Remembering Things 06-16-18

When driving alone, cross country or just up the length of California, there is a lot of time to think.  And that is one thing I love about driving alone - lots of time to think.  When Liz and I were driving home from San Luis Obispo we talked about the jumble of memory; why do we remember some things forever and yet can't remember what we ate yesterday?   We don't have an answer.  I think that sometimes it is because there is a picture of that event or location that keeps reminding us of a certain person or event.  Here is one of my mother with a group of children in about 1942:

I was four or younger in my California sun dress (front 2nd from right) and my sister, about six in her matching dress stands in front of our mother.  I'm not sure who the other children are, possibly out Palmer cousins from Idaho, they appear to be the right ages.  But my point is that when I think of my mother this image frequently comes to mind.  I can't possibly remember the event, but I have seen this picture over the years and because of that it seems like a memory.  

I just read Anna Quindlen's book "Alternate Side" (which I highly recommend) and marked a sentence that struck me right between the eyes!  "Nora could remember it all so well, better than she remembered what she'd done yesterday, how smooth and warm his skin had felt against hers.  She'd realized that that was how life was, that certain small moments were like billboards forever alongside the highway of your memory."  

But what puts those billboards there?  How can I remember the name of someone I knew in grade school seventy plus years ago and have had no contact with since?  But I sometimes can't remember the name of a dear friend that I see frequently and talk to online and on the phone.   Some of my "billboards" seem to be blank most of the time.  My little California grandmother said her memory was like a bucket, when it was full everything new that went into it fell out and all the old, old memories were still there, way at the bottom, but there.  

Just musing.  
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