The past few days, I have been experiencing memory bubbles. The frothiness followed my daughter’s visit on Saturday and an exchange of messages with my DIL concerning grandson Jacob’s homework project involving a short family history.
My part of his project involved my attempting to answer questions about where I lived, where I worked and what I did, and where and when I attended school. The small project grew into my composing several pages of information.
Salvador Dalí’s painting of Olivier as Richard (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
In the process of writing about my past, all sorts of information I had forgotten or put out of mind surfaced. Looking back, I don’t know how I did it…juggling kids, work (sometimes 2-3 jobs), school, and volunteer activities to say nothing of my tumultuous love life.
I left out book clubs and volunteer organizations for whom, I sometimes edited news letters, or engaged in various other activities.
I will spare you the details because I wore out composing the results. I hate preparing a resume, or did, because the best resumes include 1 or 2 pages at the maximum. My effort wasn’t a resume, more like a mini biography, but I left it to my DIL to distill the material which would overwhelm my 14-year old grandson. I am old and tired. And now I know why.
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Saturday, David and I talked with daughter Connie about her 99-year old MIL, a former WAC, who entered a nursing home last week after nearly starving herself to death.
We also discussed euthanasia (Rita works for a vet). From there we branched out into the Russian Revolution. Don’t ask me how, I forgot.
So there we sat David, Connie, and I discussing the Russian Revolution. Rita was in the room but on her IPOD after losing interest in our conversation.
Connie took two semesters of Russian history and David’s Mom was a White Russian caught up in the Revolution. I don’t know how we got on the subject, but at least I can remember we talked about it.
While the rest of America watched the Superbowl or Downton Abby in the past few days, David and I have been watching Reilly Ace of Spies….on PBS…again. But, I don’t think we brought up the TV show to Connie who seldom has time to watch TV given her busy schedule. So much for that memory bubble. (Reilly was a Russian who spied on the Communists for the British)
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Richard III, Act 5, scene 3: Richard, played by David Garrick, awakens after a nightmare visit by the ghosts of his victims. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I was wondering how they discovered the skeleton anyway. Why would he be in an unmarked grave? Granted he did kill his two nephews though it wasn’t proven. This was such an interesting post!
Really enjoyed this post. You’re lucky I’m not related, I’d be bugging you for family history every day. That is a great header picture!
That’s a really great picture of the two of you…and I like thhe hearts too. The hearts offer one heck of a cheery page.
RYN: Breakfast at 0530 consists of canned veggies of what ever persuasion G wants to feed me. Yesterday morning was green beans, and this morning was beets. Rarely peas. They have points. Then I swim. When I get back I have a 3 to four point yogurt.
You stay warm back there now. Safe too.
God, I can barely face puffed wheat in the morning. Forget the vegetables for breakfast unless it is mushrooms as part of a Full English Breakfast.
First, I’ve been meaning to say i LOVE your “Gardening since 1944″ tagline. it always makes me smile.
You covered a lot in this post and I’m sure you were very helpful with the school project. And you’re lucky to have PBS. We have DirecTV and believe it or not, can’t get it! Sigh.
I’m sorry about Connie’s MIL– It’s difficult to watch a loved one in this state. Sending prayers to one and all.
jj
Thanks Joanna, I have been gardening since 1944, of course it was Mom’s garden.
You are so delightful. Yes, I too probably would have lost track of time via the past, but I don’t know if it would have pooped me out or not. Yes also, the Richard the III stuff fascinates me. No one has said why they decided to search for him or why they ended up in that paved court yard.
Yes, I don’t write the negitive stuff….then again, I consider yesterday’s criticisms really good for me. \
Maybe tomorrow I will start on my own closet. LOL Ah, the memories.
The Richard III society pressed for the search. He was buried at an abby that was paved over in modern times.
Found it! The hippocampus is from Greek hippokampos sea horse, from hippos horse + kampos sea monster.
Thanks. I wondered about that. Those clever Greeks and their medicine.
You’re doing really well, you’ve remembered to write up all of these bubbles. And discussing half a dozen subjects, from films to history to family and your own history isn’t bad for an ‘old’ lady either. Keep the juices flowing. Lubrication is all.
Keeping on keeping on.
“Memory bubbles” and “frothiness”! I loved your use of these words in the context of your post. They are typical of how your content and the way you write create bubbles for me, bubbles that enter my consciousness and burst into tiny to large pleasures.
Like champagne?
My favourite RIII is Ian McKellan in a fascist 1930s England. Have you seen it?
I read about it and like Ian Mckellan, but have not seen it. Maybe someday?
You should! It’s excellent, if a little short.
You have a wonderful memory. Mine is good, as well. But, I wish all of my memories were pleasant and positive. I loved Lawrence Olivier in “Wuthering Heights.” What a handsome Heathcliff he was!
Good to exercise your brain. My memories are not all positive. I don’t write about the negative stuff. No point.