Memory

I have often thought of myself as one who has a poor memory. I seem to have many missing pieces that are filled in with images from pictures, and I tend to overcompensate (what, me a perfectionist?) with keeping journals (and blogs). I read an article in "Real Simple" recently about how to improve one's thinking, and the author states that one's memories are usually skewed in some way and skewed just in the act of being remembered (and no doubt skewed by each person's point of view/personality/world view).

Recently, I was contacted through Facebook by four friends who I knew either from fifth through eighth or fifth through twelfth grade, and hearing from them brought back so many memories - mostly forgotten memories, and I wondered if my memory is as bad as I think it is. One of these friends wrote to me about the difficulty of making friends as she has gotten older and how strange it is not to be friends with old school friends with whom she was so close to. I realized that my high school friends have scattered all over the world - Australia, Trinidad, Canada, New York City, Washington, different parts of California, Colorado - and, indeed, we are no longer close either in proximity or relationship.

A friend at work knocked Facebook during a staff meeting. She commented, "I don't need Facebook. People who want to get ahold of me know where I am." She is from a small midwestern town, and I have no doubt that most of her old friends do know how to contact her - if not directly, than through her parents. When I lived in Mississippi, most of my co-workers were born and raised in their Mississippi town, still lived there, and, in some cases, had never left the state for even a vacation. Their old friends also know how to contact them.

But for some reason, where I grew up, a lot of the people left, starting with college, and moved around and never returned to California. I wonder why this is. Perhaps it is cultural, a message that proximity to one's family and birthplace is not valued. Or that we are destined to go out into the world and make something of ourselves in a new place. Perhaps it is happenstance, a leading of one thing to another, a decision to marry someone from another palce, a falling in love with a city. I did not return to California because of traveling for school, a desire to see other places, following a path lead by school and job choices rather than family and friends, and a desire to live someplace with less traffic, fewer people and lower cost of living (although, indeed, there are few places as beautiful or as culturally and naturally fulfilling as California).

But I wonder in all this, how our memory is changed by who we live near. If I lived closer to family and old friends, would my memory be better? Did I leave to escape memories, as no doubt places and people bring back old memories? Are we losing collective memories by moving away from "home?"

I for one still believe Facebook has a valuable roll in our social webs - providing a bridge in a mobile society where we can and do live all over the world.

Incidentally, Asher pulled out a book the other night called "All about Me," written by Dr. Seuss, and littered with details about my elementary school self. My penchant for keeping histories started along time ago and while spurred by a bad memory no dobut started a long time ago (and possibly as a legacy from my grandfather).