Still Riffing on Memory

Visitors came and went, yesterday .... Most left behind bits of wished-for-memory that couldn't be reconstructed ... one called after leaving ... "oh, the guy that &%#%* had an affair with was the Rhythm and Soul guy, (&$@$^&&." Another struggled with me (not against me ... I couldn't remember either) over the names of some rather scurrilous politicians. It all felt right.

Went to sleep not that long after dinner ... the Eastern European beanpot (Cholent) that I use for olfactory memories of my Hungarian Mom and Grandmom's cooking and the cheeseless Pesto about which they knew nothing. My cooking is mostly a big hit with the kids and Cholent and Winter Soups are among the favorites ... along with M's mashed-potatos. Sometimes, I serve Cholent with taco shells and chopped stuff and call it  Mexican Cholent. (I feel loved by the kids, if seen as more than a bit odd.)

Four of the grandspawn were in attendance, last night ... three to keep the littlest of the cousins -- the visiting Princess CC, as she is called -- company. If CC thinks of herself as the Princess, daughter of the absent Queen and King off on a business/vacation, the others--  chances are -- think of her as a sort of family mascot. I call her Big Time Cute and she complains: "No, No, No. I'm the Princess" and, indeed, she is. Dinner was great. Something of a post-dinner discussion of exorcisms followed .... are they only Roman ... do the Romans think of exorcising demons from infidels or are they just "in trouble." What of Carribean Isaland exorcisms or Hindu or Jewish ones. Did any of us want to exorcise the demons from other dinner celebrants?

I was still in a-fib, my heart, that is, had lost its memory. My Beats per Minutes were jumping about like a drunken sailor on a dock ... no obvious destination, even if there were memories of the name of the ship on which s/he docked. 165 bpm followed by 79 and 32 ... and back up to 118. No pattern except the entropy of a heart that had lost its memory. It's 4 in the AM, now, and it seems to be coming back. Hovering in the high 60's and 70's as I sit here .... not quite double my typical 38-40 bpm.

(Funny, my laptop just froze .... apparently, though, it remembered what I had written in "the Archives." ... Yeah, for computers!)

Faith and Reliance, Nachmonides wrote. Still, though, have with me the scene of falling into the azaleas about 32 hours ago ... that is, I still have the memory of my memory-lapse of my feet and balancing-system coming up the two short-riser steps coming home from a Township meeting on Caring for the Caretakers who Take Care of the Old and Infirmed. (Guess it's good that we live in what once was the Presbyterian Widow's home.)

Funny.

But upon arising this morning, my mind was playing with the idea that there is no remembering without forgetting and vice versa. "You can't have one without the other."

     I remember much of what occurred including the recognition that some is missing.

     I remember that I have forgotten much of what occurred at some moment.

I find a third category ... I have had memories that cannot have been ... or cannot have been, as they are remembered. One stands out, at the moment.

When we were young, the four of us kids in a Boomer family ... three born before deployment and one after 'Miltie came marching home.' I don't think there were many times we walked to Coney Island Beach ... maybe a half mile down W. Fifth Street to the Boardwalk. On this occasion, my Father had all four of us on his shoulders. My three siblings were on one and I was on the other. True, my Dad had big soldier-boy-shoulders but not big enough -- likely -- to carry an 8, 9 and 12 year old on one with King Howard on the other. I, also, have two or three memories of rooms that never existed. So, indeed, there is a third category:

     I remember things that never were or never could have been.

Was it Hermeine Gingold (Hermina can be a Hungarian name ... isn't my riff about being lost and looking for my missing Hungarian Mom -- damn! I had an Aunt Hermina ... Hermina Neinei) and Louis Chevalier who sat on a park bench in the late 50's movie (Gigi) singing, while having notably different memories of their youthful love affair with the words: "Ah, yes. I remember it well."

Maybe memory is a place much like an amusement park: y'just gots to tighten your seat belts and enjoy the ride.