Childhood Memories

When my daughter was younger, around the ages of four and five, she was obsessed with the Statue of Liberty (which she referred to as the Statute of Liberty). We lived in Connecticut, just two hours from the city, so it only made sense to take her and her little brother to see Lady Liberty. It was one of those trips that found us stuck on the George Washington Bridge for three hours, and landed us at Battery Park just after the last ferry to Liberty Island was launched. We made the best of it; we could still see that green goddess from afar. The kids ran around the Park and chased some pigeons (though being the animal activists they are now, they would never own up to such actions). We followed that excitement with SpongeBob popsicles, a bathroom stop at McD’s and a subway ride to Times Square. We hit Toys ‘R’ Us, played around and admired, but did not ride, the Ferris wheel. Next we enjoyed some a-m-a-z-i-n-g pizza, and went on our merry way. When you ask either of our children about that trip to Manhattan they won’t remember the multi-floor Toys ‘R’ US, the carnival atmosphere of Times Square, or even glimpsing the Statue of Liberty from afar. But they will tell you, and enthusiastically, too, all about that delicious SpongeBob on a stick.

There are so many things from my childhood that I remember vividly. Then there are things that don’t ring a bell at all. There are stories that I have heard over and over again, I’m not even sure if they are my own memories. The same goes for photos, do I remember that day, or have I just seen that photo fifteen-thousand times? The mind is such a funny thing. When I was young my friend Ansu and I found a baby bird and we kept it in a shoebox under a bush near my apartment building. I can remember that clearly, but I can't remember how old I was, if the bird survived or if my parents even knew I was mothering that bird. I can tell you that my freshman year at college I always wore a side ponytail, but did I really? Everyday? Always? I kind of doubt it. When I eat peanut M&Ms I remember how I used to buy them daily in high school. M&M sales were our class’s big fundraiser. Did I really buy them all the time, though, or did I buy them just enough to register in my memory as significant? And of all the things that I have experienced in life why do M&Ms make the cut when something else doesn’t?

As a parent I sometimes toy with this whole notion. What will my children remember and what will they let go? Will they remember the mornings that I, their patient mom, turned from serene caregiver to raving lunatic as I tried to get us to school on time? Will they remember the amazing chocolate cake I made for their dad’s 40th birthday or instead will the recall the bland & burnt dinners I sometimes put on the table (I say sometimes, only because, most of the time my husband is doing the cooking-thank goodness). Will they remember all the fun they had swimming in our lake, or will that memory be edged out by their first bee sting, or their first major fall off their bike? On the flip-side will they remember that family trip to the Redwoods as perfect, sunny and warm when in reality it was rainy and 45 degrees most of the time?

There is something about summertime that brings up a feeling of nostalgia. And while I am reminiscing about my own long-ago summers, I can't help but wonder what moments will be significant enough for my children to register as memories. Of course, I try not to worry too much about what they will remember in the future. I try to live in the moment with them, enjoy them while they are young, and encourage them to take pleasure in life. Hopefully, when they grow up they will both reflect back on childhood with a smile-and it won’t just be because of a SpongeBob popsicle.