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Paul Phaneuf's avatar

" So it's the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember, the way we were..." Barbara Streisand got it right. Fortunately I do tend to remember the good times.

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Geno Scala's avatar

I live in the past, going as far as keeping my High School yearbook by my side at the computer. College is what I remember mostly, surprisingly enough considering I drank my way through much of it. I've been fortunate to reconnect with several people from childhood, HS, college and my law enforcement years. My absolute favorite thing is talking about the "stories" from the past. The problem is, of course, that at our age, we don't really remember much, and the few stories that we DO remember, we ALL remember. We also forget that we told and re-told these same stories to one another with each discussion. It truly IS an vicious cycle. Songs bring back certain times and certain people; Phil Collins "In The Air Tonight"- the first CD I ever owned, and the first song I ever heard on a CD player; "Those Were The Days" (ironically titled, considering this discussion) by Mary Hopkins was played over and over again by my friend's mother as we sat in her living room playing; "This Magic Moment" by Jay Black I recorded on my red Take and Tape cassette recorder. It was memorable because I dropped my trumpet mouthpiece on a glass desktop at a perfect break in the song. I've decided that life's memories are a lot like the way they describe police work- "Ninety-nine percent boredom, and one percent sheer terror". I remember some very good things, fun things, funny instances, and deep discussions. I also remember the really bad events- we all do. What I don't remember are the in-between times; we just don't have enough brain cells to remember every instant of our past. I don't remember a single conversation of any significant length with my father. He was a great Dad, but he wasn't "that" Dad. I don't remember much with my mother, until she was dying. It seems the memories died with her, as well. Don't get me wrong- I had an idyllic childhood. Just nothing stands out. My big concern now is trying to BE memorable and DO memorable things with my granddaughters, 4 and 2, and so far, I haven't been able to. I REALLY don't want to die without being remembered by someone. What's the point of living if we can't be remembered?

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