Earliest Memories

This series of writing is for my children. My daughter, Beth, asked me several years ago to write down some of my memories. Well, David, Beth, and Stephen here will be the first of many. This entry includes three short snippets of things I remember. I promise some of my later memories of growing up will require more than a single paragraph to share.

Let me start by saying I remember some things from a very young age. Certainly at an earlier age than most people do and younger than some think possible. Why do I remember them then? Simple answer, my father was killed in an airline accident shortly before my ninth birthday. At nine, these memories weren’t that far away. When he died, my memories of him, and several things during those early years burned into my memory. To be clear, these are my memories. Some details may have been influenced by other unrelated events and may not be completely accurate. My two sisters, Dawn and Loretta, are welcome to correct any incorrect details.  I’ve never been a detail person, so I could very well get something wrong.

My father was a musician in the US Navy. When I was born in April of 1951, he and the family, my mother and older sister Dawn were stationed on the island of Oahu at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I will admit that I don’t remember the event of my birth, thank God!

This first memory, I think, is my oldest memory. It may be one of possibly two or three from when we lived in Hawaii. To put an age on this memory, I can only say we moved back to the states when I was about a year and a half.


My sister, mom, grandmother, and me after returning to the mainland.

The event I remember was traumatic, or at least to a 15-month-old boy. My dad was driving a small Navy bus onto, what seemed to me, a narrow bridge over water with no guardrails. We started across the bridge when dad decided to make a three-point turn on the bridge. As would be normal for a young father in his twenties, he decided to joke around with his very young son, me, by making me think he was going to drive off the side of the bridge. All I remember is the absolute fear; I believed him, why wouldn’t I? I’m not sure I have never cried and screamed with more intensity than I did as I saw the side of the bridge disappear. He didn’t drive off the bridge, and the next and last thing I remember about that is him finishing the three-point turn and driving back to where we had gotten into the bus. Like most very young boys, I recovered and never held that against my dad.

The next memory from Hawaii was a pleasant one. Again, my dad was the central focus of this memory. We were on a beach, an ocean beach. We were sitting in the sand not too far from the surf, but far enough that the waves weren’t reaching us. My dad was digging and helping me scoop sand with my hands. I remember that at the point where the water was sitting in the sand, we could see what looked like bubbles coming out if the sand. That’s where he quickly dug and pulled out a sand crab, at least I think that’s what they were. For me, at that age, it was thrilling. End of memory. I don’t remember getting to the beach or leaving it, just that snippet of memory.

I do have one more memory from a time when I still had a stroller. I don’t know where we lived for that memory. This memory is sketchy but visually clear. I was in front of our house, probably Naval housing. I was in a stroller. I remember kicking out the stroller’s wire footbed, which allowed me to self propel it to where I wanted to go. I must have done that often since my mother didn’t come running over to stop me and put it back on. At any rate, I proceeded to walk the stroller down the sidewalk to the corner to a large mailbox. That’s where I saw it, a small paper bag with a bottle in it. I reach down, grabbed the bag, and like all children young enough to be in a stroller, began to put the bottle to my lips. I don’t remember ever getting that bottle all the way to my face before my mom grabbed it from me and brought me back home. That was a quick end to that adventure, but not too soon to have experience the thrill of independence and adventure.