How to Make a Memory Stick

It starts with Harry Potter and an image that sticks in my mind... of Snape or Dumbledore or whomever, expertly wielding a wand in a pool to extract vivid memories that come straight out of someone else's brain. (Admittedly, I'm no expert on Harry Potter lore and that might not be the 'truth' of the story...


That image has been surfacing regularly in my mind in the last few months. Usually as I tromple the local woods, more or less alone (the dog is very handsome but not much of a conversationalist.)



Without the interruptions of daily life and other people, I've been able to let my thoughts wander. To memories from old times, and good times, and even not-so-good times.


In my mind, those memories are vivid and fabulous and true.

And I've wondered... how do we save and share those memories?

• Is there some kind of magic wand we can use to extract them?  Is there a memory stick??
• And if there is no magic wand, what else can we do to make those memories stick? 

So this thought has been bouncing around my head for a few months. Many times, I've really wanted a magic wand / memory stick. I've really wanted to pull those vivid and fabulous and true memories from my head and share them with others.  Thinking that others might find them interesting as 'the record' of the past (old times, good times and not-so-good times.) Just as I would love to pull the vivid and fabulous and true memories from the heads of the people in my circle. I want to know 'the record' of their lives.

Except that there probably is no 'record'.  Yes, there are memories. Yes, they are vivid and they are fabulous.  But true?  Maybe not so much.


I was reminded of this last week. One sister, one brother and I went to visit my eldest sister who has always been the family historian. Her truth has been unassailable. As we shared our vivid and fabulous and true memories of Expo '67 (yes, we were all sentient; yes, we are all that old), we fully expected that we would need some gentle correction from our historian. But we needed much more than 'gentle' correction, as most of our memories were being revealed as wildly inaccurate. We each had indelible images of singular events which NO ONE ELSE could corroborate (certainly not our historian.) In my case, for example, there was (apparently) NO covered dragon slide that went from the inside of the second story of a restaurant down to the ground outside, as I so vividly recall.


One sister, one brother and I kept deferring to the historian... convinced even more that she had the only true memory stick in the family. "Linda, what happened then? Who got lost?! It was you? You and Randy?? Wasn't it me?? What do you mean we didn't have to wear those awful matching shifts every single day?  We had shorts?? I don't remember any shorts!"

And we looked to our eldest sister/historian to correct our apparent memory lapses and give us the truth. Until she slipped... Big Time.  Interestingly, I can't even recall what her slip was. But immediately we knew. One sister, one brother and I realized that even her truth was assailable.

But there was no judgment.  Because, in the end, it didn't really matter what the 'truth' was. Memories aren't truth. They are vivid and they are fabulous. And that can be enough.

Especially when we find ways to share them - either by swapping recollections with those who were 'there'  or telling tales to others in a way that helps them feel what you think you were feeling at the time.

That is how to make a memory stick. (No magic wand required.)