I'm struck by what some of us remember that others simply cannot place - even when they're events or moments that happened to us both. Like, there was a time, sometime in my aspirational adulthood (mid-80's), that my parents got very hip and they and their friends would go hang out and drink in hotel bars. The new, sexy Princeton Hyatt had sculpted comfortable chairs and cool stools. I'd go with my parents and order a drink and it became for me a new way of socializing. Here's kind of how I remember it. My parents don't remember it at all.
|Cool people cocktails.|
As my daughter gets ready to go to college she asks about how it was for me and I think hard before telling her - I can't remember. Disbelief, how can I not remember? It is all so pivotal.
She'll see. We remember what we need to, to stay vibrant and hopeful.
Here's an amazing article about memories and the telling of them. From the Atlantic, "How Many of your Memories are Fake?" A line from the piece is this: "We all have narratives," (he) said, explaining that people form beliefs and values, and then develop explanations within their memories for these beliefs and values. "We're all creating stories. In that sense, our lives are stories."