memory
Fun memory. The pictures of that moment are clearly recorded in my mind
as vivid as any other event in my life. Except it didn't happen.
Classic country harmonies, cowgirl outfits, clean Nashville studio quality sound. Early winter of 1990, Eric suggested we head up to campus and catch the show after racquetball. I want to say Sweethearts of the Rodeo, but memory seems to be vague on some points about that evening.
Suddenly, inches from my face in the press of folks moving around the room at the break for the band. K.D. Lang.
I like to think of myself as not being particularly star struck, but to suddenly see ones all time favorite singer. Heart raced, clammy palms, butterfly stomach. Naturally I acted cool, stepping aside as she moved across the room with a couple friends. Pretended I hadn't noticed.
Fun memory. The pictures of that moment are clearly recorded in my mind as vivid as any other event in my life. Except it didn't happen.
Eric and I did go the the show. The band played to perfection. K.D. may or may not have been in the room. Yet the memory of seeing her persists to this day as if it were just as real as memories of things that actually did happen.
A few days after the show, someone mentioned to me that K.D. had been in the crowd. Wondering if I had seen her, my mind generated the little scene as a memory recovery tool. Paint the picture of what to look for in the jumble of recent memories about the show.
At the time I was sure that I had not noticed my singing idle in the crowd.
Yet, the imaginary scenario is still a part of my memories from that evening. Separating the real from the fanciful apparently falls to some other part of the brain. Seems like one could easily become confused.
Kind of reminds me of Purse seine fishing. Skipper and crew watch for jumpers. See a fat coho break the surface, judge its direction and speed, set the net in a wide arc in front of the ball of fish. Rule of thumb is that each jumper or finner will have at least a hundred companions below.
Wonder if memory works like that. For each memory like the K.D. Lang sighting, that I know to be false, are there a hundred companions swirling around undetected below the surface unnoticed?
Classic country harmonies, cowgirl outfits, clean Nashville studio quality sound. Early winter of 1990, Eric suggested we head up to campus and catch the show after racquetball. I want to say Sweethearts of the Rodeo, but memory seems to be vague on some points about that evening.
Suddenly, inches from my face in the press of folks moving around the room at the break for the band. K.D. Lang.
I like to think of myself as not being particularly star struck, but to suddenly see ones all time favorite singer. Heart raced, clammy palms, butterfly stomach. Naturally I acted cool, stepping aside as she moved across the room with a couple friends. Pretended I hadn't noticed.
Fun memory. The pictures of that moment are clearly recorded in my mind as vivid as any other event in my life. Except it didn't happen.
Eric and I did go the the show. The band played to perfection. K.D. may or may not have been in the room. Yet the memory of seeing her persists to this day as if it were just as real as memories of things that actually did happen.
A few days after the show, someone mentioned to me that K.D. had been in the crowd. Wondering if I had seen her, my mind generated the little scene as a memory recovery tool. Paint the picture of what to look for in the jumble of recent memories about the show.
At the time I was sure that I had not noticed my singing idle in the crowd.
Yet, the imaginary scenario is still a part of my memories from that evening. Separating the real from the fanciful apparently falls to some other part of the brain. Seems like one could easily become confused.
Kind of reminds me of Purse seine fishing. Skipper and crew watch for jumpers. See a fat coho break the surface, judge its direction and speed, set the net in a wide arc in front of the ball of fish. Rule of thumb is that each jumper or finner will have at least a hundred companions below.
Wonder if memory works like that. For each memory like the K.D. Lang sighting, that I know to be false, are there a hundred companions swirling around undetected below the surface unnoticed?
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