It is the way of memories..


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I have a fragmented memory of a beach from a long time ago (41 years to be exact). We were somewhere in Thailand, not near Bangkok and we spent the day on the beach. I remember white sand, a picnic lunch and just playing in the water all day. There isn’t any boundaries to the memory, it just begins and ends on that beach.

There are many other connected memories of Thailand in my head, that one is one of the many disconnected memories. There are others, I have many disconnected memories of my parents, grandparents, dogs, aunts, uncles, cousins and my sisters over the years. Just a moment in time when I see almost a freeze frame a tiny slice of life.

Another one I have is of being outdoors I believe in Indiana and I think in the neighborhood park where we moved to when I was 8 or 9 years old. There were a lot of snowmen around us, my sister and I and my dad was throwing snowballs at us. I remember Macgregor coming to our rescue and wrestling with my dad and then the memory fades. No introduction, no rolling credits at the end, just that one moment. My mother says “its your memory.” It is my memory, just can’t place the where of the moment.

Back in the day (I hear my voice aging as I type this) we called them Kodak moments. Treasures that you placed on a piece of photo paper and put on the wall. Sometimes you walk by them and you smile, the memory slice popping into your cortex and dancing in front of your eyes. Those moments comprise our childhood.

There are millions of them, some so well connected that they live in the forefront of our thoughts. Some forgotten a fragment of a larger story that we not longer recall. It is the way of memory.

.doc

Scott Andersen

IASA Fellow

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