When I smell pho, I just automatically think of my mom. All these nostalgic feelings and memories come rushing through my head.
I always dreamt of being a girl. One of my earliest memories is spinning around in my mom’s skirt trying to look like a ballerina.
The NFL is such a large, multibillion dollar enterprise with fan loyalty because they have provided not only entertainment for sports fans, but memories, good memories, family memories to these fans, that can only bring about good will.
If memories were indeed like what a camera records, they could be forgotten, or they could fade so that they are no longer clear and vivid. But it would be difficult to explain how people could have memories that are both clear and vivid while also being wrong. Yet that happens, and it is not infrequent.
I have ten thousand memories of myself writing alone in basements, bizarre servant quarters, cemeteries, deserted fountains, the band van, and other awkward settings.
Rome is possibly my favorite city in the world. I have such fond memories there – most of them food related.
Voters memories will fade some.
My father took me to see Hank Williams on December 14th, 1952. I was two years and four months of age. And I remember a little cool eddy of hair hitting my cheek, and I remember the smell of his hair oil, and I remember the mingling tonality of the small talk before the show started. Those are my memories.
I’m so lucky because I get to have all of these memories. I can have all of those pictures and different sorts of films and stuff. Some people have only one photo, and I’m really glad that I have all of that.
The heart of marriage is memories; and if the two of you happen to have the same ones and can savor your reruns, then your marriage is a gift from the gods.
I come from a family of compulsive collectors, and my first memories are really all about collecting. I remember visiting flea markets with my mother or my grandmother – she goes to local ones around Varese, Italy, every Sunday when she’s at home.
I have great childhood memories of my mother baking, and I was always a willing participant, especially if it meant I could revarnish the kitchen floor with treacle.
I played music and sang from my earliest memories. The first pictures of me show me wandering around with a guitar that was larger than I was, and it became almost second nature to me.
You can certainly get an idea of the value of memory if your memories can carry you out into the world no matter how utterly dissatisfied you may be with the present and wish you could get away from it.
Keep all special thoughts and memories for lifetimes to come. Share these keepsakes with others to inspire hope and build from the past, which can bridge to the future.
My memories are of my dad taking me to football on Saturday mornings, and my mum taking me swimming. Those are the things I remember from my childhood, not sitting around the table debating capitalism and the profit squeeze.
I was in Woody Allen’s Stardust Memories in 1980. It was only a bit part and I didn’t get to speak but I felt that I was in a real movie and heading where I had always wanted to be.
Who doesn’t love ‘Frogger?’ It draws its power from our shared memories of powerlessness. Wherever we are now, at one time or another we have all felt the poor frog’s anxiety in the face of the world’s intransigence, its blind and callous disregard for our happiness or well-being.
Our memories are card indexes consulted and then returned in disorder by authorities whom we do not control.
I’ve got some wonderful memories of the 2011 Copa America. It was a very special tournament.
For people like me, who have blocked out a chunk of their past, you wonder – if you open that door, if you walk into that room of your memories, what will happen? Will it destroy you or will it make you stronger?
That is where I got my childhood memories, watching the Home Run Derby as a kid. Maybe some kids are watching me. I would like to return that.
Even if he was happier in Asia than he’d been in Latin America, the wanderlust still worked on my father’s insides like a disease. One of the most recurrent memories of my childhood is of him sitting in his armchair in the evenings, poring over atlases the way other fathers read newspapers or books.
I have very distinct memories about growing up as part of what was then a very small Jewish community in Buffalo Grove, IL.
To be human is to have a collection of memories that tells you who you are and how you got there.
The disquieting news of Danny Villanueva’s death brought back memories of our time together at KNBC in the early 1970s.
Minor sports in the community is fun and recreation for everyone, not just the elite. I think back to my days in minor hockey and those are my fondest memories, having fun.
I have a lot of bitter memories from Beijing. Hopefully, we can erase those memories and bring the gold back to Japan.
The conscious imprinting that happens between, say, 10 and 16 is huge. I think it’s so important for me as a writer to stay open to the memories of that period because they were so formative.
Every time I return here, I always have fond memories of my time with Fiorentina.
The Jungian view of drama would be that it affects all of our imaginations and somehow taps into our hidden, ancient, primordial memories.
I am so excited to let fans in on how important my relationship with my family is to me. I hope to motivate mothers and daughters to build lifetimes of memories together and inspire kids around the world to live their dreams.
Some memories are unforgettable, remaining ever vivid and heartwarming!
Some things are best left to memories.
I don’t know what you’re going through life doing if you’re not really trying to collect some really great memories.
My daughter loves to cook. At first, I found myself making her be really neat and precise. Then I realized it’s OK if things get all over the floor and counters and ceiling. We’re making memories.
To this day, I have the most fond memories of some of my old toys.
There must be a little memory bank, a library or storage unit in my brain, that just tucks away memories of other people. I suck in as much of life as I can. I don’t do it deliberately – I’m just curious. Dangerously so. I collect visual and aural patterns, physical human patterns, from experience.
Those who have known the famous are publicly debriefed of their memories, knowing as their own dusk falls that they will only be remembered for remembering someone else.
My fondest memories are of watching lambs being delivered.
When I look back on my childhood, my fondest memories are those surrounding the dinner table.
I don’t click pictures. People carry a camera with them while travelling, take pictures, keep them as memories, but I don’t. I don’t even have a camera.
Those memories of living in a developing nation are part of who I am today and give me a profound understanding of the challenges of economic development – an understanding which will make my tenure as Peace Corps director, I hope, a very special one.
My fondest memories were watching the Beastie Boys get prepped to come on stage. They had a lot of antics and they play a lot of basketball… then they were giving out cameras to the crowd, and performing from the bleachers. The most important thing I learned was that you control your crowd, not the other way around.
Memories are like mercury. Every time you sort of try to get near them, they slip out of your hand like a bar of soap.
I think that my regrets mostly have to do with my relationship with my ex-girlfriend. Every once in a while, you get those flashback memories of conversations you had with your exes, and you just, like, wince when you’re walking down the street. Something occurs to you, ‘Oh, no, I said that.’
My two earliest memories – earning little buttons on our skates when we learned how to skate from one end of the ice to the other and when I first lifted the puck.
People in day-to-day life tend to skim the surface of things and be polite and careful, and that’s not the language I speak. I like talking about feelings, fears and memories, anguish and joy, and I find it in music.
Like most people, I have painful memories of trying to fit in as a child. I wore, said, and did pretty much what everyone else did.
As a novelist, where do you go to tap into memories, and impressions, and sensations? It’s usually, in my experience, your early life, before you started thinking of yourself as a writer, because somehow those experiences are unadulterated.
Whether it’s Memorial Day or any other holiday, music has the power to set any mood and build long-lasting memories.
From my earliest memories, I loved the farm. My grandfather was a charter subscriber to Rodale’s Organic Gardening and Farming Magazine and had a huge, well kept garden with an octagonal chicken house in the corner.
‘Spring Day’ – I wrote main lyrics based on my personal experience with old friends. It is about my sad memories with him, and it makes me sentimental whenever I listen to the song.
Photography can be a way into worlds and memories that words sometimes fail to convey.
My early memories of my dad were taking me to play football when I was six – they are happy ones. They are my favourites.
