I was thinking today about what a well-rounded writer I am. Well-rounded because of my versatility and range. You see, I often write about things that are happening now. But, I also write about things that are going to happen. Not only that, but I write about things that already did happen. What a wide time range of situations and experiences. I write about the present, the future, and the past. And, see what I did there? I surprised you by saying present, future, and past, instead of using the more typical phrase past, present, and future. Keeping you on your toes, giving you something unexpected.
Quite well-rounded, I might say. Wouldn’t you agree? Wait, actually, don’t answer that. I really don’t need your two-cents worth. I’m not groveling for compliments or dealing with small change. Venmo, maybe. If you’re interested in sending virtual cash, I’ll accept it. A minimum of $50, please. Once that’s all transacted then I will be happy to listen to your feedback.
Now that all of that is settled, I’ll get serious here. Let’s move on to what we are really talking about today. The past. And my memories of it. Wait, first, one more thing about the present. Or, more accurately, the very near past (a year or so ago).
For more than 20 years I worked as a preschool teacher. I was immersed in the world of little tykes. Up to my elbows in it. Well, actually up to my knee caps. Maybe my middle thighs. Those kids aren’t very tall, ya know. But, over those years, as I watched kids develop and grow, I noticed something that I thought was very interesting. I had many former students who, even after graduating high school, would still throw their arms around my neck and hug tightly because I was 'Miss Gwen', one of their favs. I had many other students who, after just a summer away from my class, glanced nonchalantly my way and said, “Who’s that? Miss Who??” No memory of me whatsoever. I found that to be very curious. I mean, c’mon. You’d remember me, right?
As a teacher, my hopes and my goals were to lay foundations that would help the early learners remember the feelings of love, support, teamwork, success, accomplishment, and responsibility that we cultivated during class, which one of their first experiences in the real world. Sure, they learned their ABCs and other academics. But, I wondered what details of their time in my classroom they would actually remember. I often wondered how those memories of the early years were formed and what made them ‘take,’ or stay with them for years to come. What makes some memories stronger than others? How much do we experience in our first years that we don’t remember as we age? When are those fully formed memories anchored in our brains? And how many memories do we modify or reconstruct because of family stories, photographs or other prompts?
Delving into my own past, I have a specific timeline which helps me evaluate my early memories. I was born in Charlotte, North Carolina, in the year ……...um.......yeah, right. I’m not telling you that. Ha. As if. Anyway, my family moved to South Carolina a few months before I turned 5 years old. So, I know that any actual memories that I have from our house in Charlotte would be from myself at age 4 or younger.
Psychologists and scientists have some debate among themselves about the age that a person can begin to form lasting memories. There are some fascinating studies on the subject of Childhood Amnesia, the inability for adults to remember experiences that occurred in the first few years of life. I won’t drag all of that out right now, because, instead, I want to talk about ME. Here, in these stories, I assume that these recollections are from me as a 3.5 or 4 year old. These memories are vividly hazy. Meaning, part of the story is extremely clear in my brain, but surrounding details are hazy. Kind of how kids act in general, paying attention to the specific thing that they are concentrating on, but completely oblivious to everything in the bigger picture.
Here are some things I remember vividly (and hazily) from when I was about 3.5 or 4 years old living in Charlotte, NC, with my family. In italics is the reaction that I remember having at the time.
- Excitedly running in the church building, slipping, falling hard on my chin. Everyone stopping in their tracks, gathering around me. Someone messing with my chin, which hurt like crazy. (Butterfly Bandage applied to stop the bleeding, but I don’t remember that part) Ouchy ouch!
- While playing the game Tiddledy Winks, putting one of the small discs in my mouth, pressing it to the top with my tongue, and sucking in so that it wedged in the roof of my mouth. My mom panicking and dragging me to a neighbor who helped pry it out of my mouth. So, what's the big deal?
- Picking up a manual hand drill that a workman left in our den. Working out how to hold the drill and turn the handle to bore a deep hole in the wooden armrest of my parent’s armchair. Hmmm, look at that! Interesting!
- Walking around the den one morning noticing ashtrays full of cigarette butts and a variety of nearly empty coffee cups. Wondering who had come to our house while I was asleep. Tasting a few swallows of coffee from one of the cups. Ewww. But not too bad, actually.
- Eating breakfast at a house that was across from our backyard, while some woman hovered over me, insisting that I drink all the milk at the bottom of my cereal bowl. Ewww. Where are my parents?
- Being forced to wear a large cloth diaper (when I was way too old for that) because I swallowed a coin and the doctor insisted that my parents find out if and when it came out the other end. (Did it? I don’t know.) Ewww. What are you doing to me??
I have more random memories from my early 2 to 3 to 4 years of life. You can read about the time my curiosity overtook me here, Pulling a Thread. And, you can read about the end of my family's time in Charlotte, as we moved into our new home when I was 4 years old, here, Looking Out the Wrong Window. Don't worry, I will write about other early childhood experiences now and again, so stay tuned.
I find this memory topic very intriguing. There is much research on memory, how it forms, how it changes, how distorted memories can feel indisputably real, how we lose memory as we age, and on and on. If I have time, and if I can remember, I might study up on it a little bit. But, until I do, I will continue to sift through my own memories, hold them close, and pull them out from time to time to keep them fresh. And, every now and then, I'll throw them out there for you to wade through. I’ll even spice ‘em up a bit if you follow through on that Venmo I was talking about earlier.
How about you? Do you remember way back when? What are your earliest memories, and how old were you?
Here’s a closing thought that I found at The Conversation, CNN.com
…......even if we can’t explicitly remember specific events from when we were very young, their accumulation nevertheless leaves lasting traces that influence our behavior. The first few years of life are paradoxically forgettable and yet powerful in shaping the adults that we become.
Jeanne Shinskey, department of psychology at Royal Holloway University of London