My folks bought me a swing set. They set it up inside a wooden stockade which enclosed me and a play area in back of the house. The earth was still raw from ranch house construction and some of my toys were pieces of building debris. The swing set had abstract "horsies" on it hanging from the industrial-looking steel frame. I am depicted here sitting in my sandbox. You can tell how cold it is by the ice in the bucket at the lower left corner.
Do I remember any of this? I have to say, not this particular era or space. I do remember it later on when we planted flowers and grass to look less like a pioneer encampment. It is too easy for me to imagine myself into the scene and give myself the illusion that I remember riding on that particular set, or playing in that yard. But maybe I do. Most people have what you call "first memories" and I have them too. They are just fragments, though, like building debris.
If you look closely at Little Me in the sandbox you can see me brandishing in my right hand, a toy pistol for little cowboys. Nowadays things are quite different. We aren't pioneers any more.
Photograph from early 1956, 3" x 4 1/2". Click for a larger view.
This is a post for Monday February 26, 2018.