#132 - Past Life Regression

Past Life Regression

4/15/10 (#132)

There are two kinds of bad memory: The first is like having a great collection of photographs that have faded over time, yellows and whites merging, crisp edges of foreground objects slowly assimilating into the background. The other is more like a great collection of photographs all categorized in folders in a cabinet, and over time, folders inexplicably disappear. The latter describes my memory.

For instance, I can recall hundreds of mundane moments of my high school English classes, ridiculous minutia that has no value to warrant such long-term storage; yet I can't recall the name of a single science teacher in my high school. Not one. I'm not confident I could even pick one out of a multiple choice list. That file folder is gone. Maybe I took it out to make room in the cabinet for something more valuable - but of course, I don't recall.

The joy of this type of memory loss is that I can't remember the things I've forgotten, so it hardly seems like I've forgotten anything at all. The downside is that people with better memories than I can make me feel like an amnesia victim --"So the Emily you're talking about went to our high school? That doesn't ring a bell. And she was in my Biology class? Huh, I don't remember her - or Biology, for that matter. And you're sure I went to the junior prom with her?")

I've long acknowledged the particular inefficiencies of my memory, and accepted them. So I don't remember my Science teachers - big deal. I can't think of any reason why I need to remember them. (Of course I can't.) But that inefficiency is becoming a problem because of one fairly recent addition to my life: Facebook.

As Facebook users know, the social networking site is uncannily adept at dredging up ghosts of people who had, for all intents and purposes, died to me over 25 years ago. Every few months there is a new wave of Friend requests from people who went to my high school - sometimes identifiable because I remember their name, and sometimes only because Facebook has anticipated the massive holes in my memory and added a version of, "Seriously, you went to high school with him" in the thumbnail caption.

One person sent a "Friend request" that included a personalized note that clearly made reference to some inside joke we had shared in the early 80s - but I couldn't remember the joke. I couldn't even remember the person. It would have seemed like a hoax if we didn't share a couple of dozen common friends. Apparently, the referenced inside joke was something we shared in a Science class.

My failure to remember her makes me feel bad - what kind of unsentimental monster can't remember the people he shared the socially formative years of his life with? But the day before her note, when I didn't even remember that I had forgotten her, I didn't feel bad about it at all. Then she sent a note, and suddenly I felt guilty. I have enough shortcomings in my psyche without virtual strangers reminding me of more.

I still have a handful of folks from my high school in my closest circle of friends, though our bonds were forged after graduation. I've kept in touch with these people because they are friends - as the dictionary defines friend, not as Facebook defines it. As for the other people in my high school, we've gotten along fine without each other for more than 25 years - I expected we'd get along fine without each other for the next 25, too.

I'm sure a lot of folks from my high school are wonderful people today, and if we were randomly seated next to each other on a plane, I'd enjoy reminiscing from Cleveland to Boston. But high school was eons ago, and these people have no context in my life. And I have no context in theirs. (My favorite absurdity is hearing from a senior year acquaintance whose note, in its entirety, read, "Hey Bill, what have you been up to?" Seriously? I'm supposed to document the most essential quarter century of my life, my marriage, the birth of my daughter, my many career changes, all because you pecked out an eight word question on a web portal?)

I admit, there are some wonderful exceptions. I heard from Scott, and as you might by now guess, I had to wrack my brain to recall him. As I looked for clues on his Facebook page, I was completely impressed with the person he is today, felt a kinship in how he wrote about his family, and enjoyed comparing the cardboard castle he built for his daughter with the one I built for mine. (They're both awesome.) Then there's Rob, who I actually remembered (!) but like even more now. There are a few other examples, too. That I knew these people in the 1980s is irrelevant to me - I like who they are now.

I don't presume that old high school acquaintances have been waiting 25 years for the opportunity to get in touch with me. Most folks are just curious, doing the personal version of "Where are they now?", and reconnection rarely involves more than a couple of quick exchanges. Heck, maybe they don't even remember me, and they're just requesting friendship from everyone who is listed in our graduating class, hoping to revive some of the color in the faded photographs of their memory.

I wish I could help. But in most cases, I lost the file with those pictures.

©2010 wpreagan