tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post3161787452209503067..comments2023-10-11T04:09:53.564-07:00Comments on materfamilias writes: Memory, Its Changing Role, at A Certain Agematerfamiliashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-71319871336573905532014-05-26T22:34:54.694-07:002014-05-26T22:34:54.694-07:00I wonder if my mother might have become more forth...I wonder if my mother might have become more forthcoming. Sadly, the veil of cognitive impairment was quickly falling before she was even in her 80s. <br />It's true, though, that so much of the best family stories depended on the context of their telling -- so we let some go and reshape others and add in new with each generation. . . . I'm betting you are a terrific storyteller yourself and your possible grandchildren will be happily regaled. . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-90447912006314332122014-05-26T22:30:46.327-07:002014-05-26T22:30:46.327-07:00I'm so glad to have siblings to share memories...I'm so glad to have siblings to share memories with as well, although with mine all younger than me, they sometimes let me down ;-)<br />I think it's Marianne Hirsch who speaks of post-memory, that generational memory such as your mother absorbed, a tragedy that gets passed along even though never experienced directly -- she's speaking of the children of Holocaust survivors, but the phenomenon signifies more widely, I think. Kate Atkinson's Behind the Scenes at the Museum has such a tragedy, hidden in the shadows, at its mysterious root. . . <br />Interesting to hear both you and Pondside relate this topic to your adopted children. Fascinating the way history/ies is/are built. . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-26616250235183509602014-05-26T22:26:04.818-07:002014-05-26T22:26:04.818-07:00I'm sorry that you've had so much loss to ...I'm sorry that you've had so much loss to deal with in a short time. your mother, quite suddenly, your father a more protracted and incremental loss. So much of our self is tied up in our memory, isn't it? And that period of being between our parents and our grandchildren ramps our memory functions up so intensely -- exactly that kind of vivid, sensory memory you describe so well, weight and texture and the sense of movement. And against that the awareness of large, forgotten, stretches. Like you, this feels specific to my 60s, or at least there's a new and particular quality to it that is distinct from what came before. materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-53768876345337607672014-05-26T22:20:36.715-07:002014-05-26T22:20:36.715-07:00I felt/feel the same way with my mom, the gap betw...I felt/feel the same way with my mom, the gap between us seeming alarmingly small sometimes. . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-78473978066218453692014-05-26T22:19:42.472-07:002014-05-26T22:19:42.472-07:00Thanks for this, Sue. One of my sisters has been t...Thanks for this, Sue. One of my sisters has been tracking down the family history on my paternal side; two cousins are doing the archival stuff on the maternal. It seems to be addictive, from what I've seen. I imagine you must have been continually disappearing down interesting rabbit holes at work . . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-21324668702525732502014-05-25T17:48:43.811-07:002014-05-25T17:48:43.811-07:00I noticed that my mother was more forthcoming with...I noticed that my mother was more forthcoming with certain stories (formerly censored) when she got to advanced old age. Her memory was intact and everyone in a given story was gone. The less-outrageous tales had already been told and retold; sometimes a punch line will enter my head, out of the blue.<br /><br />But I'm sad to realize most of those lines will end with me; even if I repeated the stories to my children (and possibly grandchildren) you really had to be there when my parents, both terrific storytellers, regaled us with them. <br /><br />Lovely post and comments, thank you.Duchessehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09986153653120526776noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-8938347348126954582014-05-25T04:20:15.809-07:002014-05-25T04:20:15.809-07:00What a fascinating discussion! All those differen...What a fascinating discussion! All those different forms of memories. There are the very personal memories of childhood which I am lucky to be able to share with my sister. They may lie at the bottom of some of my moods or emotions, but I do not feel the need to pass them on to my son. He (hopefully) will have his own.<br />Then there are the family stories, most of them tragic. My paternal grandfather’s two elder brothers being killed right at the beginning of WWI within one month. Or my mother’s brother drowned at the age of two. She never met him, as this happened before her birth – in fact she was, in a way, the “replacement” for the dead child. But the tragedy did cast a shadow over her childhood, and some of it was passed on to us, if only the nervous feeling we get when we see little children playing close to the water. In this case, telling the story openly helped to understand the undercurrent of anxiety that ran in my mother’s family. <br />Having an adopted child often makes me think about what constitutes our “roots”. In the end, I think my son will have to determine what constitutes his past, just like every one of us. History, individual as well as collective history, is continually constructed and revised and reconstructed. The stories we hear and tell are just stepping stones on a path that does not have one final destination. <br />Eleonorenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-42001909405639455692014-05-24T14:21:08.187-07:002014-05-24T14:21:08.187-07:00I don't think the quality or content of my mem...I don't think the quality or content of my memories has changed over the years. Certainly over the years as new moments are lived some "memorable moments" have replaced others as "most embarrassing" or most cherished" or whatever. But I have always been maybe a bit too immersed in the past...living too much "in my head" as my mum used to say. Nowadays when we speak on the phone I remind Mum about a certain funny moment, or a story she told me when I was a kid...and she loves this. Because she has forgotten that story, or hasn't thought about it in years. I'm her memory bank, now, I guess!Sue Burpeehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07282970328494769657noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-90679293174020253462014-05-24T12:53:57.061-07:002014-05-24T12:53:57.061-07:00Very potent blog for me. I am just a year younger...Very potent blog for me. I am just a year younger, so approaching sixty, and lost my mother six months ago as you know. It was a standing joke in our family that my mother remembered nothing - childhood illnesses, family holidays, names of friends and acquaintances. She loved change and looking forward and lived very powerfully in the moment. Now she has gone and her memories with her. My father by contrast has an almost photographic memory, fitting as he was a photographer. Before the Motor Neurone Disease claimed him he wrote frantically and we have reams of his memories of himself as a child and a young man. Sadly he had to stop before he got as far as marriage and family raising. My memories, as others have said, are fascinatingly fragmented. I have vivid memories of walking home from school with my brother in winter, wrapped up in scratchy wool and a gaberdine coat with a hem turned up so many times it banged against my knees. And I have whole swathes of misty, empty time. Now I am conscious that what I do with my grandchildren is building memories. So many of my most vivid memories involve time with my grandparents. It is a stage of life thing. Certainly it was no part of my life when I was fifty.Elizabeth Musgravehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09473705107636868753noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-19268612627000729952014-05-24T09:33:19.254-07:002014-05-24T09:33:19.254-07:00My relationship with memory right now is wholly fo...My relationship with memory right now is wholly focused on my mother's loss of hers, and not knowing whether it will happen to me. I noticed every day what I remember or not - but it's all short-term. Maybe I'm being short-sighted:).LPChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18209861350905135093noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-76098949771027997322014-05-23T14:58:17.000-07:002014-05-23T14:58:17.000-07:00It's also useful to consult the National Archi...It's also useful to consult the National Archives of your country for such facts as, say, the regimental details mentioned above. Sometimes there might be other connections with the government e g shipping, census, land, bankruptcy records and so forth - these can be rich sources of unexpected information about your family. <br /><br />Government records are a very useful adjunct to family stories and memories if you are interested in writing or recording your family history for posterity. <br /><br />Sue<br /><br />(Guess who worked in the Australian National Archives.)Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-63483116870801599002014-05-23T07:00:55.353-07:002014-05-23T07:00:55.353-07:00Yes, you've got it here Annie -- exactly the s...Yes, you've got it here Annie -- exactly the same odd mix of "the usual ephemera . . . .and the perplexing." There's something, too, about watching our elders lose aspects of their memory function that perhaps heightens the intensity of our own, as you say. I'm not sure if I'm so much happy to embrace that or simply feeling engulfed and fascinated by it. At least I know I have company! ;-)materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-1951039479138468052014-05-23T06:58:00.841-07:002014-05-23T06:58:00.841-07:00Such a simple writing trigger, but so effective! I...Such a simple writing trigger, but so effective! I'm sure those must have been rich experiences for your students -- and memorable in themselves!<br />Curious to know if you're finding any changes to the quality or content of your memories as you move through this "certain age." (I'm actually moving out of that coy territory myself, getting pretty damn close to being an actual Senior! ;-)materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-43295228213853262222014-05-23T06:56:15.865-07:002014-05-23T06:56:15.865-07:00I'm very envious of your trip to Shetland, kic...I'm very envious of your trip to Shetland, kicking myself that I haven't got back to Yorkshire for far too long (I've allowed myself to be too completely seduced by Paris/France). . . .<br />I think you're right, and it reaffirms for me that this was a completely different way of getting back to the hotel than we've ever taken before (and we've stayed there 7 or 8 times through the years!). . . .materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-864572644055840772014-05-23T06:54:07.117-07:002014-05-23T06:54:07.117-07:00Oh, again, such an interesting perspective. Room f...Oh, again, such an interesting perspective. Room for posts and posts and posts -- or wonderful conversations on my deck with a glass or three of wine (won't you come up to visit this summer?). <br />That tension between the oral and the written records is something that I see in my family, particularly on my mother's side with its Metis heritage something that was "disappeared" for a few generations, only recently re-claimed by a number of my cousins. . . . <br />And what you say about this particular decade really resonates with me -- I didn't feel this anywhere nearly as sharply at 50, not even in my mid to late 50s. Something about the number 60, something about losing my parents, or even, perhaps, some kind of biochemical, neurological triggers. . . . fascinating stuff, to me at leastmaterfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-35199159520859475562014-05-23T06:49:04.334-07:002014-05-23T06:49:04.334-07:00I think you raise an important question -- that of...I think you raise an important question -- that of our role as memory-keepers beyond our family. If we will not have children or grandchildren, we will still have stories of value to our communities. How to share those? Why? Does it matter if we do or don't? And, increasingly, what about the material records in this age of digitization? There are artifacts that hold stories which the collective ignores or loses at some peril, I think. . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-44475564488048887652014-05-23T06:45:07.733-07:002014-05-23T06:45:07.733-07:00What a luminous memory, and how wonderful that you...What a luminous memory, and how wonderful that you've been aware of it while your mother's here to help you sort out the timing. <br />I do wonder if no matter how many of our parents' stories we capture, it's their absence that reveals what we didn't know we wanted to know -- if that makes any sense. But the more you collect before they're gone, the more chance you'll at least feel you listened to what was important.<br />Part of our work, though, I suspect, is also just learning to accept the lost memories as a part of life's mystery. . . .that's tough stuff. . . but we gain a kind of toughness, perhaps, in our increasing ability to survey the years in either direction . . . .materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-47694429567938818212014-05-22T23:13:28.563-07:002014-05-22T23:13:28.563-07:00Apt entry. It is definitely an age-related shift,...Apt entry. It is definitely an age-related shift, probably because we are now taking our place on the family podium as the older generation. My mother is nearly 86 and her health is fading so she will soon and I know there are stories I have never heard - but which she no longer has the answers to. Unlike me, she didn't ask or her parents didn't tell. What regiment was my grandfather in during WW1? No idea. Where did my grandparents meet? Ditto. But my memories are coming towards me in a tidal surge, the usual ephemera of the daily and incidental (why would I still remember sitting on the floor playing with my toy washing machine in 1962?) and the perplexing (where, oh where, was that beautiful timbered cottage we visited for lunch in 1966? Somewhere in Sussex, about an hour's drive from home? I'd love to find it again...) which strike me at odd hours. Watching my mother in law begin to lose her thread makes me even more anxious that things need to be pinned down and passed on. It's a later life phenomenon. And I'm happy to embrace it.anniehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09784336429060492455noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-46668125450550220442014-05-22T17:50:22.011-07:002014-05-22T17:50:22.011-07:00Lovely post. I come from a long line of storytelle...Lovely post. I come from a long line of storytellers. It's something my mum and I share and which we inherited from her mother and grandmother. (is it the Irish thing?) However, I seem to be the only one of my sisters who is interested in this. I've kept a journal for years..and it's filled with family stories. <br />When I was teaching creative writing to high school students, I used to use a journal starter I learned from Natalie Goldberg's book Writing Down the Bones...I'd just write "I remember" on the board and let the kids follow it wherever it would take them. Then we'd share. And what wonderful things we learned about each other ...and the kids learned about themselves!Sue Burpeehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07282970328494769657noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-12403676718545826592014-05-22T17:26:12.190-07:002014-05-22T17:26:12.190-07:00I felt much the same way about family stories. Whe...I felt much the same way about family stories. When I was in Shetland, I heard so many stories that I really want to visit again with my daughter so that she feels connected to our roots. My mother feels duty-bound to share stories with the younger grandchildren and they really don't care. I notice that Mum is getting her time frames muddled now. About the building, you had me wondering too because I passed it regularly when I was going to classes. Look at Google Maps. I think that it is at 16 rue Claude Bernard. Madame Là-bashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16703782237948233124noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-29579391985904297952014-05-22T16:57:32.316-07:002014-05-22T16:57:32.316-07:00We are of an age, together. As my mother's me...We are of an age, together. As my mother's memories fade I am more and more aware of the things I wish I'd asked - even though I am blessed with a mother who shared freely. (and sometimes more than I wanted or needed). My sister and I disagree, often, about bits and pieces of our shared history. We are only 11 months apart, and it's really a tangle of hers and mine. Having adopted children has made me understand the importance of writing things down - things that I was told in phone calls - seemingly inconsequential at the time - things that might have a big meaning at some time to my son or daughter. <br />My father's family kept meticulous oral and, later, written records - very clannish, the Scots. Of course it's all dry and full of dates, and I long for real stories of real people - want to flesh out the great-grandfather lost at sea, or the grandmother for whom I'm named, dead before my birth - 'you look so much like her'.<br />I really do think it's a time of life - we're at a point of understanding how little time, really, there is left (an understanding that wasn't anywhere near the surface when I was 50) and a need to pass knowledge along before it leaks away.<br />I will be interested to see what others think about this.Pondsidehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02407539138546412482noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-42404890262527845942014-05-22T14:06:38.117-07:002014-05-22T14:06:38.117-07:00It's interesting you post about this, because ...It's interesting you post about this, because I've been struck lately about what memories really have stuck with me, very vividly and specifically, and which are now hazy. And like yours, those vivid ones are so often tied up with sensation.<br /><br />My family were not big "historians" or tellers of the family story. I wish I knew more, and had some context for some of the pictures and documents of family history, stored away in boxes and then passed to me after my father's death. We have no one to pass along the history to; Sam is a man of the moment, and there will be no grandchildren. Still, I'd like to know, just for myself. I think we get to a point where we long to situate ourselves in a broader place in the world.Susan Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16005855250089328310noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-69671901266112874802014-05-22T12:31:19.174-07:002014-05-22T12:31:19.174-07:00For the past few months I have been thinking about...For the past few months I have been thinking about my earliest memory - a tiny sliver of time washed with colour. I asked my mother how old I would have been and, although she cannot remember the moment, from the description I gave her she tells me I would have been less than 3 years old. <br />I am sitting on the kitchen counter, in my flannel pajamas, watching my father cut oranges for breakfast. It's just the two of us. My younger sister stumbles in, eyes filled with sleep; blue, blue eyes and tangled white-blond hair. My father and I laugh at her sleepiness and she joins in, unaware of just why. Orange and blue and white-blond and laughter.<br />What it all means, if anything, I have no idea. Why this particular moment in time out of all the others? And yet, over the years, this moment has returned over and over again. Colour and laughter. Family. I'm beginning to cease trying to find any depth to the memory and just take it for what it is, a gift from the muddle of memories in my brain.<br />Veering to the question of memory-keeping - I am also aware of wanting to capture my parents' stories before it's too late. They don't speak often of the past, but once in awhile, snippets come up in conversation. Somehow, in some way, I want to record them for the future.<br />An interesting conversation - I'll be back to see what others may have to say. <br /> Lorriehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03653026442945027184noreply@blogger.com