The Kinta Years

THE CURTAIN RISES
~WHAT S ~UR NAME?\" the other child said.
\"My name is Janice Holt，\" I said.
My remembered life begins at this moment. I had lived
four years and a few months. There are some vague， unsorted
earlier memories， mostly of smells， sounds， emotions， and
blurred snatches of pictures- a paling fence， the white of
a little boy s shirt， dust under my feet; as much feeling and
smell as sight， dry autumn leaves; again as much feeling and
smell as sight， a big fish， told about more than remembered.
All mostly prompted by stories told by my parents of things
done， said， events in which I had participated. Also prompted
by photographs， especially the big fish -- especially the paling
fence.
But this， now， was mine. Nobody was there but the other
child and me. \"What s your name7\" she said.
And I， myself， a person， an individual， replied and identified
myself.
The first clear， unaided， unprompted memory of my life is
therefore the identification of myself. Who I was. In all the
world， the entire universe， the
there was a me- Janice Holt.
nizable and identifiable self.
galaxy， the species， the race，
There was a person， a recog-