
"Oh, S, remember that story about Mr. # that you used to tell?"
I didn't, but from her laughter I knew it must have been a good one.
We were having a lively discussion of quirky teachers we'd had. My elderly relatives were talking along with some of the younger ones. Everyone was having a great time.
Except I didn't remember that story about Mr. #. As my relative re-told her version of the story, I began reconstructing it...but was I really unearthing the memory, or was I just making a new one based on her story?
Later, the same relative warned me to never throw out a particular piece of antique furniture.
"Oh, I would never do that!"
And I wouldn't. I recall my parents painstakingly refinishing the piece that was handed down from my mom's family.
"Do you know where it came from?" She asked.
I had to shake my head "no." The refinishing occurred when I was a kid. If I had heard the story, I probably hadn't even paid attention.
So she told a brief version of its history, and how my mom had picked it out -- of all the things available -- despite the layers and layers of awful paint.
I looked around the room. Gray hair. Tired eyes. Varying degrees of health. I need to remember things, and I cannot rely on others.
So I bought a blank book to record random things I want to recall a decade or so from now. I'll skip the story of Mr. #. It's OK if I forget that one. But things about my parents and relatives, happy memories from childhood -- those things I want to keep with me a while. My goal is one item per day.