A while back I wrote a piece called “The Little Book that Every Aspiring Memoirist Should Read,” and invited anyone who was moved to share one of their own memories.
The book I wrote about, I Remember by Joe Brainard, presents readers with what I consider a foolproof writing prompt. Think about it: Every time you hear the words “I remember…” you are guaranteed to flash to a moment in your past.
If you are endeavoring to write your own memoir or to preserve shorter remembrances from your life, using this prompt regularly will yield a LOT of fodder for future writing. Whether memories prompt whole scenes or tiny details that add texture and specificity to your writing, their value is undeniable.
And even if you are not writing anything autobiographical at all, the writing prompt “I remember…” can be a great way to start any daily writing practice. It gets your pen moving without fail. Begone, writer’s block!
Here I have gathered replies from readers—so even if you don’t go out and get the book, you’ll see plenty of inspiring writing starting with the words “I remember…’. I hope they will motivate you to write a few of your own memories using this easy prompt.
As you read these memories, notice:
how a memory as short as one sentence can hold emotional resonance
how nitty-gritty details hold power (like Sherilyn Siy’s rotary dial phone and Susan Hood’s hi-fi)
how associative our memories can be—you’ll see how I added my own writings after some of the submissions made me immediately think of something from my own life! (Maybe some of them will have the same impact on you.)
Won’t you participate?
Please comment at the end of this post with your own short writing answering the prompt “I remember…”
And let me know if you incorporate this prompt into your own life writing practice.
Sample memories written using the prompt “I remember…”—get inspired!
I remember pay phones and always keeping three 25-centavo coins (this was in the Philippines in the 1980s) to be able to call my parents from the school pay phone. The pay phones were red and clunky and had rotary dial. I remember when phone numbers were only six digits long.
—Sherilyn Siy
I remember lying in bed at night when I was five or six and hearing my parents and their friends laughing and enjoying themselves downstairs, while Rogers & Hart’s “The Boys From Syracuse” was on the hi-fi.
—Susan Hood
I remember the first movie I ever saw: Fiddler on the Roof, at a drive-in (!), with my shtetl-born grandparents (!). The thing that stands out in my memory is not the collision of cultures, although that’s pretty great in retrospect. No, what I remember is the ghost in Tevye‘s nightmare. I curled up in the back seat of the family Buick and bawled until I fell asleep. I still don't like scary movies! (Drive-ins are cool, though.)
—Samantha Shubert
I remember the first drive-in I went to as a kid: My brother and I hid under blankets in the back of the pea-soup-colored station wagon so my parents wouldn't have to pay for us. I remember walking across the craggy lawn to the concession stand for snacks.
—Dawn Roode
I was at the white desk in my New Orleans apartment having just signed my life away to pay my law school tuition, when looking down at my thick Torts textbook my thoughts rambled from wondering what that word meant to the realization that the only person in the world I could truly count on was me.
—Jill Sarkozi
I remember waving every morning to the train conductor who would stop his locomotive outside the second-story bathroom window of my first university apartment; the first home I shared with the love of my life. I sometimes did so while brushing my teeth. Google Street view tells me that duplex next to the world overpass has since been torn down. Like my relationship, that home is long gone, but fond memories remain.
—Michelle Sullivan
I remember when my cousin told me that shortly before her mother died she had asked that I speak at her funeral. That was one of the most moving moments I’ve had; I felt deeply honored that she felt so close to me that she wanted me to describe her at that most special of ceremonies.
—Alexandra Moller
I remember the yellow blouse my mom was wearing the day she and dad told us they were expecting my little brother. I was five years old.
—Whitney Myers
I remember looking out the window of our apartment in Chicago and seeing a horse-drawn wagon filled with piles of rags going down the street.
—Pam Pacelli
I remember late night walks past the small doughnut factory on Morrison Avenue in Somerville, stopping for “Whitey,” the baker, to give me a free raised doughnut, fresh from the oven.
—Pam Pacelli
I remember late-night ice skating on my grandparent’s pond in Maine with three generations of family present. There were always hot cocoa breaks, usually about 2–3:00a.m. Some days the entire evening started with everyone going out on snow mobiles and choosing their family Christmas trees.
—Denise Mackey Shoulders
I remember playing in an indoor ice hockey game in Canada for my grade school team and, skating behind the goal line, I shot the puck down the ice to clear it out of our end. It happened, by chance, to land right on my teammate’s stick at center ice—he had a breakaway and scored. The coach looked at me like, “What an unbelievable pass!” He told the player who scored to thank me for the pass. My teammates talked about that play all the next week in grade school.
—Brian Wilde
I remember my grandmother taking my hand as she walked me to school and feeling so safe and so loved.
—Joan Killian Gallagher
I remember the day I was following my older sister around, doing everything she was doing. She had no idea I was following her and she slammed a car door on my neck. I was four years old.
—Denise Mackey Shoulders
I remember reading a book I ordered from National Scholastic in sixth grade (1967) about the hippies in San Francisco and knowing I needed to do whatever it takes to get there and join my tribe. (I didn’t—at least not for quite a while.)
—Sarah White
I remember scouring my newsprint Scholastic catalog every year at John F. Kennedy Elementary School and budgeting the money my mom gave me to spend—those were weighty and exciting decisions.
—Dawn Roode
I remember seeing a story about “the age of aquarius” and being drawn to the free spirits, rainbow colors, and hippie lifestyle when I was in fifth grade, and I thought because I was a February-born Aquarian that I was automatically a “member” of their tribe.
—Dawn Roode
I remember the smells in my grandfather’s barn: oil, leather, dust, and the metallic tang of his impressive collection of ancient tools. I also remember the smells in my grandparents’ attic—dust and mothballs—and the thrill of opening old boxes to discover what treasures were inside. In fact, if I really give it some thought, I can remember a distinct smell from almost every room in my grandparents’ large, historic home! Dove soap in the bathroom, old books in the office, a musty smell when we slept on the screened porch in the summer, and the scent of my grandmother’s rose perfume, which permeated her bedroom.
—Sarah J. Merrill
Now, it’s your turn: Start remembering.
Grab a pen and paper and start free-writing memories. Set a 10-minute timer and try to keep your pen moving until time is up.
Or scroll down a bit to the comments section and add your remembrance to our post. I can’t wait to see what you write!
Dawn Roode, a personal historian based in northern New Jersey, helps families and family-run businesses preserve their legacies in bespoke coffee table books.
If you’d like help on your journey to preserve memories, whether in a book or video, consider reaching out to one of our biographers to see how we can work together to bring your project to life.