
The First Memory
What is your earliest memory?
I ask this now, giving you the opportunity to dial in that first recollection before I discuss what ramifications it may imply.
For most people, the first memory clocks in around age 3. Some people swear they remember being in the womb, which I find difficult to imagine. For myself it was age 2, having clarified with my older siblings the landmarks in the house’s backyard we lived in.
Still trying to pick out your elder memory?
Attempting to recall memories from infancy is similar to attempting to recall the dream from the previous night. In a fleeting mind-glimpse, you grasp images that could be genuine, or just reflections from some old photos your parents took, like baby pics of you playing with a plastic train set. You can see an image of a room, the train set on the floor in that room, and the train being pushed around on a circular track. Then the image is gone—wondering if it was real, or just a Kodak moment.
The oldest memory, the one you know is precise with visuals and emotions, will not be a matter of fleeting. It should play in your mind with accurate recollection.
You got it? Hope so.
So, like dreams, memories are open for interpretation—why you remember certain events and why that memory makes you feel a certain way, or act in a particular fashion. A therapy session or two can certainly define reasons. But the first memory, the earliest, may have the root of reason of why you are the way you are.
Several years ago, I read an article in Psychology Today, discussing how doctors at Stanford University were studying the idea, or the hypothesis, that your first memory influences who and how you are for the rest of your life. (I tried to find the article to post. Found several similar, but not the one.)
Example: If that plastic train I mentioned before, going around in circles, is a person’s oldest recollection, does that person remember pushing the train by their own hand or someone else’s? Does it mean they will inevitably end up being a conductor for Union Pacific? Or does it mean their life will end up traveling in circles of monotony and predestined tracks of redundancy?
And for those who claim they remember being in the womb. What type of life does that set a premise for? Do they find comfort sleeping under the covers, or end up having a severe case of claustrophobia? Maybe they become an Olympic gold-medal swimmer.
As dreams are a release for certain emotions, memories are a basis for establishing emotions and reactions. The first ouchie, the first love, the first of most anything remembered establishes an emotion or a learner reaction that becomes a point of reference. As pleasant or as nightmarish as that first experience may have been, the memory is there, unconsciously, creating a foundation of sorts.
Aware of my earliest memory, I learned to embrace the Standford researcher’s concept, and its implications.
I was 18 months old. It may have been earlier, but to make it believable to myself, I clock it in at 18 months, because at 20 months we were in a new house. The memory is at the yellow house, as family members refer to the home we lived in when I was born. In the backyard were some stone steps that went down in between two terraced walls. Being so small at the time, I remember those walls as being extremely high.
The memory is of walking down the steps very slowly (probably a butt-bump decent, since I had just learned to walk) and knowing at the bottom step, behind the wall to the right, was a monster. I have no idea what it looked like, and no recall why I thought the beast existed (maybe my dad said something to scare me off the head-busting steps), but I knew it was there.
Waiting for me.
It did not scare me. I do not remember being scared. I remember feeling curious with anxious anticipation about seeing the monster.
No dread, fright, or apprehension, which are common first feelings that people can retain, especially if a monster is involved.
Just curious, with a dash of excitement.
I remember, after reaching the bottom of the stairs and turning the corner, the monster disappeared.
Normally, if I tell someone about this premier souvenir, I stop there. But there is a bit more.
The monster wasn’t not there. My infant eye remembers seeing what I would call an energy residue, like the colorful motion lines of a speedy cartoon character, disappear around the other end of the terraced wall.
The creature eluded me, leaving a trace of disappointment as my first memory comes to an end.
Weird? Certainly.
My point in telling you this is because I’m weird. Have been my whole life. An overly active imagination, and a curious love of monsters, fantasy, science fiction, and the arcane. I’ve also experienced paranormal-like events throughout my life (fodder for another blog). Until I read that Psychology Today article, I never considered the correlation.
Wouldn’t those researchers at Stanford have fun with me for the study?
Let me know about your earliest memory? Do you think it matters into who you are today?
Be strange, but don’t be a stranger.
Hook
P.S. Memories are a powerful thing. Dementia patients, although their short-term recall sucks, get them to talk about the past, and WOW! Details discussed are incredible. One tool, music that they listened to growing up, is an immediate catalyst to generate a smile and a fluid moment. There is a great documentary about music and memory, developed by Dan Cohen, written and directed by Michael Rossato-Bennet. Alive Inside: A Story of Music and Memory. You’ll remember watching it.