Think back for just a second.
Back to a time before you started school.
Briefly share with us the first memory you come up with.
My paternal grandfather, the man whose middle name my father and I both carried but who I called Papa, died when I was 4 years old.
My memory is walking with him – me holding one hand and my younger brother holding the other – to a little store a short distance from his home in the Spring Hill community that is now part of Longview, Texas.
I believe our mission was to buy eggs, and maybe we did, but I remember with certainty we returned with my brother and I each eating a piece of candy.
Your turn.
Steve Martaindale 
Where I grew up, right across the street was our elementary school and it was equiped with all the old “monkey bars” of every kind for us to play on. Also a very large tree that shed it’s very big leaves in the fall. I remember piling up those leaves with my older brother of 4 years and taking a running leap of faith and jump in those leaves. That would go on for hours until the leaves were too crushed to offer support. When I was old enough I learned how to do every imagable trick on those monkey bars that I wouldn’t even consider doing now, or 30 years ago. How fearless I once was. Sherry H
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Fearless then … maybe wiser now.
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Before I started school, I was in a neighborhood gang. We had ferocious looking tricycles with names like Red Wasp, Black Widow and the Yellowjacket. We terrorized anything that dared to cross the driveway; flies and mosquitos didn’t stand a chance against determined 4-year-olds. Our driveway was the biggest and smoothest so it was the cool place to be. Our cycle races were fierce and my knees still show the scars. The ice cream man knew to always stop at our driveway…or else.
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Yes, ma’am, would you like sprinkles on that?
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My earliest memory is playing out in the yard “with ” my big brothers. I wasn’t 3 yet so I doubt they meant to include me in the game. The game was climbing up on an old chicken shack and jumping as far out as possible. When they were done, I decided to play that too. I climbed up on the shed and jumped–smack into a bull nettle patch! The boys were bigger and could clear it, I didn’t. I remember the pain even now.
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That would leave an impression on one’s memory … and likely elsewhere, as well. Thanks.
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My sister and I were playing hide and seek with our grandpa in our grandparents’ two-story house. There were front stairs, and darker, steeper back stairs. She and I were racing all over the house–could NOT find Grandpa. Suddenly, as I was hurrying down that dark staircase, I realized there were FEET at my eye level! Grandpa was hiding silently on a 4-inch ledge above those stairs!
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What a precious memory … thanks for sharing!
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