Memories

What did I do on May 15, 1966 or August 28, 1971 or October 2, 1976 or January 11, 1983 or March 1, 1989 or April 20, 1994 or June 9, 1999 or July 19, 2006 or yesterday for that matter? Heck if I know. Seriously. I have no idea what happened on most days of my life. When I think back, very few dates and the associated events of those dates are present in my memory bank. Sure I have memories - both long and short term - but I can't really put an event with a date unless it was some monumental something - like the day I was born. February 12, 1961. The date of my birth. Actually, I don't remember my birth at all. I'm told that's the day I was born. So, actually, I don't remember what I was doing on February 12, 1961, I just remember what my parents told me I was doing that day. . . getting birthed. Driving down the road today, I heard an interview with Marilu Henner. Remember her? Actress who played in the television sitcom, Taxi. Do I remember the dates that Taxi aired? Heck no! But Marilu does. The interview she gave today was all about this rare condition she has called "Superior Autobiographical Memory". The condition enables her to remember what she did on every single day of her life. I didn't hear the interview from the beginning, so perhaps she can't remember every single day - like the first 1460 (that's the first 4 years of her life for those of you who don't have a calculator). But other than that, other then the first few years of her life, you give her a date - any date at all - and she can tell you exactly where she was and what she was doing. Amazing! As I listened to the interview, I thought back over my own life and I tried to remember dates of really important stuff - like where I was when I turned 16, what day of the week it was the day I turned 21, what date I graduated from high school, what day I voted for the very first time, what day my husband proposed to me, etc. Sadly, I couldn't. I couldn't remember any of it. I wished someone had told me when I was 5 to start writing everything down. Make a note of every day of your life. Record where you were and what you did. It's your life! What could be more important than that? If you weren't blessed with Superior Autobiographical Memory, like Marilu was, there is no other way that I am aware of to remember every day of your life. What better way to realize the value of your life then to be able to remember it - all of it. As I reflect back on my life, I remember lots of really good stuff. I remember my little brother not being there one day and suddenly appearing - like magic the next. He was my baby. Oh how I loved that lil bundle of joy. Don't recall the day he came home from the hospital, but I sure remember the feeling I felt. I remember the perceived pain of losing my first baby tooth. Can't recall how old I was, but I remember the fear. I was scared to death that losing that tooth would be the equivalent of losing an entire leg or arm. I don't remember losing my other baby teeth. . . probably because the pain of the first wasn't nearly as bad as I had convinced myself it would be. I remember having the mumps. Ouch! Now that was painful. Thought I had big ol' globs of oatmeal stuck in my throat. I don't know what day it started or what day it ended. I don't remember how old I was. But I sure remember the feeling, and more than that, I remember the love of my mother as she tried to comfort me. I remember my kindergarden teacher, Mrs. See. She was born in Japan and I thought she was the most beautiful non-white person I had ever laid my eyes on. And she was super cool! She brought a tadpole to our classroom one day and promised us all that it would soon become a frog. We checked the little tadpole's makeshift pond every day until finally one day it happened. The tadpole was gone and in its place was a feisty lil frog. Sure wish I could remember the date that happened. My first experience with nature; at least the first I can recall. I remember kissing a boy for the very first time. Lee. Oh my he was handsome, or so my seven year old mind believed. I had quite the crush. I tricked him into joining me down in the cellar one afternoon after school. And there we were - just me and him - sitting in that dark, damp, private place. The anticipation was almost more then I could stand. And then I did it. I reached right over and planted a big ol' sloppy kiss right on his beautiful lips. He was so shocked he bolted - ran up the stairs and right out the door. Like the wind. Here one minute, gone the next. Don't remember the date, but I'll never forget the anticipation of that first kiss or my embarrassment afterwards. Square dancing for the very first time is something else I'll never forget. I was in the 7th grade. I loved it! All my classmates seemed to hate it so I had to pretend I hated it too. Couldn't have my judgmental classmates thinking me so nerdy as to love something as "gross" as square dancing. After all, girls and boys had to touch in order to do the dance. And who in the 7th grade can admit to wanting to touch a member of the opposite sex, right? Right! So I pretended I hated it when all the while I loved it. Loved everything about it. The music, the funny looking costumes, the caller, the dose doing, but most of all. . . the boys! Gosh, how I now wish I could remember the day I experienced square dancing for the very first time. It's when I became a girl I think. When I fully realized for perhaps the very first time that boys and girls were not alike. What a happy day it was sitting on my Auntie Pearl's lap and learning the hand movements to "this is the church and this is the steeple and open the door and there's all the people". Oh how I loved my Auntie Pearl. She made every moment fun, but more than that, she showed me what unconditional love was. I'm so sorry Auntie Pearl that I don't remember the date you taught me about church and steeples and people. More than that, I'm sorry I don't remember the day you passed away. The day you died was the day I felt the pain of loss for the very first time. I can't remember if it was a Monday or Tuesday or Saturday or Sunday. I don't know if it was in March or July or August or December. Was it summer or spring? I really don't know. Oh how I wish I had written it down. You mattered to me more than any other person ever did. And I didn't write it down. I didn't take the time. I'm so sorry. I just didn't realize. So many things - good and bad - happened to me after my Auntie Pearl passed away. Most events I can recall, I think, but I don't know what day they happened. In most instances, I can't even tell you what month or year it was. My beautiful husband married me on April 22, 2011, one of the happiest days of my life. Will I ever forget that day? It was Good Friday 2011 at 1:30 p.m. at the Platte County Courthouse. Our closest friends and family joined us as we exchanged our vows and promised to love one another forever. It is unconceivable to me that I could ever forget a day full of so much love. . . so much emotion. But as I sit here looking back at my life and realize just how many important dates I have forgotten, I fear that it could happen. So I have done the only thing I (now) know to do. I've written it down. Forever, I can look back at this blog entry and forever I can know exactly what day and time I married my very best friend.