The earliest memory I have is of the day my uncle died. I was probably about 4 years old. I was playing in my room, which I shared with my older sister. I had this bear that hung from the ceiling and if you pulled two cords you could make it climb up. I had put my Barbie on top of the bear and was makiing it walk up to the ceiling. My mother came in and sat down on the bed and said, "your Uncle Eddie died." She talk about it some with my sister, who was 10 years older than me, while I played with my toys. I remember saying "ok, but when will he be back?" I don't know why I remember this scene so vividly; maybe it was because it was the first time I had seen my mother so very upset. But whatever the reason, this memory has never left me.

 Picture from arizona.edu

Picture from Matel.com