Memories

“We have each of us a life-story, an inner narrative-whose continuity whose sense is our lives. It might be said that each of us constructs and lives a narrative, and that this narrative is  us, our identities.

If we wish to know about a man we ask “what is your story-his real, inmost story?”-for each of us is a biography, a story. Each of us a singular narrative which is constructed, continually, unconsciously by through and in us-through our perceptions our feelings our thoughts our actions and not least our discourse our spoken narrations. Biologically, physiologically, we are not so different from each other; historically, as narratives-we are each of us unique.

To be ourselves we must have ourselves-possess, if need be re-possess, our life stories. We must recollect ourselves, recollect the inner drama, the narrative, of ourselves. A man needs such a narrative a continuous inner narrative to maintain his identity, his self.” -Oliver Sack’s The man who mistook his wife for a Hat

So why do I bring this up. Well. A couple days back I was torn on whether to continue thoughts. Continue at some attempt of connection. Then I remembered something that has helped me through this whole process. My story. You see I can’t remember much before third grade and I’m starting to remember less and less as the years go on from middle school.  I grew up with a TV in my room  ever since I could remember and now I dont really know if my childhood was a tv show or it really happened. I remember movies really well…I dont have many memories because I never told those stories. I never told those growing up kinda stories. The excert that I just wrote form Sack’s book “He is awakings guy” Anyway he was telling the story of a man that had no past. He coudnt’ keep track of time.  So from one minute to the next he would jump from one time period to the next.  I wonder sometimes if I do that.  My grandmother is going through alzheimer’s right now. She doesnt really remember me I have to keep reminding her.  My mother is watching her slip away. She still cusses like a sailor. My grandmother not my mother. We all laugh. But I guess there is one part of me that doesnt want to face that type of reality. I was never really close to her or anyone in my family. (long pause) So my causal forgetfulness does scare me at times. House just got real quiet.  So here’s to one day dropping the f bomb on my grand kids.  Dont know why I got on this subject.  It’s a book I pick up every now and then….Say hey to your mother for me.