Does this old notebook look vaguely familiar? It’s the blue notebook in which, at age 11, I started recording my autobiography! I found the notebook tucked away in a box filled with old letters, school papers, and certificates. Can you imagine? I’m still in shocked euphoria. I hadn’t seen it in years, and I really believed it had been “lost along the way.” In fact, I have a faint memory of having thrown it away. But here it is, in all its blueness and sophomoric prose.
Remember the painting? It’s interesting to me that it’s both somewhat true to the actual notebook and inaccurate:
When things like this happen, do you question the fidelity of your memory? It’s a fascinating thing, isn’t it–memory? A few years ago, when my Fibromyalgia was at its worst, I suffered memory loss. Illness extinguished entire chunks of time from my brain. Details of significant memories vanished. Some of those lost memories eventually came back; others did not.
Right now, I’m reading The Echo Maker by Richard Powers. In this novel, Mark Schluter wakes from a coma with Capgras Syndrome, a rare condition in which a person believes his/her loved ones have been replaced by look-alike imposters. It’s an Oliver Sacks-like neurological case and more philosophical than thrilling, but interesting nonetheless.
And in another exploration of memory, last night, we watched the 1942 film, “Random Harvest,” in which an amnesia patient and a beautiful woman fall in love and marry. When the man is hit by a car, he recalls his prior life but loses all memory of his current life, including his wife. The man’s two lives, two sets of memories, are mutually exclusive.
Then there’s the woman with perfect memory who can recall minutiae from decades ago.
Our perception of self and other is rooted in the flawed memory of who we are, where we came from. How can our perceptions be at all accurate or meaningful amid the distortions of fallible memory? If we lose memory of ourselves, who are we? Alternately, if we were to remember everything in perfect clarity, would we know ourselves any better? These are some of the questions I’m asking myself lately. What do you think?
Lovely post. Thanks!
The fact that you found your journal after longing for it, and thinking it was lost forever reminds me of a song I heard in my youth, which included the words, “prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, unuttered or expressed……” so I think our loving Heavenly Father helped you to find that precious book. I am so happy that you found it. It makes a perfect culmination to your series on things you cherished from your life, and painted so that you would have a token of them still. God is so interested in our happiness!!
i love Oliver Sacks stuff–too fascinating– Interesting thoughts, and i’m glad you found your notebook.
Hi I found your blog thru Julia and I am very taken with your photo’s. Also, your story of loosing your journal when you were young. I have so many memories of that.
When I was younger, I saved all my report cards, corsages from proms, awards from music and sports, etc. I had them nicely tucked away in a trunk in our attic. Times passed, I went away to school, my Dad died, and Mom eventually sold the house, and came to live in my town. Where was my precious trunk? Somehow, it got lost….. in moving, or thrown out (who would do that?) and really shook me up. My whole life up to 18 was in there and now it’s gone and I had nothing to show my children.
For a good 10 years I had a recurring dream that I was back in my hometown, searching our home for it. All the chairs were covered with sheets, and it was so scary, dark and empty. I’m not sure what happened, but eventually I did stop with the dreams, but I still think about it all the time. They way that people in fires that loose their pictures, feel the same way.
You just brought all those memories back. Thanks, I think…..
Looking forward to reading more of your posts.
Thank you for your comments, everyone!
Wits, I hope you’ll come back often.
Nancy Johnson, your thoughts are so precious, and they mean a lot to me, as do you. Thank you!
Julia, somehow it doesn’t surprise me that Oliver Sacks interests you too. I think he intrigues analytical types.
Connie, I’m glad to make your acquaintance via the blog. Your story of loss is heartbreaking! Thank you so much for sharing it, despite the sad memories it brings back for you. I hope to see you here often.
How wonderful you found that old journal!
I’m particularly engrossed in the question about whether we lose our own selves, our identity if we lose our memory. Yes, it seems so … what are we if not that thick web of memories culminating to create our notion of ourselves and who we are; what we are. After all, it’s those memories that inform us … wonderful questions.
Diane