What's your earliest memory?

[caelho]

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[brukuns]

Earliest I remember is my early 20's.

 

[Will there be snacks]

Earliest I remember is my early 20's.

You even remember buying those flowers?

 

[brukuns]

You even remember buying those flowers?

What flowers?

 

[CCKeith]

The maternity ward. Based on maybe that reoccurring vivid semi-daydream I would experience every year or so could be explained by the sensation of expanding knowledge, and a void of any previous knowledge, and vibration from the cart being rolled as I lay in it. One episode I was able to replay in my mind over, and over, until I came to that conclusion. The thoughts never returned after that day. Next memory not until age 3, or so.

r u Terence Howard?

 

[Pico]

Happy Andy

 

[keenfish]

Happy Andy

Are you happy now Andy?

 

[hammies]

Watching JFK's funeral on TV. My parents were big Kennedy fans and were pretty busted up, IIRC.

 

[Lance Mannion]

My dad removing my bedroom door and putting it on top of my crib to keep me from climbing out.

 

[Pico]

Are you happy now Andy?

Delighted

 

[kelpcutter]

Are memories reliable? How do you know if those early memories are real or just stories that have been repeated out loud or in your head over the years? Have those stories changed over time?

 

[plasticbertrand]

All age 3 or younger:

First memory - being in my crib looking up at the yellow painted walls ( 1 or 2 y/o)

Sometime around the same age - our small kitchen, with the door out the side to the driveway
My dad cutting up bratwurst, trying to feed it to me, and me being disgusted.
My dad also had a freaky mask that was the face of an old man, he popped in the kitchen once with it on and scared the sh!t outta me.

My grandad filling a jug with a hand water pump to water the flowers on his stepson's grave. He kept the jug hanging on a tree branch just over the edge of a ravine behind the grave.

Playing in one of those cheap little plastic pools in front of our apartment

My dad going to the hospital with food poisoning.

Jumping on the couch at a friend's house and being bitten on the arm by a girl named Megan.

Interestingly I've always heard you have no memories before age 3 or 4 but this thread obviously shows otherwise.

Mods, please move this post to What's Your Earliest Childhood Trauma thread.

Thanks you

 

[Duffy LaCoronilla]

I barely remember yesterday.

 

[Chocki]

I barely remember yesterday.

Weed is tight

 

[brukuns]

I remember having breakfast. 2 pieces of toast with requeijão and some orange juice. My memory is awesome.

 

[brukuns]

I think I was 3... my parents took us to my father's family farm way inland in the NorthEast of the country (where draught runs amok). I remember there was this donkey named Piscina and she was pregnant... I have this memory of some red ooze dripping out of her stomach.

I also remember sleeping and watching dozens of bats flying on the ceiling where they had a nest. These are all flashes.

 

[SrPato]

I was about four years old and we lived in an apartment a block from the beach in Playa Del Rey. I remember the smell of the wall heater, coffee and tuna sandwiches in the kitchen and the oily mucky scent of the pond in the back yard. We watched Disney on Sunday nights and spent countless hours exploring the beach and duck pond. Apparently, I forgot about the horrific fights that my parents got into. Soon my mom and I were driving around in her old VW bug and sharing an apartment on the hill with her co-worker and her son. (I still remember the sound of the brake peddle snapping back everytime she released it.) Swim lessons next to Westrey school were my favorite days.

 

[r32]

Sub 1yr old. Super sick and in hospital on the bed, inside clear plastic bubble thing, touching my hand to the plastic wall and mom crying and touching her hand on the other side of the wall. I remember getting a ridiculous amount of shots and crying every time they brought those needles in on a tray.

 

[Random Guy]

Sub 1yr old. Super sick and in hospital on the bed, inside clear plastic bubble thing, touching my hand to the plastic wall and mom crying and touching her hand on the other side of the wall. I remember getting a ridiculous amount of shots and crying every time they brought those needles in on a tray.

You were a bubble boy?

 

[Kento]

About 3 years old in a hotel room, jumping across the gap from bed to bed. I remember trying to use the edge of the bed to launch myself back at a 45 degree angle, took a weird carom and cracked my head hard into the nightstand. Remember crying and having a crushing headache and my mom getting ice for me. Pretty classic that one of my first memories was a concussion.

Reading The Runaway Squash over and over again when I was 4 driving around Guatemala with my parents and grandparents. Am sure they were thrilled.

Playing ghost with a towel over my head walking along the hotel pathway in Brownsville, TX at 4. Tripped over a rock and landed onto a fire anthill. Got massacred; intense pain.

Peruvian jungle at 5, army ants thought I was tasty and started ripping flesh while my parents frantically ripped my socks/shoes off. That was more painful than the fire ants. I have a long, long vendetta against ants. The count has to easily be in the 6 figures, probably 7, and the debt is nowhere near paid. I probably could have gotten a better grade on some of my field geology mapping tests if I had not burned time going out of my way to use my rock hammer to destroy an anthill to the base, killing everything down to the egg sacs, queens, and all. Because fuck them.

My dad's inattentive driving same trip in Peru where they build the bridges last. Sleeping in front seat when we slammed into the gravel pile at the end of the highway, tires hanging over and all. Smashed my nose into the dashboard, blood everywhere. It was a long way down to the bottom and I looked at the pool of water at the bottom a long time. Memory is vivid - the workers below were the size of ants, staring up at us, and the gravel plunking down from several hundred feet up.

That was on the way back from Machu Picchu where my dad and I went up that mountain trail next to it. Fully remember those stone steps. Late start, had to turn back before they closed the gate and we dawdled. Dad thought it would be romantic to pick an orchid at the edge of the trail (which was a long and very sheer drop) for my mom, slipped, and I no sh!t fear strength held his one hand with both of mine until his feet and other hand got purchase. Literal deadlift. They closed the gate on us too and we were left for dead. That memory/scar is very deep and I repress the living sh!t out of the details.

Nietzsche beat me to his famous quote. I love that some of my earliest memories are staring into that abyss of death, having it stare straight back in my face, and feeling its pull. My fear of heights is not about slipping or falling but having a battle of wills with that pull and losing.

Fun stuff. So were the childhood nightmares.