. I also thought it was cool that the middle star of Orion’s Belt is actually a nebula.

Drawing My Version of Hank the Cowdog Stories

When I was around eight years old, I was already drawing, and by the time I was 10-12, I was writing some poetry, too. I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house. They had a computer and a dot matrix printer. I loved typing and using the printer. And using the printer paper to draw on! Here’s a fun little drawing I found when I was going through their house last summer. It was a spinoff of Hank the Cowdog – Wilson the Pot-Bellied Pig.

Funny thing here – I looked up Hank the Cowdog to refresh my memory. As soon as I landed on the official Hank the Cowdog website, it made me tear up. What is that about? It’s been interesting to see how much thinking back to my childhood is stirring my soul. As I read on the website about ol’ Hank, I wonder if this contributed to my worker bee approach to life. Hank’s attitude was always serious and focused on doing his job and working hard.

I also found this other sheet with my drawings. It looks like I was just practicing and doodling. In the part where I spelled out, “Tita” I was playing around with negative space.

Young Amber’s Favorite Things and Pocket Knife Superstitions

I also liked to shoot my BB gun and my slingshot as a kid. I’d wander around the creek and the trees outside of our country house, carrying my gear. I always had a pocket knife on hand, too. I still have my first pocket knife – this little red Executive. It looks so small to me now.

My dad taught me about a couple of pocket knife superstitions.

• One is that you never accept a knife as a gift. You have to buy it. So I gave him a penny when he gave me the little red knife.
• The second superstition is that if someone hands you a knife to use and it is closed, you make sure you give it back closed. If they hand it to you open, you give it back open. In other words, if you open it, you close it. It’s bad luck to do it any other way!

My pocket knife, slingshot, and BB gun were some of my favorite things in childhood. I was a sharpshooter, and usually just shot at beer cans, but I admit that I did kill at least a couple of birds. The slingshot I had was one of those that had the wrist support, so I could aim with some decent accuracy and speed. I once shot a bird off a telephone line with my slingshot. Another time, I shot a male cardinal with my BB gun. I remember inspecting it afterward and feeling such sadness. I wished I hadn’t killed such a beautiful thing. I took one feather from it and gave it to Tita.

Another time, I came across a snake in my adventure. It was a small grass snake, but I was terrified and creeped out by it! This is a little graphic, so if you are squeamish, skip to the next paragraph. The first thing I remember about this encounter was that I used the butt of my BB gun to trap the snake on the ground. It’s head was on one side of my gun and the rest of its body on the other. I thought I was smart, capturing it like this, until I realized that if I picked up my gun, it could still slither to me. So I took out my pocket knife and stabbed it in the head. And for some reason, I wanted to put this dead snake in a Mason jar – I guess to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. It was long enough to curl around the bottom of the jar at least three times. I left it on the porch, but later when I returned to check on it, that freaking thing had flipped over on its back! I learned that the nerves stay active even after death. That memory still makes me cringe.

I loved playing outside more than anything. My sister and I played on the creek for hours and hours all summer long. Those are my best and most favorite memories.

Now, write a letter from you at eight to you at your current age. What would you tell yourself?

Dear 44-year-old Amber,

I’m just eight years old, but the grownups seem to think I’m as smart as a 12 year old sometimes. I am already reading storybooks, writing, and drawing pretty well for a kid my age. It’s a lot of fun and I like feeling smart. I can’t wait to grow up and learn and do more things.

So, you made it to 44 years old! That seems pretty old to me. I hope you are enjoying yourself. There’s something I want you to know. I really want to be an artist one day, so don’t stop drawing! Since we’re pretty good at this, it would be a shame to waste our talent on something boring.

Another thing I want you to know is that playing outside does something spiritual for our soul. Don’t forget to get out there in the trees.

I’m glad to see that you are making art, hiking, and still cherishing that little red pocket knife. I know you’ve been through some stuff and survival was a key focus for some of your life. But you know, I love pretending I’m surviving on my own in the wild. Maybe pretending made the real thing a little easier.

Thanks for thinking about me today. 😊 Oh, and go read book #1 in the Hank the Cowdog series. I think you’ll enjoy it!

Amber, age 8

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Revisiting my childhood through this exercise has brought up some raw emotions. I feel a little silly reacting to this in this way, but perhaps the process just makes us a little tender. I’m grateful for the sweet memories that came up. And I’ll check out Hank the Cowdog again. 😊

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