Today I went to the grocery to buy some things for my book club. It’s my turn to host. At the checkout line, I noticed a publication. Big headline: Memory. For a while, I’ve been refining a story titled Mama Killed a Cuban. The story begins with a random memory that occurred to me years after I left home. I’ve been collecting literature on the science of memory. One of the subjects to be covered in the publication was “Forgetting bad memories.” To the contrary, my memory wasn’t “bad,” but it was wrapped in a really bad thing\u2026so I picked up the publication and added it to the bag with fancy cheeses and something else\u2014I can\u2019t remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The store clerk picked up the publication and said, \u201cI need this.\u201d I smiled. She said, \u201cI can\u2019t remember names.\u201d \u201cMe either,\u201d I responded, \u201cbut I\u2019ll remember your life story if you tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy Mom had dementia,\u201d she said. \u201cMy dad had Alzheimer’s. Just last week they started me on\u2026.. on\u2026. on\u2026 it was something generic.” “My husband’s mother died with dementia, I told her.” “They say it won’t give me back what I lost but will slow it down,” she said. She was putting my stuff in the bag I brought in. “I was 45 minutes late to work because I thought I was working on Friday. It was Wednesday. I’m losing track of days, of time.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My transaction complete, there wasn\u2019t anything to do. \u201cI\u2019ll think of you,\u201d I said. Generally, I try not to pray. I don\u2019t want to call attention to myself. But as I walked away, I couldn’t help but be grateful for the fact that my family, at least until now, have managed to be a total engaged pain in the ass right up until we die. I am so grateful that is not part of my family story and that if it was, I wouldn\u2019t have to share it with a stranger in a random encounter.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Today I went to the grocery to buy some things for my book club. It’s my turn to host. At the checkout line, I noticed a publication. Big headline: Memory. For a while, I’ve been refining a story titled Mama Killed a Cuban. The story begins with a random memory that occurred to me years […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":197,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-196","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n