In the mid-nineties I did research on first-year childhood memories. I had always had such memories myself, and experienced that many did not believe they were real. Through ads in magazines I found about 15 persons with very early memories, and wrote a report containing examples of memories and their answers to a questionnaire, as well as some comments.
This report is no longer available because I am not satisfied with it. Instead I reproduce the memories below, also including material I gathered after the original report was written.
Note: I am no longer in contact with most of the these people, and do not know if they agree to this online publication. If you see your memories here and want them removed, let me know.
Memory psychology does not recognize the existence of these memories, and speaks of a general "childhood amnesia" with regard to the first three years of life. Over the past years I have realized the background of this is that current cognitive science denies or ignores individual differences, an attitude typical for the contemporary social "sciences", and that early memories are perhaps a more suitable research goal for differential psychology (psychometry, I.Q. and personality testing) than for memory psychology.
Although the above is clear and leaves no room for misunderstanding, there remain people who read this report thinking all of these memories are mine (Paul Cooijmans')... So to be absolutely redundant: No, these memories are not mine but belong to people who sent them to me, knowing I was interested in first-year memories. Yes, I know some of these memories are pre-birth. No, I do not believe in reincarnation. But I cannot help it if other people have such memories. Excluding material just because I do not believe it is true would not be proper science.
I remember sitting in my baby chair - I must have been less than a year old - and getting my first sandwich with red jam. Each bite they put into my mouth I spit out as powerfully as possible, preferably against something, so that it would bother them. Eeeks, that sweet stuff, brrrr. When my little sister proposed to give me sliced sausage on my sandwich, I ate two without problems.
I remember my mother was often away and left me behind, tied up in my little bed, sometimes with annoying baby-sitters. I remember very well being tied up by my wrists and ankles, I did all I could, especially squirming and screaming, to get loose. The screaming I heard from the neighbors. It must have been between my third and sixth month. After that I didn't allow them to tie me up any more, and the baby-sitters who heard me scream only came for one look and then ignored me. I didn't leave my little bed because I was not able to climb over the bars.
I have so many memories - clear memories - of my first year of life that I can't tell people about because they simply don't believe me! I can explain exactly how my diapers were changed and what I did while my mother was getting a fresh one. Things my mother said to me, gifts I received, lying in my playpen... even illnesses. No, my mother can't have told me, nor can I have heard these things from anyone else, 'cause my mother died when I was only five, and most things I kept to myself after having been laughed at several times, until they were (sometimes) confirmed by third parties. What a relief to see that at least someone might believe me.
Memories of events happening before I was one year old are still vivid in my mind. The earliest moments I can recall with confidence (earlier memories are too strange for me to want to mention them) are the first few days of my life.
The whole process was very confusing, but the most horrible were the strange, piercing lights of the operating-room. I was very disturbed by it and was still quite uncomfortable with bright lights for the next few days. I also remember being carried out of the hospital into a car (I did not see the process but guessed what was happening based on the sensation of being held by my mother and placed into something that shook).
Over the years I have spoken to a lot of people about the various experiences I could remember from my early childhood days. My parents initially found it hard to believe me even though I could draw the layout of my bedroom, seen from my baby-cot (my bedroom was rearranged when I could walk, we moved when I was one and a half year old).
I had an experience that occurred when I was four months old. I remember being held on my mother's lap in the back seat of our car. We were traveling from the city of Edmonton back to our home on a farm near a little village. Suddenly the car, which was being driven by my father, was struck from behind by another vehicle. My mother dropped me on the floor of our vehicle and screamed, "Oh, I dropped the baby".
I do not recall anything beyond what I have just related. Years later, when I told my mother that I remembered this incident and wanted to know how old I was when it happened, my mother could not believe that I could remember the incident because, as she told me, I had only been four months old.
I should be noted that I was able to understand English at that age, even though I could not talk yet.
I have a very vague memory from age two months, being passed around at my christening, the church roof all dark and it being cold. I remember the water as well. Another was when I was in my cot, I could just stand so it was before I was nine months of age. My father was in bed with my mother and he was happy to see me stand for the first time. It was in the afternoon. The floral curtains were drawn. I can remember the position of the furniture and the leaves and fruit carved in it.
Another one was when I was lying in my pram. My sister was in the room with me and I was crying. I remember the light on the ceiling, the wallpaper with leaves and my mother coming and tickling my stomach because I was crying. My sister asked why I was crying and my mother replied it was usual for babies to cry a lot when teething. She made the string of blue and yellow rabbits an lambs bounce on my pram and walked off back into the kitchen. I never forgave her for poking me in the stomach because I had stomachache.
On a day, a Wednesday if I remember rightly, I was outside the Post Office in the late morning or early afternoon and another baby was there as well. We couldn't see each other but we knew each other from hospital (presumably from where we were born). She was there with two people, one was her mother. We talked about learning "their language" and compare what we had figured out. And also wondered why we had to learn theirs when we could speak ours, which was easier... There is one thing: I can't remember what language we were speaking, but I have the impression it came from inside my head.
I've found that my memories helped me when my children were babies. I always thought everyone had memories like these. But on saying that I've never found anyone else who could remember before he could talk, and we put that down to either a good memory or a higher than average intelligence.
I remember lying on my back in the cradle and wanting out. I also remember where the cradle stood. I shouted, "Ut!", knew it had to be "Uit!" (Dutch for "Out!"), and was frustrated about not being able to pronounce the "ui". I was nine months old then, because relatives told me that my cradle stood at that place around that time.
On my first birthday someone showed me one finger, and said, "That's how old you are. Until now you were only a half". The finger was now bent, so that it looked half its size.
I remember people bending over my cradle, jabbering in twisted voices with twitched faces, as one does to babies. This appalled me extremely.
I remember being lifted under my armpits. That hurt, but one thought I liked it, because I laughed. My laughing however was not real, since the armpit-grip "tickled" and thus evoked my laughing-reflex.
These memories have been available in me uninterruptedly ever since the events in question occurred; that is to say, they did not suddenly arise later in my life, as you sometimes hear of, let alone that they were caused by "regression therapy" or whatever.
The contents of the memories, as one sees, is such that it is absurd to even consider the memories could have been formed by others telling me about the events. Because how could they have told me what I thought, considering the contents of my thoughts? For instance, the armpit paradox was first pointed out by me in the mid-1990s, and unknown before that. So how could they have told me as an infant, "as a baby we used to lift you under the armpits, and you laughed so we thought you liked it, but really it hurt and the laughing was a reflex caused by the armpit-grip", thus creating a fake memory? This is an obvious impossibility, yet it is exactly what memory psychology wants us to believe; it is their only explanation, stuck as they are with their dogma of "childhood amnesia".
I recall urinating over my head and laughing about it when my grandmother was changing my diaper. It's my earliest memory. She quickly covered my - uh - fountain, and shouted to tell my mother that I seemed to think it was funny.
She was again changing my diaper when I was testing my ability to communicate. It was within the first three months of my life. I'm told I was talking very clearly and with a fair vocabulary by the time I was nine months old. My grandmother was very "homely" - with a goiter, a smallpox-cratered face and large hairy moles on her chin and beside her nose. She bent down in my face tolove, and I said, "ugly, ugly". She laughed and called out, "T.! He called me ugly!" My mother said, "he's been making sounds of several words lately. He's trying to talk". She bent over and I said, "T". When my grandmother again bent over me I said, "ugly". So "ugly" was my first word. I remember that clearly. I was less than three months old, because it happened in Grandma's house, before we moved to G. from K.
The most vivid memories I have from early life are from the move to G. I remember the automobile (a "touring" convertible). It had a big trunk strapped on the back and a washtub tied to that; a big trunk was strapped on the left front fender at a slant, and on the right front fender was a chicken cage, which was an early version of quick-food on the road; I remember where everyone sat, including my place on the lap of my grandmother, on the rear seat (there were three seats). I remember Dad having flat tires and building fires to cook, and the angry grumbling about having to pay a toll to cross the Mississippi River on a bridge. That trip was made when I was three months old, March 1928. I remember a lightning storm that summer and my Dad working in the fields of tobacco under white cloth. I remember the smell of the guana (bat manure) fertilizer. We returned to K. city, K. that same fall. I was one in December.
I have several other early memories, but none so clear as the ones I have told you. Some are very early, but I have no reference to establish my age when they occurred.
I have an interesting memory from my infancy to share with you. My eyes are closed and I have an acrid, tofu-like material in my mouth with a finger probing. The memory is interesting because it does not have vision and the taste and feel of the probing finger are vivid.
Ensuing my birth in 1952, the doctor or nurse must have used a finger instead of a suction bulb to clear my mouth. I hope it saved the hospital a lot of money.
I feel good; comfortable, satisfied. I see a hazy image: something with vague blue little spots. When I look harder the blue spots become clearer. I discern something I later interpret as a small blue flower.
Suddenly a pink streak crosses my vision, bottom left to top right. And then again in opposite direction. I'm frightened.
Now I know this streak was my hand. I wonder if this was the moment I realized to be in control of the pink thing myself. It could have been the cause of my fright.
To check this memory I ask my mother if my cradle had a white canopy with little flowers; my first association. She denied this at first, but after a while she told me in that period she usually wore a special dress to allow for breast feeding. This dress was white with small blue flowers.
The satisfied feeling I remember may have its cause in the enjoyed breast feeding.
Since you are interested in childhood memories, especially under a year old, I thought I'd tell you of mine.
I doubt that I was over several weeks old. It was the day I was leaving the hospital. The scene opened with me looking up at the ceiling. I removed my left arm from a soft white blanket I was wrapped in. I looked at my left hand wondering what the hand was. My exact thoughts were:
'What's this? Seems to be a part of me. Who's this? Where am I? What have I come to?'
The part of me was my left hand and arm but before it's labeled it could be anything. 'Who's this?' referred to the mother who carried me. 'Where am I? What have I come to?' were my thoughts because even then I felt as if I was living a long time before but then I was in a small body.
Those were my thoughts but not in any language known to man. More in symbols.
As for the scenery, it was blurry but semi-clear. Sort of like when film is 'softened' on someone's face.
I looked to my right to the biological mother (I didn't exactly like what I saw). She had a pissed-off look on her face. Then I saw a nurse's cap to my left. It moved - tilted back as the nurse looked up. I saw her move her pencil, using the eraser end to indicate the waiting room. The mother turned in. I saw the father, an older brother and sister stand up. I mentally groaned. The scene ended.
I have never told the parents about the memory. Nor will I ever do so now. There was no rhyme or reason for it.
I had some other memories at under 18 months old. I was thrown over the bannister onto a cement floor of a basement. The mother threw me over. I'll never forget the complete evil on her/his face (the mother actually took on a masculine body language). The accident caused my eyes to go out of whack. I remember parts of the operation. I was hooked up to an EEG machine (electroencephalograph) and the ends were taped all over my head. Then I was given several glasses and asked to touch the wings of a fly. With the glasses on the fly grew large - 3D.
Anyway, I hope it helps. It may not. Oh. Never underestimate the power of the ol'factory. Both of the memories were triggered by smell. The father had a darkroom in the basement when I was thrown on the cement floor. Years later when I smelled the exact combination of chemicals that memory was jarred. Diluted alcohol triggered the hospital memory.
Well before I was 5, I was already a cynic. I never knew precisely why until my memory was triggered. It explained a lot. To this day I prefer non-humans for company. People were cruel to me since I had my speech impediment. The non-humans didn't care. They judged me by my body language. In turn I learned to read body language via my non-human teachers.
My parents were quarreling; someone was coming over whom they apparently didn't like. I remember images of the sideboard in the room where I was playing on the floor, and of my parents walking by.
Then later they were in the front room, where I was not allowed to come. The sliding doors were open as usual, but I was not allowed to cross the rail. From the other side a woman came to me, my grandma, and bent over to me and said something like, "and is Grandma getting a little kiss?".
Scared I looked at my mother who stood partly behind her, because I didn't understand what the woman wanted from me, and I HAD understood this was a scary person.
My mother wore a black suit with a tight skirt and a white blouse. I remember her hips high above me and her saying something like, "Go ahead! Give Grandma a little kiss!". And I didn't even know what a "little kiss" was! I wasn't used to that as we never kissed in our family. My Grandma bent over to me and I must have done something with that cheek, because I clearly recall the white downy hair on her cheeks and the gray pinned-up hair and that I felt terribly betrayed by my mother. I have really never learnt to trust again ever since, no matter how hard I wanted to.
I was born at London, England, at 20 (street name) Road in East Ham on the eleventh of March in 1913. This was a so-called row house, two stories, four houses to a row, and there were groups of these houses all up and down both sides of the streets. I don't remember anything about the interior of this house, but when we went back and looked at it in 1979 the front yard had a familiar appearance.
I lived there for one year, then we moved to a house in Ashford. My earliest memories are in and around this particular house. The earliest thing that I can remember was that I was in diapers and was crawling along behind my brother who also was in diapers and he was leaving a wet streak which I was crawling in and I was very annoyed at him. I could walk but preferred not to at that point. I was teething and my mouth was very sore. I crawled underneath a sideboard and found an old and dusty crust that felt comforting to my teeth. My mother saw it and took it away from me, and gave me a nice fresh crust of bread with fresh butter on it, which I didn't want, and hated. I cried and she didn't understand why, but I wanted the old crust back because it made my mouth feel so much better. That was my first and earliest communications problem.
Like all English houses of that type, this one has a nice backyard and garden with trees, bushes and everything typical to that kind of home. There was one particular place where there was a ditch which was no more than 8 or 9 inches deep and 8 or 9 inches wide with water in it and, of course, some mud. My father laid down a little board which was about 8 inches wide and only a foot long, for me to cross over the ditch. Every time I tried this, I would fall off into the ditch because the ground was soft and muddy. To solve this problem, I would get down on my knees and put my feet in the ditch and swing over to the other side, getting myself muddy in the process. This annoyed my father very much so he would spank me for it. I couldn't get across to him what the problem was and why I did it that way. I was not secure on that little board. A longer and wider one would have been fine. That was my second communications problem.
My earliest memory is an event that took place in my pen. It cannot really be verified, but I know I'm standing in the pen and handed over a cookie from outside the pen. And for some reason I know it's Easter. My twin brother is lying and doing nothing but squall. In connection with your call I've been tracing the 1950 Easter date; it was April 9th. Since I was born on August 2nd '49 I must have been eight months and one week old then.
The proof - to me - that is was 1950 and not 1951 lies in the fact that my parents have had to purchase a second pen perforce to protect my brother from me. For my brother was terribly lazy and just lying there while I rolled right over him in my walking-attempts. So if I would still have been standing in the pen at Easter 1951, it would have been without my brother, who only started walking when he was already two years old.
My second memory dates from a little later, when I was about ten or eleven months old. I could walk well before my first birthday, and I still recall a cat behind me, jumping against my legs, which caused me to fall or almost fall. My mother, who could no longer bear this sight, then made the cat disappear and left my father under the delusion that the little animal had run away. Only about twenty years later, when we were reviving old memories and my cat-memory evoked disbelief again for the umpteenth time, my mother first spoke about it, thus confirming my story.
My first childhood memory dates back to when I was roughly three months of age. This memory was really first evoked when I was six or seven years old, and looking at a photograph album for the first time. A certain picture, that showed me as an infant next to my father on an easy-chair, suddenly caused me to remember a number of impressions and sensations of that moment.
First there was a flash of awareness. I was getting a lot of attention at that moment and the sensation was quite uncommon. I remember a kind of wonder.
Next I remember somebody sitting at my left side, but I was not aware that this person was my father. I remember little or no recognition. The presence of my mother, taking the picture, I was not aware of at all. My father, sitting next to me, I remember only as a vague figure as well. The clearest recollection however was that moment of dawning consciousness and the wonder that went with it.
I have, ever since I saw that photograph, often wondered whether the described sensations are real memories, or merely supposed ones. My memories however are stronger than my own skepticism, which is why I am apt to think I really remember that moment.
I have a funny memory involving an aunt. I could walk already and stood in the door opening with my mother on my hand in that aunt's kitchen, and I got a cookie or so from that aunt. I have an older brother and sister so I knew I had to say thank you. However, just before I could say anything at all the aunt said "ta-ta" (a common word for my age those days). I was thinking for a while and didn't know exactly what to say any more. Eventually I decided the aunt didn't know better and said "ta-ta" back, despite the fact I knew it had to be something else. Remarkable is I assumed the aunt didn't know better and adapted to her level; how could I know it was she who was trying to adapt to MY vocabulary.
My memory goes back to one month when during the second world war as a war time procedure an oxygen mask was put over my face - all families had them against possible gas attack. That would have been in the early September of 1944. Even now just to think back to this is a terrible trial since I just want to forget it. This was done again at 12 months or possibly less but in any case I recalled at the time it had happened before so by the age of one year I had a notion of the passage of time.
My second vivid memory was at age 3 months when I was placed stomach down on a cushion that seemed to me the size of a bed mattress. The family were gathered around seated about the room chatting between themselves giving me little attention. I seemed to understand what they were saying as they spoke. I recall eating first with a knife and fork at age 9 months and seeing my father for the first time sleeping on the bed at age 10 months [he spent much of the war overseas at one time loosing contact with the family completely for the best part of a year] and asking who he was. By then I was already speaking in complete sentences and had been talking since I was 5 months old.
I recall having my photo taken around 10-11 months - I know for certain I was then equipped with the full range of early childhood cognitive abilities at the very minimum. By 12 months I was playing cards with the children next door. When my parents spoke of me people called them liars to their faces until they saw me when they would be quite shocked. I was the prize for the children next door to my Grandparents great house where we lived. I recall many events from this period, perhaps too many.
By the age of 1 year I was taken to B., one the two nearest cities to K., to be tested by a woman psychologist. While I do not know the result of this very early IQ test it was reported to my parents I was well over twice the normal development level for my age, her prognosis being that I would grow up to achieve world fame. I believe this was to some extent influenced by my family background. There were (censored) and our family had many famous members. So perhaps the conclusions don't have quite their required innocence about them one would have hoped for.
Whilst not in the first year of life I recall learning what death was at 17 months. The occasion was one where the family had gone tobogganing. I was told not to stray too far away. I asked why and was given the answer by my Mother that I might fall into a snow drift and die. The effect of this panic procedure against me was nearly overwhelming - the world seemed to go black ! It too was a horrible memory. I recall trying to talk to a 2 year old girl when I was 18 months and failing and not understanding why she could not communicate with me ! I think it colored my view of women from that time onward. I recognized the difference - girls were softer !
I remember attending a wedding of an uncle in March 1970. He was married on March 17th 1970, which is eleven days prior to my first birthday.
I clearly recall the father of the bride teasing me by descending to the floor of the dining-room with the wedding cake and pulling it away from me successively as I struggled to crawl after it in an attempt to grab it. Unfortunately, although I was only crawling then, I acquired enough momentum to succeed eventually, wrecking part of the cake's artful cream topping. Inspired by the success of my deed and the scournless reactions it evoked, I locked the cabinet, in which the wedding rings were kept, and removed the key. When the rings were needed, I admitted my "prank" willingly, but refrained from surrendering the hiding place of the key. Time was running short, and I remember enjoying the commotion I had roused. While some of the grown-ups were growing tense, the more diligent ones persuaded me to offer the key's location, which I eventually did.
The described memories are quite strong, including many details like the interiors of rooms and the appearance of people involved (the father of the bride having taken his suit's jacket off; the old brown cabinet with its two doors, etc.). The recollection of the further ceremony is shady and rather tends to fade out. I only realized how young I actually was at the time, when I had trouble believing that my uncle is now having his 25th anniversary. I even argued against the date, stating that I could still remember the event, which would be unlikely, had the date proven right. I would have guessed myself to have been decisively older at the time. I erred.
Here are a couple of my most significant recollections. While I can remember quite a bit from my early childhood (pre 1-4 years), these memories are significant because these were as an infant.
1) One of my earliest memories was being placed on the floor at my grandmother's apartment. I was probably about 2 months old. This was the first time I was taken to my grandmother's home. I remember my parents expressing the thought that it was now OK to see if I would crawl (it was too early--I couldn't). I remember hearing my mother's voice but not being able to turn my head and see her. It sort of irritated me that I couldn't turn my head and see her.
The most important memory at this time remains very clear: I wondered how long it was going to take me to learn to use my arms and legs. I clearly remember feeling frustrated at figuring out that it would take a while (I don't think I got anywhere that day). As I reflect back, it was apparent that my consciousness was fully developed and understanding existed despite no formal concept of words or their meaning.
2) As an infant, I was often washed in a metal sink in my parent's home. I guess I was about 5-6 months. I couldn't speak but I could sit and my vision was much improved from before I could sit. My father was in a kitchen chair not far from me across a narrow room in the kitchen. My mother left the kitchen and asked my dad to watch me. My green (plastic) turtle was floating beside me (my first toy). I saw my father eating from a box of what I can now identify as Cheez Its. I wanted one. I reached my arm out to my father. He looked at me and asked me what I wanted. Of course, I couldn't answer. I reached even more for the box. I wanted a Cheeze Its. He looked a little puzzled and then said "oh, you want a Cheese It...Not until you are older." I felt anger well up in me as soon as he said that. I will never forget that moment, because it was the first time I ever felt the anger emotion. It felt strange. I remember the dark yellowness of the room. A light from above my head was the only light on in the room. When my mother came back and dried me off, she took me to the crib. I liked it when she stood me up on the kitchen counter and dried me off with a towel. As she entered the adjoining room, it became dark again and I couldn't see anything as she layed me in the crib. I fell asleep very quickly, I think because I couldn't see hardly at all in that dark room.
Pre-birth:
1) I decided that I wanted to come back to earth. I was "moved" to a dark holding area where I had no sight. I don't have any visual recollections prior to this, although I believe I had them and the memory of them I am speculate was obscured. I have only auditory memories and dark visuals at this point. I petitioned some unseen committee (I could speak to them but not see them) to allow me to take birth and give it another go. I was asked one question: what will be different this time around? I gave an answer and suggested something that I thought would be helpful [I have never revealed the actual details to anyone]. After a bit, I was asked: where would I like to go? I was shown a visual of earth. There were two possibilities--an area around India and the western hemisphere. As I looked at the planet, I knew the social gestalt of the different land areas, and I chose the western hemisphere. The "committee" left to find me a body and was silent for what seemed like a very long time. Then suddenly I saw/felt myself descending through a winding umbilicus into what I now know to be Eastern US. Shortly thereafter, I remember being born. I don't think it was pleasant. I vaguely recall someone asking if I was hypoglycemic. I don't recall any other details associated with the actual delivery: I was a 10# breech with the cord wrapped around my neck three times. I don't have any womb memories. It was as if I were dropped [from the sky] and plopped [out the womb].
Re preverbal memories: Sometime after we had written about some of our previous preverbal experiences, I mentioned mine to someone. (I always get a blank stare from others when I do this, so I don't bother much anymore.) I was so focused on the situation, that I actually slipped back into the moment...and some other memories began flooding back. (I get the feeling that there is much more there if I would just take the time to reconnect.) I now distinctly recall the daily ritual of my mother towel drying me in the sink after she would wash me--I estimate I was 8-10 months. For a long time I couldn't stand much, although she would support me. Later, she would remark that I was beginning to stand, but she still supported me. I couldn't speak meaningful words that she understood. My communication was with gestures and slobber. Yet somehow I understood things that were said, from time to time. The earliest memories are much darker, I think because my eyesight hadn't developed yet and low light situations made me virtually unable to see. At around 10 months I remember the light would shine down from overhead and I could see myself sometimes, but mostly I was engulfed in a towel that was gently but vigorously making me feel good. I remember that that feeling lasted for a while even after the toweling was over. After being dried off, I would be placed in the crib. I would routinely thump the crib with my legs when I had soiled clothes. I couldn't stand the feeling. My mother figured out quickly that I needed changed.
I remember my green plastic turtle that would float in the sink with me. The first time I picked it up was a considerable accomplishment. I also remember when my mother stopped toweling me in the sink, which I estimate was around 14 months. I also recall the dread of her saying I wouldn't be needing my plastic turtle any more.
The earliest memories I say were dark, because I had a hard time seeing, especially in low light. I do specifically remember the layout of our trailer, which we lived in until I was 1 1/2 years old. I used to walk around in an aquamarine colored jump suit with slick bottom feet after just learning to walk. Also shortly after learning to walk probably 10-11 months, I remember my first look outside of the trailer when I could just barely see over the aluminum bottom section of the screen door during the spring months when the door was opened after being closed for so long. I think it was probably April or May, because I was still fully outfitted inside (b.July). I remember my mother commenting about my looking out (which means I had to somehow understand at least part of what she was saying), the exact words I don't recall.
I vividly remember many specific instances such as diaper changes and pacifiers, being on laps and certain emotional feeling when brought into different rooms or around different people. More specifically I remember being conscious of gravity as I was feeling it on my arms, legs and head, and that level of understanding with out words that Anonymous talks about. I guess that my earliest memories were around 2-to-4 months old partly because I remember crawling for a very long time.
I remember my mother closing the cover of the baby-cart because it started to rain. This must have been at about the age of 6 months or so.
I have two earliest memories. One is when I was 15 months old as later confirmed by my father. We used to live in a city named Maraþ (in Turkey). I remember travelling by bus to another city. Then some where on our way through mountains the bus had stopped. It must have had a breakdown. Almost everybody in the bus had got out. We were high on the mountains nearby a cleft. I was standing by my father near the cleft.
Across I clearly remember seeing forested mountains (by the way, it was early July in reference to my father's statement). It was a hot and sunny day. Forests all over the mountains seemed quite spectacular to me then.I had the feeling that they looked like clusters of green clouds which fascinated me.
Second memory is supposed to be earlier than the one above since it belongs to when we were still in Maraþ before we left to Erzurum but I cannot accurately pinpoint the date. It may as well be a few weeks ago as a couple of days!
I remember standing on the side of a street, ready to cross it. My father was holding my hand. It was a sunny day again. (So I believe I must have been over 1 year old then, most probably 14-15 months.) Right in front of us across the street was an ice cream shop about which my father was talking to me. (The city of Maraþ is still famous today for her peculiarly made ice creams.)
