Why do we remember?
Today our local paper (The Post & Courier, Charleston, SC) reprinted a column from The Washington Post headlined “Helping kids deal with being let down.” This revived memories from my early teen years. It was around Thanksgiving when my older sister tipped me off that a couple who were friends with our mother was going to buy me a baseball glove for Christmas. All through December, I waited anxiously for the big day. When it arrived it brought no baseball glove. Instead, the couple gave me a damn tie. My sister told me later that the man had gotten drunk on the day he was to buy the glove and forgot all about it.
Why is it, after all these years, this, the Christmas gift I never got, is my only memory of all the Christmases of my youth?
The author of the column, Meghan Leahy, wrote: “As long as humans have walked the Earth, there has been disappointment and unfairness, and we know that despite our big brains and strong will, life happens in ways we never saw coming….Disappointment is a certainty for every one, including children.”
A couple of years later, an uncle on my mother’s side of the family bought me a baseball glove. I cared for it through the years, kept it oiled and flexible, and sometime in the 1960's gave it to my wife’s nephew.
Why do I remember this?
