Oct. 14th, 2014

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October, 2014


When I was in my late teens I had a degree of memory that impressed even me. I could recall life events down to the month -- and often the week -- that they occurred.

During that time I once asked my father about his childhood. He replied that he didn't remember much about his life until he was older. That seemed odd to me, but I dismissed it as something that came 'with age.'

My own memory has gotten fuzzier and fuzzier over the years. Still, I'm pretty good on major events. Things like having gone on stage with Penn and Teller should be one of those ego-gratifying things I should remember. Quite clearly, in fact.

At least I remember going to (and enjoying) the show. I even remember getting there early and watching the stage hands hoisting a glass jar high into the rafters that was used as the finale of an impressive mind-reading trick.

That whole being on stage part... nope. Not in the slightest.

* sigh *

...

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