We all know that memory is a funny thing. My brother and I are just two and a half years apart, but some of our childhood memories are worlds apart. Mine and Hubby's memories (like him not remembering I had asked him to dust the living room) can also vary greatly, even with just a day's span of time. And my Granny's memory is really fading. Everything in the brain is jumbled around. She continues to have difficulty remembering me, even though we have always been very close. Yet, she remembers my children clearly. Odd.
I heard on NPR this morning a piece about a woman named AJ. She has a memory that scientists say is very unique - no one else is known to be like AJ. She is about my age, and everyday for the past 25 years is like a recording of them. One can ask her a specific date (like April 2, 1984) and she will tell you everything exactly as it was. Time has not muddied any of her memories. Each and every day, every date, every aspect of those previous days is as clear as her present day. Amazing.
The reporter asked her about what it was like. Was it a gift or not? I immediately thought I wouldn't like it - anytime my heart had been crushed (or when I crushed another's heart) would be as clear and present to me as this moment. How could time heal all wounds, if I didn't have time to dull the pain? Yet, AJ said it was a gift to be able to remember her childhood so clearly. I thought that perhaps it would be a gift to remember my Papa more clearly - that's all getting pretty fuzzy - and to remember more of the things that Granny can't remember anymore. Appreciating the good can certainly balance the not so good.
Here's to appreciating pleasant memories...
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
official preppy handbook meet surfer boy
As soon as I picked up Sonny Boy from school on Thursday (Friday was a holiday), he started complaining about how hot it was and how he really needed some more shorts. Finding shorts is not easy for my picky 12 year old. Shorts have to come to the knee - one inch above and they are WAY too short and WAY too girly. And since Sonny Boy is still on the lean side, shorts that are long enough are often too big around his skinny waist. There are also only 2 approved shopping places - Old Navy and Target. And even then - clothes do not always meet approval.
Friday morning and we are off to Old Navy. "Mom, I want some of those shorts that are like shirts. You know, like those shirts that button down." I said I had no earthly what he was talking about. I was also a little stunned that he was moving away from athletic shorts. Sonny Boy started wandering around ON and finally found a cotton, plaid, button down shirt - "Like this, Mom!" "Honey, I'm not sure Old Navy has shorts like that in your size." We looked, and sure enough we finally found some cotton, madras plaid shorts (which thankfully came down to his knees). I was having mega-flashback to my favorite book from high school, The Official Preppy Handbook. I stood in the middle of ON, gazing off in the distance and fondly remembering all my favorite pairs of old walking shorts, worn with an Izod polo shirt and either my canvas Tretorns or tassle loafers (no socks, of course). Oh - those were the days.
Really hard to believe Sonny Boy wanted to wear the same kind of shorts I once did.
Sonny Boy then announced, "Mom, I need a couple new shirts." "No you don't - you only wear tshirts and you have so many you can't even shut the dresser drawer." "But Mom, but they all have sleeves and I need a shirt like this." (as he held up a bright orange muscle shirt) I had another flashback to all the rednecks at my mountain high school - wearing awful muscle shirts trying to impress the girls with any amount of biceps they might have. I shook my head hard to erase the image as I tried not to gag. (with a spoon...)
"No - you don't need new shirts and I'm not buying any." "But Moooommmmm - I really want a shirt without sleeves!" I decided what the heck - he could go home and cut the sleeves off two of his old tshirts.
We had not been home long that day when he was wearing his new plaid shorts, accompanied by a gray tshirt filled with colorful surfboards - and no sleeves. I'm pretty proud of myself for not laughing in front of him.
Friday morning and we are off to Old Navy. "Mom, I want some of those shorts that are like shirts. You know, like those shirts that button down." I said I had no earthly what he was talking about. I was also a little stunned that he was moving away from athletic shorts. Sonny Boy started wandering around ON and finally found a cotton, plaid, button down shirt - "Like this, Mom!" "Honey, I'm not sure Old Navy has shorts like that in your size." We looked, and sure enough we finally found some cotton, madras plaid shorts (which thankfully came down to his knees). I was having mega-flashback to my favorite book from high school, The Official Preppy Handbook. I stood in the middle of ON, gazing off in the distance and fondly remembering all my favorite pairs of old walking shorts, worn with an Izod polo shirt and either my canvas Tretorns or tassle loafers (no socks, of course). Oh - those were the days.
Really hard to believe Sonny Boy wanted to wear the same kind of shorts I once did.
Sonny Boy then announced, "Mom, I need a couple new shirts." "No you don't - you only wear tshirts and you have so many you can't even shut the dresser drawer." "But Mom, but they all have sleeves and I need a shirt like this." (as he held up a bright orange muscle shirt) I had another flashback to all the rednecks at my mountain high school - wearing awful muscle shirts trying to impress the girls with any amount of biceps they might have. I shook my head hard to erase the image as I tried not to gag. (with a spoon...)
"No - you don't need new shirts and I'm not buying any." "But Moooommmmm - I really want a shirt without sleeves!" I decided what the heck - he could go home and cut the sleeves off two of his old tshirts.
We had not been home long that day when he was wearing his new plaid shorts, accompanied by a gray tshirt filled with colorful surfboards - and no sleeves. I'm pretty proud of myself for not laughing in front of him.
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