For sixty years, Will’s been sure we skated at a park near his house.
For sixty years I’ve been sure we skated at a park near my house.
This conflict offers an instance where we can’t both be right or wrong or compromise.
Where we skated is a fact, so one opinion must be right, and the other must be wrong; yet for sixty years, our differing opinions have not budged.
Well, actually, Will’s memory and mine have not differed for sixty years, based in the fact that, six decades ago, short term memory on both sides must have agreed as to where we’d skated or one of us would have considered the other so looney as to break off our dating connection.
I’m sure that during our five year courtship neither questioned the other about where we enjoyed our first date. (And curiously, we never ice skated, together, again, until that activity was enjoyed with Barry and Steven when David was a babe in arms.)
Common sense suggests that somewhere down the road, Will’s long term memory or mine, while hiking back toward 1961, took a wrong turn and has remained stuck, skating round and round a rink at the wrong park from then on.
For decades, I’ve persistently insisted that never in my entire life had I skated at Will’s neighborhood park just as Will has persistently insisted the same about skating at the park near my home.
Only lately has my attitude’s rigidity loosened from ‘never happened’ to I ‘can’t remember’ ever skating at the park closest to Will’s house.
Why does one or the other person’s lapse in such a trivial memory remain highly topical, sixty years later?
Because if Will or I can’t get something as simple as where we’d skated straight then what else might one or the other ‘remember’ with such inaccuracy as to cause a vital relationship to skate on thin ice?
🙋🏻♀️Annie
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