My very earliest memory is of my sister being born. I remember looking at her right after she was born and being really grossed out. So me and my best friend Naomi (her mom and my mom were La Leche League buddies) went to play in the basement instead.

Neurologically, long-term memories start to form around 24 months, so at 2 1/2 it's certainly something I could have remembered, and it was obviously a pretty big deal. But it's also a story I loved hearing about as a kid, and there's no way to separate my memory of the actual event from my memory of the way my mom told it to me.

I remember (or remember remembering) being carried down the hall of the AI DuPont Institute where I was being treated for hip dysplasia when I was about a year old. And then hauling myself out of my crib and shuffling down the hall to the bathroom wearing the foot brace thing they'd given me to fix the dysplasia. I only had the brace for about 6 months so I was under 2. I walked super early (9-10 months) and was potty trained shortly thereafter. Evidently I did not like diapers at all (I do not remember this. My mother has told me.).

I also remember getting on a plane to Texas carrying my pillow when I was about 2.

My best friend from high school, still my best friend, has an amazing memory so I rely on her a lot for remembering all the shared times we've had. And also stuff I've told her that she didn't experience but still remembers really well.

Now, my memories of my other sister being born (when I was six) and my brother being born (when I was 8) are clear as a bell. My younger younger sister because she was born in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner, and my brother because it was three or four in the morning. My oldest younger sister woke me up and said "Mom had the baby!!" And I mumbled "Is it another girl?" because if it was I wasn't going to bother getting up.

Earliest vacation memory goes back to '73, when I was seven. We rented a camper and drove through Michigan and Wisconsin, up to Mackinac and Sault Ste. Marie, then came back and stopped by Jellystone Park for a night or two. Distinct memories are of the ferry ride over to Mackinac Island (sis and I were hanging over the side watching the waves--it was very choppy that day--and Mom was sitting on the bench turning green) and then the carriage ride tour on the island.

The following year, we spent a week in Minnesota at a lake resort in a rented cabin, and then spent a few days at my great-great-uncle's place in Minneapolis (I remember Uncle Gus playing pinochle to the wee hours and then getting up on Sunday morning to watch his pro wrestling on TV).

My earliest memory is sitting the rocker in the nursery holding my baby brother, but there's also a picture of this, so I have no idea if that's what I'm remembering seeing.

I have a lot of random memories of early childhood, and pretty good recall from about second grade on, I think.

The earliest memory I know is genuine is feeding a goat at the Dogpatch petting zoo and being disappointed that I couldn't have any of the stuff that came in a vaguely ice cream cone-like serving cup. I was two. I also remember paddle boats from that trip, but not trying to lunge out of one and having Mom keep me from falling in the water at the last second (which is how she lost her diamond engagement ring).

I have some other fragmented memories from age 2 to 3 but they've been reinforced by hearing tapes my parents made of me over the years. Things kind of come into focus at four, when I stayed with my mom's sister during the day and have a lot of memories of her (she died that year), her kids, and the children my age in that neighborhood.

My earliest memories are from 3 1/2 when I decided to go look at the house we were moving to instead of staying in the backyard playing.

I totally missed the house, of course, and ended up quite far away. A policeman noticed me and went to talk to me, and I ran away from him. Unsurprisingly, this was not successful (my report to my mother was "I runned and runned, but he was too fast"). They drove me home, where my father answered the door. Then I got spanked.

The two parts I remember myself, instead of as a story, are an old man at the pond asking where my mother was, and my father's face when he answered the door. It's weird being able to remember my father when he was 23. He was just a kid!

My earliest memories are, first, riding a box-shaped four-wheeler toy down the path near our house and stopping to watch an ant nest; and waking up from having my tonsils out and finding them in a jar on the bedside table. Oh, and getting a vaccination and crying. I've never really had a problem with needels since then.

I had this toy that made a mooing sound when you flipped it over. It was one of my favorite toys.

I had one of those! I remember once when I was two or three playing with it to try and scare my father into running away and never coming back. He'd just spilled hot coffee on me while he was screaming at my mom, and she was frantically bandaging my leg while he stood in the doorway and watched. It's funny that I remember that toy specifically because of that. Most of my earliest memories involve my father yelling, or breaking something, or throwing something at one of us. Whenever some sweet naive person widens their eyes at me and says, "But you must love him, he's your dad!" I just laugh. Pretty sure my memories of my first four years (when we lived with him) aren't molded by anyone, because no one ever talked about him.

Every time someone says the word "arrest" I always get a brief flash of a policeman giving someone CPR on a teevee show that I must have seen when I was a child, like Chips or something. It must have been the first time I heard the word Cardiac arrest, and what with the policemen involved, I was very confused. But I always have that little memory flash up.

Ha! You know the line in Silent Night, "'round yon virgin tender and mild"? As a child I associated that with a cigarette ad ("a mild smoke"), so in my mind whenever I hear Silent Night the Virgin Mary is smoking. ... Well, my mom smoked and she was named Mary, too, so why not?

My memories are pretty detailed going back to about 4 y.o., but it's definitely aided by moving so much in the Air Force so I can date stamp them by the places we lived.

My earliest memory is about age 2, of getting on my belly to slide out of our white station wagon. Which we only had until I was that age.

But we lived in Oregon, Canada and Florida, then four different houses in Florida so all those memories are discretely boxed off by location, and school.