Forever in My Mind

*It's mid-March and the country is self-quarantining.  Schools restaurants, bars, movie theaters are closed.  There is no baseball or basketball on the horizon.  The Kentucky Derby has been postponed from the first Saturday in May to the first one in September.  Strange days indeed.  Life is anything but normal right now.
I just wanted to note that here before we go on.

Psychologists tell us that memory is tied to emotion.  That stands to reason.  We remember best what we are emotionally involved with and what affects us emotionally the most.  Ask someone what their first memory is and you might find that some folks have a very specific memory from the first few years of their life, while others can't retrieve anything until about the age of 5.  Big differences there.
I can recall being in a crib with my sister in another one across the room.  We are only a year apart, so this must have been when we were about 2-3 years of age.

I've been told that I have a better than average memory.  I'm not sure that is true, rather I seem to remember some things that many of my peers can't.  At a recent reunion with my VISTA colleagues from 50 years ago, I was told that I have the best memory of anyone there.  So, why would that be?  Let me venture a guess.  Throughout my life, I have made a conscious decision to remember some things that I deemed either important or significant.  In the case of frightening experiences, I had no choice.  Like the time a friend of mine and I were confronted by a straight razor toting guy on a starry night who had mistaken us for two other guys.  The gleam of that blade in the moonlight will forever be etched in my brain.  Fear motivates.
But what I recall even more clearly is taking the time to remember some specific events or instances that I felt needed special attention.
In the Spring of 1967, I went with a good friend to a show at Bido Lito's, a popular music club in Hollywood.  I was about 1 month into my Junior year of college and we went to see a group called LOVE, featuring Arthur Lee.  Good show, but except for their pop hit called "My Little Red Book," I  don't recall much more.  EXCEPT...while leaving the club, we exited on a spiral staircase.  It was a slow-moving crawl from the bottom floor up to the street level.  As we exited, ascending the staircase, I noticed a few flyers on the wall.  Most were of coming attractions.  Among them was a simple message on one which read, "Coming next week, a new group: The Doors.  Yes, I saw that.
Among the other things I've locked away are less profound or meaningful things, but, at the time, rather significant.  Case in point.  One atypically cold winter in Southern California in the teenage days of my life, I went out for a walk on Christmas Eve.  I noticed that every house on my street, all 13 on each side of the block had colorful holiday decorations glowing.  I could see my breath in the 35-degree temperature and soon began to squint blurring the color that surrounded me. I decided right then on the spot to put that image in my mind forever.  Done.
The brilliant writer Alice Walker reminded me once that to remember is literally to re-member.  Put the pieces (members) back together.  When things get broken, we do well to re-member, to put the pieces back together.