Recently I had a remarkable conversation with my sister. In our family her memory is celebrated. It is believed her stories can take you back in time and I was anxious to ask her about a few iconic patterns -most from more than 30 years ago.
She did not remember in any detail the specific fabrics, wallpapers, and floor coverings I asked about, but in her detailed descriptions of adrenalin games played with our younger brother (and my sideline role as comforter and engineer in charge of hiding evidence) I was transformed.
With all that I have read about memory and our brains and notions of identity and place, how could I have been so short-sighted. One can’t experience first-hand the malleability of memory by thinking hard and rolling over on oneself.
tags: memory, boys and girls, superheroes
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