Memories of times past often flood
my consciousness. Every time that
I'm reminded of something almost
forgotten I'm thankful that I'm still
able to recall times past. As the son
of an Alzheimers victim - my most
greatest fear is losing my memory.
However given I'm adopted theres
no genetic risk or liability. Having
loved and lost I've learned that our
memories live on long after those
who we've love are gone. And yet
not forgotten as long as we recall.
After spending a week with my
eldest daughter, I was reminded
that my memory is not the best.
She talked of seminal events and
random recollections that I'd no
memory of. The resulting deficit
of which totally freaked me out.
Given said events were obviously
important, how did I lose touch
with their reality? Such lapses
reinforce how important it is to
treasure each moment. And find
a way to preserve one's legacy.
In the mid eighties I was mugged. My
assailants slammed the butt of a sawed
off shotgun into my right temple. The
resulting damage caused me to lose
two years of memories. Since that day
my ability to recall much of times past
is limited at best. Hence I meet people
who seem to know me quite well yet
I've no idea who they are. Such "off"
encounters reinforce my need to make
sure that I don't forget anything that
is important to me. After all, we're here
today... and all to soon gone tomorrow!
I've a long shelf full of photo albums.
These annotated images are my link
to times gone by. Sadly since the
advent of my I-Phone camera, I've
lost the ritual of taking my pictures
in for prints. Since retiring I've been
busy and slowly started to shirk my
responsibility as an archivist. I've
lost it - many memories that is - as
now I can't connect my memorabilia
to a specific time... date... or place.
I must get back into the habit before
it's too late. TEMPUS FUGIT!
Facebook is rather like a time machine.
Many post old photos on "Throwback
Thursday." Beyond the big hair and leg
warmers - I'm pleasantly surprised by
what I'm reminded of. Times or friends
that I honestly haven't thought of in
thirty or forty years. Sometimes said
posts are a literal bitch slap of reality.
Recently a childhood friend posted a
picture of his Mother - my memories
were of a vibrant young woman - not
the little old lady in that wheel chair.
Someday... that could be me or... you!
Life is short. Youth is fleeting at best.
Without some form of documentation
it's hard to remember how far we've
come. I must confess that most days
I purposefully dodge the camera. The
very idea of providing physical proof
of my over indulgences repulses me.
Yet as my sister-in-law often reminds
me, future generations are going to
treasure said shots. "S's" mother hated
getting her picture taken. Killed all too
young in a plane crash - her family now
wishes they had more photos of Mom.
In essence this blog is a daily diary -
a public stream of consciousness.
Recently someone described it as
"self indulgent." And in fact - it is.
For over five years I've blogged to
record whatever was on MY mind.
While I rarely refer to prior entries -
they're there should I need them. All
too soon I'll be gone and within one
generation forgotten. Beyond what's
on my tombstone, I hope that all of
my attempts at memory preservation
will prove that for a time I was here.
