What's Your Earliest Memory?

Musings on Blog Posts as I Finish Quilts and Prepare (Once Again) to Work on Joy Ride Journeys -Now: What’s Your Earliest Memory?

While catching up with a guild member at our annual Quilter’s Showcase recently, who is the same age as me, I asked her for some random reason, “What is your earliest memory?” The question hung there for a few pregnant pauses, and I could tell she got into deep thought about the query. I prompted her a bit, asking if she remembers going to Kindergarten when she was about 5 years old. If she could move backward from 5 years old, then perhaps she could reach 2 or 3 years old. How cool is that?

We chatted for a few minutes longer, as I shared with her that, for some reason, my brain is stuck on being two years old, and I have two distinct memories from 1963. More in a minute.

The prequel to all these extraordinary brain teasers is when Ayse Birsel, the renowned New York Turkish industrial designer (alongside her husband, Bibbe Stek, who owns their design business), hosted a Wednesday coffee/tea hour at 5:00 pm ET during the pandemic. I was lucky to participate in many of the sessions, but one stood out above the rest.

Ayse (pronounced Ashay) is also a writer and has published a book called Design the Life You Love a few years ago. In 2022, during the midst of the pandemic, she published Design the Long Life You Love, which led to the coffee sessions mentioned above.

I don’t think Ayse is the first person to ask an audience to think about, at that moment, who are the youngest and oldest person you know. Well, that got me thinking, of course. At that time, I knew a 3-month-old and a 99-year-old. The exercise stretched me, and I liked the feeling of encompassing the span of humanity at an individual level. Frankly, I was blown away. I’ve asked that question at times since then with friends and family, but nothing sparks that awe when I was in that long-ago session with Ms. Birsel and several others.

Which now leads me to those memories I have when I was two years old.

My very first vivid memory was when I was not even two years old in 1963. I was placed in a primitive walker with a large square table that seats a new walker (or eater) smack dab in the middle of it:

Rolling Baby Walker/Chair

This item found on the internet is very similar to what I had, except that my seat was white. I do remember that!

The distinct memory is “walking” back and forth across an old linoleum floor in a galley kitchen on Trumbull Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio. Someone (I’m thinking my mom) pushed me back, and then I went forward. During that time, my parents were building a new 982 sq ft. red-brick home, which was finished in 1962. I suspect we moved into the new place in early 1963. The Trumbull Avenue home was where my grandparents bought when they moved from Philly to start a butcher and grocery shop (after immigrating from Poland in 1902). My dad was born in the house, and I was brought back to that iconic house after being born in a hospital in November of 1961.

My second vivid memory was when I was actually two years and two weeks old. How do I remember that? Well, I turned two on November 12, 1963, and 10 days later, John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, TX. My vivid memory is my mom screaming and crying at the smallish B&W TV, following the chaos of the death of our young, handsome president. Of course, I never comprehended what was really going on, or that extreme outburst of my mom, but I knew that whatever she was watching was bad, very bad.

I’m pretty impressed that those two memories are seared into my brain. For what? I don’t know. However, as we age, our memories naturally slip because that’s what happens with more and more birthday candles on the cake. It sure beats the alternative!

bSoleille! (If I can find an old photo of my walking chair, I will update and post it.)

Terri