You would be amazed at what happens when you make a commitment to tell your life story (memoirs)! All of a sudden, memories from long ago start popping in to your head. In order to organize these random memories, I've begun to make a list of the stories to be shared to help me. At the top of my list is my earliest memory.
It was winter in Denver Colorado, where I was born. This early memory is probably from my fourth year as I was not yet in school. My memory tells me that it was close to Christmas, which for my family of four shortly after WWII meant a small Christmas tree with gifts underneath. Mom and Dad were always as generous as they could be at Christmas time.
This particular evening my brother Tim, who is three years older, and I were already in bed but still awake. Mom was in the bathroom of our small house at 1600 Penn Street getting ready for bed when she screamed that there was someone "peeping" in the window. Both Tim and I sprang from our beds to see what had happened, but by the time we got to the bathroom, the scream had scared the peeping Tom away.
Upon investigation, Dad could see that the peeper had dragged some old boxes under the window. His footprints of this activity were clearly visible in the new fresh coating of snow on the ground. I remember that Dad removed the boxes and made sure that they were no longer accessible. I also remember sharing my fear that he would come back to the house and do more than just "peep".
From that day forward, there were never any boxes lying around outside and a curtain was added to the bathroom window even though it was close to the ceiling.
To this day upon reviewing all the houses that I have lived in, there has never been a bathroom with an external window on the ground floor! Because of this early trauma my subconscious mind has taken control of house selection!