My Memories Of My Memory

I was four years old and my family and I were driving to Disney World. Oh, how excited I was, dancing around in my car seat, my big, toothy smile never faltering for even a second. We passed humongous palm trees, some with coconuts, some without. The big, green leaves like an umbrella. We passed a long beach that seemed like it was never-ending, and my mouth was agape in shock. Even if I did live in Texas, the beaches were never this beautiful. It got boring for me just looking at the scenery for hours, so I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

As a child, I remember growing up in the beautiful city of Detroit, Michigan. It was clothed with one hundred plus degree summers, 6 feet or more of snow winters. A building called the Renaissance, which housed a rotating restaurant on the Penthouse level. It was the Motor city home of General Motors and the Motown city of music. Growing up there was so much fun and amazing to me. Where we would watch the bright, red, blue, green and yellow fireworks on the Fourth of July at Edgewater Park every summer, participate in community activities at the 4-H club. There were barbecues with our neighbors, one of which had a daughter with the exact first, middle and last name as mine. On the one side of me a lady everyone referred to as Ms. Pat, use to bake fresh yeast bread from scratch, and would always share with me and my sisters. We could smell it while outside playing in the yard and inside the house. Then you had the neighbor across the street with the rough edge to them, where you would hear an argument or two every once in a while, but when Mama needed some help while my stepfather was away in the Army, she could call on Joey and he would always be right there with his "yes ma'am and no ma'am" etiquette. With the memories of all things good from the eyes of a child, seeing everything as

The Longest Memory is a novel by Fred D’Aguiar, which has many different underlying themes and ideas communicated through it, but all relating back to two main themes of the book. These themes are Racial Superiority and the opposing ideas of Slavery and Christian Values. The date in which this novel is set (early eighteenth century) was a brutal and a seemingly amoral time. The white population at that time had deemed it just to enslave African peoples, whom they had caught or lured onto slave ships and brought back to America. In 1861, there were 15 slave states, which agreed and consented towards enslavement.

Life was amazing and wonderful for a time being. My family was whole and put together. We had just moved into a house on Circle Road in Worland, Wyoming. I remember the house quite well before my parents had done any work to it. There were bird cages, pecked out doors, other animal cages, stains of all sorts, and holes in cracks in the walls and ceilings. It was quite the piece of work to say the least! Renovations were tedious and awful, but all the hard work would pay off in the end. Building the house up to my family’s expectations took awhile, but it was worth every second of it. Time flew by during my childhood in that house. I remember one day taking a trip over to the fish hatchery in the canyon. Other days we would spend at my grandpa’s house visiting him. We would attend as a family social events and parties. Life was pretty amazing. To say the least things were going quite well in the Boltz household. Furthermore, there were three things that changed me and my life when my dad died.

Since I’m not entirely sure where to start, I’m going to start at the beginning. When people ask about my childhood, the first memory to come to my mind is never a happy one.

Many people have a limited memory of their early childhood. These memories fail to exist as they have faded due to brain development during this stage in life. A child’s

The first coherent memory inlaid unto the folds of my mind is coming to in our kitchen, turning to my mother, and subjecting her to a barrage of questions pertaining to my bodily functions. Many of my questions were answered later, by my grandfather. While he was babysitting me, as he often did, the television would frequent documentaries instead of the usual childhood fare, and he would answer all of the questions said programs conjured in my young mind. Eventually I managed to persuade my mother to teach me how to read. Once I obtained literary skill the heavens opened, and

One memory that I cannot get out of my head is from Christmas time. My dad’s family passes off which house Christmas was held in each year, and this year was our turn. I had only been playing

I was seven years old and it was in the middle of the summer and I almost got run over by a car. The day was going really good just like any other summer day; I got up, got dressed, ate breakfast, and went outside to play. For breakfast that day we had pancakes that tasted like they were made by angels. Before Chris and I went outside our mom yelled, “Be back by lunch or I’m going to send your dad out there to get you!”

I don 't remember much about my early childhood but some things like places and things that happened to me still stick with me in my

When we think back to our childhoods, we generally remember our prominent memories. I remember sitting in a stroller in Walt Disney World with a Popsicle melting in my hand, and I remember the last time I visited my grandmother before she passed away. I also have insignificant memories. I remember one morning when I was around the age of six, I came downstairs with my hair in knots and a blanket still wrapped around my shoulders. I then crawled onto a tall chair at the kitchen counter and turned on the TV, as I did every morning. “Good morning, honey.” My mother said behind me.

I was born in Mason City, Iowa at five fifteen in the morning on March thirtieth. I don't particularly remember much of my earlier life, but I like to think that I remember the most important details/events. I do remember going to Virginia a few times within my first few years of life to visit family. When I was about four years old a friend and I were playing ‘hair stylist’, she went inside for a minute and I decided to give myself a haircut. I cut my hair to the

Memory makes us. It is, to an extent, a collection of unique and personal experiences that we, as individuals, have amassed over our lifetime. It is what connects us to our past and what shapes our present and the future. If we are unable remember the what, when, where, and who of our everyday lives, our level of functioning would be greatly impacted. Memory is defined as or recognized as the “sum or total of what we remember.” Memory provides us the ability to learn and adjust to or from prior experiences. In addition, memory or our ability to remember plays an integral role in the building and sustaining of relationships. Additionally, memory is also a process; it is how we internalize and store our external environment and experiences. It entails the capacity to remember past experiences, and the process of recalling previous experiences, information, impressions, habits and skills to awareness. It is the storage of materials learned and/or retained from our experiences. This fact is demonstrated by the modification, adjustment and/or adaptation of structure or behavior. Furthermore, we as individuals, envision thoughts and ideas of the present through short-term memory, or in our working memory, we warehouse past experiences and learned values in long-term memory, also referred to as episodic or semantic memory. Most importantly, memory is malleable and it is intimately linked to our sense of identity and where we believe we belong in the world.

My most memorable childhood event was when I was 15 years old. It was the Fourth of July. A big family vacation a barbeque, over night stay and out of town trip to six flags, and I had a blast the night before me, my mom, sisters and brother packed our bags to stay the night over my cousin house in Goodlettsville ,Tennessee. She had the biggest house ever I thought it was a mansion; six bedrooms two an half bath, a swimming pool, a game/movie room with a nice big kitchen. It was something that I was not use, knowing that we stayed in a three bedroom based on an income apartment on the East side of Nashville.

When I was a child I had many happy memories. I was born and raised in Lowell, Michigan. A small, rural town with very little diversity. I attended schools in the Lowell Area School District from kindergarten through 12th grade. As I sit and reflect on my elementary school years, I have many happy memories. I had positive relationships with many of my teachers; especially in my K-4 years. Mrs. Pomper always made me feel welcomed and always greet me with a smile. Mrs. Sterly taught me to read and Mrs. Ham always had confidence in me. These are three of my teachers in my early years I will never forget. My grades were good and I was motivated to try my best in everything I did in school; even if it was playing soccer and volleyball which were definitely not in my skills set. My view of school was positive, I loved going. I had friends, great teachers,