My first real memories, those I can date, are from the summer of 1959, when I was four and a half.
My family took the first of our summer vacation road trips. We saw Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon. I still remember counting the number of bears we sighted in Yellowstone(nineteen). There’s a picture of me standing in front of a fence out West somewhere, with a humongous longhorn behind it. I remember that too.
The first memory I can date absolutely exactly was the following Christmas Eve, 12/24/59. My family was in the car, ready to go to the Christmas program at church, when Mom had to get out as she had “forgotten” something. Through a crack in the kitchen curtains I saw her put away the milk and cookies we had left for Santa. (He came while we were at church, don’t you know). I didn’t tell her what I’d seen, but I also figured there wasn’t any Easter Bunny either. But who wants to take a chance on not getting chocolate?
I remember when someone on the board spouted all that rubbish about memories of a less than 5 year old being unreliable or some such. I reckon threads like this put forward a strongly opposing viewpoint, however.
My earliest definite memory is being inside Dad’s van and watching the side door slide open. I’m guessing it was a couple of weeks after my second birthday.
Addendum to my earlier post: the van was an early model Ford Club Wagon and was later replaced by a '69 or '70 Ford Ranch Wagon. After buying the Ranch Wagon, Dad bought a '71 Pinto brand new from the local Ford dealer. I was born in '68.
I also have early memories of riding with Dad in his Ranch Wagon. Going with him to the dealer, presumably to order the Pinto, and going with him up to Joliet to replace the tailgate window. Dad bought me toy Opel GT in Joliet.
I was about 3, and I had been jumping on the bed when I went flying and cut my head open. What I remember is the doctor stitching me up, and then waiting a veeeeeeerrrrry long time, lying on a chair next to my mom. Found out later that we had to wait for the reconstructive surgeon to “fix” my scar, but he left me with a rather obvious bald spot.
I was in the aisle seat on the left side, Suzie (2 years old) had the window, my mom with Richard (newborn) was on my right with Nancy (1 year old) on her window side. We were passing Chiclets around (for those of us who could chew) just before flying from Norfolk, Virginia to Olathe, Kansas.
That’s my only memory until I started first grade.
I know I was less than five for this memory, because of the house we lived in. My mother and I were standing at the foot of their bed looking at a washtub full of peaches from our tree. I was mad 'cuz Mama wouldn’t give me a peach to eat. She told me later that I had already had one, and she didn’t want me to get a tummy ache.
Same house, my mom took a picture of me wearing only training pants and sneakers. I remember wishing she would hurry and take the picture, because our concrete porch was cold on my bottom!
Memory of being in the car as about 1 year-old, laying down in back, and then struggling to get up and see what the hell was going on. Panorama windshield memory, Wow!
Dad described it later, that we were going from So Cal to Seattle, for the World’s Fair, and he looked in the rearview mirror and saw me holding on to the car crib and staring ahead, first standing on yer own thing.
I remember, a bit later, learning to walk . Can see, even now, my Dad crouched down and beckoning, and lurching steps in the living room. Guess that becoming upright was a big deal for my mind, but, was a firstborn child on both sides, so prolly very encouraged by family.
Well, I’d be very hesitant to claim it was memories… but there definitely was some influence. The ‘clutches’, for instance… apparently my mom would pick me up and play with me and say, “I’ve got you in my clutches!”, and that was influence as well.
elelle, my first memory was at the Seattle World’s Fair! I was three at the time and I was very unhappy that my brother (who was two years older) was getting to go on a ride that I wasn’t allowed to go on too. I remember it was a round track with roller coaster-like cars. There was a canvas-type cover that raised and lowered over the riders as they went around and around. I think it was called The Caterpillar or something like that.
Hey! I just Googled that name and I found it! I thought it was a kiddy ride but this says it was popular with young couples. They don’t list it as having been at the World’s Fair but we’d never been to any of the other places listed so it had to have been. I can even picture where at the fairgrounds it was! How cool!
So I wonder :dubious: how it can still be claimed that no one remembers anything from before the age of 5, or whatever cutoff is assigned–when there are so many people reporting earlier memories that have been objectively confirmed. Is anecdotal evidence always absolutely worthless – or is the sheer amount of people telling us these memories enough to raise skepticism about the high cutoff ages?
I have two memories from between 1yo (when we moved into the high rise) and age 4, but undated:
It’s been cold and damp. One day, after breakfast, I go to my bedroom to get dressed and the sun is coming in; I haven’t seen the sun in a long time. I climb on my bed to look out and I can see that the green grassy area across the road has lots of white in it. Later that same day, we’re over at the green grassy area and I pick these tiny white daisies. Mom tells me they’re margaritas. When I was in San Francisco I saw the same tiny wild daisies: they’re white with yellow centers and a bit of pink (stronger than baby pink) at the end of each petal. I think I must have been close to my 2nd Bday for this one, but not sure.
That high rise and a squatter building were the only ones for about half a kilometer in any direction. We’d just play down in the open area between both buildings. I have a memory of being down there, playing in the warm sun, and my friends have all gone upstairs but I haven’t because I’m not hungry or tired. Mom comes down, all fretful, and asks “what time do you think it is?” Surprised, I say “six? But I’m not hungry” Turns out it’s 9, dinner time: this prompted a bout of devouring any astronomy book I could find. The whole concept of “the day stretches” was so absolutely fascinating, and still is!
I have a memory of a particular conversation that Mom claimed I couldn’t remember, since I was 2 when it took place. When I gave her enough details, she had to accept that yes, it wasn’t something I’d heard retold, I actually remembered the specific conversation. One of my grandmother’s cousins had just come back from a trip to Chile and Argentina; grandfather (who died the winter before I turned 3) was sitting in his armchair, grandmother in hers, my aunts and uncles and parents were sitting in regular chairs and I was playing under the table with this wooden construction set. I remember thinking “wow! So, when you’re a grown up and a widow, you can go PLACES? Without your parents or anything? WOW, I want to be a widow when I grow up!”
I’ve ended up just ditching the widow part and being a spinster instead. One who was recently described by my SiL’s father as “an adventurous wanderer”. And I go… PLACES!
I will flat out say, I don’t have any memories before I was five or so. These kinds of threads always make me a little sad.
I came over from India when I was 4 1/2, so I presume the sudden shock and change made me forget everything from before. I don’t remember anything from what seems to me to have been a very happy childhood.
Anyway, my first memory is a fuzzy memory of Mrs. Cook, who was my kindergarten teacher, and who taught me English. She was large and warm and fat and very sweet.
Falling down the basement steps. My older brother and I were playing catch, him at the bottom of the stairs, me at the top. I leaned too far forward to get the ball, and down I went. Hurt a lot, I’m sure, and also developed into why, even 31 years later, I always take stairs slowly and hold onto the handrail.
I remember my mother carrying me down a flight of stairs to a laundry room. She had me under one arm, the laundry under the other arm, and a hugely pregnant belly in front. Because of the presence of stairs and Mom’s advanced stage of pregnancy, this would have to have been when I was between 13 and 14 months of age.
I remember a bunch of stuff from way back, but I think this is my oldest memory.
I was in the hospital to have my tonsils out. I was 2 (it was 1971). I remember a hallway or sitting area that had that crazy 60s flocked wallpaper and I remember touching it and feeling the velvety feeling- it was red. I also remember my crib-bed being pushed over against the crib-bed next to mine- the girl in that bed shared her barbies with me and we played. I also remember the food looking weird and not tasting good.