I have this unusual memory.

Short-term is always problematic. Go to the kitchen to get a pitcher of milk and by the time I get there I’ve forgotten what I came for.

Long-term is something else.

Long-term memories of things that made me what I am feel as vivid today as they did decades ago. Periods of time in my life that my friends and compatriots have long forgotten are there and easily tapped. It’s really very annoying although it is useful in finding things long laid aside or when searching/researching. I may not always know the answer, but I’m really good at knowing where to find it.

My mother, with a similar sort of memory, except her short term was remarkably good, seemed to recognize this in me. She also understood that I was very aware of what was going on around me, although this may have come to her a bit later then she would have liked. She has stated, on more than one occasion, that she dreads the possibility that I might write a book about the family. Given the family history, I’m not surprised.

This particular post is, like many of my minor posts, merely a preface to what may or may not follow in blogs to come.

I suppose I should make it clear that this blog isn’t about you or what may entertain anyone.

This blog is a deeply personal expression of things that are important to me and those around me.

But it all seems to come down to memory. And other than our unique point of view, our memory is all we really have unto ourselves. Once we are no longer alive, that point of view and its unique set of memories and experiences are lost. Sometimes the stray bits get written down and left for others to ponder and obsess over generations later. Most of the time, no one else really seems to care. And that is as it should be. People have their own lives to live and worry about.

But that doesn’t mean the stray bits shouldn’t get written down.

Till the next one. Good night