Earliest Memory?

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So asks Bec over at Pencil in Your Hand.
Actually, my earliest memory is of being locked in a closet. Which explains why I'm so frickin claustrophobic. My first happy memory is of my father, smelling of Old Spice, carrying me to bed when I was pretending to be asleep.


Thanks for the memory.......I just love Old Spice for precisely that reason. So evocative of my father. :)

The earliest one I remember FOR SURE myself (and not as a function of hearing the stories over and over)is being in the car going to the county fair when I was about 4 or so. I remember it being dark and seeing the ferris wheel lit up in twinkling lights against the black night sky background. I thought it was beautiful.

I also remember standing in front of a salt water taffy machine, watching it twist and pull the taffy. My Nannie bought some to take home. I couldn't wait to try it! But I was so disappointed in it when we opened it. Ick! It was so pretty and tasted so plain! I couldn't figure out what the big deal was.

7 months old on santa's lap.

scary santa.

I remember a birthday party at a daycare. I got really upset when I found out that I had to give the cool party hat back...and someone broke my clown cake topper. I know it was you kimberly. She was always breaking stuff. She had fat, chubby fingers...well, so did I, but I never broke a cake topper.

Ellyn, I've met so many women who agree with us on this. I think it's why Old Spice has made a "come back" of sorts.

I really hate being allergic to Old Spice - my hubby used it for years.........

I can even still whistle the Old Spice theme tune. 'Member those hunky sailors coming home to their sweeties with dufflebags over their shoulders? Mmmmmmmmm.

However, I also have a penchant, at least in memory, for English Leather. "All my men wear English Leather...." It was the aftershave my very fist serious boyfriend wore. I loved it!!!!

First memory: Age -- three or so. Older, bigger neighbor kid taking my toy airplane and not giving it back. Grandma sitting on the step, looking on, not interfering.

Second: Age -- three or four. Being spanked, ferociously. (my thoughts were not, "oh, I'm going to be good now.")

First happy: The view of Mount Ranier from our back yard when we lived in Tacoma, WA.

In Macy's, clinging to the coat of a woman whom I for some reason thought was my mother, and her looking down and saying, "What is it, dear? Where's your mommy?" My mother found me a moment later, but I've always been thankful that the stranger's response to my clutch was friendly, and not "Get your sticky hands off my vicuna coat, kid."

great comment, mrs. d!



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This page contains a single entry by smockmomma published on January 16, 2004 11:46 PM.

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