God, I’ve got a rather small brain today. One of those “sit and stare vacantly at the computer screen and wonder what I’m doing” things. I’ll eat something in a few minutes, which will probably help. I hope. :)
I was obliged to take Ted out to dinner last night to make him help me figure out a plot for OPERATION: FIREBIRD. It took a while to get started, partly ’cause he was very tired and partly because he hasn’t read O:C yet, but eventually he said something that caused me to stop talking and stare off into the distance, which pleased him, because he has learned to recognize that as my brain latching onto an idea that will work. (Dad, later, said, “That vacant stare is Catie visualizing!” which made us all laugh a lot. *laugh*) So I got part of a synospis rough draft written this morning, and I’ll work on it some more in a bit here, and that makes me quite pleased.
As the discerning amongst you may have guessed, we then dropped by my parents’ house, and gossiped about families and talked about our earliest memories. My cousin Maggie’s been offered the job she interviewed for, and we’re all waiting to see now if they’ll give her more money than they initially offered.
(It’s taken me nearly an hour to write this much.)
I have a whole wheat pita bread dough recipe. I think I’ll make some. Doesn’t that sound yummy? And yesterday I cleaned off the kitchen counter entirely. I’m going to break the fingers of anyone who puts stuff on it. Including myself. Last night I put a bottle of saline solution on it and then was like AUGH. MUST PUT AWAY. So I did. Go me. :)
My Mom’s earliest memory is of going to the beach near where she grew up her first few years in Florida, and having lunch and having to wait an hour before she went into the water. She waaaaaited and waaaaited and waaaaited and it took FOREVER and FINALLY she was allowed to go, and she went running toward the water, and her parents called, “Rosie!” and she turned back with a terrible gruss on her face and they took a picture of her scowly little self. She was about two. :) Apparently she’d wanted soooo badly to go into the water they wanted to see what happened if they called her back. :)
Dad’s earliest memory is of going to daycare during WWII, which he did because his mom was a riveter (! I had NO IDEA! Isn’t that cool?!), and the house the daycare was at was Very Large (at least to his mind), and every afternoon they’d have a nap and they’d have a blanket rolled out to nap on and then after the nap they’d have a snack. :) He also remembers the end of WWII, which was when he was almost 5. All of a sudden sirens went off all over the place and people all up and down the street began running out of their homes screaming, “The war is over!” He had absolutely no idea what was going on, of course, but it was *very* exciting.
Ted’s earliest memory is of playing on the big slide behind the military apartment they lived in, in Germany. He also remembers the first time his mom cut his little brother’s fingernails, and she clipped the tip of one of his fingers and he bled and bled and bled, and Ted was *very* upset, but that was when he was 3, and the other is when he was two-ish.
My earliest memory is of getting my stuffed animal, Dog, who I got on my second birthday. My Aunt Pam made him for me, and she brought him to the house and I went running up to the sliding glass door, which was much too big for me to open, and she opened it from the other side and gave him to me. My next memory was of getting my stuffed animal Bear, who was a Christmas present 6 months later, and who was sitting on a big red saucer sled beneath the Christmas tree.
What’s your earliest memory?
My earliest memory is of my mother dropping my brother off at preschool. (This was in Wisconsin, and we moved to Washington when I was three). My brother was very upset that he had to stay, and I was disgruntled because I had to leave. There were KIDS. There was a SLIDE. And my mom was taking me AWAY and my brother got to STAY.
Had I but had the language skills, I’m sure I would have wailed, “SO NOT FAIR!!”
I have a memory of my mom breast feeding my brother, which means I had to be just shy of 3 but younger than 4, although the memory I have, my mom says couldn’t have happened (given that the arrangement of furniture I remember she says never occurred).
The earliest memory I’m sure of was my 4th birthday, and getting a cake in the 3-D shape of Snoopy’s doghouse, with a sleeping Snoopy on top.
My earliest memory was going to see Mom after my sister was born. I was two months shy of two at the time. Mom was in the hospital bed and I jumped up because I was so excited to see her and landed on her mid-section which had just undergone a rather harsh delivery process. When I told Mom that this was my earliest memory a few years back she didn’t really believe me until I described the room, what I had done, and the nurse who was also in there when Dad and I arrived.
My earliest memory is of the kitchen in Verne St, I think. I have an impression of a new space and bright red shiny cabinet doors (which matches Verne St’s kitchen), followed by – very clearly – my mother saying, “Deborah, don’t touch. It’s wet – Deborah, didn’t I just say not to touch that?” But it’s a pretty vague memory. I was just past two, I think.
The clearest one I have with no doubt whatsoever is of running away when I was 4. I had made it all the way to the top of the parking pad and was defiantly going to Leave Forever And Wouldn’t They Be Sorry. My father followed me out, laughing, picked me up and carried me back inside, stopping only to bop my nose (the way you do a cat’s) when I was especially indignant. I was *furious* at him, and said so, which only got more amusement and my nose bopped again.
Hm. I don’t have an “earliest memory”. I was very ill when I was a teenager, and lost a whole bunch of my memory. Things are only consistent since about age 25 or so… everything before that is isolated instances of things.
I remember sliding down a shallow river where the bottom was basalt and the water moved really fast like a water-slide, and being swept into the natural rock basin at the bottom of the river, doing that over and over. My mom tells me I wore the seat out of my pants by doing that all day one day. The image has no context, no place or time. I could have been four or fouteen.
I have brief memories of elementary school, holidays we went on, and so on, but no framework for them. If I want to know when or where, or anything like that, I have to ask my mother. It scares me to have to depend on someone else for my memory.
Memory is a fragile thing.
Soly
I, too, ran away from home. I think I was a little older than Deborah. I waited until I was six. I, too, was Going Away Forever, Probably to Grandpa’s and Grandma’s, and They Were Sure Gonna Miss Me and Be Sorry They Were So Mean To Me. I had seen pictures of what you did when you ran away, so I put my panda bear and a peanut butter sandwich in a little red bandana and tied the bandana to a stick. With the stick over my shoulder I walked and walked and walked. I’m sure I got at least a half mile before the Remorse from Leaving My Sisters and Our Cow Beauty All Alone was Too Much To Bear. Positive that I Was Being Brave and Doing the Right Thing, I returned homw to take care of my sisters and Beauty, the cow.
I think my very earliest memories are from when I was too young to know how old I am — the one I can date with any certainty because of a photo was from when I was 3 (or a little before). I was sitting on a blanket on the lawn in front of our apartment building while a friend of the same age (I think her name may have been Julia of Julie) cut half my hair off just about down to the skin with a pair of giant scissors. (Giant from a three-year old point of view anyhow :) I felt so pretty and proud after ‘being to the hairdresser’ and went in to show my mother, who had hysterics. And then my father apparently stormed off to yell at Julia’s father — her parents being the hippies of the neighborhood who didn’t believe in putting any limitations on children exploring the world. Even if it involved sharp scissors =)
(A memory that I think might be earlier, but can’t confirm, is of waking up in an unfamiliar crib/bed in a totally dark room, and being so frightened I didn’t dare to move or cry. I lay there quiet as a mouse for a small eternity, until I realized I could hear my parents breathing, apparently sleeping nearby, and then I knew it was safe after all and went back to sleep.)
And I did the running away thing, too. Somewhere between ages 3 and 5 since we were still living in that building, but I don’t think I got further than the road outside :)
I distinctly remember zipping off (where zipping means waddling very quickly) down the sidewalk toward the intersection while out on a walk with my mom. Boy was I having a good time waddling around. And then I got yanked up short by the arm just before I stepped out in front of a car and got paddled.
And then Dad swatted me when he got home and heard what I’d done.
Mom says I was two when that happened. Didn’t do it again, though!
I also have memories of Grandpa squishing me in his big leather chair. I would hop up in the back and he would sit down in it and leaaaan back (very carefully) and I would squeal and squirm while I got squished, and then he would be Very Surprised that I was behind him. That was a great game.
He died when I was three, so, yeah. Early memories.
I remember being with my cousin Maggie and explicitly Being Bad (how exciting!). We were somewhere with a double staircase, branching off in two different directions after rising from the ground in one solid trunk (like the staircase in The Sound of Music :). We were NOT supposed to go up there and we kept seeing how far we dared get. The adults weren’t paying much attention :)
I also sort of remember my aunt Eileen, on the same instance (I think) sitting on a couch under some glass shelves with lots of little glass animals which I found very interesting. My mom pegs these as the time when Eric (Maggie’s brother) showed up, which would put me at a surprsing 18 months.