Memories are funny. There just doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the things lodged up in our heads. Today is Wednesday. I cannot remember what I wore to work on Monday. I have zero clue what I ate for dinner last Friday night. I can’t recall any real details about anything from a week ago.
But I can tell you my childhood friends’ phone numbers like I can tell you my own. I can recall intricate details of meaningless high school football games. Without blinking, I can recite the 1985 St. Louis Cardinals normal starting lineup— Coleman, McGee, Tommy Herr, Clark, Van Slyke/Landrum, Porter/Nieto, Pendleton, Ozzie, and Pitcher. The terrible Braves’ lineups of the late eighties are burned into my brain- Claudell Washington, Ramirez, Murphy, Bob Horner, Terry Harper, Ken Oberkfell, Ozzie Virgil or Benedict, Glenn Hubbard and Pitcher. Who can forget the backup shortstop Paul Zuvella?? Insanity.
It’s all just fascinating to me. One day, when I am hopefully much older, and I can barely remember my own name, I’m sure I will bore all of the folks at the old folks home with my memories of bad baseball and Mississippi academy football games. I apologize in advance.