When I was maybe 12 years old, the same age as Kevin Arnold when he was getting dry humped by a different girl every week, I did an audio recording of like a radio show. Kids do this sort of thing. I did songs (that I sung) and had DJ talk and told a lame half-story that trailed off and lead to nothing. That story idea was from my mother, given to me on a piece of paper mid-way through production so I just had to think of something to appease her.

The songs were mostly parodies of well-known hits from the 1950s because I didn't listen to music so had to rely on stuff you might hear on tv commercials or whatever. The nature of the parodies was about how my sisters had a bad odour.

It was really dumb but I listened to it for weeks afterward and always found it amusing.

Must be long gone now. My mother made sure to destroy everything of mine.

It would be embarassing to hear now but also maybe a bit interesting.

I'll tell you what else would be interesting. Report cards, drawings, writing assignments, whatever. But she just threw everything away.

It's perhaps how most parents are. But it's ridiculously short-sighted. Just put the stuff in a box in the back of the closet. Where's the harm? It's not like we moved every couple of years.

That's what kills me. If we were constantly moving, that would be an excuse to not keep much stuff around. But she's lived in that house for 50 years. There's no room for the Garfield drawing that took me six weeks to do? It was even laminated.