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.
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)
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)
Have you all been tracking the developments in Leicester England? Remains of Richard III located under the asphalt in a church parking lot. What a wow story.
In the 1950s, whenever I had a dime, I traveled into town to see a movie. I don’t remember when I saw the film Richard III, with Sir Lawrence Olivier, but I was so affected by Olivier’s “A horse a horse, my kingdom for a horse,” I named my oldest son Richard (I was a weird teenager). I didn’t like the name Lawrence, apparently. Probably had to do with a boy named Larry who tried to kiss me against my will when I was 10 years old.
Claire Bloom starred in the film with Olivier. I don’t think two better actors ever lived. Of course I never saw the original play with David Garrick as Richard. At least I don’t remember it.
Briefly last night, David and I watched a show on PBS about the brain. We turned it off when the fund-raising part of the show began.
In the segment we watched, the speaker explained the seahorse shape of the part of the brain that stores short-term memory gave it the name hippocampus. Hippo is Latin for horse as in hippodrome (horse arena) and hippopotamus or river horse. I don’t know why the second part of the name for this brain part is campus. I looked it up on the web, and got directions to every college campus in the U.S. (I stopped at page 1). So much for that memory bubble.