Selective Memory

I've long thought that I have a poor memory, but in working on a memoir about a road trip I took nearly 25 years ago, I've come around a bit to give myself some credit, and feel as though I've learned a bit about how my memory works.

First, let me state that there are times when my memory isn't all that great. My wife will tell me something about an upcoming plan for the weekend, and later that day I'll ask her, "What are we doing Saturday?" She just looks at me and says, "Weren't you listening to me earlier?"

I was listening, but I wasn't concentrating on what she said. Sometimes I truly didn't register the information, and can't summon it. Other times, I'm too lazy to think about the conversation and ask her to repeat what she told me. Occasionally, I'll burn a few brain cells and recall the information.

Unlike a lot of people, I can't blame my distraction on smart phone usage. As of this writing, I'm still living in Luddite Land, with a dumb phone. Rather, I have a hard time focusing on what other people are saying sometimes, instead letting my mind wander to thinking about some random shiny object or song running through my head.

Sometimes I distract myself during a conversation by telling myself, "Hey, pay attention to this!" which of course guarantees that I'm not paying attention. Weird, I know. Maybe it's ADD.

Still, in writing my memoir (working title: "My Four-Month Tour of Duty on the Battleship Patchouli") I've raised more details in my mind than I would've thought possible before I started writing the book.

My primary resources are a short journal and an audiotape that I kept during the trip, as well as two articles I wrote for my hometown newspaper (R.I.P., Farmington Valley Herald) to spark my memory. Still, those resources leave a lot of gaps, especially during our travels across Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico, and our time spent living in Albuquerque.

I've reached out to my road trip buddies -- Andy, Pete and John. As I and listen to and read (via email) their memories of the trip, and as I spend more time writing and researching and thinking about the trip, memories pop up and fill in important spaces in the manuscript.

What valuable nuggets have emerged? Going to the stock car races in Albuquerque, and seeing a Powder Puff competition. Visiting a strip club in New Orleans featuring a girl on a swing. Getting chili-and-cheese hot dogs way too often at 7-Eleven. Riveting stuff? Perhaps not, but all these tidbits help paint a larger picture.

As I've asked questions of my road-mates, I realized they remember some of what I recall, but by no means have better memories than I do. Perhaps it's just because I've spent so much time on this in recent months, or maybe my memory isn't as bad as I thought it was.

I'm having a great time working on the memoir, primarily because it's a fun challenge to put together my history and to analyze who I was in 1988 and who I've become. And secondarily, I find it enjoyable because I've learned to give myself a break when it comes to my historical recall.

Now, please to enjoy Giant Sand covering Johnny Thunders: