Icebreaker: What’s Your Earliest Memory?

I found a list called “The 25 most popular icebreaker questions based on four years of data“. So I’m gonna post a few, and see what happens.

Your mission: answer the question in the comments with a good story.

If you don’t have a good story, you are encouraged to make one up.

What’s your earliest memory?

Saying “hold my beer and watch this”.

Technically, it’s the last memory from a previous life, but it’s chronologically the earliest.

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15 Comments

  1. I am both the victim and perpetrator of a paradox when I admit that I can’t remember my earliest memory.

    It’s a “plum pudding” in my mind, to borrow a phrase from early atomic science. My early memories consist of images that have no fixed relation to each other in time or in space.

    A more stimulating discussion might be sparked by asking people for their earliest memories that involved a sexual component, or dimension. However, the inquirer may suddenly and sincerely regret embarking upon this supremely variable, boisterous sea of inquiry, and prefer rather to have remained quietly on shore.

    (Those memories I do retain, but modestly decline to share.)

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  2. Seriously for a moment my earliest memory that I can reliably ascertain is the great East Coast blackout in 1965. Not so much the black out itself but, at the age of 5, I do remember that I had to use a candelabra to light the bathroom when I had to use it. I wish I had a brother George to be here.

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  3. I can relate.
    We had hot dogs from the fireplace for dinner.

    With your ‘recovered memory,’ can’t you sue LIBerace’s estate for million$$$ and million$$$ of dullards?
    D’or! -or
    D’or! -or!

    Focus on the candle-a, bro.

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  4. My earliest memories are visual. First one, before I could walk, so before one year in age: I was skooching down the hallway outside my parents’ room, on my butt (I never crawled), when I reached the single step down into the den (a room which was as big as the entire rest of the house). I had no idea how to get down the step, and this must have distressed me greatly, because I still remember the frustration and dismay quite clearly. Second visual memory, I was not quite two years old. My family visited Carlsbad Caverns; I remember staircase after staircase, and deep scary black when they turned the lights out. I didn’t know the word for “blind,” but all of a sudden my eyes didn’t work, and I was terrified. Also when I was around 2, I pulled the cuckoo clock off the wall, trying to imitate my mother, who had pulled the chains to wind it shortly before. I was scared both by the crashing noise and the thought of my mother coming to see what I had done, so I ran and “hid” by pulling a sofa cushion over me. Around the same age, I threw pine cones from the pile of fire wood next to the fireplace into the spare toilet, then flushed. The water pouring over the toilet rim terrified me; I later had nightmares about flooding the house. So, frustrate me or scare me, and I will never forget.

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