Memories and dreams of Humankind
I was three and a half years old in July 1969. I remember my dad taking me outside at night time, holding me, and pointing to the moon. He was so excited and talking about how “There’s a man up there!” My three-year-old concrete brain didn’t get it, of course, but I think it made an impression on me because of how excited my dad was. I knew it was something big!
Nichol
Other posts by nichol
Here are some of my first memories put together.
One of my first memories is being a four year old in Pakistan when I came with my parents to visit our relatives. There were some qawwalis on a bus singing “damma damm mustt qalandar” but what I was actually singing was “damma damm bus conductor”, thinking the song was about the buses! My language was a bit mixed up, though we spoke Punjabi at home, I grew up in England speaking English with my friends.
Another one of my first memories is a memory of being sick. Me and my brother wanted to make some nice bubbles out of mouth when we speak, so we would surprise our friends. So we ate some soap in the bathroom. I remember the worried look on the face of my mother, and as she mixed something pink in a glass of water, so I could drink it and throw up.
I also remember my tricycle. I was happy riding it around empty parking lot in circles. It was autumn so I enjoyed going over fallen leaves, leaving the tracks. I went around over and over, until everything was covered in circle traces, so it looked like a plate with spaghetti.
Aziz
Other posts by aziz
Hello, I just had a look around Memorycemetery site, and found this memory by Tengu, called “Poo”. In this post Tengu says that she would like to find out if somebody else says sorry or thank you when they do poo. Well, I do sometimes. Moreover, there’s a site dedicated to poo, it called www.poopreport.com. I guess everybody interested in the subject can just have a look or contribute 
… Anyway, I would like to share my poo memory here too. Actually, I reprint it from PoopReport, but nevermind.
This is not the earliest memory I have, but it is one of the most vivid. When I was five I used to run around the house in my undies. (Ever since, I’ve always felt more comfortable and relaxed in them — which has led to some interesting moments when roommates have come home early from a trip or didn’t bother to tell me that they took the day off of work.) And back when I was five, I had this toy box — well, not really a box, but a giant plastic football. Now that I think about it, it kinda looked like a giant turd that had a hole on the top through which you would access the toys inside.We were living with my grandparents, as my mom and dad had recently divorced. My mom and I had to share the upstairs back bedroom. She was pretty good about it, as she was really only ever in the room at night to sleep; during the day I was allowed to play in there “quietly.”
I don’t recall exactly why that when I had to poop I didn’t just go to the bathroom. Instead, I choose to hold it. More than likely, I was probably just having a grand old time playing. So, sitting in that room dimly lit by the sun coming in through the window, wearing nothing but my favorite pair of Superman Underoos (I may have to find adult versions of these one day just to freak out my girl), holding in my poo, it happened. I was playing with Lego’s and Matchbox Cars, and when I moved to get more cars from the toy football, I suddenly had a giant turd in my underwear.
I didn’t want to say anything or get caught for fear of getting in trouble. I was getting in trouble a lot around that time for not having to pee before a car trip and then pissing my pants because I really did have to go. So I reached in through the front of my Roo’s and pulled out this turd that was bigger than my hand. I remember making a fist with my other hand and comparing them. Continue reading ‘My first memory of poo’
Other posts by grogan
Baby’s First Memory? Clambering into her slatted Junior Bed (a step up from the Crib in sophisticated styling) and sucking on a sugar cube (one of two), a customary treat courtesy of staff at The Torch of Acropolis, a Greek restaurant her parents frequented.
But when – and how? – did she assign the designation First Memory to a mental event, an association of sugar cube and Junior Bed? She was four years old, perhaps, or five (no more) when the scene reconstituted itself unbidden on her mental stage with such force that she said to herself, “That is My Earliest Memory,” then wondered, “Did I know how to talk then?” and asked herself, “Where has that Memory lived until now?” (She was a precocious and introspective child, inclined to converse with herself.)
Then she considered how it came to pass that she recalled the source of the sugar cube – The Torch of Acropolis, its waiters. Surely her memory of The Torch sprang from a later time – or might it have been an earlier?
And so she formed the habit of lying awake at night and contemplating the past.
(Cross-posted at Remembery)
Sheila Ryan
Other posts by Sheila Ryan
