-Megan G.’s favorite childhood memory.
Your contest entries made me too happy to leave them in comments. A few that stood out:
My dad used to make dandelion butter with me, which involved stirring dandelions in a tin cup until it turned to butter. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized a distraction and slight of hand were part of the magic. -Liz
My favourite childhood memory is of my father play-massaging my back after bath. He would spray a little fresh kiddie cologne and do light clapping and topping on my back, arms and legs. -Marta
I used to hide in my grandmothers drained pond from my brother and cousins so I could read. -Beks
My favorite memory is hand drawing and coloring paper doll clothes for my little sister. We would spend hours pouring through the JCPenney’s catalog so that she could choose outfits for me to recreate. -Tamra
Having a breakfast of brownies and decaf coffee from a Thermos on the beach with my parents and little sister. -Holly
My favourite memory was thinking Michael Jackson from his thriller video lived in my furnace room. I was always scared to turn off the lights at the bottom of the basement stairs. -Alison Kelly
I remember playing in a room with a brass bed and red curtains, and watching through the window as a train went by. -Amy Jo
The pure magic my dad would create for my sisters and me on the evenings my mom worked. Like blowing out an egg and filling it with Rice Krispies (in advance so we didn’t see) and then cracking it and BLOWING our little minds. -Katherine
My parents were redoing the walls so after the old paper had been stripped, they let us color all over the walls. We kept a bucket of crayons at the top of the stairs and we would draw big lines as we walked downstairs. -Miss K
My mom waking me and my sister in the middle of the night when we had gone to visit PEI and taking us outside, bundled in our coats and Dad’s mittens over our PJs to watch thousands of Canada geese fly across the full moon. -Ellen
My favorite childhood memory is the fishtank next to my crib. My parent used it as a psuedo-nightlight, the gurgling and warmth and buzzing pump and darting fish would lull me to sleep every night. -Daffodil Campbell
My grandmother had no rules: she threw away toothpaste caps and slept in her clothes. My mom was the type that kept the plastic on things. I loved being so free [at my grandmother’s house] because it always felt like I was getting away with something huge. -Martha
When my three sisters and I made a boat out of a kiddie pool and rowed it down the ditch with a broom for a paddle when the creek by our house flooded. -Tiff
I had this older brother type character in my life, a boy four years older than me who was my parents’ best friends’ son. We both went to this private school about 20 miles away and had a long bus ride together every day. When his 8th grade class read The Hobbit, he’d read it to me on the bus every morning and evening. -Robin
My grandmother transformed the empty lot beside our house into some wild forest/garden. Under one of the trees was what I thought to be a carpet of white flowers. Turns out they were all butterflies. -Michelle
My father used to hook up the hose to the top of the house, so that the water would fall into the pool like a waterfall. We would take turns jumping “through” it. -Natasha
My favorite childhood memory: completing a 2,000 piece puzzle with my Dad. We weren’t very close when I was growing up, he much preferred doing “boy” activities with my brother, but one day he brought this huge thing home and announced we would be working on it together. We cleared off the dining room table and the family ate in the kitchen for over two weeks while we worked on it after dinner every night. I remember exactly what it looked like still to this day. -Faetra
I remember being about 3 or 4 and taking a trip to Maine with my dad. One night he woke me up and brought me down to the lake where we laid on our backs in a row boat and watched shooting stars together. -Megan
My mom running from the car, where I was waiting, up through the dandelions in our yard to grab something else from the house. It’s the only memory I have of my mother walking; rheumatoid arthritis permanently bound her to a wheelchair when I was 4. -Guinevere
On warm summer evenings, my parents would sometimes fill the plastic baby pool in the yard with bubbles and my brothers and sister and I would take our baths outside. -Katie
Sitting on my grandfather’s lap, him asking how old i am, and me triumphantly holding up a single finger. -Jill
In the summertime, I would pitch a tent in the backyard and it would be my “room” for about a week. Since I was a scaredy-cat, I would beg my grandpa to sleep in it with me. My grandpa was a big guy, and this was a tiny kids tent. He slept in it with me every night and listened to my kid-talk and still got up in the morning at 5 to go to work. -Rachel
Hanging out in the garage with my dad, who is something like the ultimate handyman. We’d have to take “cat breaks” so I could sit on his lap in the rocking chair by the wood stove and pet kittens. -Lacey
Playing house inside a circle of mammoth sunflowers that my Mother would plant for us every summer. She’d plant them in a horseshoe shape and then tie the tops together. -KellyBrz
We moved cross-country when I was five, and I drove with my dad while my mom flew out w my baby brother… We ate a two-pound bag of Skittles on the trip. I made him eat all the yellow and green ones. -Kate F
During summer vacation, my best neighborhood friend, Marcie, and I would ride our bikes to the nearby feed store which was the best hangout in our rural Iowa neighborhood because they had a pop machine. we’d dig out some coins and buy two Like sodas, then play Family Feud. That is, I would be the host and try to remember the previous day’s categories and answers and she would play every family member on both teams. -Kate
When we were 9 and 8, my sister and I would steal into the den and dig fistfuls of coins out of the giant milk jug where my parents stashed spare change. This technique supplemented our meager allowances for weeks until my parents started to ask questions about all the new little stuffed monkeys and monkey wardrobes we were acquiring. -Margaret
Since My Grandfather passed today I will leave a memory of him. He used to let us chop wood with him as young as 8 or 9 we had our own little ax and everything. -Charlotte Lunsford
My grandparents came to visit us after a stop in Las Vegas. When they arrived my G-pa called me over (I was about 6) and said he had something for me. He said that while he was in Vegas “he took out a Special Quarter just for little Jilly” and played it in a special Slot Machine and whatever came out would be for me… and from behind his back he whipped around a HUGE paper bag full of quarters. And just as he handed the bag to me, the bottom fell out and they went crashing to the ground just like a slot machine spitting them out! After counting them, I had $67.00 even. -Jill
Catching fireflies with my big brother then putting them in jar and filling bottle caps with granola and water for them. -Mosiphine
I remember racing into the dance studio upon seeing it for the first time at age three and asking the instuctor if we were going to do thiiiiiiiiis? (spinning around and around and around on the shiny tile floor). “Of course” she said. -Anngeedee
Grandpa’s pipe smoke “to keep the mosquitos away.” -ErinTine
When I was little I LOVED riding the school bus to my grandparents house. My grandma was the kind that had a 5 gallon can of flour under the kitchen table; she was always baking something. One particular day it was rainy and stormy and when I got off the bus at the end of the driveway I could smell my Grandma’s homemade dinner rolls. I ran all the way up the driveway. My Grandma met me at the door with a towel, helped me dry off and then I parked myself next to the wood stove with an afghan and a nice hot buttery dinner roll to watch Scooby Doo. -Heidi C.
Pretending not to wake up when my mom masqueraded as the tooth fairy. -Mia
Riding my bike to the little corner grocery store to buy bagfuls of candy. I could shove five atomic fireballs in my mouth at once though. -Amanda
If you didn’t add your memories because you weren’t interested in the contest, go ahead and leave yours below. Yeah. Do it.
Mighty Girl 
I used to tell my mom I wanted my closet light on at night because I was scared of the dark, but really I just wanted it on so I could sneak over next to it while I was supposed to be sleeping and read books. I thought I was being sneaky, but I bet she knew.
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When I was a teenager I use to suffer really bad with menstrual cramps. We were at our beach house and I came back from the beach crying and in pain and my dad, put me in his bed, the only bedroom with an air conditioner, a cup of hot tea and some pamprin and rubbed my back until I fell asleep.
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My grandmother and I spent practically every Saturday together shopping, lunching, doing each other’s nails, ordering take-out and watching movies (usually Gone With the Wind). One summer Saturday we were on our way back to her house and talking about cars. She kept telling me she had a convertible at home. I knew better, as the oldsmobile we were in was her ONLY car. She told me her convertible was “hidden” and while I knew most of her house inside and out, I didn’t know the secret place. It was dark green, a two-seater, and fast. We wer laughing over this-until we pulled into the driveway and there was a dark green MG sitting there with its top down. She was stone-cold silent. My mouth made a large ‘O’. She insisted she knew nothing about this. Turned out, the joke was on both of us-a friend my grandparents hadn’t seen in years had just purchased it that weekend and was out for a drive, decided to stop over. We joked for years about her “hidden” convertible!!
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My childhood home in northern CA sat at the top of a huge hill. My best friend and I spent hours and hours sliding down the hill on pieces of cardboard, picking wildflowers as we trudged back up to the top to slide down again. I remember the warm, tired feeling I’d have when the streetlights would flicker on (the cue that playtime was over) and our moms would step outside to beckon us in.
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One more, because I just realized how genius my mom was to do this. On really hot days, she’d let us “paint” the house. She’d fill an old paint bucket with water, let us use big paint brushes and rollers and paint the house with water. The water made the paint look darker for a bit so we felt like we were doing something, and when it dried we’d just have to go back and “paint” it again! It kept my sister and I occupied and cool (from the excess “paint” splashes 🙂 for hours.
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My parents used to take my brother and I on “surprise vacations” when we were growing up. They’d wake us up at some ungodly hour of the morning and tell us we were going on a trip. My brother and I would go back to sleep in the backseat of the station wagon and by the time we woke up again, we’d almost be at our destination. We’d start guessing where we were heading, and the anticipation and excitement was just overwhelming. Most of the time we’d go to an amusement or water park for about 2 days. I was always most excited about staying in a hotel and eating at a restaurant (something we rarely did at home). I realize now that these little trips were probably a financial stretch for my parents, but they some of the happiest memories of my childhood. I plan to continue the tradition with my own kids (someday).
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The firemen at the fire station up the street driving their big red truck to our lemonade stands. Having them there always made lots of other cars stop too!
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(Argh, I missed the contest, though I don’t think I would’ve been eligible anyway given I’m Down Under! Loving all of the memories…!)
Lying atop my (late) father as a kid and listening to him breathe, thinking he was the strongest and most awesome person in the world.
Being quietly delighted when my parents would tease each other and laugh warmly at each other’s jokes when they thought I wasn’t looking or paying attention.
When war broke out (in the Fmr Yugoslavia, where I’m originally from) and the constant shelling would get so bad in my hometown (Karlovac) that sometimes we had to go stay with family friends in Zagreb, I’d dread every Sunday at 7pm when my parents would drop me and my brother off. I remember climbing the stairs up to our friends’ apartment, holding onto both of my parents, and making sure my steps were in sync with theirs as we climbed. For some reason I felt this was like a secret thing that made us closer in those moments before they’d leave, even though I never let in on it to them. And then later, lying in bed, I’d blow kisses to them in the dark, convinced they’d somehow get to them. (I know this is a bit of a melancholic memory, but it’s a fave and I love it all the same because of the sweetness factor.)
The last summer vacation we spent as a family in 1993 on the Adriatic Coast (before my dad was tragically wounded and died months later) and what a wonderful time we had. My father taught me how to dive on that vacation and playfully ribbed me about my initial unsuccessful attempts. I was almost nine and whenever I go to dive now, I always remember it was the last “tangible” thing he taught me, and how grateful I am that he did.
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When I was little the tooth fairy would come to visit me, my mom would not only leave me money under the pillow, but she’d leave a trail of “fairy dust” (glitter) from my pillow to my bedroom window. I would show everyone who walked in the house, and didn’t let her vacuum for weeks!
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This is partially a kid memory and partially an adult memory. The best kind, right? 🙂
When I went to summer camp the first time, I was six, and I was too young to stay overnight camping after the big canoeing day. They bused us back up to camp, but we all knew that the older kids were spending the night ‘under the stars’, and my sister had told me all about how they would lie in their sleeping bags for hours, watching for shooting stars. I had never seen a shooting star and I wanted to see one, badly. The next year, I was old enough to stay, and I was so excited. I picked a spot in the field far away from everyone I knew, so I could be quiet and just watch for my own, special, first shooting star ever. The sky was so big, though, that I thought I’d never see one – there were just too many stars to watch. Finally I decided that I’d watch one constellation all night and surely I’d see one there. Because it was the easiest to pick out, I chose Orion’s Belt. I watched it for hours, long past when everyone else was fast asleep.
To this day I have no memory of whether I saw a shooting star that night, but I adore Orion’s Belt unconditionally. It’s the only constellation I look for when I’m outside at night, and if it’s over the horizon I feel strange and sad. Flying to London for the first time at 21, somehow I saw it out of my plane window the whole way, and I knew I’d be okay, that everything would be fine.
My first night in New Zealand at 25, I ran out into the street, excited to find the Southern Cross for the first time, and my mind did flips when I saw Orion’s Belt instead, turned on its head the way it is down here. I’d had no idea you could see it from our spot on the globe, and the fact that it’s still there, still watching over me, never fails to make me smile. It’s like I have a friend in the night sky, and when I see it I always feel seven again, falling in love while looking for shooting stars.
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Pretzel Thief, your memories took my breath away. My father was from Karlovac, and I spent many summers there and in Zagreb. My grandmother moved in with us when the war started and we lost touch with most of our extended family when she passed away a year later.
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When I was four years old, it was raining in our front yard, but not in our back yard. My brother and I were ecstatic, running back and forth between the two.
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Love this.
My grandmother raised me…although I have never thought of her as anything other than Mom.
When I was in elementary school she enrolled me in the only GATE program available all the way across town. Every morning she would drive me there. and we would stop and get breakfast at McDonald’s. I rarely eat McDonald’s now, but their breakfast always reminds me of her belief in me and how proud she was. She took me to the library almost every week for story time and spent countless hours reading to me. Whenever I would fall asleep in the car and we would arrive home, I would pretend to be asleep so she would carry me back into the house. I think she knew I was awake but humored me anyway.
For a few years I had to live with my biological Dad, and every week she drove 2 hours round trip to pick me up from school and spend time with me. We would go to the beach or a park and it was always the highlight of my week. That time with her meant so much to me and kept my hope alive through the rough patch in my childhood.
It has been almost a year since she passed away. Although I miss her immensely every day, I know that when I have my own children she will be there with me in the things I do for my kids because I had so much love from her to guide me.
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Great thread!
My favourite memory is going shopping with my dad on a saturday – just the two of us (I was the oldest of 4 daughters). Every time he would always buy a bounty bar (which has 2 bars of coconut covered in chocolate) for us to share and would always say ‘don’t tell your mother’. It was our little secret…
I always think of him when I have a bounty bar, and will probabley do the same with my son.
For those non-aussies this is what they are: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bounty_(chocolate_bar)
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On a Sunday morning my Dad would get up early and make pancakes with Lemon & Sugar. The whole family would take turns getting the pancake in the pan. My Dad,(a bit of a deadhead) would have the Grateful Dead playing and between flipping the cakes he’d dance with me in the kitchen. I miss seeing him that happy.
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I remember telling my dad how I missed flying kites like we used to when I was little over lunch. The next day, I came home to find a brand new kite. We both skipped our classes (he was a teacher, I was in high school) for the afternoon, flew the kite, and had a picnic lunch. It was one of the best days with my dad.
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When I was fifteen, my grandpa took my sister and me on a cross-country road trip. My sister and I passed the time in the car doing two things – reading To Kill a Mockingbird out loud to each other, and listening to a Time-Life cassette tape called Your Hit Parade: The 1940’s. I still know all the words to Sentimental Journey and Rum and Coca Cola.
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One of my fave memories is a mixture really, of every road trip or holiday we had when I was a kid. My dad loved music (something I have gratefully inherited) and there would always be a constant stream of music for the whole holiday. Every time we were in the car my dad and I would have our windows down and would belt out the words (Turn back Time by Cher, My Name is Luca by Suzanne Vega and Thick as a Brick by Jethro Tull were particular favourites) and my mum would feign annoyance and boredom but would always be singing along in the choruses. Those songs pull me straight back to being a kid again..
Thanks for sending me down memory lane and remembering something so lovely 🙂
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We lived next to my grandparents who had a big garage that my grandfather would work on his classic cars. We lived in the south were there were pretty nasty thunderstorms and lost of tornado warnings. So when the storms got really bad my parents would jerk my sister and I out of bed and rush us to papas garage, where we would sit in our pj’s on an old car seat. And no matter what time of night it was papa was always there waiting for us. The smell of motor oil from the garage and a thunderstorm is to me, the perfect combination.
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One summer my mum went home to Ireland on holiday while Dad camped in PEI with me and my younger brother. I remember him making pancakes outside in the sunshine on our green Colman stove, dropping half the batter in the grass and quick as lightening scooping it back up, saying “fiber! good for ya!” and continuing to make pancakes on the griddle with little bits of grass sticking out. It was hilarious and one of a few cooking adventures… like him using Lysol cleaning liquid to fry eggs in (he thought it was cooking oil) but when it had an odd smell and started to smoke he looked closer at the label of the bottle. He didn’t make us eat the eggs.
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Every night, my sister and I had to go up together and get ready for bed. We would stand on the edge of the tub so we could see the mirror over the bathroom sink, put our arms around each other’s shoulders and sing “Gooood evening frieeeeeeeends” like some Lawrence Welk number. Then, when we were ready, we’d get in bed and sing in unison for our parents: “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee’re reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedyyyyyyyyyyyy” and they’d come up and kiss us good night.
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I loved stormy afternoons, especially if there was a blackout. Dinner would be cheese and crackers, grapes and sausages, and we’d eat by candlelight and play Monopoly. The windows would be cracked open, so we could hear the rain and the wind lashing the trees around.
When I was very little, I was scared of thunderstorms. I would go find my dad, and he’d hold me in his lap. He loved the thunder and lightening, and his enthusiasm was infectious. As I grew older, thunderstorms would prompt a mad dash to the garage so the two of us could watch the lightening streak across the sky.
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The July night we moved into the new house, and there was no furniture yet in the big, two-story central family room with hardwood floors. I was 9 and my sister was 3. All the doors and windows were open, and since my dad’s new (state-of-the-80s-art) stereo was hooked up, my mom put on a record (Paul Simon — Graceland), and we danced and sang and ran around in the big, empty, echoing house while it got summery-dark all around us. I remember my mom and dad sitting cross-legged together on the floor, silhouetted against the darkening windows, while my sister and I danced around and around to “You Can Call Me Al” and “Under African Skys” and “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.” It was a perfectly happy moment.
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This is probably best thing I’ve read in ages. Thank you for publishing everyone’s stories.
Growing up we had an old piano. My dad would sit down and play and sing songs. His favorite was “Blueberry Hill” by Fatz Domino. Years later my mom pointed out that the piano was completely out of tune. I had never even noticed! My musical ear is probably totally off as a result-but when he sat at the piano my brothers and I would gather around as if he were a king at his throne.
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tea time at my grandparents house in Chile. Oh man! Its so difficult to express with words how delicious the bread, ham, cheese, marmalaides, pastries, company and tea is at my granparents house in Iquiqiue Chile. Maybe it had to do with coziness of their home, the ocean smell in the air, the fact that everyone sat at the same table no matter how many people were invited, or that everyone spoke to each other and listened no matter how young or old. The thought of such moments brings happy tears to my eyes because the complete and all consuming happiness that I felt as a child are some of the most wonderful memories. In a couple of weeks I am taking my daughter Sofia Emilia to meet her great grandparents so she can have magical tea time with them too.
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In the early 1960’s, my siblings and I were sent to our grandmother’s for a week or two each summer. Across the street from her house was a black family with lots of kids. We weren’t allowed to go across to their yard and they weren’t allowed to come across to ours. Sadly, it was stricly racial on the part of the adults. However, we all wanted to play together so badly that we made up games that could be played without ever crossing the street, all day, every day. For about 6 years, we couldn’t wait to get there to see our friends and they couldn’t wait for us to come, even though we were never closer than 25 feet from each other.
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What these wonderful memories should do for all of us — whether we’re grandparents, parents, or maybe will be parents some day — is remind of all the different ways we can add joy to a child’s life. Give them space. Let them make a fort or climb a tree. Break your rules. Take time. I loved reading these! Just reading them should make us all better people.
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My granddad had a clock that would tell the time if you pushed a button. He had me convinced that there was a little man living inside the clock, and I would leave peanuts for him in a hollow on the underside which my granddad would take out when I wasn’t looking. We continued this game long past when I was old enough to know that he was really the man in the clock.
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My favorite childhood memory, best day of my life thus far, really, was when my mother had to take my brother and I with her on a business trip because my dad was out training in the field (military), and while she was out conferencing, my brother and I linked up with two other kids around our age, and ran wild, pretty much literally. Two straight days of no adult supervision…and we didn’t do anything really bad, like light ants on fire; we just ran around screaming, snuck into the convention space so we could scam swag…I don’t know that anything will ever be as exciting or thrilling as that.
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My favorite childhood memory involves my dad putting on his Blondie record, specifically “One Way or Another”, and then chase me and my brother and sister around the house. He would “catch” us and then throw us onto the couch. I remember how we would giggle endlessly.
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When we drove home from somewhere late at night, we would often fall asleep in the car and my dad would carry us from the car to our beds. Sometimes, I would pretend to be asleep just so he would carry me.
I miss my Dad so much, he was a huge teddy bear.
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My dad owned a small diner in his younger days, and because of that, became the best short order cook. On Saturday mornings, we would come downstairs to fluffy omelets, baskets of toasted bagel halves, crisp bacon, and these incredible little fruit fritters he would make. All the while singing along to the Barbra Streisand/Barry Gibb album, “Guilty”. To this day, the song, “Woman In Love” makes my eyes fill with tears because I miss my dad so much.
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I spent many hours rollerskating in circles in the garage to Whitney Houston and Kids Incorporated, my first cassette tapes. I believe the wheels were pink. Eventually, we strapped my little brother into some Fisher-Price skates so he could join in.
As a grown-up, I started rollerblading, but it was never the same.
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I had three really good friends who lived on my street. When we got together we would practice gymnastics in the yard, and we always ended up standing on our hands with our feet propped up against the house, talking and laughing with one another in that position for what seemed like hours.
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strung together like this creates such a feeling of magic.
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My parents piled my sisters a friend and I into the car one summer morning and didn’t tell us where we were going. 2 hours later we joyfully arrived at an unfamiliar amusement park. While waiting in line for tickets, still bubbling over with excitement at the surprise, we heard over the loudspeaker that “Weird” Al was performing that evening. The four of us huge fans pleaded, “Can we please stay for the concert?!” And our Dad answered “Why do you think we’re here?” Our minds were blown.
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Walking home from the community pool (Randall Ridge) in bare feet popping tar bubbles on the side of the road with my toes. Sadly the pool has been plowed under and now 12 crappy homes are being built on the site. CRAP.
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This post makes me want to have a dinner party with all of my oldest friends in the world, and have each person tell the person to their left their best memory of them.
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When I was a little girl, I absolutely adored my Dad. I would get up earlier than I had to – before my 7 brothers and sisters – so I could watch him shave. First, though, I would need to warm up so I’d stand over a heat register, oh did that ever feel good. I’d watch my flannel nightgown billow out. Then, I would go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet seat and watch my Dad pass the electric razor back and forth over his cheeks. One time, he grabbed my arm and ran the razor over my forearm. I remember giggling because it felt funny and when I looked down at my arm, a small patch of blonde hair was gone. I thought that was the neatest thing.
Then, I went to the kitchen table to wait while he got dressed. We had breakfast together, oatmeal with brown sugar and milk. I would watch how much brown sugar and milk he put on his oatmeal and then try to copy him.
Next up was waiting for his ride to work. This was in the 60’s when many people carpooled. I would stand next to him in my flannel nightgown, looking way up at him. He carried a briefcase, and wore a hat and when his ride came, he would put on these funny rubber things that just slipped over the soles of his shoes.
I’ve been married 28 years and to this day I like to watch my husband shave. My husband uses the shaving foam and a safety razor which takes longer but I don’t mind. I feel like I’m 5 years old again.
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I was about eight when we had a family reunion on my grandparents’ farm. My grandpa drove at least six little grandkids in the trailer of his John Deere five-wheeler for a whole afternoon, up and down the lane. No seatbelts! Dirt in my teeth. Can’t get much better.
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On St. Nicholas, we would gather at my grandparents’ house to write our lists and put them in our stockings. At some point in the night, candy and nuts would begin FLYING out of the walls with a huge popping sound. It was magical. Much later, we found out it was just my uncle and my dad flinging them at the walls so they would make the noise and bounce off while we weren’t looking.
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I was thinking how great it would be if someone collected hundreds of these favorite childhood memories and put them in a book — parents could use it for creative inspiration as they think up ways to make their children’s childhood magical … and perhaps it would remind us of our own happy memories, inspire us to add unexpected joy to the lives of others and bring out in each of us the playful child that still believes in magic.
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These posts make me wish mightily that I’d been able to have children. (Too old now.)
Until I read this thread, I’d never known a “favorite” childhood memory. Rather I always sort of panicked in workshops, etc., when the meditation would tell you to conjure a favorite memory from childhood and recreat the feeling… then it would build from there. I always floundered, and was never able to move on into the meditation. It saddened and greatly concerned me, and over the years I’ve searched and search my memory banks for one, if not more.
Nothing has ever come to mind, until I read this thread. And now, I can remember summer evenings at my grandparent’s house, the adults talking on the front porch, me playing with my cousins out back. Lightning bugs. Granddaddy Longlegs. The smell of boxwoods and hay. Stars coming out, laughter, washing feet before being allowed in bed, and wishing wishing wishing my cousin would come again tomorrow, and living on thoughts of how he cared for me until I saw him again the next summer.
Thank you.
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Laying on my back in the grass, with my Gramma, near her Airstream travel trailer…sharing a bag of pastel colored marshmallows, and pointing out shapes in the clouds.
My Gram will turn 101 this August.
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My Gram wouldn’t let Gramps smoke in the house so he rode his touring motorcycle to Dunkin’ Donuts every night to smoke and drink coffee with his Navy buddies. When my little sister and I would stay the night, he’d come home with a box of Munchkins for breakfast. He would sit in his recliner, me on his lap, and the dog on my lap while we watched “Lawrence Welk” and “The Wheel.” His leather jacket was cold against my cheek from the wind and he smelled like cigarettes and sugar and coffee and it was perfect.
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@ Amy S: Dude, OMG! Where are you now, where did you live there…? Or did you live elsewhere and came to Klc/ZG for periodic visits? Hit me up via my blog if you see this!
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The strongest memory I have had in recent weeks of my father is when he woke me up in the middle of the night to watch Princess Diana and Prince Charles get married. He had a pot of coffee going and I got to have a huge mug of warmed milk with splash of coffee in it and what seemed like a ton of sugar. He told me it would be the only time I’d ever get to see a real princess get married. And now with Prince William getting married, I wish he was alive to watch it with me.
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Our house in Utah had a long hallway to the bedrooms and at the end of the hallway there were two candles. My parents would light them at night. They would also start the dishwasher after dinner and I loved the sound of the dishwasher coupled with the candle-lit hall as I walked to my bedroom.
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I came back this morning to start my work day by reading any new entries in the comments. Its such an interesting snapshot of people’s childhoods in different climates and regions. Adding to the idea of a book, how interesting would it be to have childhood memories of those in far flung places and cultures (Bali, Japan, Russia, Ireland) and the point of the book to promote that children everywhere deserve to have happy memories, and some proceeds of the book go to Unicef. Add gorgeous scenery and art,… Mother’s Day gift anyone? Maggie, how about your contacts at that company that does the photo books, perhaps it could be created and available on file to print on an “as ordered basis”, the way you would a photo book? Just some thoughts..
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My parents were re-doing their bedroom and had dragged their mattress to the living room to camp out there until the walls and floors were done. My sister and I spent long hours jumping on the mattress and surrounding pillows we’d set up. The best night was when Van Halen’s “Jump” came on MTV – we pretended we were rock stars as we bounced all over the living room.
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