Selective memory

Over the weekend, my wife and I revisited our hometown. You may remember my blog post “My Childhood Community” from 2010. By the way, I still think this is a great classroom activity.

It was also the Kin Pace at the Clinton Raceway. The race has huge history when it goes to the origin of harness racing in town. My parents were Kinsmen and Kinettes and did their part working the races.

As a result of Charles Pascal’s blog post that was on last week’s This Week in Ontario Edublogs, I got thinking of the ball diamonds where I’d umpired in my youth. Of course, these two in Clinton are easy to find since they are in the infield of the race track.

The advantage of getting to the track early is taking a mostly audience-free photo for a blog post.

Before the races, we enjoyed driving around and we drove by baseball and softball diamonds where I’d umpired – Goderich, Seaforth, Dublin, Brodhagen, Listowel, Zurich, Stratford, Sebringville, Shakespeare, Milverton – we took good advantage of the drop in price of gas. I knew exactly where the ball diamonds would be. Nobody moves a ball diamond but, when you do the math, that was a long, long, time ago. And yet, I have such fond memories.

Then, there was this other thing that we always do when we go back “home” and that’s to visit the cemetery and our parents’ plots. We do this every time we go back – at least twice a year; we’ve made that promise to ourselves. I know exactly where the cemetery is. Bizarrely, that concession of Hydro Line Road has not been Google Streetview-ed.

There are four entries/exits to the cemetery and I know exactly which one to use. Certainly, we don’t want to go to the old part although it’s a good place if you’re looking for a big of history.

Without a word of a lie, the moment that I turn into the cemetery, my mind goes blank. We visit the grave sites at least twice a year, every year, and have for so long. One would think that it would be a simple thing but it sure isn’t for me.

We go through the same routine – I turn to my wife and ask where to go and get the same response. “Seriously?” Yes, seriously.

I don’t do it on purpose. I guess I figure I could always drive up and down the little roads until I find them.

I just think that my mind refuses to remember.

3 thoughts on “Selective memory

  1. This would totally be me, but then again, I would probably need directions and a guide to get there. Your last line is an interesting one. Do our minds put these blocks into place for us at times? I wonder …

    Aviva

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