My earliest memory is around 3 years old. I’m on the beach with my family. I had on a blue and white gingham plaid 2 piece bathing suit. I was adorable. I remember staring at my father’s leather sandals and thinking they looked a lot like the kind the Roman soldiers wore from bible study. I asked my dad if he was one of the bad guys. He laughed and assured me that he wasn’t. I felt a sense of relief. His choice if footwear really creeped me out.
Prob my earliest memory as a toddler, standing in my crib, hearing voices and laughter, thinking there was a party going on in the living room and I was missing it! I’m sure now it was just some television show with a laugh track, but it was the moment my lifelong FOMO was triggered.
I think the next memory was a life changer for me, when my mom woke my sister & I up in what we thought was the middle of the night, to see the US debut of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show. My coolest mom in the whole wide world had already bought the stereophonic record, Meet The Beatles, which replaced Alvin & the Chipmunks in our early music fandom. We knew every word to every song, and we danced to it daily. My brother begged for a guitar. What a treat to see them on TV, despite being indignant at all the screaming that threatened to drown them out. Tho this isn’t my first memory, it’s my favorite.
My earliest memory is of my grandfather reading to me when I was about three, maybe four. We would sit on his couch, which seemed enormous to me then. He read D'Aulaires' Norse Myths. He was Swedish, so he heard those stories as a child. I still have that same book. It's beat-up but well-loved.
The earliest memory I have is my Nana's lap. I was probably 2 or 3. Anyway, my Nana was a mountain of a woman. She wasn't really heavy but she stood 6 ft tall and was sufficiently padded enough that it was the warmest, softest place to snuggle.
Thank you for bringing that beautiful memory back. Now I'm Nonna, (Italian Nana to those that don't know), to 5 of my own. Love and blessings. ❤️
I have three older brothers - they are 10, 12 and 14 years older than me and I am the only sister they have. Well, when I was born, these three became mom’s ticket to freedom - instant babysitters - and they resented it. I grew up listening to them tell stories about how horrible I was to watch - I would never listen, tease them, and then tell my parents they were abusing me when they tried to get me to shut up. They would call me “Precious” and draw pictures of me with buck teeth, braces and warts. Well, my earliest memory is me in the crib picking shit out of my diaper and throwing it because those clowns were off doing other things instead of watching me like they were supposed to - so too bad, they deserved all of it! Don’t mess with me! That’s why when I grew up I became a member of the Dangerous Snakes Who Hate Bullshit. The End.
By the way Dave - you have a typo in your post. I’m pretty sure you said Shoulder but the talk-to-text heard Soldier. It’s the Canadian accent, dude. Gotta watch that.
Oh crap, I just remembered my mom subscribes to this Substack! Fuuuuuuuuhk
That was a great story!! I can relate completely. My older brother was saddled with that responsibility, and he teased me mercilessly. That’s why, as an adult, I take no shit!!!
My earliest memory is around 3 years old. I’m on the beach with my family. I had on a blue and white gingham plaid 2 piece bathing suit. I was adorable. I remember staring at my father’s leather sandals and thinking they looked a lot like the kind the Roman soldiers wore from bible study. I asked my dad if he was one of the bad guys. He laughed and assured me that he wasn’t. I felt a sense of relief. His choice if footwear really creeped me out.
Prob my earliest memory as a toddler, standing in my crib, hearing voices and laughter, thinking there was a party going on in the living room and I was missing it! I’m sure now it was just some television show with a laugh track, but it was the moment my lifelong FOMO was triggered.
I think the next memory was a life changer for me, when my mom woke my sister & I up in what we thought was the middle of the night, to see the US debut of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show. My coolest mom in the whole wide world had already bought the stereophonic record, Meet The Beatles, which replaced Alvin & the Chipmunks in our early music fandom. We knew every word to every song, and we danced to it daily. My brother begged for a guitar. What a treat to see them on TV, despite being indignant at all the screaming that threatened to drown them out. Tho this isn’t my first memory, it’s my favorite.
My earliest memory is of my grandfather reading to me when I was about three, maybe four. We would sit on his couch, which seemed enormous to me then. He read D'Aulaires' Norse Myths. He was Swedish, so he heard those stories as a child. I still have that same book. It's beat-up but well-loved.
Thanks for liking my lil story about lil me. Pardon the spelling error. I was playing with my sisters cat while I was typing on my phone.
The earliest memory I have is my Nana's lap. I was probably 2 or 3. Anyway, my Nana was a mountain of a woman. She wasn't really heavy but she stood 6 ft tall and was sufficiently padded enough that it was the warmest, softest place to snuggle.
Thank you for bringing that beautiful memory back. Now I'm Nonna, (Italian Nana to those that don't know), to 5 of my own. Love and blessings. ❤️
I have three older brothers - they are 10, 12 and 14 years older than me and I am the only sister they have. Well, when I was born, these three became mom’s ticket to freedom - instant babysitters - and they resented it. I grew up listening to them tell stories about how horrible I was to watch - I would never listen, tease them, and then tell my parents they were abusing me when they tried to get me to shut up. They would call me “Precious” and draw pictures of me with buck teeth, braces and warts. Well, my earliest memory is me in the crib picking shit out of my diaper and throwing it because those clowns were off doing other things instead of watching me like they were supposed to - so too bad, they deserved all of it! Don’t mess with me! That’s why when I grew up I became a member of the Dangerous Snakes Who Hate Bullshit. The End.
By the way Dave - you have a typo in your post. I’m pretty sure you said Shoulder but the talk-to-text heard Soldier. It’s the Canadian accent, dude. Gotta watch that.
Oh crap, I just remembered my mom subscribes to this Substack! Fuuuuuuuuhk
That was a great story!! I can relate completely. My older brother was saddled with that responsibility, and he teased me mercilessly. That’s why, as an adult, I take no shit!!!
Brothers! *Flips the bird*