Okay, my favorite childhood memory is when I was a little kid back on the farm in South Dakota. I lived on top of a hill and during the winter, my sister and I would go sledding in the pasture. The cattle would graze in the pasture during the summer, however, when winter came the cow pies wold be forzen, so automatic speed bumps!!

My sister and I would take a few of the farm cats down the hill with us on our sleds. The cats would FREAK!!!!!!! and run back to the house.

That is one of my favorite childhood memories!

Seeing my first Jim Palmer jockey underwear ad! Ha! Ha! Seriously though, my favorite childhood memory was when I was a little kid still in the Philippines. We would spend our summers in the country where our grandparents had a large estate. That's one memory I really cherish. That and the Palmer underwear ad!

Playing in the creek behind my grandparents house looking for clams... all sizes- they lived on 5 acres and playing in the woods and climbing trees was fun.

Actually, I have three favourite child hood memories. The first: when I was a little boy, growing up in Worcester, Mass, I lived in a great neighborhood. Irish, Catholic, insular. Repressive, ofcourse, but simple as well. Newton Square it was called. The summer was all that mattered to me and my friends; endless hours of kick-the-can at night, automatics and pickle during the day. The "A-Field." It really is true; we would slide our gloves on the handlebars of our bikes, grab a ball and a bat and peddle down to Foley Stadium ( Hop the fence, naturally, because the City owned the facility and didn't want any kids hanging around and screwing up their field. Really, it must have been the lawyers who guided their judgement when throwing us out.) We'd play some form of baseball all day long. We'd take a break for lunch, maybe going back to my house where my mother, the mother of five boys, would have the biggest smile on her face as she prepared to give about eight to ten little kids lunch. If it wasn't my mother, then it would have been someone of my friend's mothers. Everybody knew everybody then. It was a little confining then but who cares, or knows, when you're twelve years old? Life was so great and uncomplicated then. I know what I'm about to write is a cliche but it was true then -summers were endless. It was all good.
The second childhood memory I have is this: I was playing Little Baseball for Kemp's Hamburgers in the Ted Williams Little League. My team, in the playoffs, was playing Town Talk Bakery and was down by three runs in the sixth inning, the bottom of the sixth that is, we were the home team, and I got up with the bases loaded. Now, you must realize that while I could field my position well indeed, I couldn't hit for shit - I had "K'd" on most of my at-bats. Most of my childhood friends played for Town Talk, including one of my best friends, Tommie Shortsleeve. He was pitching and could throw gas; I was terrified. Well, he delivered, and I cranked a line shot to left centre, the ball hitting the fence a few inches from the top. I cleared the bases and tied the score at three with a line shot triple. Eventually, I scored the winning run on a base hit. We lost the series ultimately but, it was my most shinning moment in my brief baseball career. What made it so great, though, was that as I stood at third, after having just slid under the tag, I looked out at the parking lot for the baseball field and saw my father standing outside his car jumping up and down and generally carrying on, so over joyed at what he had just scene, so proud of his youngest son. You see, my father was an orthopaedic surgeon who had five sons to educate and a wife to look after. So, in 1974, or there abouts he had to work his ass off to provide for all of us. Since my three oldest brothers were either in med school or law school, and my brother Pete was at Holy Cross, my father had to work like crazy to pay bills. Consequently, he was only able to make it to one of my baseball games. I've never held it against him, and I still don't now. Quite the opposite, I understand it even more today. But what a great game he chose to see.
The sentiment expressed in the past paragraph leads me to the third memory. When I was a real little boy, maybe six or seven years of age, I would go and sit on Florence Karpowitch's wal, thewall at her front lawn in front of her house at Coolidge Rd. and Copley Rd. and wait for my father to come home from either the hospital or the office. It was easy during the summer because it was warm and friendly. Sometimes I sat there, it seemed then, for hours waiting for him to come home. Sometimes it was as if I had just sat down when I would see that Cadillac Sedan DeVille round the corner on the way home. He'd see me, naturally, fully expecting me to be sitting on Mrs. Karpowitch's wall, and stop in the middle of the street. He'd make sure all was safe, no traffic and all, and collect me into the car and take me home. The distance to home was about seventy-five yards. This memory is the happyest and most enduring one of my youth. I would sell my soul to be able to live it over again. My father was the most decent, kind, and thoughtfull man I've ever known or known of, the only man I've ever encountered who came close to the ideal of the Universal Man. My life is full of joy and worth these days, thanks in large part to my boyfriend, and to the life my mother and father gave me, but it is also full of regret,and,anyone who tells you otherwise is not telling you the truth. Accoridingly, my chief regret is that I never came out to the greatest man I've ever known.

I think mine would be (when I was 10)....going over into the woods with my cousin and playing "super heroes"! Jumping out of trees, pretending to be the Bionic Man (really I was pretending to be the Bionic Woman, in my mind.)

But when I was 13....it would either be, going over in the woods with myself and Dad's dirty mags, up in a tree, and jerking off....or when I was 13, sucking my first dick (a classmate), while camping out with him.

Another would be...with no kind of sexual thoughts, would be my Mom taking us kids to the skating rink every Friday night. Those were fun times!

Playing "Jail Break" w/ about 19 other kids! Hot Damn was that fun! I'd play 2 night if anybody wanted! Best time of my life!

Oh wow, there are so many memories, similar to what some of you have already desribed. Hours - all day sometimes - spent in the woods behind the school, thinking we were the first human beings to explore those lands. Walking home from school along the creek, which was strictly forbidden (we always got caught somehow). In the summertime, leaving the house in the morning on our bikes with a lunch box strapped to handlebars, and biking off miles away to the park or the woods to spend the day.

Of all the memories though, my favorite is The Great Water Balloon Fight. When I was 12 and my brother was 10, we lived on a cul-de-sac with a large common green space in the middle. The adults had planned a neighborhood party to take place one summer evening on the lawns between two houses, and the 15 or so kids on the street decided to plan a great event that same night. Two weeks prior, we divided into two teams, and using our saved pennies, bought hundreds of balloons at the local convenience store. About one week before, we started collecting items from the our parents' garages to build forts out on the green space. We strategized and made battle plans. Both teams built elaborate forts, although they weren't quite structurally sound. We started filling buckets and boxes with water balloons. By the day of the battle, each team had about 200 water balloons. At the appointed hour, 30 minutes before the adults' party was to begin, the kids were in place in their forts, and all of the parents stepped out their front doors to watch. Kids from the surrounding streets also came to watch, and to take sides. One of the parents blew a whistle, and we were off. It was all over within 10 minutes; both of the forts were in shambles, and we were all wet. I think it was determined that the team that ran out of water balloons first, lost. Of course half of them spattered on the ground instead of actually hitting someone. It was sort of like Christmas - the anticipation, planning, and build-up was better than the actual event. Afterwards, all the kids came to my house, where my mother had prepared snacks and soda for all of us, and we hung out there while the adults partied outside.

I think this is one of the coolest threads I've read so far. I just had to revive it.

One of my favorite memories was the snow day (in Omaha) when I "played" football. It was a Icy day in October or Novermber. I was in the 5th grade (9 or 10, I was younger than my grade).
Anyway, myself, my cousins and several of their friends decided to play football, touch on the street and tackle on the grass. Well, I was always afraid of being hit (I was a wuss)which helped in my always being chosen last for teams. However, on that day I came into my own. I caught everything trown near me, dodged blocks and tackled anyone not on my team with the ball. It was that day that I discovered my love for football and most other sports (not basketball, that came years later). Not to mention the new found respect I received from my cousins and their friends. I was also never picked last after that day.
I was also granted a nick-name that day. It was more of a reference, but it was better than what I had before, nothing. They all began calling me Wendell Tyler, he was playing for the LA Rams, back then, but I think he was a quarter back?

Anywho, I will never forget that day. Now the only nick-name I get reference to is Tim Duncan. Not quite the same as when you're 10 or 11.

Going to the White Sox games with my grandparents. They were the ones that introduced me to baseball. My grandfather would take his transistor radio and listen to the broadcast as he was watching the game and keeping score on teh scorecard. This was all in the late 50s when the White Sox last played in the World Series.
After the night games there was a fireworks display and they were always neat.
I also remember the day the White Sox won the pennant in 1959.
I remember stopping at White Castle for hamburgers either on teh way to the game or on the way home. Those were the days.

When I was 11, and probably feeling the worst I ever did as a child, my father took me to the third game of the Yankees playoff game against the Royals in 1976. They were freebies that my father got from his boss, and the seats were first row field seats on the first base side. Yankees came back from a 3-0 deficit to win 5-3 with Dock Ellis pitching. I even got an autograph from Billy Martin. I remember finally perking up again after this.

Other favorite childhood memories include sleighriding at the "dead end" in our neighborhood. It was kind of neat when the same friends one winter day relived this when we were all in our twenties. Including making the "yellowbird" that could never even make it half-way down the hill.

Not my favorite childhood memory, but I used to love going to the Tiger games and watching on the field- it just amazed me how big the stadium was...

I was lucky enough to watch Billy Bean's debut game against the Royals- he went 4 for 6 with two Ks (backwards yet)...went ot visit our grandparents after the game and I distinctly remember my grandmother mentioning that she saw him crying on 2nd base after his double- it was his 4th hit and he got a standing ovation form the crowd...

Gosh, all these childhood memories against the Royals!

I love the memories posted here. BBall6'9's post reminds me of those times when... maybe I didn't do so bad afterall, during all those childhood games of touch football and whiffle ball.

And I'm reminded to post my good memories of being an athlete. As a gymnast since the age of 7, even though there were those kids in the neighborhood who called me a fairy (and you know who you are, Eddie F.), I was the only kid on the block who could do a back handspring, or could do a diving forward roll over 4 or 5 of the other kids who were lined up on their hands and knees, kind of like Evil Knevil jumping over all those busses.

[ February 09, 2004, 09:19 PM: Message edited by: maxallen ]

Like Pat, my favorite ( and earliest) childhood memory involves the Yankees. In the summer of 1967 I was six years old, and my dad took me to my first baseball game. My kid brother had been born in late May, and my folks were concerned that I was not adapting well to this new baby in the house. My dad said it would be "just us men." It was the first time I had him all to myself. We went to Yankee Stadium, which looked huge. I think I fell asleep by the fourth inning, the next thing I knew dad was putting me in my bed, but that memory of being alone with my dad at my first baseball game is indeliby etched in my head.

My favorite times in childhood....We lived in a house on a hill, with a large forest (we called it "the woods) and a large lake with two waterfalls.....anyways....going into "the woods" is my best memory!

From walking the paths, mushroom hunting, building shelters, playing "super heroes", pouring food coloring on our frozen waterfalls in the winter, picking rasberries and blackberries.

As I got older (13 and beyond)....I tended to go into "the woods" for a more "personal" reason. Under the trees, lying on my back, with nobody to interrupt me....boy, those were the times! I would paddle a boat sometimes across the lake, dock it, then walk into "the woods"

I even went back into "the woods" when I was 25 and my dog died....we buried her there. My parents and I were going through a tough time during that period (they didn't talk to me for 3+ years after coming out)...but my lover and I drove there and buried our dog.

"The Woods: A Telling Story".....I smell a movie!

Going to bed on Christmas Eve with it snowing outside (I live in California now) and waking up Christmas Day with all the presents and knowing Santa had been there!(still believing Santa existed). And having and sharing Christmas with my whole family, before my parents died!

As a Louisiana native, I still remember the World's Fair in New Orleans in 1984. As a kid, I was so excited about the rides and games.I did not want to leave. I remember the Olympics were that same year, and there were some of the the U.S. Olympic team members that went to the fair for appearances. I believe Bart Connor and Mary Lou Retton were among them. The television sitcom "Gimme A Break" starring Nell Carter filmed an episode in New Orleans during the World's Fair in which she takes Joey Lawrence to the fair. It was a fun World's Fair, and the images have stayed with me.

I took a few minutes to think this one over...I have alot of great memories from being a kid.

I suppose the one that had the most influence on me as an adult was time spent with my brother in-law, Paul. Paul was in his mid-20's and I was a boy of around 7 at the time.

I sort of had an absent Dad. Paul was the first "man" to show an interest in me. Looking back, he taught me how to fly my first kite, how to throw a frisbee, he gave me my first pocket-knife, which I treasure to this day. He showed me how to take a locust and stick it between my teeth and make it "buzz". He took me "froggin" and fishing and to the beach. He had been in the Navy and he took me to visit the ship he was on during that time. I idolized the guy.

He was killed in a car accident when he was 26. I was 8 years old. I've never forgotten him and never stopped idolizing him. Looking back, I guess he was my first "crush". I've always (in the back of mind) compared suitors to him and attempted to follow in his footsteps as a man.

So, I suppose its not a specific instance that is my favorite memory, but a specific person that made a difference in a little boys life. wink

nj

Makin snow forts in the back yard with my brothers.

Thanks for sharing that remembrance about your late brother-in-law, Nathan -- Paul sounds like he was an incredible guy and I'm sure it was especially difficult for an 8 yr old to have to deal with such an expected and devastating tragedy....btw, to combine this with the sentiments expressed in another active thread, welcome to the board! ....I hope we'll see your posts here often and that you'll get half as much enjoyment from being here as so many other Outsporters including myself do.

My favorite childhood memories also tend on focus on specific individuals that, in retrospect, went out of their way to do nice things for a young boy, even if I didn't realize it or fully appreciate it at the time....one man that always comes to mind was Mickey, who worked in the same firehouse as my father in the Bronx for many years when I was a kid (we moved from NYC to the DC area when I was 12)....after school and on weekends I would often "hang around" the firehouse (which I'm sure irritated my dad at times to no end even though he rarely expressed it) and while many of the firemen would naturally kid around with their "little pal", Mickey in particular (who was physically big at about 6'4'', 250+ lbs I would guess but who I looked up to as a "giant" at the time) for some reason always seemed to take a special interest and liking to me....not only would he let me try on the oversized helmet and fireman's garb and taught me how to slide down the pole from the upstairs quarters to where the trucks were on the lower level (I know it sounds meaningless but it was a big deal to a 9-10 yr old boy) but on a few occasions he would even let me ride on the truck next to him on an actual call -- with the assurance that I stayed beside the Captain near the truck and out of their way once they reached the site of the fire....even though I was never present at any of their big "four alarm" fires needless to say the kindness that these BIG men with hearts of gold showed to a little kid who was constantly "bothering" them is something that I will always cherish.

A handful of other memories from my early childhood that I will always remember include playing kickball and dodgeball in the street all summer long with about half a dozen kids who lived on the same block we did....finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention my many trips to Shea Stadium as a kid (my dad was always a big N.L. baseball fan going back to his days rooting for the Brooklyn Dodgers so we rarely, if ever, went to Yankee Stadium) and thinking that I had never seen a place so big or grass so green in my entire young life.

[ February 10, 2004, 11:43 AM: Message edited by: gamecock ]

Hate to be a downer -- but leaving home at 17 is my favorite "childhood memory" -- so much for my New Year's resolution to remain positive