I grew up in the Louisville, KY area. My first memory is of pulling out a drawer to stand on as I tried to pull the piggy bank off of the top of my dresser to add my money to a KY Derby pool. I was almost 5. The dresser tipped over and I still have a scar on my forehead to show for the fall. Never been a big Derby fan since. :)
I love in Louisville area now, and I was going to share my memory separately but funny thing, mine involves a piggy bank on a dresser. We lived in California at the time. I was almost 4 and there was a slight quake and my bank fell off the dresser and broke. No head injuries though !
Not my earliest memory, but I was probably 5 or so when my 3 year old brother did this same thing. I ran over and caught the dresser and held it off him but I was not strong enough to tip it straight back up. He remembers me straining to hold it and saying calmly (or maybe not so calmly!) "Go get mom!"
I'm not sure if this is the earliest, but my memory is of my grandpa putting me in the cherry tree to eat cherries, even though he knew it would upset my grandmother.
My earliest memory is sitting on my Grandpa's knee. I was a baby and it's like a 5 second snippet. My earliest fully formed memory is 3rd grade, my brother getting me early from Scouts because Dad was mad at something I did (but I swear I didn't do it!!)
As to the question, what's the one thing you would want future generations to know about you and why you chose that knowledge to pass on.
I grew up on a farm in central Iowa. My first memory is digging in my sandbox all by myself on a bright sunny day in the shade of a tall elm tree. I still love going back to that area (in the middle of what was once a great open prairie) where you could see for miles in every direction.
My earliest childhood memory is being in my mothers arms looking out the plane window. When I tracked back with my mother, this was when I was 6 months old moving to Montreal with my parents. I distinctly remember looking at the stewardess (called that in those days) and thinking about what she was doing.
I had to have been close to three for my first memories. One is playing on a chain thing with handles you run around hanging onto and then pick your feet up. I don’t see those anymore in playgrounds. The second is during snow flurries looking in a store window at cool toy trucks. I had on one of those hats that have ear flaps. I can recall the feeling of the hat and seeing part of it above my eyes.
My father was a photographer and took MANY photos when I was young, so it is possible my memories were actually from seeing those photos or at least prompted by them. I wonder how much that happens…
I’m about 2 years old, and we’re in our in Tottenville apartment on Staten Island, which is the very southwest corner of New York City.
It's fairly dark inside from my perspective, lots of 1970s colors like maize yellow and pea green. This is the only home I’ve known, but we’re just living there temporarily for a couple of years because of my dad’s job.
Pretty soon we'll move to Rhode Island. (I like to say I'm from "the islands.") I won't come back to Staten for decades.
There’s a party or some kind of get-together going on, and I'm playing on the living floor with some other kids.
The wall has a cutout connecting this room to the kitchen— the sort of thing you'd pass food through. My dad and one of the other dads are on the other side, using the opening as a stage to entertain us with a puppet show.
Am I remembering this 100% accurately? Hard to know. I've asked my parents and they didn't recall this. But, here's the twist:
Four decades later I moved back to the NYC area, and one weekend I convinced my then-girlfriend/now-wife to drive out to Staten Island with me. This was my first time in the area since we moved away, probably not long after that memory would have been.
I went by, knocked on the door, and the tenant let me come inside and take a look.
Everything was painted different colors, a more 21st century beige and white. But sure enough, there was a cutout in the wall between the kitchen and dining area, just about the right height for a puppet show.
It seems as though those colors made an impression; maize yellow and pea green? Since you’re my son’s age, I remember them as harvest gold and avocado. As for that hole in the wall where you enjoyed puppet shows, it is called a pass through but what a novel thing to use it for besides food. This has given me the idea of asking my kids what they remember of their childhoods just to see if they jive with what I remember. There was a lot going on for all of us then.
My 1st memory is of getting up out of bed in the middle of the night, going to the kitchen, pulling down the handle of the refrigerator to open it. I then scooped out & ate handfuls of the meringue off of the lemon meringue pies my mom had made, (by hand beating them). I then went out the door & to a neighbor to see if their daughter could come out to play! I was only 3 years old. My dad's Army National Guard unit has been called up for active duty at Fort Polk, LA for one year for the Berlin crisis. Us 3 kids & my mom were there for the last 6 months.
My earliest memory was when I was 4 years old, of my father pulling my 2-year old sister out from under the parked car in our driveway, where she had crawled while wearing her nicest dress. She wasn't in any danger, but he seemed like a superhero to me. It's also my only memory of my father -- he died a few months later.
Oddly enough, my earliest memories involve my father, whom I did not like. I was extremely frightened of him. I was the youngest of four children, and as such, I probably cried a lot. He would pick me up by my armpits, shake me against a wall and yell “I’ll give you something to cry about!”
The other early memory I have is that after Church one Sunday, he was raking up the side yard. I was put into the old red Studebaker that didn’t run, but the keys were in the ignition. I asked if I could start the car, could I drive it? He agreed. I was about three years old then. I remember feeling that he’d set me up out of malice. Maybe I started crying; I don’t remember. 🤣
My sister-in-law put it best. As she gets older her short term memory is going to hell but her long term memory is getting better. The bad news is she can't remember where she put the car keys. The good news is years from now she'll remember but, unfortunately, she'll no longer own that car.
My first memory was when I was a baby and was having a nightmare that the mean ghosts from Casper were sawing my crib to get to me. I remember my mom picking me up out of the crib and hugging me and comforting me.
One of my earliest memories is standing next to my mother holding her hand and watching my older sister and neighbor sledding. I couldn’t talk yet but I was very cold and wanted to tell my mother how cold I was but didn’t have the words.
My earliest childhood memory (as far as I can tell) is of playing dodgeball with my cousins
I was four riding my little trike on the sidewalk when my parents arrived in the car bringing my new baby sister home.
I grew up in the Louisville, KY area. My first memory is of pulling out a drawer to stand on as I tried to pull the piggy bank off of the top of my dresser to add my money to a KY Derby pool. I was almost 5. The dresser tipped over and I still have a scar on my forehead to show for the fall. Never been a big Derby fan since. :)
I love in Louisville area now, and I was going to share my memory separately but funny thing, mine involves a piggy bank on a dresser. We lived in California at the time. I was almost 4 and there was a slight quake and my bank fell off the dresser and broke. No head injuries though !
Not my earliest memory, but I was probably 5 or so when my 3 year old brother did this same thing. I ran over and caught the dresser and held it off him but I was not strong enough to tip it straight back up. He remembers me straining to hold it and saying calmly (or maybe not so calmly!) "Go get mom!"
Where did you live then?
I'm not sure if this is the earliest, but my memory is of my grandpa putting me in the cherry tree to eat cherries, even though he knew it would upset my grandmother.
I’d bet your grandmother wasn’t the only thing that was upset from all those wonderful cherries either.
My earliest memory is sitting on my Grandpa's knee. I was a baby and it's like a 5 second snippet. My earliest fully formed memory is 3rd grade, my brother getting me early from Scouts because Dad was mad at something I did (but I swear I didn't do it!!)
As to the question, what's the one thing you would want future generations to know about you and why you chose that knowledge to pass on.
Sure. I was 3, and playing on the hillside behind our house with other toddlers. Great first question. What's the second one?
I've long thought about this topic as important. Getting elders to tell their stories before they're gone. Love to hear more about your ideas.
I grew up on a farm in central Iowa. My first memory is digging in my sandbox all by myself on a bright sunny day in the shade of a tall elm tree. I still love going back to that area (in the middle of what was once a great open prairie) where you could see for miles in every direction.
My earliest childhood memory is being in my mothers arms looking out the plane window. When I tracked back with my mother, this was when I was 6 months old moving to Montreal with my parents. I distinctly remember looking at the stewardess (called that in those days) and thinking about what she was doing.
I had to have been close to three for my first memories. One is playing on a chain thing with handles you run around hanging onto and then pick your feet up. I don’t see those anymore in playgrounds. The second is during snow flurries looking in a store window at cool toy trucks. I had on one of those hats that have ear flaps. I can recall the feeling of the hat and seeing part of it above my eyes.
My father was a photographer and took MANY photos when I was young, so it is possible my memories were actually from seeing those photos or at least prompted by them. I wonder how much that happens…
Here's my first memory:
I’m about 2 years old, and we’re in our in Tottenville apartment on Staten Island, which is the very southwest corner of New York City.
It's fairly dark inside from my perspective, lots of 1970s colors like maize yellow and pea green. This is the only home I’ve known, but we’re just living there temporarily for a couple of years because of my dad’s job.
Pretty soon we'll move to Rhode Island. (I like to say I'm from "the islands.") I won't come back to Staten for decades.
There’s a party or some kind of get-together going on, and I'm playing on the living floor with some other kids.
The wall has a cutout connecting this room to the kitchen— the sort of thing you'd pass food through. My dad and one of the other dads are on the other side, using the opening as a stage to entertain us with a puppet show.
Am I remembering this 100% accurately? Hard to know. I've asked my parents and they didn't recall this. But, here's the twist:
Four decades later I moved back to the NYC area, and one weekend I convinced my then-girlfriend/now-wife to drive out to Staten Island with me. This was my first time in the area since we moved away, probably not long after that memory would have been.
I went by, knocked on the door, and the tenant let me come inside and take a look.
Everything was painted different colors, a more 21st century beige and white. But sure enough, there was a cutout in the wall between the kitchen and dining area, just about the right height for a puppet show.
By the way I know I had to have been about 2 because we moved out of that apartment before my 3rd birthday.
It seems as though those colors made an impression; maize yellow and pea green? Since you’re my son’s age, I remember them as harvest gold and avocado. As for that hole in the wall where you enjoyed puppet shows, it is called a pass through but what a novel thing to use it for besides food. This has given me the idea of asking my kids what they remember of their childhoods just to see if they jive with what I remember. There was a lot going on for all of us then.
This is a great idea Bill.
My 1st memory is of getting up out of bed in the middle of the night, going to the kitchen, pulling down the handle of the refrigerator to open it. I then scooped out & ate handfuls of the meringue off of the lemon meringue pies my mom had made, (by hand beating them). I then went out the door & to a neighbor to see if their daughter could come out to play! I was only 3 years old. My dad's Army National Guard unit has been called up for active duty at Fort Polk, LA for one year for the Berlin crisis. Us 3 kids & my mom were there for the last 6 months.
My earliest memory was when I was 4 years old, of my father pulling my 2-year old sister out from under the parked car in our driveway, where she had crawled while wearing her nicest dress. She wasn't in any danger, but he seemed like a superhero to me. It's also my only memory of my father -- he died a few months later.
Oddly enough, my earliest memories involve my father, whom I did not like. I was extremely frightened of him. I was the youngest of four children, and as such, I probably cried a lot. He would pick me up by my armpits, shake me against a wall and yell “I’ll give you something to cry about!”
The other early memory I have is that after Church one Sunday, he was raking up the side yard. I was put into the old red Studebaker that didn’t run, but the keys were in the ignition. I asked if I could start the car, could I drive it? He agreed. I was about three years old then. I remember feeling that he’d set me up out of malice. Maybe I started crying; I don’t remember. 🤣
I find it amazing that some people can remember from such extremely young ages. I can't even remember from one room to the next these days.
My sister-in-law put it best. As she gets older her short term memory is going to hell but her long term memory is getting better. The bad news is she can't remember where she put the car keys. The good news is years from now she'll remember but, unfortunately, she'll no longer own that car.
My first memory was when I was a baby and was having a nightmare that the mean ghosts from Casper were sawing my crib to get to me. I remember my mom picking me up out of the crib and hugging me and comforting me.
One of my earliest memories is standing next to my mother holding her hand and watching my older sister and neighbor sledding. I couldn’t talk yet but I was very cold and wanted to tell my mother how cold I was but didn’t have the words.