i’m just wondering if most people’s earliest memory is a kind of negative one.
my earliest memory is of being in another person’s house when i was 3. i think the babysitter across the street from where we lived at the time. and i was going to spend the night, which was unusual. i remember it being kind of dark and something about the weather. i was a little afraid/alone. i think this might have been the day my brother was born (day of a flood) because i can’t think of another reason i would be without one of my parents there.
i asked my brother what his earliest memory was and he said it was coloring in a little thinker book (program where you listen to a story on tape and then draw to music) or our mom cutting herself with a knife by accident in the kitchen. i think maybe it happened at the same time.
another brother’s first memory is when he hit his head on the fireplace. i have to ask the 3rd brother, but i think he said before that it was when his tooth was knocked out from a red wagon accident.
so… what is your earliest memory? does it have some darker tinge to it, or are there some with happy first memories?
I don’t know, but Richard Nixon said that his earliest memory was of falling out of a horse and buggy driven by his mother.
You may be on to something.
Wow, I think you are onto something indeed.
My earliest memory is walking on a part of the backyard where the older kids had warned me not to walk, because there were broken bottles. I didn’t listen; I knew better. I got horribly cut, and I very specifically remember my father washing my feet in the bathtub with Dial soap, the yellow variety, and how the blood made the suds turn orange. I was two.
Mine isn’t bad or good or anything, really. I just remember being three years old and looking out my bedroom window one morning. We had one of those “fireman” stickers in the window that let people know there were children in there in case of fire. That’s it, really. Nothing too great.
My earliest memory is also not a good one.
I was walking outside and I kept yelling to myself that, “I want a cigarette! I want a cigarette!” My dad heard this, came outside, opened up his pack and lit one with me. He told me that if I wanted to smoke so bad go ahead. I barely remember actually smoking it, but I do remember how bad it hurt my lungs when I breathed in. I don’t know if it has anything to do with this event, but I am not a smoker to this day.
I can remember sitting on my Danish grandmother’s lap as we rode across the San Francisco bay bridge’s lower deck on the old Key Line tram system. I could not have been more than two or three years old at the time.
I can also remember standing in my crib and examining the wallpaper patterns. However, I have no way of correlating that with any precise date, unlike the above memory.
My S.O. has no real memories from before the age of 7 or 8 (he will remember incedents if a family member brings them up, but not on his own). He claims this is because he had a happy childhood, but on the other hand I have heard multiple stories about him drinking nail polish remover and cleaning products as a small child (I don’t blame his mother, he’s still sneaky and difficult, I can’t imagine what he was like to keep track of, esp. on a farm with 2 younger sisters!) So who knows!
I don’t think any of my early memories are bad.
Attending a cousin’s wedding - my mom swears I was only 2, so there’s no way I could remember it.
The next memories are at age 4: 1) ripping my fingernail off by putting it in the bicycle spokes; 2) watching the fire spread across our back lawn (Dad BBQ fiasco).
The tall grass in the lot next to the house we rented. I suppose it was mysterious and I was probably warned not to go there…fast foward to the house we bought. My mom pinning a small nap blanket around my neck to make a cape and me running circles around that house.
I was probably two with the “tall grass” episode, and three with the cape. Look, I’m flying!!! Wow. Rosebud. Sigh.
Lying in my crib, crying and wanting my mother’s face appear over me. Dad came in instead, and I was angry that it wasn’t ‘mommy’.
I believe I was less than one. I definitely wasn’t walking yet.
I can’t remember how old I was…pretty little, though, I was still being carried around. My dad lifted me up to my grandfather, who rode me around on his horse. Excited/scared/thrilled/happy all at the same time.
Can we have a poignant smilie?
This is a good thread. (Especially for a drunk guy who’s just watched a film that has made him both amarous (due to a certain female cast member who’s name is not madeline stowe) and nostalgic (or as nostalgic as it is possible to be for a time he did not exist in) (the film being Last of the Mohicans) and is using too many parentheses)
My earliest memories are of a small wooden red sports car and my back yard at Accrington. I was small enough to fit into a sink bowl (in which I had baths) We had a black cat named sam.
I can only remember back to age five, kindergarten:
My friend Steve–whom I’m still in touch with–lying on the floor with a wet paper towel in his mouth because he’d just lost a tooth.
wait, can we go back? Blond , how did your dad set fire to the back yard with a BBQ’er?
My earliest memory is of lying on my back on what I later identified as our kitchen table (I know it was the kitchen table, because our kitchen had fairly distinctive 1950’s deco-style ceiling light fixtures that are in this image) looking up at a person who I would later come to know, only through pictures, as my great grandmother. I don’t know if diapers were being changed or what, but that particular image is still floating around in my brain someplace and comes to the surface every now and again.
I have no idea how old I was, but I remember virtually nothing from that point until I was about 2 1/2 or 3 years old - odd.
My earliest memory is seeing Star Wars (“A New Hope” now, I guess) at a drive in when I was somewhere between 2 and 3… and thinking the arm looked really fake when Obi Wan cut it off in the cantina. I was a strange kid.
Hmm, trying to think of my second earliest, I might have gone earlier than that one. I remember a series of dreams I had sometime before I was 3 (we moved when my younger sister was born, and I know it was before we moved). I don’t remember details, but I remember that I was a giant mouse, and that for what I remember as weeks I’d have the same dream every night, picking up where it had left off the night before. On a less specific note, I remember having a humidifier in my room at that house, and listening to the sound of it as I fell asleep.
My earliest memory is of the first time I ever drank out of a cup instead of a bottle. My mother explained that I was going to drink out of a big girl cup now. I remember being a bit sad about it, but thinking it was good to be acting like a big girl.
I was between 1 and 2, apparently. I have several distinct recollections from the 3-4 year old range, but the cup one is the earliest memory by far. Not sure if it counts as “traumatic,” though.
I was almost 2 and my sister and me were jumping on the bed. She slipped of the edge and some how hit the bed coming down and here tooth fell out. I ran into my parent’s room and tried to tell them what had happened.
My second memory probibly took place a half a year later. I was playing happily with my friend, when his mom picked him up and i had to take a nap. While I was trying to fall asleep my pink bear puppet (why a boy had a pink puppet is beyond me) fell through the bars of my crib. I spent for what seemed an eternity debating weather I should jump or not. I was too scared to jump, and to patient to cry, so I waited till my Dad would eventually come home. When he did, he picked me up and handed me my bear. I remember being very happy.