Do we mark life by the milestones we reach and leave behind us, or by everyday happenings? As we look back at the days, what are the things we remember?
This is the first day of school for many children. Will it be memorable? In later years, will the recollections be good or bad or will this day simply fade into forgetfulness?
Wouldn’t it be great if we had selective memory? If we could remember only the things that make us happy, our accomplishments, the good times, the wonderful people, and just not have a clue about anything negative, wouldn’t that be wonderful? Or not? Trouble is, if we remember one thing, we remember another and if push comes to shove, I don’t want to relinquish my ability to recall. I suppose all those past happenings make each person unique, the good, the bad, and the in-between. We’re sort of a mixed package.
This morning, I read a list of words that I should remember not to use. They date me. They announce to my hearers or readers that I’m out-of-date, not hip, and am an old fuddy-duddy. That, by the way, is a term I shouldn’t use, although sometimes I admit I am one. Never should I say my sofa is a davenport. Why not? By the way, I don’t make long-distance calls any more, or if I do, I shouldn’t admit to it. I can call anywhere for the same price. Nor do I dial a phone. We all know that, don’t we? Now, if I could just remember not to say so.
I can’t have my heroine tape a conversation to be used against an unsuspecting bad guy. Everything now is digital. Why can’t I remember that? And, if I don’t enjoy an outing, I certainly shouldn’t be a wet blanket and spoil the day for everyone else.
(Sigh) Sometimes I feel like Gregg Shorthand, that neat little way of writing that took up a couple of years of high school and college. It isn’t needed any more, you know.
It’s rather shocking to be brought up abruptly against a cold, hard fact. That happens. I used “well curb” in one of my stories and found that I even had to explain that term to my loyal group of Cozy Critters. Another word that used to be and I admit, still is, a part of my vocabulary is cruising. My heroine went cruising down the road in her SUV and nobody knew what she was doing.
And, lest I start to sound like a broken record, I see that I have shied away from my original intent of writing about memories and milestones. I just started remembering all the ways I’m not with it, a real square, just not hip at all. I think there are as many as Carter has little liver pills.
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www.amazon.com/Blanche-Day-Manos/e/B0090018EI
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